MASH 10 MASH goes to Miami

by Richard Hooker+William Butterworth

  “That’s stone unturned, Fisch,” Senator Cacciatore corrected him. “Unturned. That means you’re supposed to turn them over. What you said—”

  “Senator, what is the real meaning of my appointment?” Senator Fisch said. “Just between us U.S. senators, not for publication or attribution?”

  “It means that Whatsisname and I got together and talked this over, and decided the best way to get those lousy, ungrateful Cubans is to sic the F.B.I. on them.”

  “Good thinking!”

  “We thought about the I.R.S. of course,” Senator Cacciatore said, “but we decided, let sleeping dogs lie. ‘The further one can stay from the I.R.S.,’ as I always say. Whatever you can say about the F.B.I., they don’t ask embarrassing questions about deductions.”

  “But what do I have to do with this, Senator?”

  “Just as soon as the Air Force can fly your teeth, I mean your tail, there, Fisch, you go to Miami and get in touch with the F.B.I. agent in charge. His name is Birch Beebe. He’ll tell you whatever he finds out, and you’ll tell me.”

  “Why can’t he just get on the phone and tell you himself?”

  “Because I want him to tell you, Senator,” Senator Cacciatore said. “How would it look if it got out that I, Senator Christopher Columbus Cacciatore, beloved chairman of the Senate Committee on Internal Operations and dean of the Congressional Italian-American Caucus, was using the F.B.I. to settle a personal grudge?”

  “People wouldn’t think you capable of behavior as despicable as that, Senator,” Fisch said loyally.

  “But you and I, Fisch,” Senator Cacciatore said, laughing a little laugh that made Senator’s Fisch’s waving boyish locks freeze in place, “know better, don’t we?”

  Chapter Fifteen

  His Excellency, Patrick Michael O’Grogarty, Bishop of the Diocese of Greater Miami and the Florida Keys, would have much preferred to put off a requested pastoral call upon Doña Antoinetta, matriarch of the family Gomez y Sanchez, for at least a couple of days. He needed a couple of days to recuperate from the living nightmare he had gone through in Paris. But, on the other hand, the bishop had known that becoming a bishop would mean making certain sacrifices, and this was apparently one of those times when he had to make one.

  The family Gomez y Sanchez were not only devout members of his flock, but generously devout members of his flock, which was more than the bishop could say for some people he knew. Considering the wide variety of good works to which the family Gomez y Sanchez contributed very generously, it seemed to the bishop that going to see Doña Antoinetta at her request was his duty.

  Even if the pastoral visit required that he hear her confession. Oh, how tired he was of that confession!

  Looking just a little wan and peaked, the bishop walked out the front door of his chancellory and stepped to the curb. The familiar black limousine was waiting for him, its chauffeur holding the door open for him.

  Ten minutes later, it pulled up beneath the gilted concrete marquee of the Winter Palace. The brothers Gomez y Sanchez, plus the general manager of the hotel, the bell captain, and the doorman (the latter attired in a faithful reproduction of the uniform of a lieutenant general of the Czarist household cavalry) awaited him.

  The doorman pulled the door open and snapped to a salute.

  “Welcome to the Winter Palace, Your Holiness,” he said.

  “I’m just a simple bishop,” the bishop said. “I’ve told you that before.”

  The bell captain snatched, not without difficulty, the bishop’s attaché case out of his hands. The general manager of the Winter Palace bowed.

  “So nice to see you, Your Excellency,” Salvador Gomez y Sanchez said.

  “You’re looking good, Your Excellency,” Carlos Gomez y Sanchez said.

  “Doña Antoinetta will be so pleased,” Juan Gomez y Sanchez said. “Right this way, please!”

  As the bishop permitted himself to be led inside the Winter Palace, he glanced behind him. A black Chevrolet sedan bearing four different radio antennae and carrying two bearded men had pulled in behind his limousine. He thought he’d noticed the car outside the chancellory, but the men in that car, he remembered, had been unbearded—i.e., smooth shaven. He thought he must be mistaken. He knew how much of a strain he’d been under lately.

  But he glanced behind him again as he was ushered through the swinging plate glass door marked hot.*

  (* In keeping with the Russian decor of the establishment, legends corresponding to "In” and “Out” on the glass doors were lettered in gold, Cyrillic-alphabet letters. The previous owners had not and the present owners did not read Russian, nor had the sign painter had such knowledge. The bishop spoke Russian, but did not feel it his place to point out that what the Cyrillic lettering actually spelled out was “Hot” and “Cold,” rather than, as popular belief had it, “In” and “Out.”)

