The Night Gardener

Ramone killed the engine and got out of the SUV. Holiday stood to meet him. They nodded at each other but did not speak. Then Ramone went to the Marquis and examined Cook. Ramone returned to where Holiday stood leaning against the Lincoln.

'Why was he here?' said Ramone.

'That's Reginald Wilson's house over there.'

'The security guard.'

'Right,' said Holiday.

'He was, what, surveilling him?'

'He was doing what he'd been doing for the last twenty years. He was looking for a break in the case.'

'That's a long time to play a hunch.'

'Cook wasn't wrong too often when he was homicide police. If you could DNA Wilson-'

'No PC.'

'Fuck probable cause.'

'It would be nice if it worked that way.'

Holiday lit another smoke. His hand shook as he held the match.

'You call this in?' said Ramone.

'Not yet.'

'When were you planning to do that?'

'After I move him off this street. I'm gonna take him up to Good Luck Road and park his car in a strip mall. I'll wipe my prints off and call in an anonymous.'

'That's gettin' to be a habit with you.'

'I don't want him found here.'

'Why not?'

'Long while back, the Post did a feature on Cook,' said Holiday. 'The headline read, "Years Later, Palindrome Murders Still Haunt Retired Detective,' something like that. The article quoted Cook as saying he strongly suspected a man named Reginald Wilson who by then had been incarcerated on other charges. It made Cook out to be half nuts. It's possible that some reporter's gonna go through the morgue material and connect Cook to Wilson and this street. The old man shouldn't go out like that. He doesn't deserve it.'

'Maybe not,' said Ramone. 'But you're committing a crime.'

'I shouldn't have taken him out with me. I owe him some dignity in death.'

'He was a sick man, Danny. It was his time. It doesn't look like he went out with much pain.'

'He went out not knowing.'

'We might never know,' said Ramone. 'Chances are, the Palindrome case won't ever be closed. You know this. We don't always get to win in the end. It's not about slaps on the back and confetti.'

'He wasn't looking for glory. He wanted to solve this for those kids.'

'How do you solve a murder? Tell me. 'Cause I'd really like to know.'

'What are you talkin about?'

'Would finding that killer raise those kids back from the dead? Would it bring closure to the families? What would it solve, exactly?' Ramone shook his head bitterly. 'I lost the idea a long time ago that I was accomplishing anything. Occasionally I put assholes away for life, knowing they can't kill again. That's how I speak for the fallen few. But as far as solving goes? I don't solve shit. I go to work every day and I try to protect my wife and kids from the bad things that are out there. That's my mission. That's all I can do.'

'I don't believe that.'

'Well, you always were a better cop than me.'

'No, I wasn't,' said Holiday. 'You say I was good, and so did the old man. But I wasn't.'

'That's history.'

'No. Earlier tonight I came up on the uniform I was tailing, and we had a little talk. Officer Grady Dunne. He didn't have anything to do with Asa Johnson or Reginald Wilson. But he was polluted. I'm sayin the guy had maggots crawling around inside him.' Holiday hit his cigarette and blew smoke at his feet. 'That was me before I got tossed. Shit, that motherfucker even looked like me.'

'The poor bastard.'

'I'm serious, man. I was looking at him and I was seeing myself if I'd stayed on the force. What I would have become. No question, I was headed for a bad end. You were right to go after me. I was lucky to walk away.'

'Guys like him weed themselves out.'

'Sometimes,' said Holiday. 'And sometimes they need a little push.'

Holiday pitched his cigarette out into the street.

'You still thinking of moving the old man?' said Ramone.

'I'm doing it,' said Holiday.

'Call me when you're done. I'll pick you up.'

Holiday completed his task. Ramone retrieved him and dropped him back at his Lincoln. They heard the faint sirens of the squad cars arriving before the ambulance, and they shook hands.

'So long. Doc. I need to get home.'

As Holiday walked to his Lincoln, Ramone drove off the street. He speed-dialed Regina at their house.

'Gus?'

'It is your man,' said Ramone. 'Everything all right?'

'Diego's still up,' said Regina. 'Alana's in her bedroom, talking to her dolls. We're all just waitin on you.'

'I'm headed back to the mother ship,' said Ramone. He told her he loved her and ended the call.

Ramone entered his home on Rittenhouse and locked his gun and shield in the usual drawer. The first floor was still. He went to a small table in the dining room holding bottles of liquor and poured himself a shot of Jameson. It went down right. He could have killed the whole bottle. If not for his family, it would have been easy to become that kind of man.

Ramone checked the locks on the front and back doors and went up the stairs.

In the hallway, he noticed the bar of light under his bedroom door. He walked into Alana's room and found her asleep in her bed, her Barbies, Kens, and Groovy Girls lined up on the blanket, their backs against the wall, all neatly spaced in a row. He bent forward and kissed Alana's cheek. He brushed a strand of damp, curly hair off her forehead and stood looking at her for a moment before he turned off her bedside light.

Ramone went to Diego's room, knocked on the door, and pushed it open. Diego was atop the sheets, listening to a Backyard CD on his portable system, keeping the volume low. He was looking through a Don Diva magazine but did not seem to be engaged in it. His eyes were hollow, and it appeared he had been crying. His world had been tilted. It would right itself, but never to the degree of comfort where it had been.

'You okay?'

'I'm blown, Dad.'

'Let's talk some,' said Ramone, pulling a chair over to his son's bed. 'Then you should get to sleep.'

A little while later, Ramone closed Diego's door behind him and walked down the hall to his own bedroom. Regina was in their king, reading a book under the light of a lamp, her head on a doubled pillow. They exchanged a long look, and then Ramone undressed and went to the bathroom, where he washed thoroughly and tried to get the smell of beer and liquor off his breath. He came back to the bed in his boxers and got under the sheets. Regina turned into him and they embraced. He kissed her soft lips once and again, and found himself hard and kissed her with his open mouth. She pushed him gently away.

'What do you think you're doing?' said Regina. 'You getting greedy, going for two in a row.'

'A guy can dream, can't he?'

'You better sleep before you have that dream. Comin in here back-to-back nights with liquor on your breath.'

'That's the mouthwash. It's got alcohol in it.'

'You talking about that mouthwash comes from Dublin?'

'Go ahead, Regina.'

'You and your new drinking buddy, Doc Holiday.'

'He's all right.'

'What's he looking like these days?'

'He's got a little belly on him. They call it the Holiday Hump.'

They embraced again. She fit into him exactly. It was as though they were one person, separated each day, brought back together at night. He couldn't imagine being apart from her, not even in death.

'You smell like booze and cigarettes, like you did when we first started dating,' said Regina. 'When you'd show up at my apartment after last call. What was that place you liked, where all those new wave white girls used to hang out? Constipation?'

'The Constable. That wasn't me. Least it doesn't seem like it today.'