Chapter Five
Two days later, Ric trudged behind Harry and his wife Moira as they approached Ebbets Field. The Giants were playing the Dodgers again: hopefully this time for a win, otherwise, Harry would gripe the entire twenty-mile trek from Brooklyn to Manhattan.
Jostled and pushed by the crowd, Ric pulled his sling-covered left arm closer to his body. His wounds sported identical bandages that tugged at his skin when he moved. Perhaps attending a baseball game so soon after being shot wasn’t the smartest decision he’d ever made.
Moira looked over her shoulder. “How’re you holding up, Ric? Ebbets isn’t exactly Yankee Stadium, but this is a good-sized mob.”
Harry scowled. “It’s bad enough Ricky’s a fan of those bums. Do we have to talk about ‘em?”
“Mark my words, Harry. Those bums are
