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“Have you seen Denise?” Coughlin asked Lowenstein.
“Sarah and I went to the house Monday evening,” Lowenstein said, and looked at Commissioner Mariani. Neither the commissioner nor the mayor had trouble translating the look: I’ve already expressed my condolences, so there’s no reason for me to be here again, except for this political bullshit about a task force.
“Anytime you’re ready, Mr. Mayor,” Coughlin said. “I’ll take you in.”
“Right,” the mayor said, and nodded, and followed Coughlin into the viewing room.
It was a large room, with an aisle between rows of folding chairs. Up front, the first row of chairs on the right was upholstered. Mayor Martin saw the heads of two children on either side of a gray-haired woman-the widow and their kids-and of several other adults-family members, probably.
Officer Kenneth J. Charlton was laid out in a gray metal casket in the center of the room. As he walked down the aisle behind Charlton, the mayor could see his face, and then enough of the body to see that Charlton was to be buried in his uniform.
Coughlin stopped in the aisle next to the first row of chairs, and the mayor realized he was expected to approach the casket alone.
There was a prie-dieu in front of the casket, which made the mayor uncomfortable. So far as he was concerned- he had learned this from his father, the Rev. Dr. Claude Charles Martin, now pastor emeritus of the Second African Methodist Episcopal Church-prie-dieux were a Roman Catholic device, or maybe Catholic/Episcopal device, of which he did not approve.
So what the hell do I do now? Ignore it, as Pop would have me do, and stand by the casket looking thoughtfully down at the body? Or use the damn thing, and feel-and perhaps look-hypocritical?
He dropped to his knees onto the padded prie-dieu and bent his head. And looked at the face of Officer Charlton.
You poor bastard. Goddamn the animals that did this to you!
The anger took him by surprise.
Lord, forgive my anger. But what we have here is a good man who put his life on the line to protect other human beings. And lost it.
Lord, take him into Your arms, and give him the peace that passes all understanding.
He’s wearing his badge. Will they take it off? Or bury him with it?
Probably take it off.
Give it to his family?
Or is there some sort of memorial with the badges of the other cops who’ve been killed in the line of duty?
They have their pictures hanging in the lobby of the Roundhouse, but I can’t remember if their badges are there, too. ^1
Lord, protect this man’s wife and children, and give them the strength to get through this ordeal.
Make them wise in Your ways, Dear Lord, and grant them Thy peace.
Give the police the wisdom to find the people who did this to this Thy servant, Lord.
And quickly, before they kill someone else.
Lord Jesus, guide my steps with Thy almighty hand.
In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit.
Amen.
The mayor took one more look at the face of Officer Kenneth J. Charlton, and then got somewhat awkwardly off the prie-dieu.
Then he turned and walked toward the widow and the children.
Mrs. Charlton stood up, then urged the boy and the girl to their feet.
“Mrs. Charlton, I’m Alvin Martin…”
