Jim leaned into him for a second, then pulled away, grabbed the bar napkin, and wiped at his eyes. “How’d you get here so fast?”

“I ignored the speed limit. And I’m double-parked. You think you can walk?”

“ ’Course. I could walk home if I needed to.”

“Well, luckily you don’t need to. You paid up here?”

“Paid as I went. Only way to live.”

“So I’ve heard. Like a million times. Okay. Let’s go.”

The old man got his feet onto the floor and straightened up, leaning into Mickey. The bartender saw what was happening and gave Mickey an approving nod. He mouthed a silent thank-you.

Parr managed to keep upright as the two of them negotiated their way out of the bar and out onto the sidewalk. It was still a clear, warm day, and the sun was in their eyes as they made their way to the car. After Mickey poured Parr into the front seat, he went around and got in.

“This about Dominic Como?” he asked.

His grandfather, head back against the seat with his eyes closed, turned toward Mickey and another tear broke. “I loved that guy,” he said.

Mickey facilitated his parking around the city by the judicious use of a handicap placard that he kept in his glove compartment and that he could put onto his dashboard whenever he needed it. His grandfather had given him this surprisingly valuable little blue item. In theory, only handicapped individuals had access to them, and there was nothing handicapped about Jim Parr.

And there had been nothing handicapped about Dominic Como, either, for that matter.

But Como nevertheless had always possessed a handicapped card for those special occasions when nothing else would do. When Parr had retired eight years ago, Como gave him one as a present. Como could get things that other people didn’t seem to have access to. It had been one of his talents, and access to those things was one of the perks of Parr’s old job.