Bishop as Pawn

arena.

Finally, although Tony Wayne well knew who had murdered his son, he was appreciative to the young officer who had pursued the investigation so professionally instead of writing it off, thankful that the gangs were wiping each other out.

In effect, Tully had inadvertently set up the Kingfish by getting him convicted. In any event, Wayne would have gotten the Kingfish; it was just made easier when the law put him in a cage. Two reasons for feeling obligated to Alonzo Tully.

So, after Kingfish’s trial and conviction but well before his execution, Mad Anthony arranged a clandestine meeting with Tully. In an emotionless tone, Wayne thanked Tully. Wayne laconically declared himself in debt to Tully. Mad Anthony owed Zoo Tully one-one very big favor.

Wisely, Tully had not cashed in his premium, then or thereafter.

But now Tully was walking the streets of Detroit, intent on finding out if the debt was still on the counter and collectible.

CHAPTER TWENTY — ONE

The office-and-business directory listed Metro Development on the second floor.

The title did nothing to explain what sort of business Metro Development was. It wasn’t supposed to; Metro Development did whatever Mad Anthony Wayne wanted it to do. And the business it did change, sometimes by the hour.

The attractive receptionist smiled when Lieutenant Tully asked to see Mr. Wayne. The smile said, Thank you for dropping by but you’ve got a snowball’s chance in hell of seeing Tony Wayne.

Tully returned the smile and showed the receptionist his badge. That helped. Tully gave his name, rank, and position in the Homicide Division. That helped more. Still, no entree, merely a phone check with someone with more clout. Tully was invited, sweetly, to take a seat and someone would be here shortly.

Ten minutes later, a man who did not fit the adverb “shortly” appeared. He was one of the largest men Tully had ever seen.

“Come this way, please.”

It can speak-and politely-Tully noted.

Even though he was quite good at this sort of thing, Tully would have had trouble retracing their route. As near as he could make out, the journey through the Millender Center, from office to residential suite, was a series of going down to go up and vice versa.

Finally, they were in the luxury suite of Tony Wayne. Due mostly to the back-lighting from the windows, Tully did not immediately recognize the figure behind the king-size desk-until the figure stood and stepped forward.

In the past twenty-five years, Tully had seen Wayne’s photo likeness in newspapers, magazines, and on television with irregular frequency. He had seen the mobster fleetingly in person a few times. But this was the first time in all these years that Tully had the opportunity to study the man.

Mad Anthony seemed shorter than Tully had remembered him. Wayne stood about five-feet-seven or — eight. His salt-and-pepper hair was wavy and tight to his scalp. He was trim and moved smoothly. His complexion, just as Tully remembered it, was swarthy. Whether that was its natural shade or the result of overexposure to the sun, Tully could not say.

Most interesting was Wayne’s expression. It was totally ambiguous. Was Wayne happy to receive his visitor, or was he about to explode with mad fury?

The gigantic guard stood just inside the door, almost leaning against it in an at-ease stance.

Wayne stopped several feet short of Tully. “It’s Lieutenant Tully now, isn’t it?”

“The department would be embarrassed if I was still a patrolman.”

There was that enigmatic look again. Did Wayne see the humor in Tully’s statement?

“Come, sit down.” Wayne gestured toward a padded straight-back chair in front of the desk. Tully seated himself, and Wayne returned to his high-back chair. “It’s been a long while.…” Wayne paused. “Twenty-five years.”

Tully nodded. “Twenty-five years. You remember?”

“Like it was yesterday. Even now there’s an emptiness in my heart. Freddie was a good boy.” Wayne pinched the bridge of his nose. To forestall a tear?

Yes, a good boy, thought Tully. If his son had lived, Mad Anthony probably would be considering retirement so that Freddie could take over “the business.”

“I remember too,” Wayne said, “you performed a service for me then.”

“It wasn’t that much,” Tully stated in all honesty. “I did my job.”

“True. But we didn’t expect it. Hell, we thought the cops’d be glad to get rid of us.” Was there a hint of emotion on his face? “You almost make a guy respect the law.” He gazed at Tully thoughtfully. “Anyway, you treated Freddie with dignity … like a person who’d been wronged. I don’t forget that.”

“That’s why I’ve come.”

“I thought as much.”

Tully shifted in his chair and inched forward. “Twenty-five years ago you offered me a favor.”

Wayne waved his hand. “It’s been an uncashed check all these years. Is this the time?”

“You know of the murder of the Mexican bishop?”

“He was a fool.”

“A fool?”

“All that money … there for the taking.”

“You knew?”

“Hell, everyone knew. It was just a matter of time.”

“The street’s hard to read. Something seems to be going on, but we can’t break the silence.”

Was that amusement ever so briefly on Wayne’s face? “What do you think?”

“My best guess would be … it’s not a heavyweight. That wasn’t enough bread for anybody to risk his reputation and a lucky collar. It just wasn’t enough.

“On the other hand, it wasn’t a drifter or a street punk. A guy like that would get coughed up. We’ve got some pretty reliable snitches, but they’re not talking. They’d give the guy to us if he meant nothing to anybody.”

“So …”

“So I figure somebody important is protecting the guy.”

Wayne leaned forward. “You have an excellent suspect under arrest.”

“The priest? Maybe. But I’ve got a feeling.”

“And you want the guy from the street.”

Tully nodded.

“This will clear the table for us,”

Again Tully nodded.

“You’re sure you want to spend your marker on this?” It was obvious he thought that Tully was wasting a valuable coupon.

“Yes,” Tully said firmly.

Wayne nodded curtly. “By tomorrow morning.”

“You’ll contact me?”

“Yes.” Wayne stood. Tully, taking the cue, also stood.

“Albert will show you out.”

Tully followed the giant out the door. There was no conversation. There was no intimation of any conversation.

Had he been asked, Tully would have guessed the bodyguard’s name to be Tiny. But … Albert? Not even Big Al?

The journey back to the outside world was as confusing as the trek in. However Wayne had managed it, it