Requiem for Moses (8 page)

Simple—but he knew that he would never go that far; he would never trouble himself to that degree.

Why should he? There were plenty of other potential mistresses around. And the next time, he would be more careful. He would make certain that the next woman—women?—would take every precaution … with the certain knowledge that being with child would automatically mean being without Moe.

But first he must get rid of Claire.

Dr. Green was not disposed to the soft touch or the language of diplomacy. He tried intercourse with her one more time. It was a near disaster.

As he abruptly left the bed and reached for his clothes, Claire pulled the sheet up around her. She was, of course, aware there was a problem. She had no idea what the cause was; she only hoped that somehow Moe would solve it. She had abiding faith in him.

“Claire,” Green said as he pulled on his shorts, “I think it’s time we went our separate ways.”

“Wh-what?” Her heart began to pound.

“A relationship like ours doesn’t last a lifetime. It’s time we recognized that and moved on.”

“But … but you’re going to divorce your wife. When … when it’s time. That’s what you said. I know we’re having problems … but we can work them out. I know we can. Maybe it’s something I’m doing wrong. We can talk about it. It’ll get better, you’ll see. I can be a perfect wife. Please, Moe, let’s talk.”

“Talk time is over. You’re a good kid. But you have to take a more realistic approach to life. For one, you’re never gonna be a dancer. I’ve had to pay your teacher over scale just to keep you as a student. Haven’t you noticed that Jake hasn’t moved you up in the chorus line?”

Ignoring the hurt and vulnerability on her face, indeed in every line of her body, he swept on. “As for sex, ours is deteriorating. Even you admit that. Take it from me, you gotta read the signs of the times. And, with us, the signs all point to the end of the game. It’s over. What we gotta do now is bury it. Let’s do this like civilized people, without making an unseemly fuss. Whad’ya say?”

“Moe, I don’t have to be a dancer—not if I’m your wife!”

“My wife! That’ll be the day! Margie’s a shark when she has to be. She wouldn’t give me a divorce unless she walked away with everything. And I’m kinda used to everything.”

“But you said …”

“I say lots of things. Some I mean and some I’m not so sure.”

“Moe, what’s going to happen to me?” She pulled the sheet higher about her neck. It was as if she were nude in this room with a stranger. The rare glimpses she’d gotten of Moe’s ruthless side had been quickly glossed over. Now she could see the truth. This Moe Green who was discarding her like a card in a poker game was the real Moe Green, the genuine lowdown article.

Nothing she could do or say would prolong their relationship. It was now a matter of salvaging whatever she could. “Moe, what’s going to happen to me?” she repeated.

“Frankly, my dear, I don’t know.” He really didn’t give a damn, but he didn’t want to push her over the edge into anger. At the moment she was defensive. That was the state of mind he wanted to deal with.

“You can stay here,” he said, “for a little while. But there’s got to be a time limit on this arrangement—say, a month, two at the outside. You can find a job. Look around. I’ll even help you if I can. But”—his voice was harsh—“not dancing. Nobody can help you there.”

Now fully dressed, he paused in the doorway. “Have a nice life, Claire. But first, get one.” And he was gone.

In just a little more than two weeks her newly found lifestyle had not only crumbled, it had virtually evaporated.

It had all begun when she’d told Green of her missed period. What if she had gone to another doctor? She could have had the operation and he would have been in the dark, none the wiser.

What if? What if? What if?

It was over.

She was alone.

Tears flowed. Sobs racked her. She wished fervently that she had never met Dr. Moses Green.

THE PRESENT

Father Koesler was impressed. Of all the people he’d met in his entire life, surely no one appeared to be as amoral as Dr. Moses Green.

Still, Koesler did not second-guess himself on granting this wake. If deceased people needed a consensus to be granted a religious funeral, he wondered how many would qualify.

“Well, what did you do then?”

“First of all,” Claire said, “I made up my mind I wasn’t going to be beholden to him for anything. I cleared out of the apartment the next day. I had saved up some money. So I got a decent place to stay even before I started looking for a job.

“Thank’s to Moe’s laying it all on the line, I didn’t waste any more time trying to be a dancer. I took stock of what I had to offer. I’m good looking—that’s not vanity, Father; that’s the truth.”

