Free The Pariot GAme by George V. Higgins

before Doherty got back, Harrington bought the ranch.”
    “Figures,” Walker said.
    “ ’Course,” Riordan said, “Doherty reasons with people, and they always see his point of view. They may be in no condition to talk about it, but for at least an instant, they see it. Even if it’s only a muzzle flash.
    “You know how we cops are,” Riordan said. “We’re a little dense, a lot of the time, but if you put a couple angry owls in the shower with us, we will soon figure out that something a little out of the ordinary is under way. The cops’d been investigating Harrington, and they could see that Harrington was becoming very nervous. Then the cops get a call one fine night that maybe they would like to have a look inside the trunk of this tan Chevy Caprice that’d been parked a few days down at the bus-commuter lot at the HoJo’s in the Blue Hills. So they went down there and they took the pry-bar and opened up the trunk, and there was Brother Harrington inside the trunk of his own car, all cuddled up in his blankie, looking for all the world like he was having a nice nap. Except he waspretty ripe. And besides, how did he get himself locked inside his own trunk? They decided he was dead. The medical examiner thought he knew what brought this on. Had something to do with firearms.
    “So now the cops’re really interested in Digger, on account of they thought maybe he might’ve had some interest in this. Or at least he would want to know promptly about the untimely passing of his regular customer, Brother Harrington. Pay his respects to the family, you know? So they hustled a couple cars right over to the Bright Red in Dorchester and they got there just as Digger was inviting the bitter-enders to leave. They went inside and all of a sudden the Digger wasn’t having a bit of trouble persuading his loyal patrons to pay up and get out—they were practically jumping out the windows, they were in such a hurry. And Digger thanks the cops very much for coming by and helping him remain a law-abiding saloonkeeper that faithfully observes the closing hours, and says if it is all right with them, he will turn off the lights and lock up and be on his way home to bed.
    “They told him that could probably wait a minute or two,” Riordan said. “They said they would like to have a little conversation. So he locked up all the booze and offers the cops a Coke, which they took, and they all sat down at one of the tables. The cops asked the Digger if he knew Harrington. ‘Harrington?’ Digger said, or words to that effect. ‘I run a bar in Dorchester and you’re asking me if I know Harrington? Of course I know Harrington. There is Harrington, the fish market. There is Harrington, the tire store. There is Harrington that drives the bus. There is that beezer Harrington that works the electric plant, and there is …’ And the cops said, ‘It is Harrington the beezer at the light plant that we came to see you about. He is dead.’
    “Now,” Riordan said, “the cops expected Digger to be surprised. From what I understand, there is a very high mortality rate among middle-aged men that the Diggerknows. Back when he was having a little trouble with some of the gentlemen down at Neponset Circle, the Digger’s friends and the gentlemen from Neponset were dropping like flies. It was getting so you couldn’t take a nice evening stroll down by the beach at Wollaston without meeting up with one of those guys floating face down in a tidal creek. Digger has spent a lot of time in mourning, but he is still always very surprised to hear that somebody else has gone to meet Jesus face to face.
    “The thing of it is,” Riordan said, “the cop who was telling me this, guy named Petrucelli, was there that night, and he said Digger looked as though he really was surprised. ‘Now this guy,’ Petrucelli said, ‘he is better’n Barrymore, and I’ve seen several of his performances, but I really think when we told him about