Dead Wrong by William X. Kienzle Read Free Book Online Page A

matter with that? What’s the matter with that? The Cardinal didn’t buy it?”
    She shook her head. “He keeps going back to the goals Cardinal Mooney set when he started the ADF.”
    She knew that Ted was aware of Mooney’s design for the Arch-diocesan Development Fund. She also knew that at just this moment, he couldn’t recall the philosophy.
    “You remember, Ted: The idea was to explain the needs of the diocese. Services that were too complicated to be provided by individual parishes—things like a seminary, social services and so forth. Then, simply call on Detroit Catholics to rise to the challenge. No quotas, no demands.”
    “And what’s it got’ em? Two million tops … right?”
    “Uh-huh. But in this presentation today, McGraw proposed not only the setting of goals but publishing the results in the Detroit Catholic.”
    Ted smiled. “Show what each parish contributed? Uh … gave?”
    “Uh-huh. Show what each parish gave, along with the preestablished quota.”
    “Jus’ ’xactly. And the Cardinal didn’t buy it?”
    “No. Said it didn’t square with the intent of the ADF. We have to depend on the free will offerings of informed Catholics. He was particularly negative about publishing the results of the drive. Said it would embarrass the poorer parishes and the ones who for one reason or another didn’t, or couldn’t, contribute very much. He said what use was the money if it came from coercion? The Church ought to be able to rely on the growing generosity of Christians.”
    Ted’s lip curled. “Makes you wonder why they made him a … a … Cardinal, dunn’t it?”
    “I’d better get dinner going.” Brenda wondered whether she had waited too long. It was Ted’s habit to be abstemious with hors d’oeuvres. That meant that the drinks hit him harder. She usually tried to tuck the beginning of dinner between drinks two and three.
    “Whadja say it was?”
    “Lamb.”
    “Good. Tired of roast beef.”
    With that, Ted listed to his right and fell asleep.
    Brenda pursed her lips and shook her head. Too late. She went to the rear of his recliner and pushed the back down as far as it would go. He was nearly horizontal. Almost immediately he began to snore.
    She returned to the couch, picked up the remote control and turned on the TV. There wasn’t much to watch. Mostly game shows and reruns of old sitcoms.
    It didn’t matter. She just wanted some background noise.
    This evening would be the “B” format. Ted would nap for an hour or two. When he woke he would have trouble establishing clear consciousness. But he’d come around.
    They’d eat. Then probably they’d watch cable. Later they’d make love. Ted was very good at that. He was very active. And he was always careful to make sure she was completely satisfied.
    Her mind turned toward the coming Wednesday evening—Aunt Oona’s birthday party.
    Brenda’s presence at such occasions always turned out to be a mixed bag. She was very certainly expected to attend, but usually the party would end badly, with angry, hurtful words. There seemed no way out of it. Even the knowledge of how it likely would end could not excuse her absence.
    She wondered whether her “uncle” the priest would be there. Probably.
    They would all call him Father Bob. Even Brenda herself would be expected to follow suit. It was worse when the Koesler side of the family visited. Most of them were Lutheran. Then it became a battle of names: The Lutherans would go out of their way to call him “Bob,” while the Irish would extend themselves just as far in calling him “Father.”
    What a family!
    There were stirrings from the recliner. Apparently, Ted was not going to nap as long this evening.
    Brenda busied herself in the kitchen, reheating the meat, potatoes, and vegetables, and tossing the salad.
    Repeatedly, from one or another of the sisters, she’d heard how the Monahans and Koeslers had lived in adjoining flats on the corner of West Vernor and Ferdinand