1Bobby was pacing again. He didn't like the thought of Lewis being left in the dark. He thought about how Lewis must be worrying about him – and dealing with his own grief about Alex. He wondered how Lewis had found out – hopefully, not on the evening news. Ten minutes had passed and Bobby was debating if he should make a pest of himself and press the nurse's call button again. He decided to wait five more minutes. It was just then that the door to his room opened and Dr. Rizzo stepped in. Bobby didn't wait for a greeting.
"I need to use a phone," he blurted out.
Rizzo gestured with his hands, palms down, patting the air. In his usual gentle tone, he said "Calm down, Bobby."
Bobby's voice was raised, "I am calm!" he answered, his own hands in motion, as always. Rizzo looked at him – the type of look that fathers give their children when they're misbehaving.
"WHAT!" Bobby asked, tilting his head back and rolling his eyes. It made Rizzo laugh inwardly at yet another glimpse into Bobby's childlike behavior.
"Let's sit down, Bobby," the doctor said, taking Bobby by the elbow and guiding him towards the foot of the bed.
"I just want to call my friend – I need to call my friend."
Rizzo looked sympathetically at the hulking figure seated next to him. He was glad to know that Bobby had a friend – – he was going to need one.
The doctor leaned to one side, reaching into the pocket of his slacks. He produced his cell phone and held it out, for Bobby to take.
Bobby nodded as he reached for the phone, "Thank you," he said, as he flipped the phone open and dialed Lewis' number.
While he was dialing, Rizzo reminded him, "This is between us...as the nurse told you, patients aren't permitted to make phone calls...I'm making an exception in your case." Bobby knew exactly why Rizzo made the point: to make Bobby feel special – he was receiving a special favor from the doctor so, subconsciously, he would now 'owe' the doctor one.
As Lewis' number began ringing, Bobby tilted head towards Rizzo, looking him in the eyes, "I seem to remember your telling me that I wasn't exactly a patient, since I'm not ill."
Rizzo hadn't expected the comeback. He thought to himself, "Well, that's the first time I've seen the real Robert Goren – ready to trade barbs – to match wits – he must be feeling better." The doctor was amused.
"Lewis, it's me...I know, man, I'm sorry...I'm all right...Ummm, I'm not at home..."
Rizzo sat observing Bobby, listening one-sided to his conversation. He wondered how Bobby would explain his whereabouts...if he would fabricate a lie to save face...to save himself the stigma and embarrassment of his current situation.
"I'm, uh, st-still at the hospital...they admitted me...when it happened...I kinda' freaked out and umm, I'm gonna' be here for two more days. How are you, Lewis? How did you hear? ...ohhhhhh, damn, I'm sorry...umm, hold on a second - I gotta' check with the doctor."
Bobby held the phone away from his ear and looked at Rizzo. "C-can I have a visitor?"
Rizzo nodded, "Yes," instantly noticing how Bobby's face relaxed.
"Can he bring me clothes to wear?" Rizzo again nodded.
"Lewis, do me favor and swing by my apartment on your way over...I need some clothes...yeah, that's fine...just jeans and a couple of shirts...whatever you find in the closet is okay...okay, thanks, bud...WAIT! Lewis? I forgot to tell ya'...I'm on the 8th floor...in the...the psychiatric unit...nah, I'm okay...see ya' then."
Bobby handed Dr. Rizzo's phone back to him, "Thanks." Rizzo took the phone and shoved it back in his pocket, giving Bobby a quick smile.
"So," Rizzo began, "This Lewis...he must be a good friend."
Bobby nodded, "He's my best friend."
"You must trust him...he has the key to your place?"
"That's not what you meant," Bobby said, eyeing the doctor, wagging his index finger.
"No? What did I mean?"
"You meant I trust him enough to tell him the truth about where I am."
Rizzo nodded, "Well, that too," he smiled.
"Lewis and I... we've been best friends since grade school...h-he knew my m-mother...he's ummm, he's seen me at my best...and my worst."
Rizzo looked at Bobby, sincerely, "I'm glad you have such a friend. I surmised from your conversation that Lewis knew about..your partner."
Bobby nodded, letting out a sigh, "...from the news...damn it. A-Alex was his friend, too."
The doctor stood to leave, patting Bobby's shoulder as he passed by him towards the door. "I'm glad your friend is coming, Bobby."
"Hey, doc?
Rizzo looked back, over his shoulder.
"Thanks."
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It was a media circus back at the Three-Eight. Word had gotten out that the Police had a suspect in custody – big news since this was only the second shooting death of a female officer in NYPD history. Reporters with their microphones and camera crews clogged the street and sidewalk in the front of the station, hoping to catch an exclusive on the breaking story. Mayor Bloomberg and Police Commissioner Ray Kelly were, supposedly, en route to the scene.
Inside, Deakins and Kowalski had put on a show of their own, verbally pounding their suspect into a confession with their routine of bad cop/badder cop –neither of them wanted to play the role of "good cop" – they were too pissed off. It felt like old times.
It took less than one hour and, in the end, had boiled down to the story of an attempted robbery gone bad – interrupted by the off-duty officer who had just gone to the store to pick up a few groceries on her way home after working late and came to the aid of the terrified shopkeeper.
It's what cops do.
Two uniformed officers yanked Randazzo to his feet and slapped on the cuffs. The necessary paperwork had been well underway and he was minutes away from being transported to his new home at Rikers Island. Deakins put in a call to Carver. The arraignment was scheduled for 9 o'clock the following morning.
Kowalski rested his huge arm around Deakins' shoulders as the two men walked down the hall. "It's been good workin' with ya' again, Jimmy...sorry about the circumstances, though."
Deakins nodded, "Thanks, Bill."
