by C. E. Murphy
“S’what the good guys do.” Gary squeezed me until I grunted, then guided Suzy out of the way as cops and forensics experts began pouring in.
Morrison left me to clean up the mess. Fortified by Gary and Suzanne making a coffee run, I stayed on until dawn, when Billy called and invited me over to the hospital.
Technically, Tuesday was the second day of my weekend. I passed supervisor duties over to somebody else, got Petite out of her illegal parking space and drove myself, Gary and Suzanne over to Northwest Hospital to meet the newest Holliday.
Melinda was asleep by the time we got there. Billy was waiting outside the maternity ward, holding a red-faced little bundle whose tiny eyes were squinched shut and showed off long eyelashes to great effect. All of us erupted in a spontaneous awww that made Billy look fit to pop with pride.
“We’re thinking of calling her Joanne.”
“Don’t be silly.” I bent over the baby and kissed the top of her head, marveling at the softness of her hair and skin. “Don’t be silly, Billy. Call her Caroline. She should be Caroline.”
They compromised. I had to ante up a whole lot of well-deserved explanation, but in the end, the name on her birth certificate went down as Caroline Siobhán Holliday.
I thought that was good.
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