He never got to box professionally again.

Before his next scheduled bout, the state boxing federation pulled him from the card, citing a positive test for performance-enhancing drugs banned under their governance. Forced out of the sport he loved, he soon began taking narcotics to help ease his emotional pain and humiliation. The back alleys of D.C. became his home, a brown bag his constant companion. People whom he suspected had set him up offered him work as an enforcer, but he never took the jobs. Finally, when he had suffered enough, two more people came—people from AA.

“You’re slow tonight, Welcome,” Cap said after he threw a series of blazing-fast jabs, purposely pulled to keep from doing any real damage. “You sure you’re all right to box?”

Lou got in a quick, effective body blow and danced away, preening. “I’m fine,” he said. “I need this to clear my head.”

Lou bobbed and weaved while circling his friend. He feigned a couple jabs that Cap shrugged off. Sweat was engulfing both men now. Cap’s shaved pate was glistening beneath the incandescent overheads. No matter what was ever troubling Lou, sparring like this was the treatment.

“Did you gash your head?” Cap asked, jabbing at but not hitting Lou’s forehead, indicating the bandage was visible from underneath his headgear.

“That accident was the craziest thing,” Lou said.

“Yeah, how so?”

Lou bobbed again, and this time got in one good shot to Cap’s jaw. Then he danced back and dropped his red mouthpiece into the palm of his glove so he could be heard more clearly.

“Carolyn Meacham, the dead doc’s widow, was convinced the busted taillight on the car in front of us was going to cause an accident, so she ends up causing one herself, trying to catch up and warn the driver.”

Cap waited until Lou had reinserted his guard, then almost immediately hit him with two quick punches—one to either side of his face. Lou thought he heard a crunch from the vicinity of his nose, and his eyes teared. He wiped at the area with the back of one glove and checked for blood. None.

“Keep your hands up, Doc! Hands up! Now, go on.”

Lou increased his movement around the ring. Sweat was pouring off him now, stinging his eyes. He loved the feeling.

“After the crash, she couldn’t explain why she’d gotten so reckless,” he said. “Lucky for her, she knew the chief of police. He let her off with just a warning, if you can believe it.”

“I can’t believe you can’t keep your hands up,” Cap answered, stepping away and removing his mouth guard. “Take a moment without the guard. I think trying to talk is wearing you out.”

Lou obliged, and took a few deep breaths to catch up. “Just for a minute or two,” he said. “I promise to keep my hands up. Did you get everything I said about Carolyn Meacham?”

“Most of it. Obviously she was distressed about what her husband had done. It could have been that. Any clue what set him off?”