“We got an anonymous call from a male with a pronounced English accent giving us a time and place of a major drugs deal. When we got there, that was what we found.”
I stared at him in silence.
“Your father had a gun in his hand, and we believe the wound to his chest was self-administered. All the dead men had been shot with the same weapon, including your father,” he added.
I nodded.
“Who were the other men?” I asked.
“Two of them were Columbian couriers, and the other four were members of a Jamaican drug cartel. One of them had a London connection, and that connection was Frankie Holland.”
“Oh?”
“The FBI were less than forthcoming with information, and denied any knowledge of anyone called Lake or Armitage.”
I smiled. “He was in their witness protection programme,” I said.
“Yeah, I know that now.”
“So, what happens now? As I said in the morgue, I’ve already ‘buried’ the bugger once, it will look bloody farcical if I have to say I made a mistake the first time.”
He smiled.
“Well, that is really up to you. In a way, he has done us a favour, so as far as we are concerned he is Armitage. To be honest, we would rather the Columbians and Jamaicans believed that the NYPD got to their men, and not some retired English gangster dying of cancer.”
I smiled too, how bloody typical of Dad. He could never just curl up and die; he had to be difficult.
“Look, Lieutenant. I’m getting married soon, and to be honest, I thought my father was out of my life. I know this sounds callous, as he may have been my father, but he was bugger all else. He actually made a tough time of my life one hell of a lot tougher, and to be honest, all I want is to get on and live the rest of my life in peace.
“I have a lovely man, superb prospects, and an awful lot to be thankful for. He was not one of them. If it is okay with you, just cremate the old sod and send me the ashes, as was supposed to have happened after the last time. I will spread them where he would have liked to have been scattered.”
The Lieutenant nodded.
“Are you sure?”
“Yup, I’m sure. This marks an end of this chapter of my life, and to be honest, I think it is for the best.”
The Lieutenant had me sign a couple of forms, and then he took me to the hotel. I called Simon, aware that it was early in the morning.
“Hi sweetie. I’m coming home. It’s finally really over.”
“Was it him?” he asked.
“Oh yes. This time he is really dead.”
“Oh. I’m sorry Honey.”
“I’m not.”
“Oh.”
“Simon?”
“What?”
“Can we get married soon?”
“How soon?”
“As soon as I get back.”
“No.”
“Why the hell not?”
“Because my mother would never get it arranged in that time, she’ll need six months notice.”
“Fuck your mother.”
“No thanks.”
“Simon.”
“How about Saturday?”
“See you in church.”
“I love you too. Can I go back to sleep now?”
THE END.