"He was armed and went for his weapon when you tried to arrest him. It was a clear case of him or you."
Pat shook his head a fraction."It was a throw-down. I panicked, shot him too soon, covered it." He paused to take several gurgling breaths."He was Duvall's man. Duvall knew the guy used knives, not guns. He wouldn't have died with a pistol in his hand, and Duvall knew that. He's owned me ever since." A tear streaked through the white makeup."I was a good cop. I wanted to be chief."
"It never would have happened, Doug," Burke said sadly."If it hadn't been Mac, somebody else would have caught on to you."
"You."
"Yeah, me. Only I figured it out too late."
Pat let the pistol slip from his fingers and used most of his diminishing strength to grip Burke's loose pirate shirt."How'd ...
how'd ... you guess?"
"I didn't. You told me yourself."
Pat looked at him with confusion.
"After you shot Mac," Burke explained, "you told me that calls to drug dealers had been traced back to him, even the call that tipped them the night Kev was killed. That was a lie, and I knew it."
He bent nearer so that Pat wouldn't miss a single word."A drug dealer is scum. But a cop who plays their game is scum shit. The bad guys were beating us at every turn with the help of one of our own.
Internal Affairs didn't do shit because so many of them are dirty, too.
The D.A. was playing politics and taking his sweet time. I suppose the A.G."s team was working on it, but very covertly. It appeared that nothing was happening toward catching the son of a bitch who was selling us out to Duvall.
"How many raids had to go south before something was done? Ten?
Five?
Maybe only one. Maybe only one more failed bust would spur somebody to take action. Of course, who could guess that that one bust would cost Kev's life? I sure didn't.
"See, Doug," he continued in a quieter voice, "you lied to me that day in the shack when you told me that Mac had tipped the dealers that night. I knew it wasn't Mac. Because it was me."
Pat groaned. His head lolled to one side, but he didn't take his eyes off Burke.
"I tipped them, thinking that a failed raid, even on a chickenshit operation that wasn't very significant, might be enough to get an investigation underway. My brilliant plan backfired. I had no way of knowing Bardo was inside that warehouse. The one time I compromised my standards, the one time I played dirty, Kev Stuart was killed."
Moving nearer still to his dying friend, he whispered, "I've got to live the rest of my life with that on my conscience." He worked Pat's fingers from the cloth of his shirt and pushed his hand away.
"But you're gonna die with it on yours."
Pat whimpered.
Burke glanced at the clock."Two minutes until midnight, Doug. Fat Tuesday will be over, and you'll be dead." He cleared his throat and rubbed the tears from his eyes."Then, I'll atone."
"he's lovely, Burke."
"Yes, she is."
He and Nancy Stuart were sharing the glider on Dredd's galerie. It was a hot, still, humid Labor Day. They were resting in the shade while Dredd was giving the others fishing lessons at the end of his pier.
Burke wondered about the origin of the hunk of meat Dredd was using for bait. To his knowledge no one had investigated the disappearance of the two hit men Duvall had dispatched with Gregory James.
"What I mean is," Nancy said, "Remy's lovely on the inside."
"I know what you meant. That's what I meant, too."
She laughed, reminding him of the old days when Kev was alive and the three of them gathered in their kitchen for coffee and friendly teasing.
"All the same, it hasn't escaped your notice that your bride is gorgeous."
He smiled with guilty pride, like a little boy who'd just hit his first home run through the neighbor's window."No. That hasn't escaped my notice."
He watched as Remy listened intently to Dredd, followed his instructions with the determination of a neophyte, then smiled happily when he complimented her.
God, he loved her. He loved her so much it frightened him.
Sometimes it hurt. Each day eclipsed Duvall's influence a little more.
Soon it would be only a dark memory. Remy was evolving into a confident woman, secure in herself and in his love for her.
"She seems to enjoy her work at the gallery," Nancy remarked.
"She loves it. And she's good at it. Last week I attended a private showing. When she discussed the paintings with her clients, I didn't know what the hell she was talking about, but they were hanging onto every word."
"You're proud."
"Damn proud," he said earnestly. Just as sincerely, he added, "Thanks for being her friend, Nancy. Your friendship means a lot to Remy.
She's never had a friend before."
"It's not an obligation. I like her."
He leaned forward to set his empty soft-drink can on an upended barrel, and, in the process, knocked a collection of picture postcards to the plank flooring. He bent down to pick them up.
"Does Dredd have a pen pal?" Nancy asked.
"In a manner of speaking. An old friend of ours."
The postcards had been mailed from all over the country, dated about a week apart. None were signed. All were from Gregory James. The messages were brief, never more than a sentence or two, and would have been cryptic to anyone who didn't know the circumstances behind the young man's flight from New Orleans. He'd also alluded to Duvall's death and the relief that learning about it had brought him.
Basically, the cards were sent to let them know that he was safe and thinking hard about the direction his life would take from here on.
The most recent card bore a postmark from Santa Fe. The sum total of the text was St. Luke 15:11-24. Dredd had looked up the scripture to find the parable of the prodigal son.
"He's been away for a while," Burke told Nancy."But I get the idea he's working his way back to us."
"Hey, I caught one!"
The shout drew their attention to the pier, where Flarra was holding up her catch for the other fishermen to envy and admire. David Stuart, Nancy's oldest, offered to take the fish off the hook for her.
Nancy confided to Burke that Flarra had made deep dents in her sons' conviction that all girls were icky and ugly and stupid.
"Before they met Flarra, they had vowed never to have anything to do with the opposite sex. She's weakened their resolve."
"She likes them, too. Poor kid never has had a family beyond Remy.
