Man Who Loved God (13 page)

“Besides” —she raised her head—“Mr. Adams said he would provide security guards—at least until the neighborhood gets used to us. And maybe longer, if that’s what it takes. I don’t think anyone—even Mr. Adams—knows what the future holds now.”

“You seem to have an awful lot of faith in Adams.”

“You don’t know the man.” Her tone made it a question.

Zoo shook his head. “I know who he is. But not that much about him.”

“A wonderful man,” Nancy attested. “Wonderful man. You know, I was talking with Al just last night—” She halted, noting confusion on the lieutenant’s face. “I’m sorry: Al is the man who … the man who was shot.” She dabbed at her eyes again with her handkerchief. “He was so enthused about opening this branch. It
is
a thrill. You put your own stamp on the operation. It’s something like having a baby.

“Anyway, while we were talking, Al said that even as late as yesterday, Mr. Adams was trying to help Al and his wife with their marriage … get them to a marriage counselor.”

“Oh?”

Nancy Groggins instantly realized that Lieutenant Tully’s one-word question was not an idle one; the information she had just given Tully—that the Ulrichs had marital trouble—could be considered a motive for murder. Her eyes widened. “I didn’t mean … it’s not that …” She halted, in some confusion.

“Yes?” Lieutenant Tully prodded gently.

“Well, what I meant was, that just shows how concerned and involved Mr. Adams was with his employees. Even with an opening as important as this, he had time to try to help his people personally,” she concluded lamely, but loyally.

Lieutenant Tully gave no indication that he had already made a mental note to check out the widow as a possible suspect in this death. He merely asked, “So, what happens now?”

“There’s been a press conference called at the bank’s headquarters later this afternoon. My appointment will be announced. Mr. Adams will handle that, of course.

“Pretty much the rest of today we’ll try to adjust to what’s happened. We have counselors coming in to talk with our people. Mr. Adams’s idea, as usual.

“Then, tomorrow and Sunday, we’ll come together, get acclimated, map our strategy, and get ready to open on Monday.

“The mayor was supposed to be here Monday for the official grand opening. We’ll just combine what should have happened today along with what was planned for Monday. That’s about it.”

“Okay,” Tully said. “Thank you very much, Mrs. Groggins. And,” he added, “lots of luck.”

As the lieutenant turned, he motioned with his head for his brother to follow him. Almost out of the side of his mouth, Zoo said, “Zachary, stay close to me. We can’t have you wandering about in a crime scene. And don’t volunteer any questions or opinions.
I
don’t have any problem with you. Right now you’ve arrived out of left field. You’re the lieutenant’s brother, so you’re tolerated.”

“Gotcha.” Father Tully fell into step behind his brother. Like a faithful, humble wife, he thought.

The lieutenant crossed the floor to greet the FBI agent.

Rughurst’s grin was sardonic. “Is the Detroit Police Department supplying priests for criminal investigations? So now you’ll have a prayer?”

Tully smiled. “Special Agent Harold Rughurst, meet Father Zachary Tully.”

“Tully?”

“My brother.”

“This is a long way from Halloween.”

“My long-lost brother.”

“How come we’ve never heard of you, Father? Where’ve you been hiding?”

Responding to a question directed to him personally couldn’t violate his brother’s admonition of noninvolvement, thought Father Tully. “I’m a Josephite priest. Currently, I’m stationed at a small parish in Dallas. We—the lieutenant and I—just discovered each other a short time ago. Because I’ll be here in Detroit only a little while, I’m trying to get as much of my brother as I can. That’s why I’m here with him now.”

“Well,” Rughurst said. “Welcome to Detroit, Father. I guess this pretty much convinces you that Detroit comes to its reputation honestly as the country’s murder capital.”

“Coming from Dallas, actually, I don’t find this so extraordinarily different.”

The agent returned his attention to Lieutenant Tully. “Nice work on that freeway shooting.”

“Thanks.”

“How’s the officer … Marcantonio … how’s he doing?”

“Pretty good. He’s a lucky guy. If it hadn’t been for that Bible in his pocket …”

“Yeah, I read about that.” Rughurst glanced at the priest. “Maybe prayer is helping after all.”

