In any case, there was practical doubt that the seemingly obvious move would be made.
That meant that one of two very capable employees would be bumped.
How would Jack Fradet react if he turned out to be the sacrificial lamb?
After Tom Adams, Fradet knew the status of the bank better than probably anyone else. What sort of damage would he likely do? Could he do? Father Tully had a gut feeling that the possessor of such intimate and comprehensive knowledge could cause serious, maybe fatal, damage. And to be dismissed from his position while the obvious weak link went blithely on playing hob with mortgage and lending would guarantee an angry and bitter former executive VP.
And if the bumpee turned out to be Marty Whitston?
Father Tully recalled Joel Groggins’s response to this possibility. Tully had supposed that Whitston would be “crushed.” Whereas Groggins had reversed the verb’s voice to predict that Whitston would be the one doing the crushing.
Were Tom Adams to let Lou Durocher go, the CEO would have to admit that his grand experiment in human motivation had failed.
Should he dismiss either Whitston or Fradet, Adams would expose his bank to its possible destruction.
There was no real winner in such a choice.
But never once did it occur to Father Tully that in this vicious circle lurked the possibility of violence-or even murder.
The players in this drama, at least four of them, were not presently contemplating the new branch or its logical consequences. They were much more absorbed with the notes they’d received this evening.
Of the two threats, one engendered by a new branch bank, the other from Barbara Ulrich, the latter was by far the more imminent.
Noting that no one was presently conversing with the host, Father Tully approached Adams, thanked him for a lovely evening, and affirmed Adams’s choice of manager: Nancy Groggins was sure to do well.
Adams seemed far too preoccupied to more than abstractedly shake hands and bid the priest farewell.
If Adams had any plans for Father Tully during the remainder of the priest’s stay in Detroit, there was no mention of anything of the sort. Nor was there another word said about the choice of manager for the new branch.
Finally, Father Tully realized that he would have to locate his chauffeur on his own or call a cab. Fortunately, the attentive chauffeur found him.
And thus ended an evening filled with unexpected events. It was, as Joel Groggins had implied, a prime time soap opera.
How, Father Tully wondered, would it all end?
Eight
It was a pleasant late afternoon in Detroit.
Waiting for his sister-in-law to pick him up, Father Tully decided a little exercise was in order. Thus, he paced up and down the corner of Jay and Orleans next to St. Joe’s rectory.
After last night’s award-winning confusion, this had been a pleasant and relaxing day.
Tom Adams had not made any contact. Father Tully had expected a call. He thought that once Adams came to terms with whatever had disturbed and distracted him last night, he would have attended to the visitor. Shown him the sights, given him some sense of the history of this place.
Father Tully had not for a moment expected that the CEO himself would be his guide; some nonessential employee would, he knew, be assigned to conduct the tour.
Nothing. Not a word.
The most eventful, occurrence of this day had been trying to get Father Koesler off on his vacation excursion. The way things developed, it fully seemed that Koesler was going to cancel his trip.
He even stayed to concelebrate the noon Mass with Father Tully.
After Mass, Father Tully began carrying Father Koesler’s baggage and incidentals down to the car. Reluctantly, the pastor helped stow his things in the trunk and, at long last, left. As Father Koesler’s car cleared the parking lot, Father Tully and Mary O’Connor waved good-bye.
It had taken Father Tully and Mary no time to hit it off. He had quickly perceived that Mary played the factotum role with grace and r diplomacy. If he got out of her way-which he fully intended to do-everything would run like a finely crafted timepiece.
Mary liked Father Tully immediately. He was a priest, which started him off on the right foot. And his personality seemed much like Father Koesler’s. She very much prized Father Koesler.
After peeling Father Koesler away from St. Joe’s rectory, Father Tully spent a relaxing afternoon getting acquainted with the buildings and the “feel” of St. Joe’s.
Also, it was fun anticipating meeting his brother and sister-in-law-two entities whom, up until just days previously, he hadn’t known existed. By the time the late model Ford Escort pulled up to the curb, Father Tully was more than ready to meet his spanking new family.
He was not surprised that the attractive woman driver was alone. Anne Marie, his sister-in-law, had phoned earlier to explain that his brother couldn’t get off work until at least five-thirty at the earliest. She would pick up the priest at that time and they would all meet at their home.
As he reached to open the car door, she leaned across the passenger seat and smiled up at him. “Father Tully, I presume.”
He thought his ears would crack from the width of his answering grin. “Mrs. Tully, I presume,” he replied as he entered the car.
“That title seems so foreign to that last name,” Anne Marie said. “I still can’t imagine somebody named Tully being a priest. Father Tully,” she murmured with reverence and amazement.
“If you feel uneasy about the title, how about me? The only Mrs. Tully I’ve ever known was my mother.”
They both laughed as they began the short trip to the Tully condo.
It would be a while before they became sufficiently comfortable to be in each other’s company in silence. For now, conversation seemed necessary. Besides, there was lots of ground to cover.
“I don’t know everything you and Z-uh, your brother talked about on the phone the other day. But I thought we could clear up some ticklish areas before you two meet in person.”
“Sounds good.” Father Tully was aware that each time the car stopped, for traffic or a streetlight, Anne Marie turned to study him. Undoubtedly she was searching for a resemblance to his brother. Her husband.
“We’re taking a slightly roundabout route to give us a bit more time,” she said. “First off, your brother has been married and divorced. And in between that marriage and me, there was a significant other.”
“I didn’t know.”
“The marriage produced five children. They and their mother moved to Chicago when the divorce was final. The girlfriend and your brother parted amicably.”
The priest nodded.
“I’m telling you this specifically, Father, because it is important for you to know about your brother and me.”
“You don’t have to-”
“Yes, I do. It’s probably going to make you wonder. See, I’m Catholic. And we were married in the Catholic Church.”
“Alonzo got an annulment for his first marriage?”
Anna Marie sighed. “There’s the rub. Your brother is not Catholic.” Sometimes, she thought, I wonder if he’s even religious. “We went to a priest friend of mine who is pastor of a core-city parish in a very poor neighborhood. Mostly because I wanted it, he tried to find some reason why an annulment might be sought, let alone granted.”
“Nothing there?” The priest began to anticipate the outcome of this story.
“The Church does not consider an overwhelming devotion to job, and duty a reason to grant an annulment.”
“Married to his job, eh? I’ve known a lot of cops in that fix. By the way, does he-or do you-object to the word ‘cop’?”
“Not at all.”