Requiem for Moses (11 page)

“Oh, it wasn’t over.” She grimaced—or was it a sneer? He wasn’t sure. “I just filled you in on the Cameron obscenity. Strangely enough, you’d think that Jake and I were the central players in that episode. But I think you’ll agree that we were only pawns. The player was Dad. He always was.”

“It wasn’t over?” Koesler was definitely puzzled.

Judith shrugged. “It never was. Not with Dad.” Seeing his appalled expression, she hastened to explain. “Oh, nothing happened after Jake Cameron for a long while—actually, not until very recently—when I decided to get married.”

“From all I’ve learned of your father—actually just in the past few minutes—I wouldn’t assume that he’d take much interest in your getting married.”

“He wouldn’t. Not ordinarily—not if it didn’t affect him. Not unless he objected to my choice.”

“Your choice?”

“Uh-huh.”

“The wrong ethnic background?”

“I guess you could say that. Actually, the wrong color. He’s African-American. Very black.”

“Hmmm. I wouldn’t have guessed that would upset your father. Racially mixed marriages aren’t that uncommon these days.”

“I know. And by this time you must know his objection has nothing to do with me or my fiancé. He was worried about what his gang would say. He didn’t want anyone laughing or making fun behind his back.”

“Does that possibility exist?”

“With Dad’s group, probably. There’d be jokes about the wedding in white and black, the super sexual prowess of the groom, and, of course, my father’s grandchildren.”

“I wouldn’t have guessed. Not in this day and age.”

“Oh, sure, Father. Years ago, Sammy Davis Jr. based part of his act on his being black and Jewish. He used to say he found the combination confusing: When he woke up in the morning he didn’t know whether to be shiftless and lazy or stingy and mean. And that, from someone like Davis, was comparatively high class. From there, and in the mouths of Daddy’s cronies, it would be straight downhill.”

Koesler looked about the church. The crowd had grown. And eulogy time neared. But he couldn’t leave Judith with her account half told. “So, what did your father do—threaten to disown you?”

She shook her head. “Not much point in that. Bill—my fiancé—had just passed the bar, and he’s being romanced by some of the larger Michigan firms. He’s the right color at the right time, and his marks were high. We won’t need any financial assistance.”

“Then what?”

She seemed to flinch. “The tapes.”

“Tapes?”

“I didn’t even know they taped the thing. It makes sense now. I guess at the time I refused to even consider it—think about it. Jake and I …”

As far as Koesler was concerned, she didn’t have to complete the sentence. Cameron had told him about receiving a copy of the tape from Green. But she had no way of knowing what Cameron had told Koesler. “You see … the seduction … when I was … with Jake … they filmed it. They taped it. I didn’t know. I never knew. Not until Daddy and I had our final confrontation.”

“Final?”

“I considered it to be. I think he did, too. It was blackmail, I guess. He showed me the tape. He didn’t have to spend much time on that. I couldn’t stand to watch it. But he threatened that if I went ahead with my marriage plans, not only would Bill see the tape, the copies would circulate to most of the people we know.

“I didn’t know what to do. There was no serious problem as far as Bill was concerned; he’s well aware of Daddy’s cruelty, lack of any kind of conscience. But, what would it do to his career? We knew that whichever firm interviewed him would immediately receive a copy of the tape. If the managing partner and the hiring committee could overlook my … indiscretion, then clients and prospective clients could receive a copy. It was a threat that just hung over my head.”

“And now,” Koesler concluded, “that threat is gone.”

“Yes, it is!” Her tone bordered on the defiant. “At the time my father and I parted, after he made his threat, I considered that our final confrontation. There was no room for any compromise. Either I married Bill or I called it off. Depending on that decision, he would either sit on the tapes or circulate them. Now, of course, there’s no doubt. That was, for sure, our last confrontation.”

So
, Koesler thought,
the pattern remains intact.

First Cameron, then Claire and Stan, now Judith. Each had reason to hate Moe Green. But, more than that, each had recently been grievously threatened and/or grossly mistreated by Green. With Green alive, Cameron stood to lose his most precious achievement, his Virago. With what Claire and Stan had recently learned, they would have to live with the awareness of Green as the unindictable murderer of Claire’s child.