She's really terrific, though. Smart as a whip. Funny. Looking forward to going to a coed school this fall." Chuckling, he added, "She even likes me. Hounds me all the time about when I'm going to get Remy pregnant."
"Remy confided that a baby is in the plan."
"We're doing our damnedest," he said, feeling his lips forming a smile.
It was ridiculous how often he smiled these days.
"I'm so glad for your happiness, Burke."
"Thanks."
"Speaking of which ..." She pulled her lower lip through her teeth.
"I'm seeing someone."
"No shit? That ... that's great, Nancy."
"You really think so?" she asked timidly.
"If he's everything you deserve, yeah."
"Well, I don't know if he's everything I deserve," she said demurely, then broke into a wide smile."But he's awfully nice. A wellestablished businessman. His wife died of cancer a few years ago.
He loved her like I loved Kev, and that's a good sign, don't you think?"
"Definitely. How is he with the boys?"
"So far so good. And he looks great from the rear in a pair of blue jeans."
"Now you're talking."
"But of course he'll have to pass the acid test."
"Dare I ask?"
"Meeting you," she said.
He felt his teasing grin slowly dissolve. She was serious."Why should my opinion of him matter that much?"
She reached across the space separating them and clasped his hand.
"Remy's my new friend, but you're my best friend. Your opinion matters a lot to me." They gazed at each other meaningfully, then she stood up and dusted off the seat of her linen shorts."I notice Peter is becoming frustrated. Time for a pep talk."
As she left him to join the others, Burke was too moved to speak.
He went inside the store, ostensibly to get another soft drink, but actually what he did was brace his hands on Dredd's countertop and stare down through the cloudy glass at the dusty candy bars and packages of beef jerky.
Several minutes later, the screened door squeaked open."Burke?"
Remy came to stand beside him. She placed her hand on the small of his back.
"Everything okay?"
He acknowledged her concern by turning his head and giving her a wan smile. But he couldn't hide his eyes from her."What's wrong?" she asked, alarmed.
"Nothing."
"You're sad?"
"Actually I'm happy." He wiped his damp eyes on his sleeve and told her about Nancy's beau."It choked me up, to know that she values my opinion."
"Implicitly," Remy told him."Her words to me exactly the other day when we had lunch."
News of Duvall's death had been a lead story that circulated far beyond state lines. It was followed by expanding reports of corruption in the N.O.P.D and city hall, and the special task force that had exposed it.
Having heard this news, Joe had called Burke, who affirmed that this was the police matter he'd been involved in. It was now safe for Joe's family, and for Nancy Stuart, to return home.
On the eve of Doug Pat's funeral, Burke had confessed to Nancy his complicity in her husband's death. They had cried together, and she had thanked him for telling her. It had been a cathartic experience for both. Even so, Burke's misjudgment continued to haunt him.
"After what I did," he said now, "I don't understand how Nancy can forgive me, much less still think of me as her best friend."
"Burke," Remy said, moving nearer and placing her arms around him.
"The only one who hasn't forgiven you is you. You've been appointed by the attorney general to ferret out all forms of corruption in the N.O.P.D.
District Attorney Littrell doesn't make a move without consulting you first. You're respected and admired." She laid her hands on his chest. "And deeply loved."
"I need you close," he whispered, drawing her against him and resting his chin on the top of her head.
"If I can forgive myself for the years I spent with Pinkie Duvall, you can forgive yourself your one mistake, can't you?"
He tipped her face up and kissed her, giving himself over to the taste and warmth and feel of her mouth until she angled her head back and murmured, "Make love to me."
He glanced over his shoulder and looked through the window toward the pier, where the others could be heard talking and laughing.
"What, now?"
"Um-huh."
Needing no more encouragement than that, he swept her along through Dredd's awkward arrangement of rooms until they were stretched out on the narrow bed where she had lain before, their clothing strewn about like hurricane-driven debris. He kissed her mouth, throat, breasts.
But when he would have entered her, she amazed him by seizing the initiative and doing something she'd never done before. At first he whispered feeble objections, but soon he was too distracted by the onslaught of sensations to protest. Groaning her name, he buried his fingers in her hair. His hands followed the motions of her head as she made love to him with her mouth.
Then she straddled him, taking all of him inside her. It was mindblowing, the way she rode him, the way her hips ground against his thighs, the way her mouth melded with his as, together, they came.
Lying quietly, lazily, sweatily, knowing they should get up and dress and rejoin the party before their absence was noticed, they remained as they were.
"You listened, didn't you?" she asked softly.
"Hmm?" he murmured, still immersed in incredible pleasure and lacking the energy to say more.
"You eavesdropped on Pinkie and me."
Suddenly wide awake and flushed with embarrassment, Burke cleared his throat."Uh, yeah. I planted a bug in the bedroom."
"Why?"
"I told myself I might learn something about Duvall's operation.
But that was an excuse. The truth is, I was obsessed with you. I hated the thought of you with him. But at the same time, it was a vicarious ..."
He sighed with self-disgust."Jesus, I must be a sick bastard."
"No, no you're not." She hugged him tighter and for a time they were quiet.
Then Burke asked how she had guessed about the bug.
She raised her head and gazed down at him, lifting damp strands of hair off his forehead."You've avoided certain intimate acts that you think would repel me. You're afraid they would remind me of Pinkie." She smiled ruefully."Burke, nothing we do together could remind me of him, or of anything I saw or overheard or experienced in Angel's house.
It's not the same. With you, everything is for the first time. It's new.
Clean. Right. I take joy from loving you. It's not the same at all."
He took her hand and pressed her palm against his mouth. He wanted to tell her how much he loved her, but, for the second time that afternoon, he was too moved to speak. > Besides, she already knew.
the end.