Apaches (43 page)

“We’ll miss him,” Boomer told the old man. “He was a good friend.”

“There’s no need,” the man said in a voice filled with strength. “His spirit lives and travels alongside you. And alongside those who will follow you.”

“The only thing following us these days are flies,” Rev. Jim said.

The old man smiled and nodded. “No one chooses their road,” he said. “Especially the brave.”

When he got back to New York, Boomer headed straight for Mrs. Columbo’s house. He sat at the small kitchen table across from her husband and son. He pulled her shield from his pocket and handed it to young Frank.

“She’d want you to keep this for her,” Boomer said to the boy.

Frank held the badge and stared at it. “It’s all she cared about,” he said, his voice choking. “Being a cop.”

“You’re wrong about that,” Boomer said. “She cared about you. A lot.”

“Did you love her?” Frank asked, looking up from his mother’s shield.

“Yes,” Boomer said, looking right back.

“Did she love you?”

“Yes,” Boomer said. “But not in the way you’re thinking. Not in the way she loved your father.”

“What way, then?” Frank asked.

“She loved me for what I
did
,” Boomer said. “She loved your dad for who he
was.
There’s a big difference.”

“I don’t see it,” Frank said.

“You don’t have to see it now,” Boomer said, standing. “But one day you will. And I hope I’m around when you do.”

•    •    •

T
HEY HAD RETURNED
to the predictable boredom of their everyday lives.

Dead-Eye was back on doorman duty, working a building on East Sixty-fifth Street In his free time he played catch with Eddie and took long drives with his wife.

Rev. Jim went into construction, taking charge of the crew Nunzio had hired to rebuild Pins’s bowling alley. The old man thought he could turn it into an afternoon retreat for the neighborhood kids.

Boomer busied himself with daytime stops at movies, museums, and libraries. His nights, as always, were spent at Nunzio’s.

•    •    •

D
EAD
-E
YE MOVED A
knight against one of Rev. Jim’s rooks, swiping it from the board.

“That’s it?” Boomer said. “Fifteen minutes you stare and wait and that’s what you do?”

“Couldn’t get to his queen,” Dead-Eye explained.

“People in comas have more laughs,” Boomer muttered.

Nunzio walked over, dragging a chair, holding a cup of coffee.

“There’s a call for you,” he told Boomer, sitting down to watch the game. “Before you take it, tell me who’s ahead here. I don’t want to break into their concentration.”

“If you get an answer,” Boomer said, “I’ll buy dinner for the table.”

“I’m winning,” Dead-Eye said.

“I’ll have the steak special,” Rev. Jim added.

Boomer pushed his chair back and headed for the phone by the bar.

“Who is it?” he asked Nunzio.

“Wouldn’t say.”

“Why not?”

Nunzio shrugged. “Maybe he’s shy.”

Boomer came back to the table in less than five minutes. There was a glow to his face and in his eyes. Dead-Eye, Rev. Jim, and Nunzio all stared over at him.

“You gonna tell us?” Dead-Eye asked. “Or do we play another game?”

“How much longer till you finish this one?” Boomer asked.

“We can stop anytime,” Rev. Jim said. “If we’ve got a good reason.”

“Wanna take a ride with me?” Boomer asked.

“Where to?” Dead-Eye said.

“See a guy who’s in a little trouble,” Boomer said. “He thinks maybe we can help.”

Boomer looked at his three friends, and, as the smiles formed on their faces, he nodded.

“I ain’t ever gonna get that doorman’s pension,” Dead-Eye said, pushing the chessboard aside.

“Maybe they’ll let you keep the suit,” Rev. Jim said, reaching for his cap. “It looks good on you.”

Nunzio sat at the table and watched the Apaches walk out of his restaurant into the frigid afternoon of a winter’s day. He watched them leave to be what they had always been.

Cops.