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“Could you do me one favor, sir?”
“If I can.”
“Then tell me a little bit about Joe. I’d like to think I could honor him, too, by wearing his number.”
Frank smiled tightly. Talking about Joe was one of his favorite things. It was also one of the hardest things for Frank to do. So much was left unsaid between father and son.
Frank had to carry that reality with him every day.
He sat down on the chair beside Officer Jill Carpenter.
“My son Joe,” said Frank pensively. “Good cop. My third child. Not that you would know it.”
Jill looked at him with interest, so he elaborated.
“He was an old soul,” said Frank. “You may know that before attending the Police Academy, my youngest — Officer Reagan — graduated at the top of his Harvard Law class.”
“Yes, sir,” confirmed Jill. “I imagine it’s a useful background to have as a cop.”
Frank nodded.
“He wouldn’t mind me saying that he and my first born Danny — Detective Reagan,” amended Frank, “are as different as night and day.”
“If asked to jump, Detective Reagan will do so without hesitation but on his own terms. Officer Reagan is just as committed, but he’ll have three backup strategies at a minimum straight from the guide book. Both of them are great at their jobs in entirely different ways.”
“If Danny’s dusk and Jamie’s dawn, Joe was high noon,” said Frank. “He brought them together — brought out the best in everyone around him, be it family, friends, or his partners. He’s one of the few men that I heard others on the job had insisted to their COs that they not be transferred because they wanted to continue working with him.”
Jill raised her eyebrows in amazement and Frank nodded again.
“Did he always want to be a cop, sir?”
“Oh, yeah,” said Frank. “He looked up to Danny, something fierce. Once Danny decided that he wanted to join the force, it was all Joe needed to hear. He ran with it and made the job his own.”
And the Blue Templar killed him for it, thought Frank without warning.
He pushed the dark thought to the back of his mind, where it presently belonged.
“He had a great singing voice,” said Frank. “He knew it, too. He was the loudest one at Sunday Mass. His mother wanted him to pursue it.”
“He loved Dick Van Dyke’s version of Put On A Happy Face in Bye Bye Birdie,” added Frank. “It didn’t matter what was happening. Joe’d sing that song and it was enough to convince anyone that they’d be all right.”
“I really appreciate you sharing him with me, Commissioner,” said Jill softly.
Frank’s next smile was much more genuine.
“Thank you for giving me the opportunity,” said Frank. He glanced at his watch. “I think that I’ve overstayed, though, and you should rest. When you’re up to it, perhaps you can stop by 1PP to tell me anything that you’re comfortable sharing about your father.”
Jill looked stunned but nodded.
“I would be honored, sir,” she said, her voice thick with emotion.
Frank stood from his seat.
“I look forward to seeing you soon with your new shield, Officer Carpenter,” said Frank. “I trust it remains in good hands, like all those who once bore it.”