Man Who Loved God Page 26

  I feel better now that I’ve told you; I know you’ll be able to handle it—

  “Of course …” Adams interrupted the priest’s reading. “I couldn’t understand why we were showing such a profit. But he wasn’t building a golden parachute. No, more than likely he was creating a false sense of security: he was paving the way for a takeover.”

  Father Tully nodded, and returned to the letter.

  Any other secret I may have is mine alone. Just please trust that there is no other problem that will interfere with the happiness of our marriage—that is, if you still want me.

  None of you four knew about the others. There is always the possibility that they will learn. That’s why I wanted you to hear it from me.

  I await your response.

  With love,

  Barbara

  Oh, my! Father Tully had suspected something was going on between Barbara and the executives, but—oh, my!

  He puzzled over her statement, Any other secret I may have is mine alone. One would think that after the first momentous secret, there couldn’t be too many more. Evidently, the final secret seemingly was not of a nature liable to disrupt an otherwise happy marriage.

  Father Tully could not know what only Joyce Hunter’s husband and daughter knew—that Barbara was a lesbian.

  “Would you?” the priest asked. “Would you have married Barbara knowing what is in this letter?”

  Adams blinked several times as if returning from profound abstraction. “Would I have married her? Of course. She was carrying my child. I am not without sin. Who is?”

  Silence.

  “I am grateful to you, Father,” Adams said finally, wearily. “You and you alone stopped me from doing something foolish and wrong. How did you know …? How did you know what I was about to do? How did you know where I was?”

  Tully pondered the questions. All that was on his mind, all that had come to him in an extended blinding flash was not yet coordinated to the point where he could explain it logically.

  But he would try to address Adams’s questions. “The police were working on the theory that if they found the father of Barbara’s child, they would also have her killer—the idea being that the father didn’t want the baby, so he killed both mother and child.

  “But when you claimed that you were the father and also claimed that you hadn’t killed Barbara, I believed you were telling the truth. That destroyed the hypothesis that the father of the child had killed its mother. As good a theory as that was in providing a motive for the killing, since you are the father and you did not kill Barbara, there had to be another motive for her murder.

  “Then you told me you had just received a letter from her. You said you’d call me right back. When you didn’t, I called you. Your secretary said you’d left your office.

  “Why would you have done that? Why hadn’t you returned the call? It had to have something to do with that letter. Barbara had to have written something that greatly disturbed you—enough to force you to some sort of action. Maybe she guessed who her killer would be? Whatever, it was something cataclysmic, I was sure of that.

  “I called Sergeant Mangiapane and then I got here as fast as I could.”

  The priest had Adams’s attention. “But how did you know where to find me? If you had been a minute or two later, I would have done the most foolhardy thing in my entire life.”

  “That was more luck than anything. I was looking on your desk for Barbara’s letter when I spotted the word you had written on a scrap of paper.”

  “‘Judas’?”

  “Yes—Judas. An odd word to scribble. But it told me you were after someone you felt had betrayed you. I recalled what you had told me at your banquet: how your bank was not one of the conglomerates, but that the big banks were always out looking for smaller banks to devour.

  “You were dedicated to keeping the bank financially alive and well. Yours is a family bank and you are dedicated to keeping it that way. You even belong to the Independent Bankers Association to join with other independents who want to avoid forced mergers.

  “I knew from talking to Jack Fradet and others at your dinner that his job as comptroller of this bank is, among other things, to gather information and to assess the financial status of the bank. If he gave you the wrong information, misinformed you, the bank could be weakened—a ready victim for a takeover.

  “He’s the one who could best play the traitor. You went looking for him. I went looking for you.”

  Adams nodded slowly. “When I read in Barbara’s letter about Fradet’s reaction to her bluff, everything fell into place. I had thought the bank was having some extraordinary good fortune. That misinformation led us into one mode of business while we should actually have been going in the opposite direction. He deliberately set us up for disaster.

  “After I read her letter I immediately checked the books. Now that I was looking for it and knew what to look for, I saw what Jack had done. I could have killed him!” He shook his head sadly. “I almost did.”

  “And this gives the police a different motive for Barbara’s murder,” said Father Tully. “She died not because she was carrying the killer’s child, but because the murderer believed—falsely—that Barbara Ulrich was onto his game.”

  “Now … if only they can prove it,” Adams said.

  “What’s going on here?” A demanding Zoo Tully stood in the doorway.

  His brother looked up brightly. “Have we got some stories to tell you!

  Twenty-Six

  More than he could express, Father Tully deeply appreciated this farewell dinner.

  This was by no means his first send-off celebration. In his twenty years as, in effect, a missionary priest, he had periodically been transferred from parish to parish.

  Such priestly passages could prove financially rewarding, as soon-to-be-former parishioners sponsored a party at which gifts were given. But congregations in parishes serviced by a Josephite priest usually could afford only gifts of prayer and affection—actually sufficient for just about any truly dedicated priest.

  This evening’s leave-taking was especially significant because the participants were those with whom Father Tully had bonded to varying degrees in his brief stay in Detroit.

