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it.”
     
    Back at the basilica, by about 4:00 pm, the funeral and gathering was over and the crowd had mostly cleared. The news stations were gone as soon as most of the guests left. No one gave any comments about the funeral, about Alan Jiang or his mysterious murder. Even the workers left behind to clean up kept pretty quiet about what was going on inside. In a week no one would be talking about Alan Jiang. All that lingered were a few rose petals and cigarette butts from a few smokers who rushed in and out to have a quick smoke during the eulogy. After the reading, a few of the guests from the funeral ventured into Frankie’s to check it out and have a couple of drinks before going on their way.
     

CHAPTER 3
WHEN FRANKIE MET ABIGAIL
FOUR MONTHS EARLIER
     
    Frankie was a bald, Irish former thug in his mid 50’s. He had a graying goatee and huge muscles that bulged through the tank tops he liked to wear on a daily basis. He had a three inch scar on the back left side of his head from when he was stabbed in a fight at the age of 25.
    Frankie would never forget the night he met Abigail. It was an unexpected encounter. She had scared the shit out of him with her unexpected arrival one cold rainy night. It was a very late night in Boston and the rain had been pouring down for the past few hours. It had been unusually warm that winter. There were about four huge snow storms followed by oddly warm weather in the low 50s which was unusual for late February. The overabundance of rain had caused drains to clog all over the city. There were flash flood warnings broadcast over the television for the Boston metropolitan area. Despite the warnings, the pub was having a decent night. Some people showed up after work before the rain had begun and never left. Maybe the rain deterred them from leaving too soon. The busy night had created a need for more frequent runs to the trash bin in the alley. By the end of the night Roger, Larry and Frankie were slaving over the kitchen and bar floor, trying to clean up as swiftly as possible. 
    Frankie looked at Roger and said, “Rog, I’m taking the trash out back.”
    “Yup!” Roger yelled across the room.
    Frankie left Roger and Larry in the bar. It was about midnight, and all of the patrons had left. It was time for a serious cleaning for the next day. Frankie began the clean up by carrying the overflow of trash to the dumpsters in the back alley. Some of the bags were very heavy and half torn. They leaked a smelly trail of mashed food and beer from the kitchen to the back door. He knew he would have to give the floor a thorough mopping later. Frankie tossed bag after bag from the door to the dumpster, trying his best not to get wet but needed to make sure that the bags landed in the bin. He paused for a moment when he saw two bare feet on the other side of the bin. Frankie questioned the accuracy of his aging eyes. He cleared his eyes and was sure there was a person back there. She coughed and Frankie was startled.
    “Oh shit. Holy Mother…” He put his hand over his chest as if he was about to have a heart attack. He looked closer. “Hey! Hey!” The rain pounded against the pavement, muffling the sound of his call.
    There was no answer. He tilted his head to see if he could get a better look at the figure scrunched tightly into the sticky corner. He couldn’t see and knew he had no choice but to step out into the rain for a better look. He looked up as if to curse the rain. He stepped out into the alley and went over slowly. Frankie was instantly soaked and freezing from the water bouncing off his skin and soaking into his tank top. He saw a frail looking Abigail shivering in the corner attempting to hide under torn plastic and paper bags. He lightly jogged over.
    “HEY! You okay? Can you hear me?” 
    She barely raised her eyes. 
    Frankie yelled, “You gotta get out of this rain.”
    Frankie spotted a trail of blood streaming away from her body. With the rain splashing into