“It couldn’t hurt.” Zoo was eager to get back to this case. “You here from the beginning of this one, Rug?”

“Practically. I got here while the techs were working. Your guys have the tapes—at least up to where the perp cut the power. They don’t look like they’ll be much help. But you never know what the experts can squeeze out of them.”

“How’s it look to you, Rug?”

“It looks like the price you pay for opening a bank in this god forsaken neighborhood. Like opening a candy shop in a building filled with chocoholics.”

“The mayor liked it.”

“Sure, it looks good for the city. Return, renaissance, whatever the hell. But this is still a trouble spot. How come there wasn’t any police presence?”

Tully shrugged. “They didn’t want it. Adams’s idea. Thought it would create the impression that the bank people were afraid … like they expected trouble.”

“They’d have to be nuts if they didn’t expect trouble.”

Quixotic is the word they’re looking for, thought Father Tully. But I’m not going to give it to them.

“You saw the tapes, Rug: whaddya think? The perp look like a local?”

Rughurst massaged his chin, which was cleanly shaven. “Yes. Looked like he was wearing an old sweater and maybe jeans. Couldn’t see much of him from the waist down. And a cap covering his ears and pulled down low over his eyes. What I can’t figure is why Ulrich opened the door for him.”

“Maybe he had his piece out and Ulrich decided he’d stand a better chance with the perp inside where he might be able to wrestle the piece away. I mean, if the guy’s holding a gun on you and all that’s between you is plate glass, you can be pretty sure if you don’t open the door he can waste you from outside.”

“Yeah, could be, I guess. In fact,” Rughurst added, “the tape does show Ulrich making a move on the perp. That’s when he bought it.”

“It makes sense all right,” the lieutenant agreed. “But the way this scenario is playing out, Ulrich could’ve opened the door because he didn’t want to be inhospitable to one of the neighbors.”

Rughurst burst out laughing, but stopped quickly when a few of the grief-stricken employees looked at him sharply. “If it was a neighbor, his feet weren’t touching the floor.”

“Spaced out, you think?”

The agent nodded definitively. “Whoever heard of taking a bank vault with a hammer?”

“That what he used?”

“That’s what it looks like. He must’ve had a sawed-off sledge. He bashed the vault pretty good. But all he did was make dents. He must’ve been pretty high. Probably still is.”

I
know the answer. They don’t know about the threatened executives. But how am I ever going to get them to listen?
This playing detective was fun, actually, but in this situation very frustrating. Father Tully made a mental note to ask Bob Koesler about it—either on his return or during one of his inevitable phone calls.

“Well,” Zoo said, “we’d better get on with this. The media will be breathing down our neck.”

“Can you blame them?”

“Not this time, I guess. This is made to order for them—all this prepublicity and all.”

The two officers, agreeing to keep each other posted, parted with a handshake, Rughurst nodding a pro forma good-bye to the priest.

Zoo and his faithful shadow crossed to Sergeant Moore, who had just ended an interview with one of the employees. “How’s it going, Angie?”

“We’re making good time, Zoo … but we’re not coming up with anything significant.”

“Anybody remember someone hanging around this building over the past couple of days?”

Moore frowned. “Yeah. Trouble is there’s been a lot of that. The locals were fascinated with this new toy on the block. Not very many are gainfully employed, so watching the comings and goings here was almost better than TV … at least it was live entertainment.”

“Nobody even a little extra suspicious?”

“Oh, a couple. We’re following up on them. A lot of our people are on the street, so we’ll probably come up with something soon. It’s just frustrating for now. Whoever did this was so dumb—”

“Or high.”

“Or high,” Moore agreed. “If he was on drugs, even if he’s down by this time, he’s probably still up emotionally. In any case, it shouldn’t be that hard to collar him. That’s what’s frustrating. We are so close and still so far.”

“Hang in there,” Zoo encouraged. “I’m going back to headquarters. Let me know if anything breaks.”

“Right, Zoo.” Sergeant Moore nodded. “Glad to meet you, Father.”

“Same here,” the priest responded.

Eleven

Lieutenant Tully and his brother were in the car, heading back toward downtown Detroit. They drove in silence. Mostly because Father Tully was reluctant to speak.

“So,” Zoo said finally, “how do you feel about your first homicide?”

