Chapter 5

For nearly six months I couldn't shake the feeling that something was just off, the words of the bastard son playing on repeat in my mind as I looked into every alley and poked my head around every corner. "I know who you are, I know what you meant to them all those years ago. They took my father's life, I wonder what they would do if I took yours."

I never told anyone what happened that night, not even Duffy when he started to pick up on the subtle queues that I wasn't quite myself; I just brushed it off as him being too worn out from the most recent homicide he'd been working. To make matters worse tonight was Halloween so his nerves were shot and he did not want a repeat of last year's hit and run when a car blew through a stop sign, no headlights on, and hit a child dressed up as a princess and her brother who was in stroller dressed as a pumpkin. It was a tragedy that affected everyone and the call for justice so great that it took every detective at the precinct by surprise when a small mob of people showed up with the perp. By a stroke of luck both kids survived but neither of them were the same, both too scared to step foot outside afraid it could happen again even if they were in their own backyard.

Halloween night at McGinty's wasn't the same as St. Patrick's Day but it still pulled in enough of a crowd to keep Doc and I busy until at least midnight. There was one man though who stuck out more than the rest, he was obviously shorter than most men and bald but his accent is what made him stand apart from everyone else the most. He had that sort of thick Italian or Sicilian accent and when he was having trouble finding the right words to say in English he resorted to his first tongue to convey his message. Not only did this set him apart from my usual patrons but he only had one beer the entire night he was here. When he finally decided to pay his tab and leave, the tip he left was two pennies face up on heads.

I should've taken it as a sign but I didn't, I bitched to Doc about it the entire night and to anyone else that cared to eavesdrop. The next morning it was all over the news, a priest killed in a church with pennies over his eyes. The growing speculation was that they were back but I knew them better than that, or at least I used too. Even if the Father had done something wrong they never would've gone so far as to harm him in a place of worship, a place they hold dear to them.

When we opened the bar later in the day the detectives were all standing outside with a new friend they had made. They immediately jumped on Doc and I asking if we knew anything about this or them already knowing the intimate history we shared with the pair. I bit my lip and fought the urge to shove a broken bottle of hot sauce up one of their asses but their new friend from the FBI made it clear that I'd be assaulting an officer and she'd have no problem throwing me in the slammer if I even tried it. David insisted though that this was pretty typical of me and for living in this neighborhood you needed to show toughness.

"You don't take shit lying down 'round here, it'll be the quickest way to the morgue if ya do."

"Well then, David, I suggest you tell your friend here to watch her back lest she finds herself on her knees like Yuri Petrova did all those years ago." She turned and left the bar, flipping her hair over her shoulder like she was hot shit.

"You'd tell us if they were here, right? We don't know nothing about this new FBI chick except that she showed up this morning because it looks like the boys are back."

"Except they're not back Brian and we all know it, this isn't them, we know them better than that. This has set-up written all over it, you know that as well as I do."

"Keep your eyes and ears peeled for us will ya Toots? Anyone with loose lips comes in here you give us a call but be discreet about it."

"I will and David? If you ever call me Toots again ain't no one stopping me from holding you down and putting hot sauce in your eyes. Do I make myself clear?"

His eyes grew wide, mouth hanging open just slightly as he swallowed thickly nodding his head as the horror that awaited him played out in his mind. The three of them left shortly thereafter once they made a sweep of the building to make sure neither Doc or I were lying. We waited for nearly an hour after that for the first patron of the day to show, everyone that knew them back then all knew this is the place they used to hang out and were certain this would be the first place the cops would check.

No one wanted to get mixed up in that mess.

At their request I turned the t.v. on as I poured the beer, nearly every channel except the sports channels had the news on – it was a sensational story that was making its way across the country, speculation that the Saints of South Boston had returned to finish ridding this world of all the evil within. Some even went so far as to say that the hit on the Father was meant to be a metaphor symbolizing the hatred and anger felt by those who were sexually abused by the Catholic priests of their youth. Others at the opposite end of the spectrum felt that this was a copycat killing made to look like them, it happened with the Zodiac in New York decades after the original killings so who's to say that it couldn't be the case now?

For days Doc and I spent several hours entertaining reporters who shoved microphones and cameras in our faces, throwing questions at us left, right, and center about who we thought had committed the crime, if we thought the boys were back, if the cops were gonna be able to solve who actually killed the priest. With each question we answered 'no comment' and it only served as fuel to drive the reporters into even more of a frenzy as they searched for answers. After three days and nights of this same song and dance bullshit they seemed to have finally given up until a loud knock on the door well after hours woke us up out of a dead sleep.

