Koesler picked up the phone. “Your place or mine?”
25
“The tendency now is to panic,” Tully said.
He and Koesler were seated on opposite sides of the desk in the priest’s office in St. Joseph’s rectory. Tully had requested they meet here to avoid the intense traffic, noise, and confusion of police headquarters.
“Everybody wants this case closed yesterday,” Tully continued. “So far, the news media have been having fun with the story. Now that the old bishop got killed they’re acting like for the first time we got to get serious about this thing. A gentle old man gets killed for no apparent reason and right away they want a body on the gallows. The media reached the mayor, who makes a grandstand play of seeming to assign every cop in the city to the case. That’s when everything hits the fan and there’s a tendency to panic. But that’s a blunder. So I want to have a very cool-headed conversation with you and figure a few more things out.”
“I’ll help any way I can,” Koesler said. He had no intention of mentioning to Tully anything about his recent conversations with Archbishops Foley and Boyle.
“If you’re going to be a help on this case, you’ve got to know most of what we know. And then I want to know everything you know,” Tully added.
“First off, we had what I thought was an excellent lead that doesn’t seem to be working out. Unless that lead gets hot again, mere’s no reason we have to go over it now. It’s enough to say that that lead has nothing to do with the Church.
“Something you should know,” Tully continued, “is how Foley was killed.”
“It was different from the others? I didn’t hear anything about that in the news.”
“We didn’t release that information. It was an execution-style killing.”
“Execution-style? I-”
“The bullet entered from the top of the skull, The old man was forced to kneel and then he was shot from behind, like some poor sucker who crossed the mob. I don’t know why the killer had to do that; as far as I can tell, the poor guy didn’t do anything to anybody.”
“Kneeling …” Koesler said, barely audibly. “Imaybedead wrong, but I don’t think the bishop was forced to kneel.”
“Not forced-? Then what? Praying?”
“I think it’s that exacdy. I think the bishop asked to say a last prayer when he knew he was going to die. And it sort of fits the profile of your suspects.”
Tully reacted as if he’d been stung. “Suspects? What suspects?”
“Uh-oh …”
“What suspects? What have you heard?”
“Only that two men are under suspicion.” Koesler yielded before Tully’s hard gaze. “Arnold Carson and Fred Stapleton.”
“Where did you hear that?”
Koesler hesitated. “A priest.”
“Damn leaks! We don’t have the time to find them-now. Later. Okay, if Carson and Stapleton are suspects, why would that fit in with the way Foley was killed?”
“Only that diey both are-it sounds kind of illogical when we’re talking about a murderer-but they both are rather deeply religious, even at opposite extremes of the spectrum. I mean-as you said, Lieutenant-there was no reason anyone Would want to turn this murder into an execution. Particularly since Helen Donovan and Larry Hoffer were not dealt with in that manner. That, plus the bishop’s deep spirituality, makes it likely that he wasn’t forced to kneel. He probably asked to do so-if he didn’t do so instinctively.
“The thing is,” Koesler added, “if what we’re supposing actually happened, the request was granted. It’s safe to assume that an ordinary killer, far from being inclined to grant such a request, would probably be anxious to get it over with and get away as quickly as he could… isn’t that right?”
Tully nodded.
“So,” Koesler said, “only someone with a rather strong confidence in prayer-a strong faith, as it were-would be moved to let the bishop have the time to pray. The killer would be risking detection the longer he held the bishop at gunpoint. It was, after all, right out in the open. Anybody could have happened along. As a matter of fact, if this morning’s newscast was accurate, that’s how the bishop’s body was discovered, wasn’t it? A passerby coming home late last night noticed the body on the sidewalk … no?”
Tully nodded again.
“Well,” Koesler said, “to tell the truth, I can’t imagine either Carson or Fred actually killing anybody-let alone a bishop. But if either were going to do it and the bishop asked for time to pray, I could easily imagine that either one would let him do it-no matter what complications that might cause.”
“Okay,” Tully said. “I guess that makes sense.” More sense than the previously held theory that the murder had been a ritualistic execution, he thought.
This was working out rather well. Koesler had begun by making sense of nonsense. He might be of more help than Tully had anticipated. In any case, at this stage of the investigation, and given the pressure to close the case, Koesler was Tully’s sole guide.
“Now,” Tully proceeded, “let me spell out the basic problem we’ve got here. What we’ve got is a serial killer. He has committed three premeditated murders. Well, make that two-and-a-half, assuming that he aimed for the nun but got her sister instead.
“We know it’s the same person in each instance because ballistics tells us the same weapon was used in each instance.…” Tully’s voice trailed off as a new thought entered the process of analysis. What was it Koesler had said-“…they both are rather deeply religious, even at opposite extremes of the spectrum.” Was it possible …? Granted, ballistics said the same gun was used in each killing; but there was no way of knowing whether or not the same hand had held that gun in each killing. What if … what if two different people-? Tully’s blood turned cold: What if more than one or two people were involved? What if this was some sort of insane conspiracy, with a number of people involved? What good was it to check possible alibis when the one who had committed one murder could easily have ah alibi for the next killing, which oneofhis conspirators had carried out?
Tully’shead was buzzing. Granted the mayor had given the department carte blanche manpower-wise, but, still, did they have enough staff to follow such a widespread lead? Tully sighed. They’d have to; they’d have to have enough staff. They’d have to check this all out.
Tully became aware that Koesler was gazing at him quizzically. He smiled, grimly. No need to muddy the waters as far as Koesler was concerned … at least not yet. “Sorry,” he said, “I got carried away with … well, never mind. As I was saying, we know it’s the same person because ballistics tells us the same gun was used in each killing. He-the killer-also used the same kind of bullet-a slug that’s usually used for target practice. Now the way the killer is using this bullet is up close and into the head. What that does is cause an awful lot of damage. So he’s sure as sure can be that the one shot will cause death.
“It also makes it pretty easy for us to recover me bullets, compare them, and come up with the conclusion that”-he proceeded resolutely-”it’s the same guy doing all the killing. That’s common with a serial killer,” he explained. “He usually wants it known that he’s the same one killing more dian one person.”
Koesler was aware of the phenomenon of the serial killer wanting each of his murders correcdy attributed to him. He’d read about it in newspapers and books. He’d experienced it in some of the cases he’d been involved in in the past. But Tully’s refresher course was welcome.
“The challenge,” Tully continued, “is to find me connection.”
“The connection?”
“He’s, killing blondes, or prostitutes, or coeds, or alcoholic bums, or stewardesses. The secret, the link, is in the perp’shead. He knows why he is choosing the people he selects to murder. Sometimes the connection between the victims is obvious and sometimes it’s not. What we’ve got here is a pretty confusing puzzle.”