AFTERMATH

Chapter 8

Horatio ate a couple of forkfuls of an uninteresting risotto he had brought in for lunch, then put it aside, thinking about Frank Tripp. He felt bad… almost guilty. He knew, from the brief conversation he had just had, that he could certainly elicit an apology from the detective. If he wanted to… Add 'manipulative' to your faults, Horatio, he thought.

He wondered how two grown men, two old friends, could make such a mess of a conversation. But it was plainly his fault, not Frank's. He would never have expected anything but plain-speaking from Frank, and, boy, had he got it. And yet, his friend had managed to identify why the recent events had upset him so much. And done it so easily… far more easily than any shrink, he suspected. And what had he done? Sulked. Thrown his toys out of the pram. Oh, he could find excuses for himself… He was still seriously unwell, for a start… Hard to react normally when your body was on the verge of falling apart, and you were weary way beyond normal tiredness… But he accepted they were just that - excuses.

He knew he needed to concentrate on work for now. Otherwise he'd brood, and nothing would get done. And a ten-year old girl lay in the morgue, waiting for him to bring her some sort of justice. Giving himself a mental shake, he got up and walked down to see Calleigh.

He outlined the case so far. "So I may need to interview as many as nine children…"

"Mmm… not easy. Are you going to use Ryan?"

"I feel I owe it to him, but, it's difficult to get children to open up. Not sure he's the right person."

"You're the best one I know to do that job."

"Don't think I can do them all, Calleigh. And you're brilliant with kids. I could do with your help."

"Of course. You know… you should be able to narrow it down… If you can find out more about the girl… who her friends were… that sort of thing… Would one of the teachers know?" Calleigh was thinking aloud.

"Well, not the one we saw this morning…" He smiled. Talking to Calleigh nearly always cheered him up. "I'll ask Ryan about the others."

Ryan's view was that everyone, staff and pupils, were somewhat in awe of Maria Santos.

"So who had the best rapport with the children, did you think?"

"The really timid one… Anna… something-or-other… But she wouldn't say boo to a goose."

"She might in different circumstances… Not an interview, just a chat about the kids… Who was friendly, who was bullied… Off the record, if you like. Take her out for a coffee… Could you do that, do you think?"

Ryan grinned. "I'll give it a go, H. I'll let you know if I get anything."

Apart from some phone calls, and a bit of form-filling, there was little more he could do on the case. It always frustrated him - the delays, the bureaucracy - everything that held up his investigation. He had a built-in urge to forge ahead, talk to whomever he wanted, whenever he wanted… But he had long ago accepted that unless the rules were observed, it could all come apart in court, which did no one any good. So he had learned to curb his impatience.

Now, back in his office, he turned his thoughts back to Michelle Freeman, and her horrific revenge on him. He suspected his recovery was going more slowly than it should, and toyed with the idea of calling his doctor. Mentally…He thought about Frank's summation of the situation… that he had allowed his vanity to get the better of him… Well, it was true, and he owed Frank an apology, not the other way round. He knew he needed to get that side of things sorted out, before he could think about the physical.

He pulled out his cell and rang Frank's number. Prepared to eat humble pie, he was disconcerted to get voicemail. But he left a message anyway, suggesting meeting in the bar after work.

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Frank Tripp was already installed in the booth when Horatio arrived.

He slid into the opposite seat, glanced at the table, and raised his eyebrows. "You drinking coffee, Frank?" He looked at his friend's face. It looked unusually pale, a little puffy. "Christ, pal, you look as if you've been crying."

"No, you fool!" Frank gave a snort of laughter. "Hung over… I got more drunk last night than I've been in many many years. "

"Because of…" He stopped.

"You can say it. Because of you. Well, because of our disagreement… I know I was blunt with you, when all you wanted was someone to listen. And I'm sorry, okay?"

"Please, Frank… You were one hundred percent right. Guess I needed to hear it - even if it wasn't exactly welcome at the time."

"You know why I said it? Because I don't want you walking into that sort of thing again…" He hesitated. "Look, I want to say something to you… and you can just hear me out… I'll embarrass myself just this once… Now, I've got family… My old mom, a couple of ex-wives, children that I love, even if I don't see enough of them… I've got a group of buddies that I drink with and go to games with… But, if the end of the world came, or a major disaster, or some such, you're the one person I'd want to see walk safely out of it. Hell, Horatio…" He shook his head. " I can't do this warm fuzzy stuff!"

Horatio cleared his throat. "You seem pretty good at it to me…"

There was a long silence, while Frank sipped his coffee, and Horatio poured some of the club soda Frank had bought into a glass.

Frank murmured, "If you want something stronger…?"

"Not a good idea…"

"Have I embarrassed you?"

"No, Frank… I'm honored that you would feel like that. And that you would say it, because it probably embarrassed you."

"So we're okay?"

"Of course we are." He gave him a fond smile.

Frank ran a hand over his face. "Thank God for that."