W.E.B Griffin - Men In Blue

Three weeks after taking off his navy blues, Dennis V. Coughlin reported to the police academy for training.

On his first day there, he met John X. Moffitt, just back from a three-year hitch in the marines. They were of an age, they had much in common, and they became buddies. When they graduated from the academy, they were both assigned downtown, Denny Coughlin to the Ninth District, Jack Moffitt to the Sixth/Without much trouble, they managed to have their duty schedules coincide, so they spent their off-duty time together, drinking beer and chasing girls, except for Tuesday nights, when Jack Moffitt went to meetings of the marine corps reserve.

He needed the money, Jack Moffitt argued, and there wasn't going to be a war anyway; Denny should join up too. Denny did not. Jack was called back to the Marines on seventy-two-hours' notice, a week after they had both learned they had passed the detective's exam, in August 1950.

Jack was back in just over a year, medically retired as a staff sergeant for wounds received in the vicinity of Hangun-Ri, North Korea, where he also earned the Silver Star. He went back to work in the West Detective Division; Denny Coughlin was then in the Central Detective Division.

But things weren't the same between them, primarily because of Patricia Stevens, whom Jack had met when she went with the girls from Saint Agnes's to entertain the boys in the navy hospital. Denny was best man at their wedding, and Patty used to have him to supper a lot, and she helped the both of them prepare for the sergeant's examination.

A month after Jack Moffitt died of gunshot wounds suffered in the line of duty, a month before Matt was born, Denny Coughlin had made a rare visit to his parish rectory, for a private conversation with Monsignor Finn. It took some time before Finn realized what Denny Coughlin really wanted to talk about, and it was not his immortal soul.

"You don't want to marry the girl, Denny," Monsignor Finn said, " because you feel sorry for her, or because she's your friend's wife; nor even to take care of the baby when it comes. And you sure don't want her to marry you because she needs someone to support her and the baby. Now you'll notice that I didn't say you don't want to marry the girl. What I'm saying to you is, have a little patience. Time heals. And it wouldn't surprise me at all if Patty Moffitt saw in you the same things she saw in Jack, God rest his soul. But you want to be sure, son. Marriage is forever. You don't want to be jumping into it. What I'm saying is just keep being what you are, a good friend, until Patty gets over both her grief and the baby. Then if you still feel the same way…"

Dennis V. Coughlin had still felt the same way six months later, and a year later, but before he could bring himself to say anything, Patty Moffitt had gone to work, trying to work her way up to be a legal secretary, and then she'd taken Matt for a walk in his stroller, and she'd run into Brewster Cortland Payne II taking his motherless kids for a walk, and then it had been too late.

Chief Inspector Dennis V. Coughlin had been at Dutch Moffitt's wake at the Marshutz amp; Sons Funeral Home for about an hour when he saw Matt Payne, standing alone, and called him over. He shook his hand, and then put his arm around his shoulders.

"I'd like you to meet these fellows, Matt," he said. "Gentlemen, this is Matt Payne, Dutch's nephew."

Matt was introduced to two chief inspectors, three inspectors, two captains, and a corporal who had gone through the academy with Dutch Moffitt and was being tolerated by the brass for being a little drunk, and just a shade too friendly.

"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, myadoptive 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 amp; Pratt Streets Terminal, including the details of Gerald Vincent Gallagher's death and dismemberment.

"Did they get in touch with Peter Wohl?" Coughlin asked. "Matt Lowenstein said they wanted him to get an identification of Gallagher as the man in the diner from that TV woman."

"Nobody seems to know where either of them are, Chief," Kegley said.

Coughlin snorted, and then his face stiffened in thought.

"Thank you, George," Coughlin said. "I appreciate this. Tom, get the car, we're going for a ride."

"Yes, sir," Sergeant Lenihan said.

"You're coming," Dennis Coughlin said to Matt Payne.

"Are you all right, Matthew?" Chief Inspector Dennis V. Coughlin asked when Sergeant Tom Lenihan had eased the Oldsmobile up on the curb before the row house on Fitzgerald Street in South Philadelphia.

Matt had thrown up at the medical examiner's, not when Coughlin expected him to, when they pulled the sheet off the remains of Gerald Vincent Gallagher, but several minutes later, outside, just before they got back into the Oldsmobile. Tom Lenihan had disappeared at that point for a couple of minutes, and Coughlin wasn't sure if he had done that to spare Matt embarrassment, or whether Lenihan had gone behind a row of cars to throw up himself.

"I'm all right," Matt said.

His face was white.

"Sure?"

"I'm fine, thank you," Matt said, firmly.