Plum Island

After about half an hour of contemplating the meaning of life, the doorbell rang and I answered it. It was the cops, specifically some clowns from Internal Affairs who seemed annoyed with me for some reason. I went down to One Police Plaza with them to explain why I'd failed to return official phone calls and why I'd missed my appointment, not to mention my moonlighting as a Southold Township cop. My boss, Lieutenant Wolfe, was there, which sucked, but Dom Fanelli was there, too, and we had a nice reunion and a few laughs.

Anyway, the bosses went through this crap about all the trouble I was in, so I called my lawyer and my Detective Endowment Association rep, and by evening we were close to a deal.

That's life. The meaning of life has not much to do with good and evil, right and wrong, duty, honor, country, or any of that. It has to do with cutting the right deal.