  One of the bearded men was getting out of the black Chevrolet. He was carrying a tool box and wearing a zippered jacket with AJAX TV REPAIR COMPANY lettered on it. But the bishop got only a glimpse of the workman, for the brothers Gomez y Sanchez were hustling him along.

  Red velvet-covered ropes suspended from brass floor stands had been erected along the path from the door to one of the elevators, presumably to keep the bishop separated from the guests. The chief elevator operator himself stood at the controls, and the moment the bishop and the brothers Gomez y Sanchez were in the elevator, he closed the door and made an express, nonstop trip to the penthouse.

  Doña Antoinetta herself waited outside the elevator.

  “Your Excellency, you bring great honor to our house.”

  “Good afternoon, Doña Antoinetta,” the bishop said. “You’re looking well.”

  “For someone with a heavy burden of mortal sin like mine, I can’t complain, I suppose,” Doña Antoinetta replied. The bishop winced, barely perceptibly. It was going to be confession time again, that was obvious.

  “None of us is perfect, Doña Antoinetta,” the bishop replied. “As Our Lord himself said, vis-à-vis the woman—”

  “I know the story,” Doña Antoinetta said, interrupting him. “I identify with the heroine. Another dove fallen from grace. It gives me the strength to bear my burden.”

  “Your message said you had something important to tell me,” the bishop said.

  “Oh, and I do!” she said. “Come into the drawing room. Might I presume to offer you a glass of sherry?”

  “I don’t suppose you’d have a drop of something a bit stronger?” the bishop said.

  “Give the bishop some sherry,” Doña Antoinetta said. “After we give him the good news, I’m going to ask him to hear my confession, and I’m sure he’ll want to be in full possession of his faculties for that.”

  “Sherry will be fine,” the bishop said. “About six fingers, please, Salvador.”

  “Tell me, Bishop,” Doña Antoinetta said, “how is the cathedral fixed for relics?”

  “Relics? You mean holy relics?”

  “Of course I mean holy relics.”

  “Well, Doña Antoinetta, the truth is we don’t have any.”

  “Have I got good news for you, then!” she said.

  “Oh?”

  “I have cast bread upon the waters,” she said.

  “You don’t say?” the bishop replied, taking a pull at his sherry.

  “Blessed Prudence,” Doña Antoinetta said.

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “I am about to be presented with a holy relic of the Blessed Prudence,” Doña Antoinetta said. “And I wouldn’t, of course, think of keeping it myself. You can have it. Or them. For the cathedral, of course.”

  “Would you mind, Doña Antoinetta, starting at the beginning?”

  “All right,” she said. “I have cast bread upon the waters.”

  “I got that much,” he said.

  “Against, I must say, the miserly advice of three cheapskate brothers, who were unconcerned with the honor of the name of Gomez y Sanchez
.”

  “Exactly how, Doña Antoinetta, did you cast bread upon the waters?”

  “We . . . that is to say, I, in carrying out my responsibilities to the family Gomez y Sanchez, made a small contribution to a worthy cause.”

  “I see,” the bishop said. “You did give some thought, then, to those charities I mentioned to you?”

  “Yes, I did, and I decided against them,” Doña Antoinetta said.

  “Then I don’t quite follow?”

  “We—that is to say, I—have established two scholarships, the Doctors Pierce and McIntyre Memorial Scholarships, at the Ms. Prudence MacDonald Memorial School of Nursing.”

  “Forgive me, Doña Antoinetta,” the bishop said, “but I’m not familiar with the institution.”

  “It’s in New Orleans, Louisiana,” Doña Antoinetta said. “Father Huaretto . . . where is Father Huaretto, by the way? Salvador, go get him! . . . Father Huaretto was good enough to make inquiries about the institution for me.”

  “New Orleans, you say? They speak French in New Orleans, don’t they?”

  “Some of them do, I understand,” she said. “But don’t let me get off the subject. Father Huaretto checked out the institution for me.”

  “May I ask with whom?”

  “With His Eminence the Archbishop of New Orleans,” Doña Antoinetta said. “And with Monsignor Clancy, the chancellor of the archdiocese. And with the Reverend Mother Bernadette of Lourdes, M.D., F.A.C.S., the chief of staff of Gates of Heaven Hospital.”

  “Well, the good Father really did a good job, didn’t he?” the bishop said.

  “The archbishop himself told Father Huaretto that the school is located in an historic old New Orleans landmark, now converted to good works,” Doña Antoinetta said.

  “Is that so?”

  “And Monsignor Clancy, the chancellor, who is, by the way, well-known to your own beloved, if not too bright, Monsignor Moran, told Father Huaretto that, in a practical sense, the Ms. Prudence MacDonald Memorial School of Nursing is well run by a nun named Reverend Mother Emeritus Margaret. He also said it is in need, dire need, of funds.”