  There was Father Koesler, back from vacation and eager to get back to the helm of his parish. Inspector Koznicki and his wife, Wanda, were the hosts. Rounding out the company was Lieutenant Tully—the brother who had become a brother—and Anne Marie, who was all a real sister should be.

  The dinner bore Wanda’s hallmark: good plain food prepared and served with love. As the clambakers in Carousel sang, “The vittles we et were good, you bet/The company was the same.” Throughout, all joined in the conversation, which was, by turns, warm, witty, thoughtful, and stimulating.

  When eventually the plates were empty, still no one made a move to leave the table, which was being cleared by Wanda and Anne Marie, assisted by the lumbering Walt Koznicki. Dessert and coffee were coming up.

  Father Koesler had been surprised, indeed amazed, that his standin had been involved in a murder investigation. Was such clerical assistance in police work, he wondered, endemic to St. Joe’s? Or was it just to a Koesler pastorate?

  It must, he decided, be the latter. For in succeeding parishes, Father Koesler had been involved in this sort of thing almost as an annual adventure. And here was Father Zachary Tully at a Koesler parish for only a few days and, voilà! in a mystery up to his collar.

  So much had been going on with Tom Adams and Jack Fradet and the Adams Bank people, as well as with the police and the prosecutor’s office, that Koesler had a lot of lingering questions. With the table clearing causing a temporary lull in the conversation, he was finally able to get a question in. “What puzzles me most about all this excitement that’s been going on in my absence is this business of equating Mrs. Ulrich’s killer with the father of the child. I thought that a pretty good motive—”

  “And in the light of that—” Father
Tully interrupted.

  “Yes,” Koesler plowed on, “in the light of that, why would you reject that theory simply because Mr. Adams admitted that he was the child’s father, but claimed not to have killed the mother? Why in the world did you believe him? True, he acknowledged paternity … but wouldn’t most criminals deny the major crimes they commit while admitting the minor ones? I know you were eventually proven correct. But what—a lucky guess? Blind trust in Mr. Adams?”

  Father Tully looked as if he’d hit a home run in Tiger Stadium on his birthday. “Thank you for finally asking that question, Father Koesler. I’ve been dying to explain. But I’d like to explain it in the form of a game.”

  “Really!” Lieutenant Tully protested, all the while smiling at his brother.

  “Humor me,” Father Tully said. “I’ve got the perfect cast of characters for this game right here and now. Playing against each other will be Father Koesler and my brother.

  “Now, I’m going to tell you a story. Neither of you may interrupt me. Hear me out and then tell me the identity of the rich man.”

  By this time the dessert and coffee had been served.

  “Okay” Father Tully commenced, after first taking a sip of coffee. “The rich man in this story is also very powerful. What separates him from most other rich and powerful men is his love of God. He religiously kept the first half of the great commandment to love the Lord God with all his strength and with all his mind and heart. He wasn’t always strong on the second part of the commandment—that being to love all others in like manner. But he was outstanding in his love of God. It was a love that could prove costly to him. But he would meet that cost to maintain, demonstrate, and prove this love of God.”

  Zoo was smiling. Koesler was not.

  “In the course of giving himself generously to God, he angered his wife. Every chance she got she scolded him because he was, in her eyes, making a fool of himself for his God.

  “The result was not pleasant for him—or for either of them, for that matter. The man was forced to choose between getting respect from his wife or giving to God. Loving God as he did, the man had no real choice—and his wife had no chance at all: she was cast aside.

  “Now, enter into the rich man’s life a woman of outstanding beauty. In addition, she was extremely effective in the art of seduction. After shedding his wife, the rich man had a definite gap in his life. He filled that gap with the very willing, beautiful woman.

  “The fact that the woman was married to a man in the service of the rich man made no difference: passion was the undisputed winner. As a matter of fact, the married man himself was so dedicated to the rich man’s service that he had no time for his own wife.

  “Then the wife became pregnant. The rich man had to be the father. Her husband had not had relations with her for months.

  “The rich man tried to get the married man and his wife back together. But the married man would have none of it.”

  Now Father Koesler was smiling. Good, thought Father Tully; both his brother and Koesler had solved the mystery at exactly the proper time for each.

  “Now the rich man managed to place the married man in harm’s way. And in that place of peril, the married man was killed.”

  “Now,” Father Tully concluded, “who is the rich man?”

  “David,” said Father Koesler.

  “David! Who the hell is David?” exclaimed Zoo. “The rich man is Tom Adams!”

  “He’s both,” Father Tully said.

  “Both!” Koesler and Zoo said simultaneously.

  “Father Koesler is talking about King David—in the Old Testament,” Father Tully explained, mostly for his brother’s benefit. “He fits perfectly the description of the rich man in my story. He loves God totally. In a ceremony welcoming the Ark of the Covenant into Jerusalem, King David programs a massive celebration, during which, as the Bible says, David, nearly naked, ‘dances with abandon before the Lord.’

  “His wife, Michal, ‘despised him in her heart.’ When David gets home, Michal makes fun of his behavior in showing his love of God so completely. So David dumps Michal.

