Epilogue

Ed showed Ernie and his little son out.

Eve had carried Steven to his baptism.
Actually it was the reason why Ernie had asked her to be his son's godmother: he had needed someone who was able to carry the baby, or so he said, since the godfather, Chief Ironside, was unable to do it.
It made Ironside smile, because there was perhaps a second reason to choose a wealthy godmother for a child except that she was able to walk.

After the baptismal service Ironside had invited the small christening party into his office-apartment for lunch.

At the door, Ernie held his step. "Sergeant, I have never met anyone like you. I know that you couldn't stand me in the first place. And then you risked your life for me, and you encouraged me to take my life into my own hands. May I call you my friend?"

Ed felt a little embarrassed. People didn't talk to him that way. He had only done what had to be done, as always. But it was obvious that Ernie needed some friends. "Sure. Just try not to get in my way next time I'm after some crooks. And my name's Ed."

"You won't find me on the crooks' side anymore. Never ever." He pressed Ed's hand firmly. "That's a promise. Thanks, my friend."

"Seeing Ernie and Steven like this was worth a cold bath," Ed smiled, coming back to the others.

"Perhaps it was for you!" Mark whined. "But what about Eve and me who had to do your share of the work in addition to ours when it came to finding Cromwell and to clearing the seamen that day, while you kept falling asleep at your desk?!"

Ironside threw in: "And what's that bath got to do with it anyway? Who got Ernie the job as a lawyer's assistant with the chance of making a career in this field? And who talked the adoption authorities into letting Ernie have the child right away?"

Of course he was right: he had been very successful. But for once, on such a feast day, he could have been nice and let the Sergeant have his fair share of the credit, Eve thought. "But Ed did a good job getting Ernie to overcome his selfishness and take on responsibility, and finding Cromwell's boat in the first place."

"Yes, after I told him what to look for! Who found out that they kept changing the name of the boat and that all the names had to do with Shakespeare?"

"And what about me? Who was it who found the hamburger which proved the poet's involvement?" Mark threw in.

Behind his poker face Ironside felt as if a mountain had slipped off his soul. This was the first time since his stay in the hospital that his friends dared to talk back to him. They didn't tiptoe around him as if he were a hothouse plant anymore. It felt incredibly good. The haunting wheels in his head came to a stop. It was true: he had to sit in this wheelchair. But this chair was a lot better than a box. He wanted to live, wanted to banter with his young friends, wanted to fight crime and to help people live. He knew well that there would come tough times again, but there would also be good times like right now, times well worth living.

"Well, Ernie seems to be a good judge of heroes: He chose me as his son's godfather. Doesn't that say enough? Let's toast my godchild once more!"

He raised his glass. He didn't mean his godchild but his friends, yet he could not and would not tell them how important it was for him that his world was back in place.

Author's notes:

Lemonpig encouraged me to write a WHN to "Split Second". This is the result.
Briroch has corrected it. Thank you!
And thank you, dear readers and reviewers, for your interest!