Man Who Loved God (12 page)

“But the first step will be an optional married clergy. And that’s when we meet problems like yours: which comes first, my priesthood or my marriage?”

The waitress returned. Zoo added a tip and signed the chit. As he tucked his wallet in his pocket, Zoo, one eyebrow arched, said, “Would you get married … I mean if the Church let you?”

“I don’t really know. I may never get the chance to know. When I say the move to optional celibacy is just around the corner, I mean the Church’s distance to the corner. The Church thinks in hundreds of years. And, while I doubt this change will wait for a hundred years, I also doubt it’ll take place tomorrow.

“As for there being problems for priests and their wives, I don’t mean it would be an epidemic. I’m sure that cops who experience marital problems are in the minority. Not everybody, by any means, is as dedicated to police work as you are. And not all priests would experience similar problems. But I think the average for priests would be higher—at least in the beginning.

“I could be wrong, but I think that among priests the sense of total dedication and availability is more common than among police.”

“Interesting,” Zoo said, whether or not he agreed.

The two rose and headed for the exit.

“Say,” Zoo said, “when Anne Marie was giving you a little history on me, did she mention anything about our wedding?”

“How do you mean?”

“Well, I was married before. But at no time during the process of getting married did that come up. We did have a few meetings with her priest. I kind of anticipated we’d have to get into that. From some of the things I picked up working with Father Koesler, I know your Church requires more than a civil divorce before another marriage. It’s called an annulment, no?”

Father Tully nodded. He desperately wanted to change the subject. Nothing came to mind.

“It was like waiting for the second shoe to fall. The subject just never came up. I didn’t push it. I was happy it was apparently going so smoothly. I was sure if the priest insisted on getting this annulment there would be lots of paperwork and long delays.” Father Tully made no comment.

“Well, that was
her
priest.” Zoo smiled indulgently on his brother. “Now I’ve got
my
priest. So, how about it: Do you have any idea what went on?”

Zoo’s beeper sounded.

“’Scuse me, I’ve got to get this.” Zoo headed for a phone.

Father Tully breathed a sigh of relief. He knew perfectly well what had been done and not done in the marriage of his brother and sister-in-law. He had, on occasion, done something similar for couples. Resulting in a valid and real marriage in civil law as well as sincere consciences. But being invalid and carrying no weight in Church law.

Father Tully had every reason to believe that the consciences of both partners to his brother’s marriage were at ease. Asked if they were married, neither one would have responded, “a little bit” or “partially.” Their consciences were at peace and Father Tully was not about to upset this package.

Zoo returned from the phone transformed. Where a few moments ago, he had been relaxed and mildly inquisitive, he was now all business. “There’s been a murder. That new branch of Adams Bank and Trust—somebody was killed.”

Excitement almost snatched Father Tully’s breath away. “Who was it? Do you know who was killed?”

“The manager.” Zoo was walking so rapidly that his brother found it hard to keep up.

Zoo was parked around the corner on Grand River so they didn’t have to wait for Carl’s parking attendant. As they entered the car, Zoo said, “I’ll drop you off at St. Joe’s.”

Was this a pattern? It was beginning to seem that when it was time for Zoo to drive his brother home, some emergency intervened. Father Tully was definitely ready for a change of routine. “If you don’t mind … I’d really like to go with you.”

Zoo, starting the car, glanced at his brother. “This is not a field trip.”

“I know. And I’m very well coached that you do not suffer non—professionals gladly. I know all that. And I won’t get in anybody’s way. But I’d like to go with you. I just may have something to contribute … and I’m not playing Father Koesler.”

Zoo said nothing as he drove toward St. Joe’s. Suddenly, he veered away from the parish and headed out Jefferson. “Okay. But stay right where I tell you. Why do you want to come on this run, anyhow?”

“That award party I was at the other night: I met the full cast of characters who run this bank. I met the new manager, Al Ulrich. Mr. Adams asked me to give him my impression of Ulrich and Nancy Groggins as to which would make the better manager for the new branch.

“As a matter of fact, before I had a chance to meet either contestant, Adams confided that he favored Nancy. And, after meeting both of them, I agreed with Adams and I told him as much before leaving.