  “Compare that to Tom Adams, whose generosity to the Church is his way of showing his love of God. His wife gets angry with him for giving away so much money. So he divorces his wife.

  “Later, when Israel is at war, David is taking an evening stroll on the roof of his palace. On the roof of a nearby home, an outstandingly beautiful woman named Bathsheba is bathing. She doesn’t seem to be a woman of much reserve.

  “When her husband, Uriah, is off at war, Bathsheba and David get it on, as I believe they say nowadays. Bathsheba finds herself pregnant. Uriah can’t be the father; he hasn’t been home in months.

  “David calls Uriah back from the battle lines, gets him drunk and tells him to go home, that his wife misses him. But keeping faith with his comrades in arms still in the trenches, Uriah instead spends the night on the cold, hard floor of David’s palace.

  “Since David cannot claim that Uriah sired the child his wife will give birth to, David tells his general to put Uriah in the forefront of the battle and leave him there to die.

  “Which is exactly what happens.

  “Now, back to Tom Adams. Tom is not a king, of course, but he is wealthy and powerful. And, like David, Tom loves God. And because of that love, he is very generous. David was exuberant in welcoming the ark into Jerusalem. In his place I think Tom would do the same. It’s just that three millennia later it’s a different era. Nowadays one doesn’t dance before the Ark; one sends money. And Tom certainly sends money; the Josephites can testify to that.

  “David’s devotion is mocked by his wife, Michal. Tom’s generosity is mocked by his wife, Mickey. Each man discards his wife.

  “David is seduced by Bathsheba. Tom is seduced by Barbara. Both women are married to men each of whom is singularly devoted to his chief. Bathsheba and Barbara each become pregnant. The time factor makes it impossible for each husband to be the father.

  “David tries to get Uriah drunk and send him home where his wife will seduce him and then claim he is the child’s father. Nancy Groggins told me that Al Ulrich told her that Tom tried to get him and Barbara back together again. Al took that attempt as evidence of his idolized boss’s effort to patch up the marriage. Whereas, in reality, Tom was trying the same trick that David tried. Both David and Tom failed.

  “By the way, have you noticed the similarity of names? Barbara-Bathsheba; Ulrich-Uriah; Mickey-Michal. Purely a coincidence, I suppose.

  “Anyway,” Father Tully continued before anyone could reply, “David, being commander-in-chief as it were, then ordered that Uriah be placed in the front ranks of the battle and left there to be killed. In this, David was successful.

  “The evening of the award dinner Tom told me he was leaning toward naming Nancy Groggins manager of the new branch in the risky neighborhood. Later that evening, Barbara passed notes to the foursome, announcing her pregnancy. The next day, Tom announced that Al would be the manager. Tom’s intention was the same as David’s.

  “I’m sure that on the part of both Tom and King David there was remorse that their evil plot worked. Still, for their purposes, it had all been worthwhile.

  “David married Bathsheba. Tom was about to marry Barbara. Bathsheba’s child became desperately ill. David did all he could for the child, but it died as punishment for David’s sin.

  “And all this by way of explaining why I was certain, when Tom told me he was the father of Barbara’s child but that he had not killed her, that he was telling the truth. The minute he said that, all the pieces fell into place: I saw the striking similarities between King David and Tom.”

  “Do you mean,” asked Father Koesler, “that Tom Adams was consciously imitating David?”

  “No, I don’t think so. But with Tom Adams we are dealing with a person who makes the Bible his guide in life. Let me give you an example: Tom knew I was in the process of building a church for my people in Dallas. He wante
d to make up what was lacking in our building fund. He gave me a blank check.”

  “A blank check!” Father Koesler had never seen one.

  “You know why? Because he was identifying with the Good Samaritan,” Father Tully explained.

  “My God, he’s right,” Koesler reflected. “In effect, that’s what the Good Samaritan did: he promised to reimburse the innkeeper for whatever additional expense was needed to take care of the injured man. A blank check …”

  “The man is amazing,” said Father Tully. “I can’t think of anyone who tries harder to live out what he’s learned from his Bible.

  “But I doubt that Tom was conscious of how closely he was paralleling the actions of King David. If he had been aware, I’m sure that, being the good man that he is, he would have pulled up short, confessed his sin, and tried to make amends. Even though those Bible stories are so real to Tom that he can fall into living them without even realizing what he’s doing, had he recognized the parallel, he would have reflected on David’s sin and thus, by extension, on his own.

  “And that, finally, is why I believed Tom when he said he fathered the child but didn’t murder the wife. He was ready to do everything King David did. David married the mother and did his best to care for the child.

  “I believed Tom Adams when he said he had proposed to Barbara Ulrich. He was going to do more than just support her financially and provide for their child; he was going to take care of Barbara and help nurture their child. So … if Tom didn’t murder Barbara Ulrich, someone else had to have done it. Enter the police.” Father Tully made a sweeping “ta-da” gesture in the direction of his brother.

  “It wasn’t that hard,” Zoo demurred. “By the time I got to Fradet’s office, the case was almost on a platter. The technicians had already come up with some interesting prints and we wanted to try for a match. We were just getting to that phase when you came up with Adams and Fradet.