that it wouldn’t be that neat.
“Lots of Gabriel’s parishioners are elderly, and many of them speak only Spanish. Many of them would be lost. They wouldn’t understand. They would feel themselves truly abandoned. They couldn’t grasp that they were expected to affiliate with a different parish-even if some transportation were provided. They would almost barricade themselves in their homes. Many would go hungry, get sick. It’s not unlikely some would die.
“And the ones who made a successful transfer to Redeemer? Well, there’s no doubt that Redeemer is a monster parish. But it’s up to its ears taking care of its own. I doubt even Redeemer could take the influx without cutting back its service to its own, let alone everyone who came from Gabriel’s.
“That, you see, is how Ernie Bell looks at it. He’s seen it happen to others and he knows what to expect.”
Tully toyed with an ashtray that was going unused. “And you: Do you agree with Bell’s evaluation?”
“Yes,” Koesler said without hesitation.
“This threat to close the parish came from the late bishop,” Tully said. “The way I got it, the bishop was responding to a threat from Bell to show him up for what he was-a greedy, ambitious manipulator. To me, it sounds like an idle threat. What could Bell do to Diego?”
Koesler leaned back, seeming to envision what Father Bell might cause to happen. “Innuendo comes to mind. Innuendo and the news media. Find some enterprising journalist-maybe the
“It wouldn’t be that difficult to drop names of some of the wealthiest Catholics around and how tight they were with the bishop. Offer interpretation of what was happening and what the bishop’s goals were. That should get the ball nicely rolling.”
“And what would that accomplish?” Tully asked. “What trouble could that cause?”
“It could-and it very likely would-cement Bishop Diego right here as an auxiliary bishop for the rest of his life. And that could be like purgatory-if you understood purgatory as just like hell only limited to a certain period of time.”
“Why? Why would that force him to stay here?”
“Rome makes the final judgment when it comes to bishops-who becomes a bishop and where they all go. And one of the last things Rome wants is a bishop tainted by controversy.
“It’s sort of like the first two nominations President Clinton made for attorney general. The first had broken a law in hiring illegal aliens. The second had done the same thing before the practice had been a law.
“The idea was, there should be not even a hint of a scandal or any impropriety. Which would have been the case with Bishop Diego if it had become common knowledge that he sought power by any means necessary-making friends of powerful and wealthy people while neglecting the ones who were obviously in desperate need of him.
“Most Catholics in other dioceses would not want such a bishop. And, with this in mind, Rome would not want to send him. He’d be mired here in Detroit with few responsibilities and practically no power.
“So you see, both threats could have been very real.”
Tully nodded his understanding. “Okay. Then what about Carleson? Seems no secret that he didn’t like Diego. And Garleson was closer to Diego than maybe anyone else. Something about being a chauffeur-a servant?”
“That situation would come as no surprise to most of the priests here.” Koesler took a deep breath, held it for a few moments, then exhaled. How much should he tell Tully?
“Lieutenant,” he said at length, “when I say that something is common knowledge among priests, I don’t mean everybody knows about it. But we do get together almost as often as we can-and we talk. I don’t suppose it’s much different than with the police: You talk about your work and you talk about each other and you talk about your superiors.
“So, many, if not most of us, were aware, at least in a general way, of what was going on.
“The sort of treatment Bishop Diego dealt out to Father Carleson was not all that rare years ago. There were certain pastors-and, for the most part, we knew who they were-who treated priests assigned to them shamefully. And they got away with it. For one thing, it was a seller’s market and there was little recourse.
“Now the demeaning treatment of priests has all but completely disappeared. There aren’t that many priests around and it’s a buyer’s market. There are so few priests left that they become pastors far, far sooner than in the past. As a result, there just aren’t that many priests who are assistants. If a priest is a pastor and he’s lucky enough to have help in the person of an assistant priest, that assistant is likely to be treated very, very well. If not, the assistant may request a transfer. And he’ll probably get it-and the pastor will be all alone. As his reputation spreads, no one will go to work with him.
“So the relationship that grew up between Father Carleson and Bishop Diego was, I think, so rare as to be unique.
“From my conversation with Father Carleson last night, I would guess that he’s been sticking it out partly out of respect for Cardinal Boyle, who was the main reason Don chose Detroit for his diocese. And also partly because he was convinced it couldn’t go on much longer.”
“I gather you like your Cardinal,” Tully said.
“I do.”
“Then how come he didn’t do something about this problem? I presume he has the power to do it.”
Koesler shook his head. “Not everybody is a saint. Now, Cardinal Boyle doesn’t have many flaws that I know of. But one flaw might be his appreciation of his fellow bishops. It’s a large, select, exclusive, and inbred club. Cardinal Boyle is a member in very good standing. It would be most unusual for him to intervene in another bishop’s affairs. Most unusual … but not impossible.
“That’s why I think the Cardinal doesn’t realize how impossible the situation had become. He would be reluctant to step in, but if he knew …
“That’s the only sense I can make of it: He didn’t know.
“What made it worse for Don Carleson was that he’s no fledgling priest. He’s a mature man and he’s been very much in charge of everything wherever he has served. From what he told me, he is not the type to debate a course of action endlessly. Someplace in the Gospels, Jesus says, ‘Be ye not hearers of the word only, but doers.’ That’s Don Carleson: a doer.”
Tully nodded. “And now that the bishop is no longer humiliating him and cramping him, he’s his own man once again. Interesting. With the death of Diego, a man gets rid of the guy who he thinks is seducing his wife. A woman gets revenge for having been manipulated. A priest doesn’t have to worry about losing his parish. And another priest can go around singing, ‘Free at last! Free at last! Thank God Almighty, I’m free at last!’ And we haven’t even heard what our detectives have picked up on the street.” He shook his head. “It’s rare that one death clears the decks for so many people.”
The phone rang in the front offices, as it had several times during Tully’s visit. Either Mary O’Connor was handling the calls herself or she was taking messages for Koesler.
The click of Mary’s approaching footsteps said that this call was different. Either it had to be for Tully or it was an emergency for Koesler.
It was for Tully, and he could take it in the kitchen.
“Zoo” — unmistakably it was Mangiapane-” this is Manj.”
“Yeah, what is it?”
“You better get down here.”
“What happened?”
“They found something in Father Carleson’s car. They think it’s dried blood. They took it down to the lab. Quirt is all over it, he’s so sure it’s Diego’s blood. Anyway, you better get down here.”
“Manj, just where the hell is ‘here’?”
“Oh, sorry, Zoo. We’re at headquarters and just about everybody’s here, including Carleson and that prosecutor, Kleimer. This comes about as close to a lynching as I’ve seen; If that sample they took doesn’t turn out to be Diego’s, I think Quirt will have a heart attack.”