“Honest humility is the truth,” Koesler said. “And I would second your assessment: You are good looking.”

“And I’ll third it!” Stan Lacki was grinning.

“So,” Claire continued, “I figured there was good money in waiting restaurants, if the tips were generous. After checking around, I settled on Carl’s Chop House. Lots of men go there. I counted on their appreciating a good-looking waitress. And I was right. That’s”—she smiled broadly—“where I met Stan.”

“The guys at the station go there maybe once every week or two,” Lacki said. “Course I picked up on Claire right away.”

“He was more than a real gentleman,” Claire said. “He was very respectful to me. And I needed that. I could joke with the guys at the restaurant, but it was just kidding. Whenever any of them started coming on to me, I’d cut ’em off at the pass. I’d just had it with sweet-talkers. Good old Moe Green cured me of falling for sweet talk. Stan was real mannerly.”

“She’s a lady.”

“So, anyway,” Claire went on, “about a year ago we started going out. Then we got serious and … well, we’ve been sort of engaged for the past five months. And, you know, Father …” She blushed again, then smiled and said firmly, “We wanted to wait awhile to get married—you know, to be sure?”

Koesler nodded understandingly.

“But then, a little while back, when we decided to plan our wedding … well, we ran into trouble. A lot of trouble, it turns out.”

“Oh?” Koesler said. “You’re both Catholic, aren’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Either of you married before?”

“No.”

“You’re both entering this marriage freely?”

“Yes.”

“Then, I’m at a loss. What’s the problem?”

“I’d say,” Lacki interjected, “the problem is the priest who was handling our marriage preparation.”

“Oh? What’s his name?” Koesler asked.

“He’s standing right back there—against the back wall,” Lacki said, pointing.

“That’s Father Reichert!” Koesler was surprised.

“Don’t we know it!” Lacki said.

“But he’s retired,” Koesler said. “Why would he have anything to do with your marriage?”

“We had no reason to question that,” Claire said. “Why shouldn’t he take care of marriages? He’s been a priest for tons of years, hasn’t he?”

“Well, yes, but …” Koesler’s shook his head in puzzlement. “What did he do … as far as your wedding goes, I mean?”

“Just told us we couldn’t get married,” Lacki said. “At least not in the Catholic Church. He said if we were determined to get married, we should look up some justice of the peace, or a judge or a minister.”

“Why? What reason did he give you for denying a Catholic ceremony?”

“He said,” Claire explained, “that the purpose of marriage is to have children and raise them Catholic. And that since I’d had a hysterectomy, we would never be able to have children—that every time we had intercourse, we would be making a mockery of marital love. That’s what he said. Then he told us to go away.”

Koesler shook his head again. If Joe Btfsplk’s black cloud had been in the church, it would have been directly above Koesler.

“Well, then, we got to thinking,” Lacki said. “This Dr. Green is such a … uh …” He seemed to be rejecting a series of colloquial epithets that were not fit for polite conversation, especially when the circle included a priest. “… such a rotten guy, that we wondered if he’d actually done what he said he did.”

“You’d know, wouldn’t you?” Koesler said to Claire. “I mean, you’re either having periods or you’re not.”

Claire was surprised that a celibate man would know that much about female physiology. “Well, we thought that maybe he lied to us. Lies were mother’s milk to him. Maybe whatever he’d done could be reversed or repaired. Like sometimes tying the tubes can be reversed.…”

“She was going to go to a gynecologist and have it checked out,” Lacki said.

“But,” Claire interrupted, “something told me there was a better way. Remember that nurse I mentioned—the one who was so kind to me when I was operated on? She was right there, as far as I know, assisting the doctor. We thought maybe she could tell us exactly what really happened.”

“Were you able to find her?”

“Finding her wasn’t so tough,” Lacki said. “Getting her to talk about the operation was another thing. Normally, I guess, a nurse isn’t supposed to talk about things like that … especially to a patient.” Koesler nodded in agreement.

“But,” Claire added, “I think maybe she felt sorry for me—and probably by this time she’d made a judgment. Still, we had to plead with her for quite a while. We promised her we wouldn’t say anything to anybody. But I think that finally maybe by this time she just was disgusted enough that she was willing to take the chance. And after I explained the trouble we were getting from the Catholic Church, she was definitely sympathetic. I was figuring on that ….” She paused.