And now Judith. If her father had lived, she would have had to wrestle with the dilemma of calling off her marriage to the man she loved, or see both herself and her husband destroyed by the vengeful Moses Green.

Once again the serendipity of Green’s death of natural causes. These
deus ex machina
occurrences were convenient to the point of unbelief.

But it was growing late. Glancing toward the widow Green, Koesler noted a break in the line of mourners. Though “mourners” seemed an inappropriate term in the present case.

Koesler thanked Judith for her attempt to set the record straighter. He moved toward Margie, but had taken only a few steps when a young man blocked his path.

Koesler had no memory of having met this man before. But, if the priest had a last dollar, he would have bet that this was Moe Green’s only son, David.

Chapter Eight

Any doubt was dissolved as the young man introduced himself. David Green, a student at Detroit College of Law.

“You must be the priest that mother’s been talking to everyone about,” David said. “Father Koesler, isn’t it?”

“Yes. And it’s your father who died.” On the one hand Koesler was concerned about starting the eulogy on time. On the other, he was interested to learn what Green’s son might contribute to the rather bleak image the others had depicted. “My sympathy,” Koesler offered. He hoped that the widow was speaking kindly of him.

David looked about. “Quite a turnout.”

“On very short notice,” Koesler said. “I take it from your mother that you are at least partially responsible.”

“A little. Judy was on the horn too, plus a lot of our friends. But, realistically, I think a healthy percentage are here out of curiosity.”

“Curiosity?”

“Yeah. They just want to see what happens. You know: Who’s here and why; who isn’t here and why. Who, if anyone, will speak—I guess that would be you, Father—and if anyone will shed a tear for the old fart … that’s a snowball’s chance in hell.”

“From what I’ve been able to gather so far,” Koesler said, “I get the impression that your father was not particularly lovable.”

“Likable,” David amended. “Not even likable. I can’t think of anyone who found Dad lovable. No. Nobody. Not even likeable,” he repeated.

Koesler had no reason to question David’s assessment. And that, he thought, was sad if not tragic. What sort of life has no redeeming quality?

“Since you brought it up, I am supposed to speak in”—Koesler glanced at his watch—“just a little while. And I’ve been having a tough time gathering any good words. Probably I haven’t been talking to the right people. I was trying to get through to your mother ….”

“She would be the one. Not that she didn’t have as negative an experience with Dad as everyone else here. My God, she had to actually live with the son-of-a-bitch for twenty-one years. At least Judy and I were able to move out.

“But, Mother is a great one for making accommodations. Yes—” He nodded. “—Mother would brazen it out. She’d find something at least neutral to say. Something like, ‘He wasn’t as bad as his brother.’ Except that Dad didn’t have a brother. Which, now that I think of it, might be a plus. Maybe the brother-that-never-was would’ve been even nastier than Dad. God, what a horror that would’ve been!

“Let’s see ….” David scratched his heavy five o’clock shadow. “There was the time—no, he
had
to do that; it was a court order. Sorry, Padre, I can’t come up with anything positive. I was going to say that given a little time—but, no; no amount of time would do. I hope you make it over to Mother before you have to speak.”

Suddenly, Koesler had an inspiration. “Wait a minute: You’re in law school. Didn’t your father foot the bill?”

David nodded. “Partially. A little more than half—almost three-quarters of the tuition came from Dad. The rest I earned—working for him … working it off.

“You see, the thing you have to remember about Dad is there was no word for ‘gift’ in his lexicon. I was to be sort of ‘his’ lawyer—in somewhat the same way as an indentured servant relates to his master. It would keep Dad’s retainer fees down a bit.”

Some of the people who had been milling about were finding seats. Koesler would have to end this conversation soon.

So far, unlike the previous reencounters, David appeared to have no strong motive for violence. “I can’t help wondering, David, why you felt almost like a slave. You’ll graduate eventually. Say you pass the bar—a safe assumption, I think. You have a readily recognizable name, at least to Detroit’s movers and shakers. Probably you’ll begin your career with a prestigious firm. It wouldn’t have been long before you could have paid back your father’s investment. Wouldn’t that about do it?”