“It’s hardly my first. I’ve been at the scene of more of them than I want to remember. It’s my first experience in the investigative side of a killing. And that is fascinating.”

Zoo smiled. “It gets to be routine. The thrill is in the chase. This one won’t be very thrilling. Just dogged investigative work: keep asking questions until you find someone with the right answer. It’ll happen; it just takes time.”

Silence for a few more minutes.

“Did I tell you much about that party I attended night before last?” the priest asked.

“The one at Adams’s place? No, not much, as I recall.”

The priest turned slightly so he could measure his brother’s reaction to his words. “I managed to meet everyone at the party. Outside of Tom Adams, I can’t say anybody else there wanted to meet me.”

Tully snorted. “
That
kind of party, eh?”

“I guess.”

“What was the lineup?”

“There was Adams. Then there were the three executive vice presidents and their wives. And the two candidates for the new branch. As the party developed, there was a double of odd man out—Joel Groggins and me. The rest of ’em had no trouble relating to each other. Groggins and I were left hanging … so we hung out together—”

“Wait a minute. What about Mrs. Ulrich? She wasn’t in that tight inner circle.”

A good sign. He’s listening to me carefully. “No, she’s not,” said the priest. “But that didn’t seem to bother her any. She made a late entrance and sort of took over … maybe not as the life of the party, but as a significant guest.”

“Okay. So you and Groggins—he’s the construction guy?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay. So you and Groggins were sort of walled off.”

“Yes.”

“And his wife is the Nancy we just spoke to in the bank.”

“Yes.”

“So?.”

“So, while nobody else seemed to want to make conversation with us, he and I talked all through the meal.”

“I don’t want to rush you, but I’m going to be dropping you off at the rectory. Does this story have a point?”

“The point is Groggins gave me a brief sketch of each of the main characters and their interactions. There was an air of tension in that room and Groggins’s accounts made the friction pretty clear.

“Alonzo, it boils down to this: The vice presidents—and necessarily their wives—felt threatened by the real possibility of being fired.”

“Fired! Why? What for?”

“It all stemmed from the creation of this position of manager of the new branch. The two final contestants both volunteered for the job. The thinking was that Adams would want to reward whoever made a success of the job. The only feasible reward would be an executive vice presidency. And that meant that one of the present executive VPs would be elbowed out.

“Hmmmm.”

“You could feel something in that room. Fear—fear that could lead to violence.”

“I think …” Zoo began cautiously. “I think I know where you’re going.”

“Is it too much to presume? In the light of what happened this morning, I mean? Is it too farfetched to think that someone at that party was responsible for the death of Al Ulrich?”

After several moments, Tully sighed deeply. “You know, Father Koesler’s help and advice concerned religious matters. He didn’t really get involved with police work.”

“I was sure you were going to say that. For this moment, I’d like to escape from Bob Koesler’s shadow. I’ve asked myself the question over and over. And as far as Father Koesler is concerned, I’m sure that if he’d been in my shoes the other night—heard what I heard, seen what I saw—he’d be telling you exactly what I’ve just told you.”

The lieutenant thought this over. “I’m sorry, brother. I was out of line. I guess it all stems from your taking Koesler’s place. Then all that talk about how you want to help me like he has.

“Well, let me tell you, I may just go the rest of my life without needing the help or expertise of any religious person. Maybe yes, maybe no. And I gotta admit that I’ve been a little jumpy about you thinking you’ve got to help me. But I shouldn’t have overreacted.

“Just keep one thing in mind, Zachary: police tend to follow the most obvious solution in a criminal investigation. Right now we’re working on the assumption that this attempted robbery/murder was committed by a guy who was stupid or drugged enough to think he could break into a bank vault with a sledgehammer. We assume he’s still in the neighborhood. Or, if he’s running, if we ask the right questions often enough, we’ll still pick him up.

“But what you learned at last night’s party could be significant. If our first lead dries up, we might have to look at that party. In that case, you’re saving us a lot of time by giving me a rundown now. So, go ahead, brother: Tell me about Mr. Groggins and his insights and his gossip.”

Now that he knew he had his brother’s undivided attention, Father Tully swiveled to face forward, forgot about the traffic, and concentrated on his story.