“And?” Koesler prompted.

“And she told us what happened. She insisted that she could tell us only what she saw, and her interpretation of what the doctor did that day. But she also said that she’d had a lot of experience in the OR—that’s operating room—”

“He knows that, Claire,” Lacki said. “He watches television … don’t you, Father?”

“My share.”

“Well, anyway,” Claire continued, “once she started talking, it was like she couldn’t stop. I guess she just wanted to get it all off her mind. She said that Dr. Green’s way of doing things is like he’s God. Usually he doesn’t say anything to anybody unless there’s a problem or somebody goofs. And then all hell breaks loose. But he never explains what he’s doing or talks to anybody. Actually, Lana said he’s a first-class surgeon, but a fourth-class human being—her words, Father,” she added.

“Anyway, when he finished removing my uterus, he put it in the dish they have for that. Usually, Lana is the one who takes the organ or tissue or whatever’s amputated, and brings it down to the pathology department for examination and evaluation.

“But when she reached for the dish, the doctor told her in no uncertain terms to leave it, that he would take it himself.

“That was enough out of the ordinary for her to take a second look at the organ. She said she was surprised. Not only did it seem to be normal, without any signs of the cancer, but—let me see if I can get her words right on this—’cause it’s important—she said my uterus was ‘enlarged and rich in congested blood supply.’” She paused again.

“Which means …?”

“Which means I was pregnant!”

“Which,” Koesler said, “means the father was …”

“Moe Green,” Claire supplied.

Koesler had to pause to absorb the enormity of what he was hearing.

“I won’t claim,” Claire said, “that I was eligible to crown the Blessed Mother in the May Procession. But once I linked up with Moe, I was faithful to him. He was the father of my baby. He killed his own child.”

Though she had come to terms with this evil act, tears trickled down her cheeks. She wiped them away angrily. Stan patted her shoulder.

“That nurse—Lana Kushner—said that later that day she tried to check on the pathology report,” Lacki said. “The sample that Green submitted was cancerous. Which could mean that she was wrong—or that the doctor substituted a diseased organ for Claire’s. But she said she really didn’t think she was wrong.

“Anyway, there’s nothing can be done about it. It was her word against the doctor’s. And,” he said bitterly, “everybody knows which one the hospital would believe.”

Claire, her face a mask of sorrow, nodded. “After we talked to the nurse, I called him … called Moe. I didn’t tell him how I knew, but I asked him how he could have done it …. why he’d done that to me ….” The tears came again. “He didn’t even answer; he just sort of snorted—or maybe it was a laugh—and hung up.” She was close to weeping at the futility of it all.

Koesler shook his head again, this time in a mixture of sympathy and anger. “Claire, I don’t know how you are holding up under all this. But let’s take things one at a time. You said you had a couple of problems with your marriage to Stan?”

“That’s right, Father. About the abortion. Doesn’t that mean I’m excommunicated? Seems I learned that in school or read it somewhere.”

“No, no. At worst that’s a hypothetical question. You didn’t have any say in the matter. The decision to abort didn’t involve you in any way. You didn’t even know you were pregnant. So forget about that. What’s next?”

“Father Reichert! He said we couldn’t get married because of the hysterectomy. And he didn’t even know about the abortion!”

Father Reichert
, thought Koesler.
He’s not just a nut; he’s a dangerous nut.
Suddenly, Koesler remembered Reichert’s threat—promise—to bring this wake up before Cardinal Boyle. Heretofore, Koesler had been upset and distracted by the coming scene that would probably take place tomorrow. Now, the way this situation was developing, Koesler was beginning to look forward to the confrontation. He would have the opportunity to draw Reichert out on the matter of a hysterectomy as an impediment to a sacramental marriage.

There was no doubt that Reichert would willingly—eagerly—state his opinion. Nor was there much doubt that the Cardinal would be forced to act on such a false doctrine. At the very least, Boyle would be forced to suspend Reichert’s faculties to witness weddings. That was the good news. The bad was the damage he had done to Claire and Stan as well as undoubtedly to countless others.