Ted, still a Captain by some miracle, left Superintendent Boyle’s office two days later. LeCroix was waiting for him, and they left City Hall together.
Both men wore their parade dress, buttons and leather polished and gleaming in the early October sun. The heat wave had finally broken, and Ted tried not to link that with the end of a certain killing spree.
“Well, Boss?” LeCroix said. “We going to celebrate, or to mourn?”
“Hell Lee, I don’t know. Let’s just get a drink and let everyone else decide what it means.”
They shared an uneasy and self-conscious chuckle as they headed for Lulu White’s place. After the details went public, Ted was a bit of a pariah among many of New Orleans’ Catholic community, among those who refused to believe anything bad about Sister Rose.
But Lulu had told him he never needed to count his coins before coming to her place.
The two men stopped in front of the saloon and stood looking at all the passers-by. Rich, poor, young, old, white, colored—a snapshot of the world right under their noses.
“How you feeling, Ted?” LeCroix asked in his gentle Creole accent.
“I don’t rightly know, Lee. Sister Rose was sure she was doing the right thing. I have no idea if shooting her was the right thing or not, and I guess I never will until I’m standing at the Throne and it’s too late.”
“I been a cop a long time, me,” LeCroix said. “I tell you this, Ted. If ever I know for sure what the right thing is, no question, I hope you do me the favor of shooting me as well.”
He clapped LeCroix on the shoulder as they walked through Lulu’s doors.
Ted was more than happy to leave the world outside for a while.