Read Henry Wood: Time and Again: for Free Online

hadn’t locked the door this morning . This worried him a little…but not a lot. Henry’s mind wasn’t firing on all cylinders. The thought that his door was unlocked was so unimportant as to be laughable, yet, as he trudged up the stairs, he worried.
    Pausing before the door, he took a breath and opened it.
    The door swung closed behind him.
    Everything was fine.
    Henry took a shower. He put on one of his nicer suits – not his nicest, as he would need that for the funeral.
    Mickey didn’t have any family. Henry once asked him if he ever thought about marriage. Mickey had answered, “Yes, but I can usually get over it with a good stiff drink.”
    Mickey’s parents had lived their entire lives in Kenmare County, Kerry, Ireland. They had met when his mother’s parents moved to town. She was six and he was nine. They lived next door to each other, and she loved nothing more than to follow him around. He was her first friend, and she eventually became his first and only love. (One night, back in 1948, Mickey had been drinking just enough to be nostalgic. Henry, “Big” Mike, and Francis had just finished a nice dinner with him and enjoyed hearing about the greatest love ever.) They had raised three kids, the two younger ones both died heroes during the winter months of ‘44, at the Battle of the Bulge. Mickey was devastated by their death, but proud as hell at how they fought tooth and nail with the Nazis. That was it for the Moores, as far as Henry knew.
    He picked up the phone and called “Big” Mike at work. “I assume you heard.”
    “I got a call. You alright?”
    “I will be after I find out who killed him but not before.”
    “You think it was intentional? Some of the guys say it looks like a text book hit and run,” Mike said, trying to be as delicate as he could.
    It wasn’t his strong suit. He did tough really well. He did loyal better than anyone. Sensitivity was a little foreign to Mike.
    Henry knew this about him and appreciated his effort.
    “It may sound a little thin, but it appears someone had been parked behind Mickey’s car long enough to smoke almost a pack of cigarettes. They closed off the area within minutes, so I know the car didn’t leave after the accident. I don’t know if it left before…but, as Mickey used to say, ‘There are no coincidences.’”
    “You may be right. I’ll head over to the 9th and check with the lads and see if they’ve found anything else out.”
    “Thanks, Mike. I appreciate the help…Mickey would've too.”
    “Mickey may not have been a cop, but everyone loved him. He was one of our own, and if you’re right, and there is someone out there who waited for him, like a coward, and ran him down…we’ll find the bastard.” His voice had risen to a measured rage. Then he lowered it. “I’ll help you with the arrangements. I’ll call Francis and we can put together a wake that won’t soon be forgotten.”
    “You're the best, Mike.”
    After he hung up the phone, Henry started to pace around the apartment. He thought about the man who had visited him.
    “What was his name?” he said aloud.
    The business card was still in his trousers. When Henry read the name “William H. Brown,” it made him laugh. It was a short burst, and seemed out of place, but it happened. Henry didn’t dwell on it.
    The phone rang. “Hello?” he said.
    “It’s Luna, I just heard about your old friend, Mickey. I’m so sorry.”
    Hearing her voice through the line was a pleasant twist to his miserable day.
    “You're very kind, Luna.”
    What he didn’t add was that he missed her. It wasn’t the sort of thing Henry would say, but he knew he did. Having her around for those few weeks, back in January, had been comfortable in a way he had never imagined.
    “Mike told me he was going to talk to you about handling the wake. Though I didn’t know Mickey, I want to help. I'll call Sylvia, too. I hope it isn’t too presumptuous, but we can handle the food. Is that