City on Fire (Danny Ryan, #1)(23)

“It breaks my heart,” Pasco says, “that this started at my party.”

“The young are hotheaded.”

“They think with their dicks,” Pasco says. “Hey, were we any different?”

Murphy laughs. “No.”

“I’m sorry about Liam,” Pasco says. “If they had come to me first . . .”

Pasco is fed up with all this. What he wants to do in his old age is sit on the beach, dig quahogs, catch crabs, take siestas, play with his grandkids. He’s made his money, made his bones, now he wants life in the sunshine. Spend summers at his beach house, a few weeks in January and February down in Pompano.

“You won’t respond to this last thing?” Pasco asks.

“It’s over as far as we’re concerned,” John says. A good deal for him—poor, dumb, insignificant Brendan Handrigan takes the bullet in place of his son. “But what about the Moretti brothers? Are they ready to let this go?”

Pasco says, “It would help if Liam would stop seeing that woman.”

“I’ll talk to him.”



Danny is there for the talk. After Sunday roast beef at the Murphys’. They’re out on the lawn, him and Pat and Liam and the old man, having a couple beers while the women clean up, and Murphy says, “This girl, she’s out of your life.”

“Says who?” Liam asks. “The Morettis?”

“Among other people.”

“Who?” Liam asks, an edge coming into his voice. “Pasco Ferri? What the fuck.”

“Watch your mouth.”

“They tell us who we can love now?” Liam asks. “Who we can’t? Tell you what, Dad, why don’t we just pull down our pants and let them fuck us in the ass?”

“In your mother’s house, on a Sunday.”

“There are thousands of women out there,” Pat argues. “Why her?”

“I love her.”

“More than your own family?” Pat asks.

“Love someone else,” Murphy says. “She’s not for you.”

“I love her, Dad.”

Pat grabs him by the collar and shoves him against the old oak tree. “You selfish prick. We’re going to put Brendan Handrigan in the ground and all you think about is yourself.”

“Let him go, Pat,” Murphy orders.

Pat releases his grip.

“She’s out of your life, Liam,” Murphy says. “End of story.”

Looking at Liam’s face, Danny wonders.



The funeral is wicked sad.

Brendan didn’t have a lot of friends, no wife, no girl. His father died when Brendan was, what, twelve, so there’s just two sisters and the mother. The whole Murphy clan and associates show up, though. Murphy didn’t have to tell them, either.

Respect is respect.

But Liam isn’t there.

“Where the hell is my brother?” Terri whispers to Danny as they walk down the aisle, slide into the pew to kneel.

“He’ll come,” Danny says. But he isn’t so sure. Liam’s probably ashamed to show his face, knows that this is partly his fault. And maybe it’s best he don’t, maybe better for Brendan’s family.

The mother, she comes up to Danny on the church steps after the mass, her red face twisted with grief.

“You didn’t see nothin’, Danny Ryan?” she asks. “You didn’t see nothin’?”

Danny don’t know what to say.

She turns away from him, and her daughters lead her to the car for the ride out to the cemetery.

“It’s okay,” Terri says.

“No, it’s not,” Danny answers.

They drive out to Swan Point for the burial.

Stand around the graveside in their black suits and dresses—like crows, Danny thinks—listening to the priest drone on.

Then the bagpipe starts in.



They wake Brendan at the Glocca Morra.

Brendan’s mother is resentful as hell at the Murphys, but not so resentful she don’t let them lay out the spread. What’s she going to do? She don’t have any money, and it’s the least the Murphys could do, after her son took a bullet for theirs.

So there’s a spread laid out, open bar, of course, and people stand around trying to think of good things to say about Brendan until the liquor kicks in, and the food, and it winds down into just another party.

Then Liam walks in.

With Pam.

Classic in-your-face, fuck-the-world, I-do-what-I-want Liam Murphy.

“You believe this?” Jimmy Mac asks.

“He’s a pisser,” Danny says.

Cassie, she’s wryly amused. Watches this scene unfold and says, “Oh, this is going to be good.”

The whole place gets quiet as Liam leads Pam to a table, holds out a chair for her and then sits down. He looks like he’s getting off on the drama, but Pam doesn’t—she looks damned uncomfortable. As well she should, Danny thinks, with Brendan Handrigan just laid into the ground.

Up at the bar, Sheila Murphy’s jaw gapes like it’s broken, then she swivels on her stool and turns her back.

Pam visibly flinches. Leans over and whispers something to Liam, who shakes his head, then gets up and walks over to the bar to order. Stands right next to Pat and Sheila.