“That’s why I was so surprised when Adams announced that he had selected Ulrich for the job.

“Now Ulrich is dead.

“I just have a very strong feeling that I should be there. I can’t tell you why. The whole idea is new to me. It’s almost like Providence wants it that way.”

“Okay,” Zoo said. “But just stay put and observe.”

Ten

As they approached the crime scene, Father Tully surveyed the territory. It was a mixed bag.

The housing ran from neatly kept bungalows to empty flats with out panes or doors. Once, years ago, this had undoubtedly been a working, middle-class neighborhood. One whose front porches had held gliders. In spring, summer, and fall, neighbors had gathered to talk, to listen, to learn, and to live. Neighbors who had never heard of the phrase “drive-by shooting.”

But that was a time whose return no one could hope to anticipate.

Tully’s car, flasher blinking, pulled up to the new bank building.

“What’s happened to this neighborhood?” Father Tully asked. Yesterday’s tour had featured nothing like this.

“Gangs. Drugs and might make right.”

An extensive area was cordoned off by bright yellow ribbon signifying a crime scene. All unauthorized people were to observe the restriction and stay out.

“Remember: you’re a spectator.”

Father Tully followed Zoo, stepping over the tape.

Several detectives from the lieutenant’s Homicide Squad were on the scene. Two of them, Sergeants Phil Mangiapane and Angie Moore, walked toward the newcomers. They hesitated when they saw a man in clerical clothing accompanying their leader. Angie Moore was the first to note a resemblance—albeit slight—between the two men.

Moore and Mangiapane had intended to bring the lieutenant up to date on what they had learned. The completely unexpected presence of a strange clergyman gave them pause.

The lieutenant perceived this. “Sergeants Mangiapane and Moore, meet Father Zachary Tully.”

The name stopped them in their tracks.

Mangiapane was the first to extend his hand.
“Father
Tully? You couldn’t be … no you couldn’t—”

“I’ll betcha I could,” said the priest.

Mangiapane’s hand stayed extended even after the priest had shaken it.

Angie Moore, perhaps because she’d had a bit more time to adjust to this incredible event, seemed entirely composed. “Glad to meet you,” she said as she shook Zack’s hand.

With a note of pride in his voice, Zoo said, “Father Tully is my half brother. We have the same father. Until a couple of days ago each of us didn’t know the other existed. My brother’s a priest … a Catholic priest. He belongs to the … uh …”

“Josephite order,” the priest supplied.

“And,” Zoo said, “he’s gonna be here for maybe a couple of weeks.”

By now, Mangiapane was able to close his mouth. “A Catholic priest! Who could …? Is this for real?”

“It’s for real, Manj. Now: what’ve we got?”

Angie Moore was by far the more self-possessed. “It looks like robbery armed and murder.”

“It was the bank manager?”

“Yeah,” Moore said. “This was supposed to be opening day. Sort of letting the neighborhood welcome the bank and the bank making itself at home here.”

“Opening day,” mused Zoo. “Okay, give me what you got.”

“This is a new branch of Adams Bank and Trust,” Mangiapane said.

“That I know.”

“Well,” Mangiapane, undaunted, proceeded, “the general staff have been working with each other for a while. They were specially trained for this neighborhood. The manager,” he consulted his notes, “Allan Ulrich, was named only a couple of days ago. Yesterday he met with his staff for the first time … to give them a rundown of procedures and stuff like that.”

“He—Ulrich, that is,” said Moore, “decided he would be the person to open up in the morning, Monday through Friday. He was supposed to arrive at 8
A.M.
—and, according to the cameras, he did.”

“Cameras going all night?”

“Yes,” Moore said.

“Go on.” Zoo looked at Mangiapane.

“The staff put up the decorations” —he motioned toward the bunting on the walls and the helium balloons lightly grazing the ceiling—“late yesterday afternoon. Everything was ready for opening day. Like Angie said, Ulrich was here right on the button at eight.

“A little while after that, the film shows that he went to the door. That’s just out of camera range, so you can’t immediately see who came in. But then you see Ulrich backtracking into the lobby. He’s got both hands raised. Then the perp fires—one shot. Hits Ulrich in the forehead, between the eyes. His knees buckle and he hits the floor.

