Nine
They were to meet at Carl’s, a venerable chophouse on Grand River near downtown Detroit. Anne Marie, on her lunch break from school, picked up her brother-in-law.
Only within the past hour was Lieutenant Tully certain he would be able to join them. At nearly 11 A.M., the Good Samaritan suspects had been arrested and booked.
It was Friday. Virtually all of Lieutenant Tully’s Thursday had been spent on the Good Samaritan shooting. Meanwhile Father Tully, escorted by one of Tom Adams’s PR people, had been taken on an all-day tour of Detroit and environs.
Anne Marie and Father Tully arrived first. They were seated at once at a table for four. There were no tables for three. Anne Marie explained that the relatively small crowd for lunch was a sign of the times. Twenty or so years ago, noontime would have found a crowd in the lobby awaiting tables. However, under a new administration, it appeared that the downtown area was on its way back up and, hopefully, would soon return to its former vitality.
Father Tully scanned the ample menu. He concluded this was basically a meat, fish, and potato restaurant. Anne Marie confirmed this, but assured him that what they did here they did well.
At this point Zoo arrived. Father Tully noted him nod to several of the patrons as he approached the table.
Obviously his brother was well known and, seemingly, well liked. This pleased the priest.
They greeted each other, Zoo kissing Anne Marie and patting his brother’s shoulder.
They passed on alcohol, ordering coffee instead. Zoo and Anne Marie were frequent patrons and knew what they wanted: ground round for him; salad for her. Father Tully settled for a tuna sandwich.
“I know I shouldn’t feel this way,” said the priest, “but I can’t help but think I’ve been a slacker. Yesterday you were working so hard on the Good Samaritan shooting that we couldn’t get together even for a minute.”
Zoo’s smile was sardonic. “Feel you should’ve been out there helping me catch the bad guys?”
The priest laughed. “No … no. We’ve been over that. I just felt as if I could or should be able to do something.”
“Cheer up, little brother. You’ve got some time left. And in my business you never know what’s gonna turn up next.”
“It all worked out well,” Anne Marie assured Father Tully. “Yesterday was your day on the town, courtesy of Thomas Adams. How was it?”
“A grand tour.” The priest broke a bread stick, and nibbled. “My guide knew his history of this city extremely well. I could almost see Cadillac’s landing party. And the construction of Ste. Anne’s. And the cholera epidemic.The street cars. Hudson’s. The place where Ty Cobb and Charlie Gehringer played. And-a real pity-the riot area.” He looked at them seriously. “You should really be proud of this city.”
“We are,” Anne Marie said. “Or, at least, we will be again.”
The coffee arrived. Zoo immediately took several appreciative sips.
“I hope,” the priest said to his brother, “we’re not keeping you from your job.”
Both Zoo and Anne Marie laughed.
“If you’re keeping me from anything, brother, it’s sleep. But sleep can be fitted into the cracks of life.” It was obvious that, for Zoo, coffee was replacing sleep.
“He’s been on the shooting case two nights and a day,” Anne Marie said. “He’s not kidding about sleep; all he’s had over the past roughly thirty-six hours are catnaps.”
“And,” Zoo added, “fortunately for our luncheon date, most of those catnaps came earlier this morning.”
Conversation halted as their order was served.
Zoo cut into one of the largest circles of ground round Father Tully had ever seen. Anne Marie’s salad was huge. And the priest’s tuna, fighting to escape its layers of bread, was nearly buried in chips.
“We made the arrests pretty quickly even for us,” Zoo said, picking up the conversation. “We collared the girl and her driver just hours after the shooting. The second guy was a little harder to find. But we got him early this morning.
“We went slow. We went by the book and made sure to touch all the bases.”
Father Tully decided to use knife and fork in eating his sandwich, rather than disgrace himself by squirting everyone with squeezed tuna. “What I don’t understand is why
Zoo shrugged. “It was a cop. And only a fluke kept it from being homicide. But” — he smiled at his brother-“I guess you wouldn’t buy the fluke bit, would you?”
The priest returned the smile. “Oh, we’re not quick to claim miracles. The fact that the bullet hit the Bible in the officer’s shirt pocket could, I’d be the first to admit, qualify as a fluke.”
“I’ll bet his family doesn’t think it’s a fluke,” Anne Marie said.
“Not for a second,” Zoo said. “And I really can’t blame them. There’s no way of tellin’ where a bullet’s gonna go once it enters a body. Take the Kennedy bullet: went through him and maybe Governor Connally. I don’t know whether that really happened, but it could’ve.”
“So what really happened here, Zoo?” asked Anne Marie.
The lieutenant paused to swallow. “Deflected. It went through the pocket Bible and coursed downward ….” He gestured to show the invisible path the bullet took. “Lodged in his abdomen. Still and all, it was a tricky operation … a lot of internal bleeding. But it looks like he’ll make it.”
“Thank God,” the priest intoned.
“Maybe … maybe. Maybe ‘Thank God.’ If it hadn’t been for that bulky little book, the slug definitely would’ve taken some other direction. No one could know which way. But it easily could’ve killed our guy. So at the time of the shooting through the time of the operation, it could’ve been a homicide.” Zoo looked somber.
“I know Sergeant Marcantonio. Met his wife and kids. A good cop. Besides, I started the investigation … see?” He addressed his brother. “There were lots of reasons I followed this thing through to the end.”
The priest nodded. “Ordinarily I’m against capital punishment. But if there had to be one crime that carried that penalty, I’d vote for the Good Samaritan offense. In addition to being cowardly and terrorizing and deadly, it definitely discourages well-meaning people from coming to the aid of someone who really does need help. So I’m doubly glad you caught them.”
Anne Marie caught the waitress’s eye and asked for a doggie bag for the remainder of her salad, which was substantial.
“I’m sorry I have to leave,” she said. “If I don’t get back to school, my kids-good as they are-will be plotting the destruction of our building.”
Zoo looked up, suppressing a smile. “I suppose you’re going to stick me with the check.”
Straightfaced, she replied, “As a taxpayer, I pay your salary. It’s the least you can do.” She scooped up the doggie bag and left.
“You two have a lot of fun, don’t you?” said Father Tully.
“You noticed.”
“It’s obvious. This is better than anything that went before?”
Zoo looked sharply at his brother. “You want to know about my personal life before Anne Marie?”
The priest shook his head. “Anne Marie brought me up to speed when we first met. When she picked me up and drove me to your home. She thought it would be easier on everyone.”
Zoo was finishing his lunch, as was the priest. Both, for far different reasons, were fast eaters.
“She’s right,” Zoo said. “As usual, she’s right. She undoubtedly told you: it’s the job. My being a cop was what challenged the other two relationships. With my first wife, I didn’t know there was going to be this competition. But it grew. Both of us fought it. We fought it until there wasn’t any strength left. So we called it quits.
“I was alone for a long time after that. Then a real neat lady entered my life. This time, I knew about the job and how it would complicate my life with somebody-anybody-else. I was straight with Alice. We thought we could lick it as long as we were aware of the problem. Turned out we couldn’t.
“Then Anne Marie came along. We were together a long time before we thought seriously about marriage. We talked and planned. Honest, I was the one who fought getting married. Early on, Anne Marie was convinced we
