Epilogue

Lou sighed, leaning back in the cab and closing his eyes. Next to him, Ginger watched, anxiously hoping that he truly was doing as well as the doctor had said. Although the physician had wanted to keep Lou for observation, he had not found evidence of a concussion and had finally agreed to let Ginger take him home, as long as someone would be able to watch over him through the night. Ginger and Mike intended to take shifts doing just that.

"How are you feeling?" Ginger queried. They were parked in front of the police station following their visit to the hospital. By now it was nearing morning and they were both exhausted. And while Mike was inside the station for a few minutes on Lieutenant Drumm's request, the cabbie had stepped away to grab something to eat.

"Huh? Oh. I'm okay, Ginger. Really." Lou smiled at his friend. "The stuff the doctor gave me took away a lot of the pain."

"I hope so." Ginger looked away, staring into the night.

Lou watched him. "What's wrong, Buddy?"

Ginger grunted. ". . . I still can't understand how you can dismiss what I did at the warehouse so easily. Any ordinary person would be highly disturbed by or even terrified of me after tonight. And in the past, even when I shot your brother, you forgave me."

"Maybe everybody's a little crazy," Lou mused. "But when you shot Mike, you said you were sorry, and I knew those words would never come easy to you. For you to say them, you meant them. So I forgave you and trusted you again.

"And tonight . . . Mike's right, Ginger. It was a war." Lou sat up straighter, laying his hand on Ginger's arm. Ginger looked back, into his earnest eyes and face. "You were fighting to protect me. When you thought they'd killed me anyway, it was too much for you to take."

"And if it hadn't been a war, I can't say I wouldn't have done the same thing to them."

Lou shook his head. "You don't know how much I wanted to go do what you did when I thought you'd been killed last night. If I'd found them, I can't say I wouldn't have done it."

"Wanting and doing are two separate things," Ginger pointed out. "You might have thought you had the desire, but if it came right down to the wire, I don't know that you could have gone through with it. For me, I didn't even stop to think; I merely acted on my feelings."

"So did I, earlier tonight," Lou said quietly, "when I screamed at you and Mike. Some time or another, everyone does it."

"But not everyone does it by going ballistic with a machine gun." Ginger sighed, tiredly. "I don't know that I will ever be any different than I am now. I tried to change myself in prison, but I see now that I failed. Whenever I've lost control, it's when something is going amiss concerning something that means a great deal to me. In the past, among other things, it was the Borland Diamond. Tonight, it was you."

Lou considered that. "You know, if you're going to flip out, I'd rather have you do it because of me than some rock," he remarked. "At least it means your priorities are better."

Ginger stared at him. "You are a very odd person."

Lou smirked, wryly. "I've been told that. Like I said, maybe everyone's a little crazy. But I trust you, Ginger, and I still want to be with you. And if you're still wondering why . . ." He shook his head. "I don't even know myself. I could say a loyal friend is hard to find, but I liked being around you before we ever got that close."

Ginger smirked too. "Then I suppose it's just one of life's little mysteries."

Lou chuckled. "Yeah."

He paused. "Anyway, Ginger, at least you know you have a problem. That means there's still hope that you can change. If you had fought all those people and weren't even worried that you'd flipped out, that's when I'd really be worried."

". . . That's good to know."

"But I'll be here for you no matter what happens, whether you can change or not."

"I know."

Ginger seemed more at peace now. Lou settled back against the seat, hopeful that Ginger was assured and could relax.

Ginger looked towards the police station. ". . . Your brother is taking entirely too long," he scowled. "And so is that driver."

"What's Mike doing, anyway?" Lou mumbled.

"I believe he's gathering a few last bits of information from Lieutenant Drumm," Ginger said. "The F.O.W.L. agents now under arrest have admitted that one of their number dressed up as a police officer and infiltrated the initial investigation. He's the one who pushed the crates on top of me."

Lou looked over at him. "So there was no dirty cop?"

"Apparently not."

"And Jackie Delano had no involvement whatsoever," Jim announced, suddenly appearing at the cab window. "Neither did Donny. He was involved with the robbery, but according to him, he didn't know what was going on any better than Mike did."

"Well, that's all good to know," Lou proclaimed in relief. "How's that St. Cloud guy?" They hadn't had the chance to speak with Jim since arriving at the hospital.

Jim shook his head. "Fine, just fine. It really was just a knockout dart. Of course, Vern's complaining like it was the biggest hypodermic needle known to man. And there'll be no living with him now that he took that dart while protecting me."

"I don't doubt it," Ginger said.

"Hey, Rockford, thanks," Lou said. "For all your help with the investigation."

Jim shrugged. "I was just doing my job for the insurance company. Speaking of which, I've just spent over an hour in the presence of Stephen Kalifer. He's been giving me an earful for not telling him Ginger didn't die in the blast. And he might decide he wants to talk to you boys, too."

Lou was not pleased. "Oh great."

"Who knows, maybe he'll actually apologize for the things he said to you," Jim shrugged. "He actually is pretty good about owning up to being wrong. Once he knows he is, of course."

