Final Out by Sheldon Siegel

Author:Sheldon Siegel [Siegel, Sheldon]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2021-01-25T16:00:00+00:00

34

“I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT YOU’RE TALKING ABOUT”

“Where’s Killian?” I asked.

Pete pointed over my shoulder. “Fourth in line. Let me handle it, Mick.”

It was foggy at eleven-forty-five. We were sitting at a picnic table outside Beep’s Burgers, a hamburger stand on the corner of Ocean and Lee that was similar in age, ambiance, and cuisine to Whiz Burgers. The drive-in across the street from City College was painted yellow and had a half-dozen mismatched stools at the counter. When I was a kid, Ingleside was a working-class neighborhood. A dive bar called Randy’s Place was on the southwest corner of Ocean and Lee. Randy’s was still open, but there was a Whole Foods on the ground floor of a new upscale apartment building across Ocean Avenue.

“When was the last time you were here?” I asked.

“It’s been a while.” Pete took a bite of his Beep’s Burger—a half-pound slab with lettuce, tomato, pickles, onions, and Beep’s sauce. “When I was working at Mission Station.”

The ground shook as a semi barreled down Ocean Avenue.

My brother’s lips turned up into a wry grin. “Are we ever going to work on a case where we eat someplace better than Beep’s and Whiz?”

A legitimate question. “When you’re a Public Defender, your clients and witnesses generally don’t eat at The French Laundry. If we get an acquittal for Jaylen, I’ll buy you and Donna dinner anyplace you’d like.”

“If?”

“I meant ‘when.’”

“Right, Mick. I need to get to work.”

He walked over and got in line behind Killian. My brother—who barely spoke to anybody when he wasn’t working—struck up a conversation. Five minutes later, he and his new BFF joined me at the picnic table. Pete started eating his second Beep’s Burger, Killian his first. My brother’s metabolism was remarkably fast.

Pete handled introductions between French fries. “This is my brother, Mike.”

“Kevin Killian. Nice to meet you.”

“Same here.”

Killian looked as if he could have been our cousin. A few years younger than I am, he had a wide pasty face, a flat nose, and a full head of neatly combed hair that was more gray than red. He wore a windbreaker bearing the Bayshore Moving and Storage logo.

Pete took a bite of his burger. “Kevin played defensive line at Riordan. We probably banged on each other forty years ago.”

Archbishop Riordan High School was a few blocks from us on the north side of City College. The Crusaders were S.I.’s big rival.

I smiled. “No hard feelings.”

“None here.” Killian grabbed a couple of fries and spoke in a raspy voice. “Don’t tell my girlfriend that I’m here. She thinks I eat salad for lunch.”

Pete gave him a conspiratorial nod. “Your secret is safe with us. You live around here?”

“I inherited my parents’ house around the corner. It’s the only way that I can afford to live here.”

“You don’t want to cash out and move someplace cheaper?”

“I like it here. Besides, it’s paid for.”

“You got kids?”

“One. He just turned twenty-two. He’s at the police academy.”

“Our dad was a cop. You must be very proud of your son.

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