“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.
“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 …”