Father Tully could think of nothing more to say. She had asked a direct question. He had answered it to the best of his limited knowledge.
She wasn’t sure where to go from here. “Look, Father, the other night at the dinner, if I remember correctly, you were sitting next to Joe-you know, Joel Groggins, Nancy’s husband? Well … I don’t know how to put this politely, but Joe has a habit of talking about things.”
Somehow she made it seem there was a character defect in Joel Groggins because he had talked all evening to the priest. Whereas Father Tully had been grateful for the conversation. If there were a character flaw on anyone’s part at the dinner, it surely belonged to her, one among others who had shut him out that evening. She had sat next to him through the dinner and never once even looked at him. This, the priest thought, was a. small insight into her character.
“Joe pretty much knows where all the skeletons are buried in our little bank. Being married to Nancy, he’d have to.”
She must be aware that Groggins had undoubtedly painted a rather lurid outline of her by no means housewifely personal life. But she couldn’t afford to be concerned about that right now. “What I’m interested in, Father, is whether Joe filled you in on our executive VPs-with regard to the spot they’d be in depending on who was chosen as the new bank manager.”
The priest almost replied in an uncontested affirmative. Groggins most assuredly had suggested that at least one VP had plenty to fear from whoever was named new manager. Tom Adams’s gratitude was going to cost
But Father Tully pulled up short. Mrs. Ulrich had used the word “depending.” That a VP would be displaced “depending” on which of the two candidates was selected.
“Well, I was given to understand that, yes, one of the VPs would have to be displaced after a successful branch bank management. But I thought that was the case whether the selection was your husband or Nancy Groggins. You just said that the VPs need fear only one contestant.”
“My husband, of course.” Her tone was one of genuine surprise. “Don’t tell me Joe is so far outside the loop that he thought his wife could be named an executive vice president! Or, what’s even harder to conceive, that Nancy didn’t know the score.”
“Are you sure, Mrs. Ulrich? It made sense to me the other night when Joel Groggins revealed this pecking order.
“This new branch of Adams Bank was a practical testimonial to the city of Detroit-an act of faith in a city that’s trying to get its act together. To emphasize this commitment, the branch is located in one of the toughest areas in a tough city. This act of faith would have to be duplicated by anyone named manager.
“I take it there were few applicants. But, of those who applied, top contenders were Nancy and your husband.
“Then the thinking was, again if I’m not mistaken, that once the branch was functioning nicely, whoever made a success of it as manager would be rewarded. The reward would be a step up. And that would be next to the top-an executive vice presidency.
“But since there are only three such positions, one present VP would have to go. And I don’t mind telling you, Mrs. Ulrich” — in his pique he released information that otherwise he probably wouldn’t have-“the front-runner, at least at the beginning of that award dinner, was not your husband.”
“Tom told you that?” Her tone was almost playful.
“Yes, he did. He asked that I give him my evaluation after the evening was over. And, to be frank, I agreed that Nancy was the more appropriate choice.”
“Well, she’s got it now. And the VPs are happy now. For the most part,” she added, almost meditatively.
“But why should there be any difference in the way Tom Adams would treat Al and Nancy?”
“As the French say,
“You’re saying …”
“I’m saying,” Barbara insisted, “that if Al had been named manager-which, in the end, he was-yes, someplace down the line he, not one of the bean counter vice presidents, would’ve been named an executive VP. And one of the sitting execs would probably have been eased out with a golden parachute.
“Now that Nancy’s manager of the new branch, she can look for a reward if she makes a go of it. I hope she doesn’t think it’s going to be the executive spot. Remember, Father: executive vice presidents are men, not women. That’s the Gospel-at least according to Tom Adams.”
“Then, Nancy … what?”
“Likely one of the run-of-the-mill vice presidencies. Or, perhaps her pick of any branch she wants to manage. Maybe a significant financial bonus. But not-I repeat,
“You’re sure,” Father Tally persisted.
Barbara nodded decisively. “I’m sure,” she voiced. “Anybody who thought Tom Adams saw some sort of equality between Al and Nancy simply didn’t know the man’s machismo philosophy.”
Silence.
“This sheds a slightly different light on my thinking,” Father Tully admitted finally.
“How so?” Barbara very much wanted to explore his thoughts on her husband’s death. She thought she detected some parallel in their thinking.
The priest hesitated. Had he said too much? Then in a self-mocking tone, he said, “During that party, with all that Joel Groggins was telling me, I thought-no, this is silly …”
“No, it isn’t. Go on.”
“I thought … this situation has got to put an awful lot of pressure on the three men whose livelihood is threatened.” Again he hesitated.
“Did it occur to you,” she prompted, “that they-or one of them-might do … something to prevent this from happening?”
He chuckled self-consciously. “Yeah. It did. I think I must be reading too many mystery novels. These are fine upstanding citizens-”
“Upper class … above this sort of thing; it wouldn’t even enter their heads. Like that?”
“Yes. Exactly.”
“Don’t bet on it, Padre. They’re human like everyone else. If anything, they’ve got more of a stake in their future than most other people. They’re at a level in society that is very demanding. It’s tough to retain what they’ve achieved through their position-executive vice president-and through their income. A solid threat to their status would definitely not make them happy campers. So what do you think now, Father?”
A pause.
“I meant that the idea sort of occurred to me,” the priest said slowly. “It just popped in and out of my mind. You really think it could have happened? That would mean …” He hesitated again. Was he going too far? “… that one of those men would have paid Lamar Burt to kill your husband. I find that almost unimaginable.”
“It could have been more than one.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“I mean, what if two of the VPs-or even all three-got together and put up the money for a contract on Al. That would be a conspiracy, wouldn’t it?”
“To my mind, that would be incredible to the second or third power.”
“It’s just a thought.” Actually, Barbara was counting on there being no conspiracy across the board. No, those men would go their separate ways without consulting each other on delicate matters such as murder … and adultery. “Just something to keep in mind. And, as for murder being a practiced option for these guys, remember that they’re playing for the highest stakes they can imagine.”
“I suppose,” the priest agreed reluctantly. What was this woman doing? Where was this conversation leading?
“Now that we’ve gotten beyond the possibility that at least one of them might have been involved in my husband’s death, can you think of anything that was peculiar about the shooting of that kid this afternoon?”
“Peculiar?” He racked his brain. “N … no. Everything seemed to proceed in an ordinary way-given the fact
