“As to the other case,” Koznicki said, “there has been very little progress on the News reporter’s death. Once again, the initial problem lies with the witnesses. There were many potential eyewitnesses, but this time it happened in the dark of night, again in a crowd with many qualifying circumstances. At this point, the investigation does not seem promising.”
They left 1300 Beaubien, Police Headquarters, and stood for a moment on the broad sidewalk. Koznicki looked out of the corner of his eye. He could almost see the wheels moving in Tully’s head. “Are you interested, Alonzo?” he asked almost needlessly.
Tully smiled. “Oh, I guess, maybe. I think I’ll just go back upstairs and run through that file.” He turned and hustled back up the stairs. Of course he couldn’t wait to get started. Here was a mystery that, unlike the Keating case, had an obtainable answer. Somebody had killed a Detroit News reporter. All Tully had to do was find out whodunit. And more often than not that was how Tully solved cases. They might never find Father John Keating-dead or alive. But, by God, Tully was going hunting for whoever had killed the reporter.
Part Two
14
Earlier in the twentieth century, Detroit’s theater district-such as it was-was located bordering along Woodward not far from the river on streets such as Larned, Congress, Fort, and Lafayette. Many of those legitimate stages later became movie houses. All were now long gone.
Now, later in the twentieth century, the theater district-such as it is-of downtown Detroit lies above Grand Circus Park, about a mile north of where it once was. And the streets surrounding this district can be dangerous.
It was just after 10:00 on a balmy September evening when the show at the Fox Theater let out. A generally satisfied audience spilled out onto Woodward Avenue, which had the distinction of being M-l, the first highway in Michigan.
Most of the patrons had parked in the large adjoining lot. But Father Koesler, in a tribute to frugality, had parked in the underground garage beneath Grand Circus Park, which, even though evening rates had been drastically reduced to attract customers, was nearly empty. The garage was only a block or so south of the Fox, but a lot could happen in that short distance. And if anything did happen, chances were it would not be pleasant.
The four priest friends who had attended tonight’s performance had come in two cars. Father McNiff had chauffeured Fathers Marvin and Mulroney and had parked in the Fox lot. Indeed, of all those in attendance this night, Koesler seemed the only one to have parked any distance from the theater. Since the four had agreed to meet at Carl’s Chop House for an after-theater meal, Frank Marvin volunteered to go with Koesler so he would not be alone. Thus the two set off, walking briskly down Woodward.
It was eerie.
The area just outside the theater was brightly lit and swarming with happy, chatting people. Two steps from that scene and it was like a set from a wartime movie. There were streetlights, but it was nowhere near as illumined as the overlit Fox marquee. And there were no people. The impression that the infrequent pedestrian had quickly passed into some sort of no-man’s-land was due in large part to the contrast between a small zone comprising noisy people packed together like sardines and a desolate street-all within a few feet of each other.
The two priests could not help but be aware of their isolation.
“Is it worth it?” Father Marvin asked.
“What?” Father Koesler returned.
“The five or so bucks you save by parking in the garage.”
“A penny saved, et cetera,” Koesler said flippantly. But he didn’t feel that insouciant. As nonchalantly as possible he glanced over his shoulder to see who, if anyone, was behind them as they walked. There was no one in front of them as far as the eye could see.
But there was someone behind them.
A lone young man, possibly a teenager, in jeans and T-shirt. Somewhat lightly clothed, even for this mild weather. Definitely not part of the theater crowd. A casual pedestrian headed … where? Home? A rendezvous? Nowhere in particular?
Koesler did not want to alarm Marvin. But he certainly wanted to stay alert to this potential threat.
They walked in silence a few more steps. Koesler again glanced over his shoulder. The young man maintained his course in their wake. He stayed about eight to ten yards behind them, matching their pace. But something was added now: a car, old, weatherworn, so dirty it was difficult to tell how many passengers were in it.
Koesler did not wish to turn around and confront the young man or his companions, which very likely the occupants of the car were. The car was creeping down Woodward at the same slow speed as the priests and their shadow.
“Bob,” Marvin said softly, “somebody seems to be following us.”
“Oh?” So Marvin had also noticed this small procession. Koesler did not want either himself or Marvin to panic, but there was an unmistakable sense of serious danger here.
Of course it was possible the young man was simply out for a walk on an inviting evening. He might have been keeping a date.
And if Koesler flapped his arms, he might fly. No, that steady pace kept both by the pedestrian and the suspicious car boded no harmless explanation.
The fact that their quarry were priests apparently carried no weight with these predators. It was as if two animals had allowed themselves to be cut off from the herd and were now being stalked by wolves.
Koesler felt they would be lucky to be merely robbed. Yet he saw no alternative to playing this out and seeing what would happen. Though he was extremely apprehensive, he tried to act casual for his own sake as well as Marvin’s.
The two priests reached the corner of Adams and Woodward. Across the street was Grand Circus Park, beneath which was the parking garage, and safety-if they could reach it.
Ordinarily, they would have crossed with the light at the corner. But Koesler opted for a shortcut. He nudged Marvin to jaywalk toward the center of the Adams block and the ramp leading down to the garage.
They turned sharply to the right. Koesler glanced back. The young man also turned right. Now there was no doubt: He was following them. Whatever was going to happen would happen in just a few moments.
But something else was happening. The car did not turn right. It continued south on Woodward. That unexpected event was followed by another. The young man veered off and followed in the direction of the car.
Surprised, both Koesler and Marvin stopped to see what was going on.
They saw a marked blue and white Detroit police car, which had unobtrusively pulled up behind the other car. The officer had turned on neither siren nor flashing lights. But the police car had been spied by the driver of the car following the priests. And when the young man noticed his companions veering off, he also abandoned the chase.
For a brief instant Koesler thought the single officer in the car might give them a ticket for jaywalking. He would have welcomed one considering what the policeman had saved them from. But the blue and white simply glided by, the officer therein neither smiling nor showing any sign of concern. Probably he too was glad nothing had happened.
The two priests hurried to Koesler’s car. Koesler paid the dollar parking fee, then drove up the exit ramp. Both men looked in every direction. They were not being cautious of other traffic as much as making sure their potential muggers were nowhere in sight. Coast clear, they headed in the direction of the restaurant.
Well on their way, Marvin spoke. “Thank God for the Detroit police!” It was said with fervor and sincerity. Thereafter, neither spoke.
McNiff and Mulroney had arrived at the restaurant only moments before Koesler and Marvin. It was late in the evening and this was one of the few eateries still open and offering everything from a snack to a full dinner. There were three main dining rooms, only one designated as nonsmoking. At this hour, that meant little; heavy smoke hung almost motionless everywhere.