The noise of the commotion outside swelled – the Mayor and Commissioner had just arrived; the density of the crowd grew; the bright lights of the TV crews illuminated the street.
Kowalski turned and headed down the hall. Deakins looked perplexed and called after him, tossing his head towards the front door, "Aren't you comin'?" The big man didn't bother turning around; his voice boomed, "I'm takin' the back door, Jimmy...you can deal with the circus," he chuckled.
And that was the Kowalski that Deakins knew. He didn't need the attention. All that mattered was that the bad guy got caught.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
It was almost 7:00 p.m. The door to Bobby's room opened and Dr. Rizzo appeared with Lewis.
Bobby had been laying across the bed, reading. His barely-touched dinner tray sat on the table, looking even more unappetizing, now that it was cold, than when it had arrived.
Bobby rose to greet Lewis with a hug –they each tried to ignore the tears that had welled up in their eyes. Dr. Rizzo watched, thinking how genuinely happy these two friends looked to see each other. The doctor had been surprised seeing Lewis upon his arrival. It wasn't what he expected a friend of Bobby's to look like. He wasn't quite sure what to expect – he just knew that the man standing before him wasn't it.
Lewis slung the weekend bag from his shoulder and deposited it on the bed and gave a laugh, "I think I had pajamas like that when I was 5," he teased, while playfully punching Bobby's upper arm.
Rizzo kept observing, as Bobby laughed.
He unzipped the bag and began unpacking his clothes, scrutinizing some of the selections that Lewis had made for him while Lewis, in the meantime, produced a shopping bag.
"I figured the food here sucked! Oh, sorry doc!" he said with a laugh.
Bobby shook his head, smiling.
"I brought us dinner," he said, turning towards Dr. Rizzo. "You wanna' join us?"
Rizzo smiled, "No thanks...I'm used to the food here."
Lewis turned back towards Bobby, proudly announcing his menu : I stopped by V&T on the way...got your fav...chicken parm hero and the tomato and fresh mozz salad...I got a calzone."
Dr. Rizzo looked at the two men, amused. "Um, before I go, I have to ask: you don't have any alcohol in that grocery bag, do you?"
Lewis shook his head, "No." He obliged the doctor by emptying the remaining contents onto the table so Rizzo could take inventory: potato chips, two packages of Yodels and two cans of Coke.
The doctor nodded. "All right, boys, I'll leave you to your visit. Just buzz the nurse when you're ready to leave."
Bobby and Lewis said an almost simultaneous "thanks, doc" and Rizzo left, smiling.
Rizzo heard the laughter after he closed the door and was happy for Bobby. It was, after all, the best medicine.
Lewis clutched his stomach, almost doubling over with laughter. "Man, I thought you were gonna' blow it!" He was snorting his funny laugh – it made Bobby feel happier just hearing it – it hadn't changed since they were kids.
Bobby smiled as he returned to unpacking his clothes, "I almost did," he said, as he removed the 40 oz. from the protection of a rolled up tee-shirt at the bottom of the bag. Bobby carried the bottle over to the table and sat – this dinner looked good.
"I didn't bring cups...we'll have to share from the bottle," Lewis said, then looked at Bobby suspiciously. "I ain't gonna' catch anything from you, am I?" he joked.
Bobby laughed as he raised the bottle for his first swig of the icy-cold beer.
The two friends sat and ate; they talked — memories, stories – some from their childhood and teenage years, and about Alex – some brought laughter and some brought tears. The almost three hours they spent together was therapeutic for both of them. They rang for the nurse only once, asking for coffee and milk to go with their Yodels. It was almost 10 p.m.; time for Lewis to go.
"I gotta' get goin', Bobby...got an early morning tomorrow."
Bobby buzzed for the nurse and hugged Lewis, patting his back. "Thanks, Lewis."
Lewis turned back, half way out the door, "Hey, what'cha want for supper tomorrow?"
"Surprise me," he answered, happy that Lewis was coming back the next day.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
After Lewis had gone, Bobby cleaned the table and hid the empty bottle back in his luggage. He took a shower, brushed his teeth and was looking forward to getting tucked into bed. As he laid in bed, adjusting his pillows, he turned on the TV. It immediately grabbed his attention:
Voice of reporter: "In late-breaking news tonight, Police have arrested a suspect in the shooting death of Alexandra Eames. A fifteen year veteran of the force, Ms. Eames was a detective with the City's elite Major Case Squad. She was the second female officer to be gunned down this year..."
Bobby's heart was racing; his breath came fast, gulping for air. As he tried to listen to the report, a dozen thoughts raced through his mind...who did it? when did they catch him...and when the hell did Deakins plan on telling him! He forced his attention back to the tv.
"...The accused, Michael Randazzo, is being held at Rikers Island pending his arraignment tomorrow morning...funeral services for Detective Eames have been scheduled for Saturday."
Bobby punched his pillow –repeatedly; the anger and sadness filling him up in equal parts. He collapsed on his side, tears streaming down his face. He thought after Lewis' visit that he was all cried out. He was wrong.
He tossed and turned for hours, sad for himself – for the team of Bobby and Alex that was never again to be; pissed off at Deakins for not letting him be the first to know that his partner's murderer had been caught.
It was almost 2 a.m. He couldn't sleep, so he decided to put his time to use. He pressed the nurse's call button.
"Yes, Mr. Goren, what can I do for you?"
"I'd like some paper and a pen."
"If you're having trouble sleeping, I can give you something...Dr. Rizzo said I..."
Bobby cut her off, mid sentence.
"I just want some paper and a pen. Please."
The nursed nodded, "All right...I'll be right back." She returned and Bobby practically snatched the items from her hand and sat at the table.
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He was about to begin one of the hardest things he'd ever have to do: writing his Eulogy for Detective Alexandra Eames.
END. Chpt. 9