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“When you get a moment, Uncle Denny, could I talk to you?”
“You bet you can,” Denny Coughlin said. “Excuse us, fellows.” He took Matt’s arm and led him far down a wide corridor in the funeral home. Finally, they found an empty corner.
“I joined the police department,” Matt announced.
“How’s that again?”
“I said I’m going to be a policeman,” Matt repeated.
“And when did this happen?”
“Today.”
“I’ll be damned,” Dennis V. Coughlin said. “Let me get adjusted to that, Matt.”
“So far only my dad knows,” Matt said.
“Your dad is dead,” Coughlin said, and was immediately contrite. “Ah, Christ, why did I say that? I’m proud to claim Brewster Payne as a friend, and you couldn’t have had a better father.”
“I understand,” Matt said. “I have trouble with my real father, too. Keeping them separate, I mean.”
“Matt, I’m going to say something to you and I don’t want you to take offense, son, but I have to say it—”
“I flunked the marine corps physical,” Matt said. “I was thinking about becoming a cop before Uncle Dick was killed.”
“If you flunked the marine corps physical, what makes you think you can pass the police department physical?”
“I passed it,” Matt said. “And I even had a talk with the shrink. Today.”
“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph! What’s your mother going to say?”
“Why am I getting the feeling that you’re a long way from yelling ‘Whoopee, good for you!’ ?”
“Because I’m not entirely sure it’s a good idea, for you, or the department,” Coughlin said, evenly.
“Why not?”
“I don’t know,” Coughlin said. “Gut feeling, maybe. Or maybe because I buried your father, and we’re about to bury your uncle. Or maybe I’m afraid your mother will think I talked you into it.”
“My father, my adoptive father, understands,” Matt said.
“Then he’s one up on me,” Coughlin said. “Matt, you’re not doing this because of what you think the police are like, from watching them on TV, are you?”
“No, I’m not,” Matt said, simply.
“But you will admit that you have no idea what you’re getting into?”
“I was going into the marines, and I had no idea what I was getting into there, either.”
Sergeant Tom Lenihan and Staff Inspector George Kegley appeared in the corridor, waiting for Coughlin’s attention. Coughlin saw them, and motioned them over.
“You met Sergeant Lenihan yesterday,” Coughlin said. “And this is Staff Inspector Kegley. George, this is Matt Payne. He’s Dutch’s nephew.”
They all shook hands.
“What have you got, George?” Coughlin asked.
Kegley seemed momentarily surprised that Coughlin was asking for a report to be delivered before what he thought of as a “civilian relative,” but he delivered a concise, but thorough report of what had transpired at the Bridge & Pratt Streets Terminal, including the details of Gerald Vincent Gallagher’s death and dismemberment.