"You st-st-st-stay here, lass, alright? If anyt'ing happens t-t-to me, ya get da hell out of here, understand?"

I nodded and took a seat at the top of the stairs, out of sight, as Doc hobbled his way down the stairs with his cane in hand though I had significant doubts that it would cause any harm except a good thump to the head. Then I heard something I had not heard in years – genuine excitement in Doc's voice, surprise and shock were there too as I listened intently for the familiar tones. And there they were, their shadows entering the building before I saw them; I fought every instinct to rush down the stairs and pull them into a tight embrace, fought every urge to cry knowing they were still alive. The anger I had in my heart for them burned through everything when I remembered how they left me in my darkest hour when I needed them the most. I felt such betrayal when they left without so much as a note that I swore I never wanted to see them again despite how much I missed them over the years.

"Ya know where she is Doc?" a hot tear slid down the side of my nose as Murphy finally said something I could understand.

Doc's shadowy finger pointed towards the staircase, in a panic I got up from the stairs and sought shelter in my room, allowing the door to click close behind me just as their feet hit the first squeaky stair. Seconds later I heard Connor's voice outside the door say "wrong room" as the door to Doc's room clicked shut. They rapped their knuckles against my door, waiting for me to give an answer; instead I opened the window to the fire escape and climbed upwards to the roof. It was always my favorite escape back then and if they remembered anything about me I hoped it was this.

I sat in the chair I placed up there years ago and waited until I finally heard their footsteps on the metal, the steel clanking loudly in the quiet of the night; not even a siren from an ambulance at this hour of the night rang out which seemed a bit unusual. Then, the top of Connor's head stuck up over the edge looking right then left as he caught my eye, an ear to ear grin graced his face but I could tell right away that he wasn't the same Connor I knew all those years ago. This Connor looked much older, more tired, more worn down. Murphy followed close behind, his voice demanding that his brother move his "fat arse outta da way!" His cowlick still stuck up on the crown of his head as his eyes roamed through the darkness to find me.

"Ya've no fucking idea how much we missed ya, lass!" they stampeded their way over to me, knocking me out of my chair onto the asphalt roof.

They each planted a kiss to the sides of my face but I was too numb to register any emotion except shock. Even after all these years, somehow they still remembered what it took to ground me, to bring back to Earth; they sat patiently on either side of me waiting for me to finally say something, anything. It took everything I had not to scream, afraid someone who wanted them dead was listening close-by.

"You didn't even say good-bye." And I was reduced to tears as every emotion came crashing down around me.

"Was a shite t'ing ta do but we didn't have a choice."

"There's always a choice, Connor and the choice you made was to not say anything. I needed you, both of you and you weren't fucking there! Cancer, I had to go through fucking cancer treatments without either of you! Do you have any fucking idea what it's like to wake up every morning and hope to whatever God might be listening that today's the day you finally die? That you hope someone sideswipes your car and the impact will finally put you out of your goddamn misery?" I tried to keep my voice down but I couldn't help it, it all came rushing to the surface as the tears broke free, all the words I wanted to say finally escaping now that they were here.

"Duffy told us after we'd already left, we're sorry lass, ya've no idea how hard we tried ta come back. We even tried ta sneak off in a fuckin' row boat before our Da caught us. We're glad ta see yer still alive and ya never gave up."

Murphy's voice was full of regret, he was always the easiest to read and never hid how he felt. His words felt genuine but a tiny part of me still wanted to believe it was a lie. The three of us stayed up on the rooftop for the longest time not saying a word until wisps of orange and pink started peeking out over the horizon. It was hard to believe it was dawn already and yet it felt just like yesterday the last time we did this after a rough day.

"What'd ya say we go ta bed? It'll be like old times again, t'ree of us and one mattress?"

It didn't take Connor much to convince me that the rooftop was not the best place to sleep, he was convinced that he had a target on him and the pigeons took pride in making sure their droppings landed on his head in just the right way so that it'd slide down over his face. As disgusting as it was Murphy and I could never stop ourselves from laughing at Connor's misery, even teasing him from time to time when a group of them were flying overhead.

Once we were finally back inside and the window secured the three of us fell into the familiar embrace – Murphy's chest to my back and Connor's chest pressed against mine. Sleep wrapped its arms around us and held us there well into the afternoon.

It was so good to finally have them back in my arms.