Epilogue
The city was slowly recovering from eight days of blazing heath. For two days now the weather forecast had announced the upcoming unavoidable thunderstorms and accompanying heavy rainfall. Finally there it was.
Spectacular lightning illuminated the San Francisco skyline and thunder rolled through the still empty streets, while rain washed away the omnipresent dust.
In his office - apartment, above the police garage, everything seemed peaceful again.
As soon as the rain had set in Mark had opened a couple of windows allowing an initially timid but heavenly refreshing breeze to gently chase the suffocating air.
Mark and the Chief hadn't spoken much during supper and the Chief had hardly eaten a thing.
Around 7 pm Ed had called in again. It was the Chief who had picked up the phone. He suggested Ed find himself a nice girl and spend the night on the town. With a simple, "See you tomorrow 8 o'clock sharp Sergeant." he had rapidly ended the conversation.
Mark who had overheard everything knew how to read between the lines. The message was crystal clear: the events of this afternoon never took place.
While Mark stood near the windows watching, admiring the lightnings, Ironside sat silently at the rear of the office.
He needed time to analyze the bizarre performance he and his team had, by a strange coincidence become actors in. Why had he let himself being dragged along? He was the only one to blame. It absolutely was an unforgivable mistake, the kind of error only a rookie can make. He really, really was mad at himself.
"You don't go questioning people without a serious motive," he heard himself think, "Even had he been the spitting image of Charles Manson."
Why had he even allowed it to come this far? Sure he had let himself being taken in by Ed's enthusiasm but at the same time he so desperately wanted to believe he could finally come up with that one element that would prove Boyden innocent.
Ironside shifted in his chair. He was a nervous wreck and that was exactly what he didn't need if he wanted to calm down that sharp radiating pain in his back.
"Mark...! I could do with that aspirin now. Would you mind get me one?" he finally decided to ask.
"At long last... you become reasonable," Mark replied, turning away from the lightning spectacle. "You should have taken it hours ago. I'll get you a double one, and then you should consider going to bed." he suggested. "Remember what the doc has advised to alleviate the pressure on your spine?"
"Yeah, yeah... I know. Get out of this chair and lie down. Thanks for the advice Mark. But it's not going to ease my conscience."
"Come on, Chief. I know it's easy for me to say but... think about yourself for once. See the state it has gotten you into. Forget it. I'm sure that Perkins guy was only playing tricks on you," Mark tried to reassure him. "I can imagine him rejoicing after witnessing the result of the act he put on. Oh man! ... J,ust look at you... It really isn't worth it."
"Maybe Mark. And maybe not. But I keep on seeing George Boyden in that courtroom shouting his innocence and none of us willing to believe him. He's dead Mark" Ironside punctuated bitter and irritated. "And yes,... you're right. Perkins act didn't help make it more acceptable."
Mark understood that there was nothing more he could do or say at this very moment to make his boss feel better.
Robert Ironside was a man of honor for whom nothing was more important than to make sure justice always triumphed.
It was Ed's inexhaustible enthusiasm and equally inborn sense of justice that had encumbered the Chief with this emotional dilemma. Unfortunately it was the Chief, and he alone who faced the psychological challenge.
"Right now Ed's probably having that drink, in charming company," Mark thought, a little resentful.
This image made it even more painful for him to watch his boss mentally torturing himself in an ultimate effort to get eventually at the truth.
Having finally swept his wheelchair for a slightly more comfortable position in bed Ironside kept on musing. Should he or shouldn't he push on. Dig deeper. Reopen old wounds and maybe even inflict new ones.
He thought about Boyden's wife who had always maintained her husband's innocence.
"What's the use of letting her go through it all again. It won't bring him back... won't even erase the smell of suspicion as long as his innocence can't be proven beyond the shadow of a doubt. And even then..." the Chief reasoned.
And as to James Perkins, that playful young man.
"I can't imagine him being really fully aware of what he was doing. Sure...his words must have overstepped his thoughts. Or then... maybe...just maybe he was merely trying to fool us. He acted so self sufficient, so ... theatrical," the Chief went on thinking. "Yeah... Theatrical. That's it. That's the word." he nodded in agreement and took a sip from the bourbon Mark had conveniently left next to his bed.
He was fortunately realistic enough to realize he wasn't getting anywhere and though it would take time to overcome he too should try to forget about this afternoon and accept that most probably an irreparable error had been made four years ago.
The lightning bolts continued illuminating his quarters for a long time. And although he kept on replaying the film of the events that transpired that afternoon, fatigue in the end won.
That night Ironside went to sleep with a deep sense of guilt, a sickening sense of having let someone down.
He also went to sleep hoping that by the next morning the ache would largely have gone, like the time before and the time before that.
He, by now, knew for certain that pain would forever be a life companion, and this he began to get used to.
Regarding Boyden. He knew it would forever remain an unsolved mystery and doubt was something he would never ever get used to.
The End.
I had hoped someone, somewhere would be willing to lend me a hand. Today I'm very happy to be able to thank and also lemonpig73 for their time and above all helpful advise and necessary corrections.
Dear Ironside fans I'd be most happy to get your reactions, good and bad. Don't hesitate.