  “I see.”

  “And finally, Reverend Mother Dr. Bernadette of Lourdes told Father Huaretto that the school operates in conjunction with Gates of Heaven Hospital. Reverend Mother Emeritus Margaret, in fact, despite what must be her very advanced years, still serves, when the need arises, as supernumerary senior operating-room nurse.”

  “There’s no keeping a good nun down, I know,” the bishop replied.

  “What do you want?” Doña Antoinetta suddenly said, addressing a point over the bishop’s left shoulder, her voice changing from soft and gentle to firm and furious. “Who let you in here?”

  “Good afternoon, Madame,” a bearded man said. “My name is John Smith, and I am from the Ajax Television Repair Company. ‘Satisfaction guaranteed or your money back’ is our motto. We got a call that you had trouble with your purples.”

  “Show him the TV set, Carlos,” Doña Antoinetta said. “You can see that I’m talking to the bishop.”

  “Do you always bring a tape recorder on your service calls?” Carlos asked as he showed Mr. Smith the TV set.

  “It helps me recall my on-the-spot diagnosis of difficulty,” Mr. Smith said.

  “As I was saying, bishop,” Doña Antoinetta went on. “It was, once I had overcome the cheapskate instincts of my brothers, casting bread upon the waters.”

  “Well, your generosity to good causes, Doña Antoinetta, is well known.”

  “It is the least I can do in expiation of my mortal sins,” she said. “Which we will get to in just a minute, presuming you don’t imbibe too much of that sherry.”

  “Doña Antoinetta, what has all this to do with me?”

  “Salvador,” Doña Antoinetta said, “show the bishop the telegrams.”

  Salvador took several telegrams from an attaché case and handed them over.

  NEW ORLEANS, LA.

  DOÑA ANTOINETTA GOMEZ Y SANCHEZ

  PENTHOUSE

  THE WINTER PALACE

  MIAMI BEACH, FLA.

  HAVE BEEN ADVISED BY HIS EMINENCE THE ARCHBISHOP AND BY REVEREND MOTHER BERNADETTE OF LOURDES OF YOUR GENEROSITY IN ESTABLISHING SCHOLARSHIPS IN NAMES OF HAWKEYE AND TRAPPER JOHN. THE MS. PRUDENCE MACDONALD MEMORIAL SCHOOL OF NURSING IS VERY GRATEFUL. WOULD YOU BE WILLING TO ACCEPT THANKS IN PERSON FROM MYSELF AND PRUDENCE MACDONALD, AND A GENUINE HOLY RELIC OF BLESSED BROTHER BUCK? PLEASE ADVISE VIA COLLECT WIRE.

  MARGARET H. W. WILSON

  REVEREND MOTHER EMERITUS, GILIAFCC, INC., AND DIRECTOR

  AND HOUSE MOTHER, MACDONALD SCHOOL OF NURSING

  The bishop read the telegram, and then read it twice more, because it didn’t make much sense.

  “I don’t quite understand this,” he said.

  “Neither did we, at first,” Doña Antoinetta said. “But then we realized that the message had been . . . what was that word you used, Juan?”

  “Garbled, dear sister,” Juan Gomez y Sanchez said.

  “Garbled,” Doña Antoinetta said. “Something went wrong while it was being transmitted. Look at the signature, for one thing. All those letters mixed up.”

  “GILIAFCC, Inc.,” the bishop read. “I see what you mean. And it says ‘Hawkeye’ and ‘Trapper John.’ That’s obviously a mistake.”

  “We finally straightened it out,” Juan said. He handed the bishop a sheet of typewriter paper. “This is what it was supposed to say.”

  HAVE BEEN ADVISED BY HIS EMINENCE ... OF YOUR GENEROSITY IN ESTABLISHING SCHOLARSHIPS IN NAMES OF JOHN FRANCIS XAVIER MCINTYRE AND BENJAMIN F. PIERCE. . . . WOULD YOU BE WILLING TO ACCEPT THANKS IN PERSON FROM MYSELF AND A GENUINE HOLY RELIC OF THE BLESSED PRUDENCE MACDONALD ? . . .

  “That does,” the bishop said, “seem to make much more sense.”

  Father Huaretto appeared at that moment.

  “Your Excellency,” he said. “How nice to see you. How was Paris?”

  “Don’t ask, Father,” the bishop said. “I understand you’ve been in touch with the Archdiocese of New Orleans about all this?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “And you are, not to put too fine a point on it, satisfied that no one is, so to speak, ripping off our good Doña Antoinetta?”

