Wet Work

Epilogue

"Frank?"

Diatri's head jerked up out of his sleep. His chair was pulled up next to the old man's bed. The dawn was coming through the French windows, a soft blue light full of the gossip of nuthatches, thrushes and blackbirds, with a screech of cock pheasant. The LED display on the IV stand gleamed brightly. Diatri saw with embarrassment that his hand was resting on top of the old man's. He pulled it away.

"Yes, boss."

"The priest, is he gone?"

"Yeah, he's gone."

"Shut that thing off, would you?"

Diatri reached over and clicked off the IV. "You feeling better?"

"Frank, he gave me absolution."

Diatri shrugged. "Sure. Why not?"

"Well, it wasn't just any confession."

"You want some water or something?"

"The way he was looking at me, it was like he didn't believe me."

"I think I'm going to have some water. It's, with confessions it's basically, as I understand it, it's the intention. That's all that really matters."

"That's right, Frank. I feel better."

"That's good, boss."

Charley stared at the Baudelaire "Absinthe Drinker." "I'm going to give that to the museum, Frank. I'm awful fond of it, but it's-I'm going to give it to the museum."

"How about some water?" Diatri reached for the pitcher on the nightstand next to the photo of Tasha and Margaret.

"I'd like a whiskey. Let's us both have a whiskey."

Diatri laughed. "Okay." He poured out a couple of brown fingers and gave the glass to Charley. The old man's hand was weak, but he held it himself. He raised the glass. "To Tasha and Felix."

"To Tasha and Felix," said Diatri.