“Then the perp moves in. It’s either blind luck, or the guy knew where the cameras were aimed. ’Cause he pretty well stayed out of the picture. Just some shots of a shoulder, his back. But then he got into the control room and killed the power: the cameras go off then.”

Moore offered some backgrounding. “They had a signal set up. Ulrich planned on coming in an hour before the other employees. He would be here at eight. The rest were supposed to arrive at nine. And the bank would open for business at nine-thirty.

“When Ulrich had gotten everything set up, he was to raise the blind in his office. That was the signal: The employees would know it was safe to enter. When the first of them got here this morning, Ulrich’s car was in the lot, but the blind was still down.

“They phoned the bank. There wasn’t any answer. So they called the police. But the police were already on the way: the monitoring system that protects bank security had caught noises that sounded like someone trying to break into the safe.

“A couple of patrolmen got here and checked things out. The perp was gone. Impossible to know exactly when he left, but it had to be before the employees got here. And the employees were here five or ten minutes before the cops got here.

“Of course they found the body. And some marks on the vault. Looks like the idiot thought he could get into the vault by hammering the lock open.

“As soon as they found the body the patrolman called us. And … we responded. You weren’t summoned because you were tying up the Marcantonio shooting.

“And that’s pretty much where we are, Zoo.”

“One more thing,” said Mangiapane. “Just before the perp shot Ulrich, the manager seemed to lunge at the perp. Maybe he was trying to be a hero.”

“It wasn’t a good moment to become a hero,” Moore added.

“You’d think he’d know better,” Zoo commented. “Money isn’t worth a life. Those are words to live by in this day and age. If you got something somebody wants, and the somebody is waving a gun, give him what he wants real quick. We might be able to get the thing back. But we can’t bring a guy back to life.” The statement was made for the benefit of his. brother, but when he looked over his shoulder, there was no sign of Zack.

“Okay …” Zoo looked about. What was his brother up to? “The body’s been picked up?”

“Yeah,” Mangiapane said. “Doc Moellmann himself is doing the autopsy.”

“Okay. What’s going on now?”

“Rughurst’s over there,” Mangiapane inclined his head to where the FBI was on the job, as was usual in similar cases involving banks.

Zoo smiled. “We know S. A. Rughurst, don’t we?”

Mangiapane and Moore nodded.

“Our guys,” Moore said, “are interrogating the employees. And over there in the corner is …” She looked at her notes. “Nancy Groggins. Married to Joel Groggins, the construction guy.”

“Yeah,” Zoo said. “What’s she doing here?” And, under his breath, “And what is my brother doing talking to her?” This definitely was not what was meant by being a spectator. “Make sure that our guys get around the neighborhood. See if anybody saw or heard anything.”

“Right, Zoo.” Both Mangiapane and Moore headed out to do that very thing.

Lieutenant Tully strode toward Nancy Groggins—and his brother.

The employees, to a person, were visibly affected by what had happened. Some fought back tears. Others wept openly. Nancy Groggins dabbed at her eyes with a small lacy handkerchief. She looked up, blinking, as Lieutenant Tully approached.

“I was just trying to console Mrs. Groggins,” Father Tully explained.

“Are you an employee here, ma’am?” Tully asked.

“I … well … I guess I am now.”

“How’s that?”

“She was the other person who was being considered as manager of this branch,” Father Tully explained. “I mentioned her earlier, didn’t I?”

Zoo directed a pained look at his brother. It seemed to say, I don’t tell you how to say Mass, do I? The priest backed away slightly.

“Yes, ma’am,” Tully said. “How is it that you may be an employee here?”

“Mr. Adams phoned me just a little while ago. He asked if I would consider taking Al’s position—at least on a temporary basis … until things settle down.”

“And you told him …?”

“I said of course I would. For as long as Mr. Adams wants me to stay.”

“Aren’t you a little nervous about that decision? After all, the bank hasn’t even officially opened and already there’s been a murder.”

Nancy nodded and, without looking up to meet Tully’s eyes, said, “We all knew this was a dangerous section of the city. That Al’s death belabors the fact doesn’t change things. I volunteered for this assignment and I’m as ready now as I was before.