I woke up the next morning to find not Mary Frances but May Madden at my bedside. She emerged from behind a huge bouquet of flowers that preceded her into the room, as beautiful as ever in the early sun. I kissed her gratefully. Art and Johnny was right behind her, and Chick and Billy as well. That’s when I knew I wasn’t going to die, because otherwise Chick and Billy and the Tiger wouldn’t have bothered with me. The only person missing was Eddie Egan.
“Where’s Eddie?” It was amazing how improved I felt.
“Got hisself kilt,” said Billy. “Shivved, in the Big House.”
“Why?” I was sorry to lose Eddie, especially bein’ as how I needed every man jack.
“Crossed a screw,” says Chick.
“Shouldn’ta oughta done that,” says Billy. “Screw was his friend.”
“Screws are never your friend,” says Johnny.
“What’s the score?” I asked.
“Down a couple,” says Chick.
“Duster took a shot at me the other day, eatin’ a sandwich at Callahan’s,” says Art.
“That’s neutral turf.”
“Better tell Patsy that ’cause he apparently don’t know no more.”
“Anybody hurt?” A moment of silence. “Who’d they get?” I insisted.
“Mr. Mike,” says Art, sheepish.
“How bad?”
“Dead bad.”
Before I could say anything, May cut in. “I hope he goes to Hell. I hope his whole goddamn gang goes to Hell.”
“Workin’ on it,” says Johnny.
“That’s my sister,” says I with admiration. “Names.”
“The two mugs was Billy Devaney and Frankie Di Palma.” Answers came fast, furious and various.
“Status?”
“Late. Floaters.”
“How?”
“Perforated.”
“What’s the Tiger’s stance?”
“Officially neutral.”
“What about Jimmy?”
“Wishes you well. Just lookit them flowers.”
“Patsy?”
“On the lam.”
“Where’s the lam?”
“We’ll find out. Gotta little bird.”
“Who?”
“Freda.”
I felt a stirring in what was left of my innards. May gripped my hand tighter.
“Loretta?” I inquired.
“Who knows?”
“Who cares?”
“That bitch.”
“Hey,” says May. “She’s Mrs. Madden to you until my brother says otherwise.”
I think they all said they was sorry, which they damn well ought to have been, because after all Loretta was still my wife and they had no cause for disrespect.
All this talk was taking some toll on me, and I sank back into my pillow, thinkin’ about basically two things: shooting Little Patsy’s fat eyes out of his head, and Mary Frances. I must have closed my orbs a moment. “He’s tired,” says May. “Anything else you wanna say to him you can say to me.”
The meeting would have ended right then and there except for another voice plunging through my darkness. “Mr. Madden.”
I looked up to see the angel face of Nurse Blackwell.
“Your wife is here.”
I’ll never forget the way she said that word. Wife. Like it was the dirtiest word in the English language. Attached to the dirtiest whore. I wouldn’ta let her in, except that she had my daughter in her arms.