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Tetzel decided that Tuttle would be a better source about St. Hilary’s.
    Tuttle’s office was located midway between the Tribune building and the courthouse, so Tetzel thought he would just drop in.
    Dropping in did not seem the appropriate way to describe the long climb up four flights of stairs. The temporarily out of use elevator hadn’t moved in years. Only on the third landing did it occur to him that the prudent course would have been to call first. He took out his cell phone and glared at it, then dropped it back into his shirt pocket. There was only one floor to go, and he would continue to gamble.
    The legend on the door read TUTTLE & TUTTLE, a touching tribute to the late Tuttle père, who had been a mail carrier. Tetzel tapped and pushed. The door opened to reveal in profile the formidable woman at her computer.
    â€œYes?” she said and only then turned. Her nose wrinkled.
    â€œTetzel of the Tribune. I’ll start with you, if you don’t mind.”
    â€œStart with me?” The frostiness fled and she put a hand to her hair. “What do you mean?”

    Tetzel pulled a chair up to her desk and got out his notebook. “How do you spell your name?”
    For a few minutes Hazel was putty in his hands. He could have asked whether she dyed her hair and gotten an answer. A door behind him opened.
    â€œTetzel, what are you doing here?”
    â€œI’m going to do a series on the secretaries of our most successful men.”
    â€œDon’t tell him a thing, Hazel. He gives new meaning to the phrase ‘the freedom of the press.’”
    â€œHe said it was …” She was so furious she threw her mouse at Tetzel. He retreated into the inner office, followed by Tuttle.
    â€œThanks a lot, Tetzel. She’s been almost human for days.”
    â€œMaybe we ought to get out of here.”
    â€œI was about to suggest the same thing.”
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    Settled in a booth in the Jury Room, Tetzel got the story from Tuttle, who spoiled things a bit by adding it was all in the Tribune . Had Bipple been on this before his fall?
    â€œThe Chicago Tribune .”
    Tetzel scowled. What he thought of the Chicago Tribune was not fit to print, but then anyone there who had heard of him might have reciprocated the sentiment.
    â€œHow do you shut down a church, Tuttle?”
    â€œIt’s not going to happen. I have it on impeccable authority.”
    â€œFather Dowling?”
    â€œNo. Willie, the maintenance man. If you want the real scoop, go to the man who pushes a broom.”
    â€œI think Hazel must fly on one.”
    â€œOnly in the full moon, Tetzel. Only in the full moon.”

3
    Father Dowling told Marie of his exchange with Bishop Wilenski, and the housekeeper let out a whoop of triumph. “People say that prayers aren’t answered.”
    â€œDon’t make too much of it, Marie. If anything saves us it will be the stained glass windows.”
    Marie plunked into a chair. “The stained glass windows.” After a moment’s silence, she began to nod. “Of course you’re right. Our Lady is our refuge.”
    He let it go. He spent a day searching for any records of the building of the church, but the files were still such a mess that that didn’t prove anything at all. He told Amos Cadbury this when they met at the University Club that night.
    â€œYour best source on that would be Jane Devere.”
    They were having a preprandial drink in the library. At least Amos was, unless tomato juice counts as a drink in such a context. The venerable lawyer tasted his scotch and water with the concentration of a connoisseur.
    â€œTell me about the Deveres, Amos.”
    Amos affected surprise. “They’re your parishioners.”
    â€œAnd your clients.”

    â€œMeaning that each of us might be restricted in what he would say.”
    â€œI meant just a sense of the family, the generations. Even Marie is vague on the