David jingled some coins in his pocket. It seemed he had to be busy with something virtually all the time. “There are complications. I don’t want to get into them specifically. When I was a bit younger I was also a bit more foolish. There were some DUIs, and a couple of drug arrests. All of which Dad was able to quash. All of which he continued to hold over my head.

“If he took the cork out of the bottle, I could have problems at the bar, and certainly in any practice I tried to build.

“So, you see, he carried a big stick.”

“But no more,” Koesler observed.

David hesitated, then chuckled. “If I didn’t know better, the way you said that could imply that Dad’s death was very convenient for me. Like, if this were a murder case, I’d be a suspect.”

It was Koesler’s turn to hesitate. That had not been his meaning ….at least not consciously. Subconsciously? Maybe.

David took Koesler’s silence as confirmation of his inference. “Hey, that’s not very cool. You have to remember that ol’ Dad was sort of unique. It may seem extremely odd to you for a father to blackmail his son into a lifetime of peonage. But that’s because you never had the bad luck to do business with Dr. Moses Green.

“Let me assure you, Padre, that—probably to varying degrees—practically everyone in this church tonight had some sort of similar arrangement with Dad. Most of ’em were into Dad in some way or other—they’re all victims.”

Koesler did not respond.

“Besides,” David continued, “if you’re looking for someone who, at this moment, wanted Dad dead, it certainly wouldn’t be me.”

“Oh?”

“No. Not me. Not now. It has to do with inheritance.”

“Between you and your sister?”

“Judith? Not hardly. Pop disowned her once he found out who was coming to dinner—matter of fact, that’s kind of funny: Bill, Judy’s fiancé, is in better shape than I’d ever get to be as Dad’s personal lawyer. He’s got better connections than I have. He’s smarter than I am.

“Dad could’ve bargained: Bill’s servitude for Pop’s blessing on their marriage. A guy with as much social standing and clout as Dad publicly opposing his daughter’s marriage would have negative impact on Bill’s career. Sure, Bill might recoup, but he’d be starting in the hole.

“I guess it just goes to show how strong Pop felt about having a
schwarzer
in the family. Rather than overlook the color thing and get Bill’s services, he’d sacrifice the bondage and try his best to ruin Bill’s career.

“No, Sis is no factor in the inheritance scheme. It’s between my mother and me.

“See, Pop moved the inheritance back and forth like the donkey and the carrot. We’re talking real money here, Padre. And Pop was forever changing the direction that money was headed.

“His latest move—after he cut Judith out entirely when she defied him over Bill—was to name Mother sole beneficiary. He sliced me off—I think mostly to get my attention.

“Then, just a couple of days ago, he informed me that he was going to change his will again: I was going to be the sole beneficiary. Mother was going to take her turn on the outside looking in.

“I don’t think it bothered Mother all that much. She’d been on the Green roller coaster too long not to recognize the old man’s machinations. She was about to disappear from the will. But if you didn’t like what Dad was doing, wait a while. He could change his mind as easily as Michigan changes its weather.

“So you see, Padre, if I wanted Dad dead, I sure wouldn’t want him to leave this life while my mother stood to gain everything. If I wanted Dad dead, I sure as hell would have waited until he had time to change his will. A few days from now, I would have been sitting pretty as far as inheritance goes.

“You want to see someone who stood to lose everything in a few days …” Koesler followed David’s gesture, and found the widow walking hurriedly toward them.

“I am so sorry, Father,” Margie said. “I had no idea so many people would be here.” She noticed Koesler’s expression of doubt. “Honest.”

Koesler looked at his watch. Only a couple of minutes.

Margie detected a touch of unease in Koesler’s demeanor. Whatever anxiety was there she did not share. In fact, as far as Margie was concerned, everything was just fine. She didn’t particularly care whether the ceremony began anywhere near on time. In any case, they would not call this a night until Aunt Sophie arrived. And only God and Northwest Airlines had a clue to when that would be.

But she was sympathetic to Koesler’s perceived plight. “I heard a lot of good words about your hospitality … I mean in offering your church for the wake.” She gave Koesler’s arm a friendly, almost motherly pat.

I didn’t so much offer the church
, thought Koesler,
as it was taken captive.
But he let it pass.