Rest In Peace

Posted at 8:09 PM, 20/6/2006 in Short Stories

McNally shifted his bulk on the hard-backed chair. He never could get comfortable in standard sized chairs. His own chair back at the station had been specially made to fit him perfectly. The nurse checked the patient and wrote something down on the chart at the end of the bed. She certainly wasn’t comfortable having the huge detective watching her every move.

"Wait! Did you see that? He moved." McNally gestured to the old man in the bed and the nurse redid her checks.

"I’ll get the doctor." She spoke calmly and quickly disappeared out the door, relieved to be out of the tiny room.

McNally peered closely at the old man’s face. The wrinkled eyelids twitched ever so slightly again but didn’t open. This old man was the only person who could identify his shooter. What if he didn’t remember? If that aged memory failed, Walter John Mitchell would walk! Again!

McNally had been tracking Mitchell for years. Everyone said it was an obsession, especially his ex-wife. Was it wrong of him to want justice for his partner’s death? Not to mention Mitchell’s other victims. McNally didn’t think so.

Columbus had saved his life that day. McNally was certain he had been the target, his uniform making him stand out in the crowd. Columbus didn’t wear a uniform. He knocked McNally down and when the bullet came, it hit him squarely in the chest.

Time hadn’t dulled the memory for McNally. He hadn’t even heard the shot; the most vivid memory was Columbus’ blood soaking his shirt as they fell together to the pavement. Columbus had met his fate with courage and died in the line of duty, sacrificing his own life for the life of the man would be his only partner. Columbus was buried with full police honours and as the coffin was lowered into the ground, McNally vowed to find his partner’s killer and put him away for a very long time.

With Columbus’ death still fresh in his mind, McNally transferred out of the squad. He couldn’t bear to watch the other officers training one-on-one with their partners. Being a detective meant he could continue to be a police officer but as he didn’t always have the same partner, it was easier to bear the loss. Being a detective also meant he could keep his vow.

The door swung open and the doctor nodded to the detective as he made room beside the bed. After the usual checks, he motioned for McNally to follow him into the hallway.

"It looks promising, but it could be hours before he regains consciousness. Why don’t you get some sleep? I’ll call the station if there’s any change." The doctor put his hand on the big detective’s arm. "I know how important this is to you, but with a head injury like this and at his age too, he might not remember much."

"I know, I know. I hear what you’re saying Doc, but I can’t leave yet. This is the closest I’ve come to nailing this guy." McNally turned back into the room and, moving the chair back beside the bed began his vigil.

McNally pulled out the well-worn folder containing everything he had on Mitchell. The list of victims’ names nearly filled a whole page; Columbus appeared halfway down in McNally’s bold handwriting. It was underlined too.

The old man had been lucky, all of Mitchell’s other victims didn’t even make it to the hospital alive. The bullet had been deflected off a metal plate in his forehead, the solid reminder of another violent encounter ironically saving his life.

It was close to midnight when someone waved a steaming coffee cup under his nose. The detective gratefully accepted the cup from the nurse and when he turned back to the bed, his eyes met the old man’s.

"Hello Mr Wallace. I’m Detective Michael McNally, from Westminster Police. I need to ask you some questions, if you’re up to it?" When the old man nodded, he moved the chair even closer and opened the notebook.

"I gave him all the cash I had, why did he have to shoot?" The voice was faint but steady. "I’ll never forget his face."

"That’s just the type of animal he is." The detective had to stop himself from shaking at the old man’s words. This was the break he had been waiting for so long. He held the mug shot out to Wallace. "Is this the man who broke into your home and shot you?"

"Yes. Yes, that’s him."

"Thank you, Mr Wallace. With your help, this man will get what he deserves." McNally put the photo away in his notebook for the last time. "I’ll see to it he goes away for a very long time."

Walking back to his car, McNally felt a great weight lifting off his shoulders. Mitchell was history now. No more loopholes and false alibis to get him off the hook.

"Cop Killer Jailed!" The newspaper headline summed up the outcome of the trial in three neat little words. McNally folded the paper and smiled to himself. Justice might be slow but it eventually catches up. He picked a loose thread off his reissued uniform. It felt good to be part of the squad again. There was just one more thing to do.

The wreath might have seemed a little unusual but the florist wasn’t surprised. It was the same one McNally had ordered for the funeral. From the florist’s, it was only a short drive to the cemetery, which was smaller than the one where Mitchell’s other victims lay.

"We got him, Col. You can rest now, buddy." McNally placed the wreath with its dog bone centrepiece against the headstone. He picked up his new partner’s lead and together they left the pet cemetery.