He pulled the slip of paper out.
He recognized it immediately. His only question was what had happened to his clean handkerchief. Then he looked more closely at the piece of paper.
No, that wasn’t right. How could anyone have made such a stupid mistake?
Then, slowly, very slowly, it all began to fall into place.
Hoping against hope, he looked further into the closet. There was another black overcoat. He reached into its vest pocket and found his clean handkerchief.
Paraphrasing from
Hurriedly, he slipped into his coat and hat-making certain both were his own. Hurriedly, he returned to St. Joe’s. Hurriedly, he called Lieutenant Tully. Hurriedly, Tully started the process to secure a search warrant.
CHAPTER TWENTY — NINE
“I think I’ll take that coffee now,” Lieutenant Tully said.
“Now that you mention it, I will too, if it is not too much trouble,” Inspector Koznicki said.
Father Koesler was tempted to feel insulted, or at least slighted. Earlier, he had offered both officers coffee. Both had declined. Now Mary O’Connor had arrived. She offered to make coffee, and the two accepted readily enough.
From time to time, Koesler was almost convinced he was incapable of brewing coffee to anyone’s taste but his own. Then something would happen to restore his confidence. Why just a few evenings ago Father Carleson had welcomed not only Koesler coffee, but warmed-over Koesler coffee.
And of course it was Father Carleson who brought them together this frigid but clear and sunny February morning.
The priest and the police officers had gathered in St. Joe’s dining room to, in effect, celebrate the conclusion of the police investigation of the Diego and Demers murders. The court trials were yet to come.
“It was almost a miracle that led you to that receipt,” Koznicki said.
Koesler laughed. “If you could have seen me-if you could have read my mind while I was in Brad Kleimer’s apartment, you wouldn’t have a single doubt that it was a miracle. But, then, as someone once said, ‘More things are wrought by prayer than this world knows of.’ Did you pray, Lieutenant?”
Tully wore a bemused smile. He considered the question rhetorical. He could not argue that prayer mightn’t work if one believed in it; but prayer played an almost nonexistent role in his life.
“I literally didn’t know what I was looking for, and I was afraid I wouldn’t recognize it even if I found it. That’s how bad off I was,” Koesler said. He had already, at least in part, explained to Tully what had happened in Kleimer’s apartment. He would go over what had transpired for the benefit of both officers. It was a ritual they had gone through in the past and would repeat now.
“Things happened in that apartment that some might ascribe to chance, but I think it was Providence,” Koesler said. “Starting with Mr. Kleimer’s invitation to visit him sometime. I have no idea why he did that.”
“He would have found
“I suppose. Anyway, I had no idea then that I would be taking him up on that offer.”
“And he had no idea his invitation was going to backfire,” Tully added.
“That’s right,” Koesler agreed. “Anyway, just as he was about to usher me out, his phone rang. If that hadn’t happened, he would certainly have handed me the right black overcoat.”
“And if the call had been from almost anyone but his date for that evening, he would’ve ended the call seconds after he got it. ’Cause his prime concern was that he was almost late for that date. It was because he was trying to talk her out of breaking the date that he asked me to show myself out.
“That gave me the time and the notion to clean my glasses before going outside. After that, it was just a matter of how we-or most of us, anyway-have a habit of stuffing things in pockets-particularly overcoat pockets.
“I remember when I went to Receiving last Wednesday night, I had to take the card out of the parking machine before I could enter the garage. Then, after I parked, I put the card in my wallet. That way, I wouldn’t lose it or forget where I’d put it.
“When I drove to the exit ramp on my way out, I had already buckled the seat belt, which made it very awkward to put the parking receipt anywhere but in the vest pocket of my coat. Fortunately, Kleimer had the same experience.
“And it’s so easy to go unrecognized by a parking attendant. They don’t even bother looking up; all you have to do is stick your arm out the car window with the ticket and money in your hand. The attendant takes them and, in the case of Receiving, automatically gives you the receipt.”
Mary O’Connor brought the coffee, fresh and steaming. She also brought some sweet rolls. She was appreciated.
“So” — Koznicki anticipated the next point-“you reached into the pocket of what you thought was
“Exactly. At first I thought it was
“This clearly indicated the wearer of this coat was at Receiving Hospital when Herbert Demers was murdered. It was the first solid evidence that Brad Kleimer was the one who’d killed Mr. Demers. Until then, it was just a theory I had that Father Carleson was not the killer, and that Kleimer was.
“Brad Kleimer’s plan was the soul of simplicity,” Koesler continued, warming to his story. “There are lots of people wandering around almost any hospital with no permission or identification. Chief among them are people wearing hospital greens or white hospital coats or black clerical clothes. Doctors, nurses, hospital personnel, and clergy generally don’t need permission-or any further identification.
“Kleimer is a bit shorter than Father Carleson. But he wears lifts. And that makes them about the same height. The two men are similarly built. Father’s hair is totally white, and although Kleimer’s hair is still turning, his sideburns are white. So, wearing a hat, the hair color appears the same.
“Then it occurred to me, when I visited the hospital Thursday night, that if it was Father Carleson, he’d certainly acted strangely. He stood outside in the cold with his coat collar turned down. He seemed to be making sure he would be seen and recognized as a priest. And, with everything else going on, Kleimer would be identified as Father Carleson, because that’s who he resembled.
“Before going into Demers’s room, he made sure the nurse got a look-just a brief glimpse-at him. He left it to her imagination to figure out who he was supposed to be. And it didn’t take much imagination.
“Finally, if Lieutenant Quirt were to miss the coincidence of one of Father Carleson’s parishioners dying-when Father so obviously wanted him to die-Kleimer was perfectly capable of demanding an autopsy.”
Koesler seemed finished with his summary.
“I wonder,” Koznicki said, “if we might have a bit more coffee?”
Koesler called the request to Mary O’Connor. She entered the room with a pot that she placed on an electric warmer.
“The trouble with Kleimer,” Tully said as he poured his coffee, “is that he’s an arrogant bastard.”
“Giving him his due,” Koznicki said, “he was pressed for time. There seemed to be a ground swell in support of Father Carleson. Kleimer was beginning to doubt he could get a conviction with no more than the circumstantial evidence he had. There were unexplained doubts. And a jury cannot convict when there is a shadow of doubt.”
“Williams’s hunch that Maryknoll headquarters was covering up something didn’t pan out,” Tully said.
“Williams is a good detective,” Koznicki said. “But, with one thing and another, his Maryknoll theory might
