Stained Glass Read Online Free PDF

heard of the closing of St. Hilary’s, Mr. Tuttle.”

    â€œAn outrage!”
    â€œI have been deputized by those who frequent the senior center at the parish to do something to prevent that outrage.”
    â€œGood.”
    â€œI wish we could afford your professional advice.”
    Tuttle leaned forward, making room for his elbows on the desktop. “Mr. Bartelli, I am eternally in your debt. How could I ever forget your support when …” The lawyer’s eyes filled with tears and he looked away.
    Massimo noticed the framed photograph of Tuttle senior, positioned above the law degree. “In union there is strength.”
    Tuttle nodded, wiping his eyes. “What are your plans?”
    Massimo approached the point of his visit gradually. Of course the news of the threatened closing had appeared.
    â€œIn the Chicago Tribune ,” Tuttle said, frowning.
    â€œYou are close to reporters on the Fox River paper, I believe.”
    A hand lifted to tip back the tweed hat. Tuttle’s sparkling eyes indicated that he had made the logical link. Within minutes, they were busy composing the statement Tuttle promised to get prominently into the local paper.
    â€œWhat are their ad rates?”
    Tuttle smiled. “I plan an end run. Does the name Tetzel mean anything to you?”
    Massimo sat back. “I am sure it is going to.”
    Hazel tapped up the statement on her computer and printed a copy for Massimo. Tuttle folded his copy twice and put it into his tweed hat.
    â€œMr. Bartelli asked about my medical benefits.”
    â€œThank God for them, Hazel. Medicare is a marvelous system.”
    As they went down the four flights of stairs, Massimo asked about the elevator.
    â€œIt hasn’t worked for years.”

    â€œHave you complained?”
    â€œIt’s useless.”
    â€œWe could picket the building. Close it down.”
    â€œNo! Good Lord, no. Where could I match the rent I pay here?”

8
    Menteur’s residual Methodism sufficed to leave him unmoved by the prospect of Catholic churches folding. On the other hand, local loyalty suggested that the paper should object to St. Hilary’s being threatened. Father Dowling was one of the few priests Menteur had ever felt comfortable with, but Bartelli seemed to be asking that he run an ad protesting the closing gratis.
    â€œTalk to the business office,” he suggested, frowning at Tuttle, who had brought Bartelli to him.
    â€œMr. Bartelli is active in local unions,” Tuttle said, addressing the remark to the ceiling.
    Menteur began to chew his gum furiously. Several years before, his soul had been seared by a strike at the paper. Circulation was dropping, advertising revenue was at an all-time low, editorial was under constant pressure from the business side, and the printers wanted a hefty raise and lots of new perks. Menteur, like an idiot, had pled with them, calling the paper a family whose members had to stick together in trying times. His remarks were considered patronizing as well as a ruse to keep a bigger slice of the pie in editorial. They didn’t believe him when he told them what the entry-level salary for reporters was.

    The strike strung on. They were down to a single sheet, a damned newsletter, before management caved and the presses began to hum again. Menteur’s father had been a plumber, he considered himself a man of the people, but after that strike he seriously doubted the intelligence of the common man. Now Bartelli was looking at Menteur across the editorial desk as if it were a bargaining table.
    â€œOf course, we could feed what you want to say into a news story,” Menteur said.
    â€œGood idea,” Tuttle cried. Menteur would have liked to pull that tweed hat down over his ears.
    Bartelli slid a sheet across the desk to Menteur, then began to pat his shirt pocket. “Okay to smoke in here?”
    â€œNo!”
    â€œYou can’t smoke in your own office?