Posted by : Robert Child Friday


The phone on Murray’s desk rings loudly. Jarred, Murray picks up the receiver,
“Fugitives, Murray.”
On the other end, Marlene inhales a cigarette and is still holding the card. “Frank, just
what the hell’s going on!”
Frank pulls the receiver from his ear, looks at the phone. “What? What do you mean
what’s going on?”
Marlene begins to pace around the kitchen to calm her nerves and continues.
“I just got a basket of flowers delivered.”
Frank wonders if Marlene has truly finally lost her mind.
“They were meant for you.”
Annoyed, Murray says, “Me! What, I don’t get it. I don’t know anyone who would
send me flowers. It’s gotta be some mistake.”
Marlene loses it. “Frank, it’s a f****** funeral arrangement!”
Murray leans back, “A funeral arrangement? What? Who died?”
Slowly, Marlene responds, “According to the card, Frank, you did.”


In a glass-paneled office with large file cabinets, a gruff supervisor, European-looking Hans Bauer, 55, thinning blond hair and suspenders, sits across from Murray.
“Delivery trail was cold,” Bauer reports. “They must have paid in cash. Is there anyone
you can think of who’d send you something like this? Frank innocently shrugs and Bauer
rephrases. “Scratch that, is there anyone you know who wouldn’t send you something like
Murray’s got a gut feeling.
“Gotta be Scarponi. I can just feel it. That ass**** should still be in jail.”
Bauer nods, does his best to follow procedure. “I’ll send some guys downtown with
PHPD – bust some balls – get some answers.”
Murray eager, “Well, I know one of their clubhouses is on Seventh Street.”
Bauer picks up a pen and waits for details. There’s an awkward moment, then Bauer
realizes what Frank really wants. “Oh no. Not a chance, Frank. I don’t want you personally
involved. And besides you’re not on organized crime anymore, remember.”
Frank takes the opportunity to reopen the discussion, “Actually, I kinda wanted to talk
to you about that.”
Bauer, anger rising, says, “Oh you did, did you. Okay, where do you want to start?”
Murray rolls his eyes as Bauer goes on a tear. Bauer launches in. “Oh, I know, why
don’t we talk about how the U.S. Attorney’s Office jumped on my ass every time you went
over to ‘talk some sense into them,’ as you would call it. Or maybe we could discuss the
endless parade of defense attorneys traipsing through my office screaming about excessive
use of force, huh? Is that what you wanted to talk about, Frank?”
Murray sighs, gets up and begins to leave. Bauer calls after him.
“Nice chatting with you, Frank.”

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