  “I’m satisfied, sir.”

  “Tell me, Father, about the Blessed Prudence,” the bishop said.

  “Well, Your Excellency,” Father Huaretto said, “when I spoke with the archbishop, I got the impression that there’s been some sort of administrative delay in the Vatican about the Blessed Prudence. The way the archbishop put it, it’s still lower case ‘b’ blessed, rather than capital ‘B,’ if you follow me.”

  “But the archbishop knows the case?”

  “The archbishop led me to believe that he had been personally acquainted with the Blessed Prudence,” Father Huaretto said.

  “Well, if the archbishop vouches for her, that’s good enough for me. We all know how slowly the wheels turn in the Vatican.”

  “Read the rest of the file, Your Excellency,” Doña Antoinetta said. “I’m rather anxious to get through this.”

  MIAMI, FLA.

  REV. MOTHER EMERITUS MARGARET

  DIRECTOR AND HOUSE MOTHER

  BLESSED PRUDENCE MACDONALD SCHOOL OF NURSING

  NEW ORLEANS, LA.

  YOUR OFFER RE: HOLY RELIC PRUDENCE MACDONALD GRATEFULLY ACCEPTED. WE WOULD BE HONORED TO HAVE YOU AS OUR GUEST IN THE WINTER PALACE AT YOUR CONVENIENCE.

  DOÑA ANTOINETTA GOMEZ, Y SANCHEZ, FOR THE FAMILY GOMEZ Y SANCHEZ

  NEW ORLEANS, LA.

  DOÑA ANTOINETTA GOMEZ Y SANCHEZ. .

  PENTHOUSE

  THE WINTER PALACE

  MIAMI BEACH, FLA.

  FURTHER ON MY TELEGRAM RE: HOLY RELIC. HIS EMINENCE JOHN PATRICK MULCAHY, ARCHBISHOP OF SWENGCHAN, CHINA, PRESENTLY TOURING WORLD WITH DOCTORS PIERCE AND MCINTYRE, ADVISES THEY WILL BE IN MIAMI SHORTLY. IN BELIEF YOU MIGHT WISH THEM TO PARTICIPATE IN HOLY RELIC CEREMONY
WITH PRUDENCE, HAVE SUGGESTED THEY STAY AT WINTER PALACE. HAVE ALSO DETERMINED THAT GILIAFCC, INC. A CAPELLA CHOIR, SOMETIMES DESCRIBED AS TONE-TWIN OF VATICAN CASTRATI CHOIR, IS AVAILABLE TO PARTICIPATE IN WHATEVER CEREMONIES ARE DECIDED UPON.

  REV. MOTHER EMERITUS

  MARGARET H. W. WILSON

  Before the bishop turned to the next telegram, he commented that this wire wasn’t as badly garbled as the first.

  PRUDHOE BAY, ALASKA

  RESERVATONS CLERK

  WINTER PALACE

  MAMI BEACH, FLA.

  PLEASE ARRANGE SUITABLE ACCOMMODATIONS FOR COL. JEAN-PIERRE DE LA CHEVAUX, PRESIDENT AND CHAIRMAN OF THE BOARD OF CHEVAUX PETROLEUM CORP., INTERNATIONAL, ARRIVING MIAMI 6 P.M. MIAMI TIME TOMORROW. COL. DE LA CHEVAUX’S PARTY INCLUDES DR. B. F. PIERCE, DR. J. F. X. MCINTYRE, DR. T. MULLINS YANCEY, DR. W. K. WALDOWSKI, AND SEVERAL OTHERS. FLORIDA DIVISION, CHEVAUX PETROLEUM CORP., INTERNATIONAL, TALLAHASSEE, WHICH IS TO BE BILLED FOR ALL SERVICES FURNISHED, HAS BEEN ADVISED AND WILL ARRANGE FOR GROUND TRANSPORTATION.

  C. CARROL LIPSHUTZ MANAGER,

  ADMINISTRATIVE SERVICES

  CHEVAUX PETROLEUM, ALASKA

  “I seem to recall one of those names,” the bishop said. “The name T. Mullins Yancey somehow rings a bell.”

  “We have, of course, ignored that part about billing Chevaux Petroleum Corporation,” Doña Antoinetta said.

  “Doctors Pierce and McIntyre, Your Excellency,” Juan Gomez y Sanchez explained, “are the physicians who treated little Juan Francisco when he was injured.”

  “Dear sister,” Salvador said, “while I understand why, in the name of maintaining the good name of the family Gomez y Sanchez, we should present complimentary services to Doctors Pierce and McIntyre, I wonder if we’re not going too far with regard to Col. de la Chevaux and the other gentlemen...”