Time and Again(11)

“That is correct...” Henry started to say, but was interrupted by the man in brown.

“I do not know why I was summoned, but my time is valuable, and if you know what the meaning of this is, do, please, get on with it.”

It was obvious by his tone that the man was not aware of what had happened, so Henry decided to see if he could get anything useful out of him.

“Mickey is not available at the moment. I don’t work for him, but I used to. I am filling in for him and just started to try to get a handle on his cases. I apologize for this horrible inconvenience, but his inability to be here was unavoidable. May I ask what business you are in?”

“I am a man of considerable means. I have many real estate holdings here in the city, and I’m a collector of art.” He paused, sensing that his tone had been rather abrupt before, and he appreciated how polite Henry had been. “I am sorry, if I was short with you. I’ve had several meetings today and was hoping to quickly take care of this ‘supposedly’ urgent business.”

Henry didn’t have much to go on, so he just went with his gut.

“Again, I must apologize. Mickey has several cases at the moment. If I may have your card, I’ll call you later, but only if it ‘s necessary. I can assure you, Mickey is not the sort of person to waste the time of an important man, such as yourself.”

This courtesy seemed to please the man in the brown suit. He handed Henry his card, placed his hat on his head, and smiled before he walked out the door. Henry tucked the card into Mickey’s notebook and, after looking around a bit more, left too.





Chapter Nine



Henry locked up the office he once loved. Now, it seemed lonely. If he hung out there much longer, the memories of Mickey would likely wring out the last ounce of energy he could marshal.

This wouldn’t do at all. He needed to get home, take a shower, and make it to his office. Henry was sure he would be able to clear his head sitting at his own desk.

The walk home was chilly and wet. He climbed the stairs and remembered he hadn’t locked the door this morning . This worried him a little…but not a lot. Henry’s mind wasn’t firing on all cylinders. The thought that his door was unlocked was so unimportant as to be laughable, yet, as he trudged up the stairs, he worried.

Pausing before the door, he took a breath and opened it.

The door swung closed behind him.

Everything was fine.

Henry took a shower. He put on one of his nicer suits – not his nicest, as he would need that for the funeral.

Mickey didn’t have any family. Henry once asked him if he ever thought about marriage. Mickey had answered, “Yes, but I can usually get over it with a good stiff drink.”

Mickey’s parents had lived their entire lives in Kenmare County, Kerry, Ireland. They had met when his mother’s parents moved to town. She was six and he was nine. They lived next door to each other, and she loved nothing more than to follow him around. He was her first friend, and she eventually became his first and only love. (One night, back in 1948, Mickey had been drinking just enough to be nostalgic. Henry, “Big” Mike, and Francis had just finished a nice dinner with him and enjoyed hearing about the greatest love ever.) They had raised three kids, the two younger ones both died heroes during the winter months of ‘44, at the Battle of the Bulge. Mickey was devastated by their death, but proud as hell at how they fought tooth and nail with the Nazis. That was it for the Moore’s, as far as Henry knew.

He picked up the phone and called “Big” Mike at work. “I assume you heard.”

“I got a call. You alright?”

“I will be after I find out who killed him but not before.”

“You think it was intentional? Some of the guys say it looks like a text book hit and run,” Mike said, trying to be as delicate as he could.

It wasn’t his strong suit. He did tough really well. He did loyal better than anyone. Sensitivity was a little foreign to Mike.

Henry knew this about him and appreciated his effort.

“It may sound a little thin, but it appears someone had been parked behind Mickey’s car long enough to smoke almost a pack of cigarettes. They closed off the area within minutes, so I know the car didn’t leave after the accident. I don’t know if it left before…but, as Mickey used to say, ‘There are no coincidences.’”

“You may be right. I’ll head over to the 9th and check with the lads and see if they’ve found anything else out.”

“Thanks, Mike. I appreciate the help…Mickey would've too.”

“Mickey may not have been a cop, but everyone loved him. He was one of our own, and if you’re right, and there is someone out there who waited for him, like a coward, and ran him down…we’ll find the bastard.” His voice had risen to a measured rage. Then he lowered it. “I’ll help you with the arrangements. I’ll call Francis and we can put together a wake that won’t soon be forgotten.”