"Well, that's something, then," Lou acknowledged, wondering if it was safe to relax.

"And now that we know the dreaded Flo was at work again, the Feds are coming in on this case." Jim made a face, knowing he might meet some people he knew whom he would just as soon avoid.

"It's unlikely she'll be caught," Ginger said. "If anything happens to her, it will probably be F.O.W.L.'s work."

Jim nodded. "Yeah, they know. But you know them—they'll want to try anyway.

"Lieutenant Drumm's already contacted that paint supply store. Apparently someone bought some waterproof paint that was probably used on the submarine. The owner doesn't know any more than that, and Drumm thinks he's on the level, but the place will probably still be checked out by the Feds."

"You don't think she might try to go after Ginger again, do you?" Lou worried.

"Since what happened at Josephine's is all over the news by now, and they know you've both had ample time to tell more stuff to the police, probably not," Jim replied. "Flo's usually pretty smart, so I'm sure she knows that going after Ginger again at this point would just be stupid. Drumm will keep an eye on you for a while anyway, though, just in case."

Lou relaxed. "Good."

"According to the captured F.O.W.L. agents, they were just starting to get into the narcotics business," Jim went on. "Josephine's was their first big try. Who knows, Ginger, you might've made them rethink that 'going into every illegal pie' bit."

Ginger looked pleased, but did not want to mistakenly believe such a feat was absolutely true. "I suppose we'll see.

"Is the case really solved, then, except for Florence's escape?"

"As far as I know," Jim said. "And since catching her is unlikely to happen, and the Federal boys are taking over for that part of it, we should all be able to kiss this case goodbye. At least until we all get to court."

"We'd better be able to," Lou said fervently.

Jim nodded. "Anyway, I'm glad you two are alright." He pushed away from the cab. "Stay out of trouble now."

"We'll do our best," Lou vowed.

Ginger remained silent, watching as Jim headed off.

"Do you know anything about Mrs. Oreck yet?" Lou wondered.

Ginger grunted. "Officer Anderson found her tied up in a closet. Of course, she was more worried about her Hoover than anything else. She got it off our porch and has been cleaning it for the past two hours."

"I don't get how Florence had our house under surveillance," Lou frowned.

"Her men posed as handymen and repairmen throughout the day and she took over as Mrs. Oreck that night," Ginger replied.

"Huh. What a racket," Lou proclaimed.

He closed his eyes again, resting against the seat. Ginger glanced towards the door, again impatient for Mike to appear.

"Oh . . . Ginger?"

"What."

"Maybe it's just the monster headache talking, but . . . well, I've always kind of wondered. You didn't want to tell Mike, but maybe you'll tell me. How did you get the nickname 'Ginger'?"

Silence. "It's not a nickname."

Lou's eyes opened. "Your name really is . . . ?!"

"My parents thought I was going to be a girl," Ginger said flatly. "When I wasn't, they decided that since so many names were becoming unisex, and since there were several famous men with the nickname 'Ginger', they would name me 'Ginger' anyway."

Lou shook his head, not sure whether to laugh or be weirded out. "That's . . . well, I never would have thought of that explanation."

Ginger gave him a withering look. "And you had better keep it to yourself. If I hear about it getting out to anyone . . ."

"You know I won't talk, Ginger," Lou interrupted.

Ginger's expression softened. "Yes. I know."

Both of them stared when, moments later, Mike at last emerged from the police station in the company of Mrs. Oreck and Harold.

"What on Earth," Ginger commented.

Mike shrugged, helplessly. "Mrs. Oreck was in there making a statement," he said, climbing into the cab on Lou's other side. "Lieutenant Drumm only kept me five minutes or so. The rest of the time, I've been talking to Mrs. Oreck and . . . uh . . . you know." He indicated Harold.

Ginger rolled his eyes.

Mrs. Oreck leaned down, peering in the window. "Well, it's certainly a surprise to see you alive, Mr. Townsend," she greeted. "We just wanted to thank you for realizing that horrible woman wasn't me! Who knows what would have happened to Harold if you hadn't discovered the truth!"

"It's hard to say," Ginger said, stiffly.

"We're on our way home now," Mrs. Oreck went on. "I guess we'll see you there!" She straightened, heading towards the parking lot with Harold rolling along beside her.

Mike gawked after them. "I wonder if she'll be nicer to you two because of this," he said.

"I guess it's possible," Lou admitted. "But I'm not going to hope for too much."

"It wouldn't take a great deal to set her off again," Ginger added.

"Hey, are we going yet or what?" the driver suddenly asked as he appeared with an armload of food. He set it in the passenger seat and climbed in.

"Yes," Ginger said flatly. "Drive, Mate."

And then he scowled in recognition. "You're the same driver from last night."

The cabbie twisted around, really stopping to study his passengers for the first time. "What the . . . I'm driving with a ghost!" he yelped.

"I am not a ghost!" Ginger retorted.

"And thank God for that," Lou declared.

They were alive and well and going home.

Just as it should be.