was out of danger, but he was resting and couldn’t be seen.
Leaving the hospital they ran into Lieutenant Anderson, who was on his way to see Grave Digger too.
They told him how he was, and the three of them went to a little French bar over on Broadway in the French section.
Coffin Ed had a couple of cognacs to keep down his high blood pressure. His wife looked at him indulgently. She settled for a Dubonnet while Anderson had a couple of Pernods to keep Coffin Ed company.
Coffin Ed said, “What hurts me most about this business is the attitude of the public toward cops like me and Digger. Folks just don’t want to believe that what we’re trying to do is make a decent peaceful city for people to live in, and we’re going about it the best way we know how. People think we enjoy being tough, shooting people and knocking them in the head.”
His wife patted the back of his big calloused hand. “Don’t worry about what people think. Just keep on doing the best you can.”
To change the subject, Anderson said encouragingly, “It’s going to mean something to the commissioner that you helped clean up this case.”
“The thing I’m happiest about,” Coffin Ed said, “is that Digger is still alive.”
