Maish nodded as if that made perfect sense.
'A Catholic. You're not supposed to get mad at God. You are supposed to make love, not war. Well, I heard on the radio something that made sense, from an Arab no less. The opposite of war is not love. The opposite of war is peace. You don't have to love your enemy. It's not reasonable. Peace, now that's another story. God wants to make peace with me he knows where to find me, but so far he hasn't come knocking and he hasn't sent me a telegram.'
'Maish,' Abe tried.
'Seltzer and a bagel and a Sandy Koufax. I know.'
The phone rang as Maish shuffled away in search of seltzer. Lieberman leaned over the counter, groped for the phone, found it on the fourth ring, and placed it in front of him on the counter.
'Hello,' he said. 'Maish's T and L.'
'Viejo,' came the voice of Emiliano 'El Perro' Del Sol, the leader of the Tentaculos, the gang that ruled North Avenue when there were enough of them out of jail.
'Emiliano, I've got a deal for you.'
Lieberman imagined the slightly mad El Perro sitting in the Chapultapec in near darkness or in his recently acquired bingo parlor on Crawford Avenue.
'I got a deal for you?' said El Perro. 'Ain't you gonna ask how I'm doin'? How's my mother? How's my sister? How's Piedras?'
'How are they?' Lieberman asked as Maish placed a large glass of seltzer before him.
'Bueno,' said El Perro. 'My family. I take care of my family. You know that. I take care of you. You're like an uncle to me, a crazy uncle, Tto Loco.'
Lieberman had developed a reputation for recklessness on the streets when he worked out of the North Avenue before being transferred to Clark Street.
Part of the reputation was earned. Most of it was calculated. But Emiliano Del Sol had believed all of it as a Md and respected the old Jew policeman who was every bit as wild as El Perro himself.
'Chuculo Fernandez,' said Lieberman after taking a sip of seltzer. 'He's like a brother too?'
'More like a cousin, you know?'
'He's in trouble, Emiliano.'
'Yo se, Viejo. jQue tiene a decir?'
'Quiero a ayudarle,' said Lieberman. 'I'm looking for a young black man named Lonny. Doesn't have a last name. I'm working on that He's got a scar running through his right eyebrow. Runs with a pair named lago and Dalbert. lago's dead. Dalbert's bleeding and Lonny's on the streets with a gun. Dalbert's a South Sider. Lonny figures to be the same.'
'We find him and… r — 'Chuculo walks,' said Lieberman, looking at Hanrahan, who was accepting a plate with a fat, heavenly smelling sandwich.
'Vem? He just walks. You got that kinda cojones, Viejo? Let my man Chuculo walk?'
'You got my word, Emiliano. But it's got to be fast and I don't want Lonny hurt. You turn him up by tomorrow morning and you can come pick up Chuculo Fernandez and have him in front of the Chapultapec with his knife in his pocket by three. We find him first and there's no deal.'
'I like you, Viejo,' said El Perro.
'It is the knowledge of that affection that sustains me in trying moments,' said Lieberman.
El Perro laughed. 'You are some crazy son of a bitch,' he said.
'I try to keep the troops amused,' said Lieberman. 'Tomorrow morning.'
'He's alive, we find him. I'll put Los Negms on this.'
Los Negros were the Oliveros, two black brothers and a cousin, from Panama City. Los Negros could go on the South Side looking for Lonny. The rest of the Tentaculos would get cold looks, no answers, and a ten-to-one certainty that someone would get hurt.
'Sounds good to me,' said Lieberman.
El Perro hung up the phone and Maish brought the toasted bagel. Hanrahan laughed and said, 'You're a devious one, Rabbi.'
'What?' asked Maish.
'We have to let Fernandez go by tomorrow no matter what,' Lieberman explained, looking longingly at the sandwich his partner was downing. 'Our witness backed out.'
'How about an omelette with Egg Beaters, onions, some mushrooms?' Maish asked.
Lieberman shrugged in resignation.
Maish nodded and called back me order.
'How are you doing, Father Murph?'
'I'm pleased to announce that I've regained my appetite.'
'I didn't know you'd lost it'
'Briefly,' said Hanrahan, taking a bite of his pickle. 'The truth, Abraham. You think Iris and I could make it? I mean, married?'
'Who knows?' said Lieberman, finishing the last of his bagel.
'Marriage is an institution,'' called Al Bloombach. 'A mental institution.'
Al chuckled, proud of himself and sorry he had no Alter Cockers around to appreciate his joke.
'You're a big help, Rabbi,' said Hanrahan.
'Marry her,' said Lieberman, holding up his empty glass for a refill.
'I'm an irresponsible Irish cop with a drinking problem that might come back when I'm not on guard. She's Chinese and she'll be shunned by her people.'
'Don't marry her,' said Lieberman.
'That's your advice? Marry her or don't marry her?'
'That's my advice too,' said Maish, shuffling to the kitchen.
'If you have kids…' Bloombach called.
'No kids,' said Hanrahan. 'We're both too old for kids.'
'Father Murph,' Lieberman said. 'If I don't give advice, I can't be blamed for giving bad advice if it goes wrong. I won't get credit for good advice either, but that's easier to live with.'
Hanrahan nodded.
Maish schlepped the omelette from the kitchen and placed it in front of Lieberman. It didn't smell half bad.
'After we eat-' Lieberman began.
'Patniks for me. Rozier for you,' said Hanrahan.
'And tea for two,' called Al Bloombach.
'That man is desperately in need of companionship,' said Lieberman, probing his omelette with a fork.
Behind the two policemen the T amp; L door swung open and someone said, 'Hello, Uncle Maish.'
Lisa. Lieberman had forgotten about his daughter.
'I'm on my way, Rabbi,' said Hanrahan, counting off five dollars and dropping them on the counter as he stood.
'Lisa, I'm going through the motions,' said Maish.
'How are you, Lisa?' Bill Hanrahan said, abandoning his partner to his family.
'All right,' she said, moving past him and sitting next to her father.
'Good to hear it,' Hanrahan said. 'See you at the station, Abe.'
'At the station,' Lieberman echoed.
'What can I get you, Lisa?' Maish asked. 'Manny's almost got the pickled whitefish ready.'
'Coffee, toast,' she said, looking at her father.
Lieberman turned and met his daughter's eyes. She looked serious.
'Abe,' she said. 'Todd's going to marry her. He wants the divorce and he's going to marry her.'
'I know,' said Lieberman, realizing even as he spoke mat he had made a massive error.
'You knew and you didn't tell me?'
'He mentioned it when he brought the kids home last night,' said Abe, giving up his search for anything meaningful in the omelette. 'I haven't had a chance to see you.'
