Fade Away (1996) (38 page)

Doubtful. Did he have a key? Doubtful. Did he hire a professional? Still doubtful. Clip hadn't even let a private investigator do a simple credit card check on Greg for fear word would get out. Whom would he trust to clean up the blood of a person he murdered?

And something else still jabbed at Myron with a sharpened, steel point: the woman's clothes in the bedroom. They had been packed away too. Why would Clip remove all traces of a secret girlfriend? Why would anybody?

The different scenarios swirled in Myron's head like rubber ducks in a whirlpool. He concentrated again on the mystery girlfriend. Could it have been Fiona White? She wasn't talking, but Myron firmly believed that she was not the one. How could Fiona have lived with Greg and kept it hidden from a husband as obsessively jealous as Leon? Perhaps there had been some entanglement between Greg and Fiona - a casual fling in a motel room or something - but Myron no longer believed even that. The more he thought about it, the 'greatest night of sexual ecstasy' epistle was more of a come-on than the talk of two familiar lovers. It seemed more logical that Greg was telling Leon the truth when he said he would never sleep with another man's wife. The thought gave Myron's old shame new life.

A commercial came on the radio. A very hip man and a very hip woman were enjoying a Molson's Golden far too much. They spoke in low voices and laughed at each other's lame jokes. Myron switched it off.

He still had more questions than answers. But when he picked up his cellular phone to check Greg's answering machine, his fingers began to tremble. Something tightened his chest, making it hard to breathe. This feeling, however, was not like pregame jitters. In fact, it was the furthest thing from them.

Myron rushed by Clip's secretary.

'He's not in there,' she cried.

Ignoring her, he opened the office door. The lights were off and the room was empty. He spun back toward the secretary. 'Where is he?'

The secretary, a classic battle-ax who had probably been with Clip since the Coolidge Administration, put her hands on her hips. 'I don't have the slightest idea,' she huffed.

Calvin Johnson came out of the adjoining office. Myron approached him. He waited until they were inside Calvin's office and the door was closed. 'Where is he?'

Calvin held up his hands. I don't know. I tried his house, but there was no answer.'

'Does he have a car phone?'

'No.'

Myron shook his head and began pacing. 'He lied to me,' Myron said.

'The son of a bitch lied.'

'What?'

'He met with the blackmailer.'

Calvin raised an eyebrow. He moved to the chair behind his desk and sat down. 'What are you talking about?'

'The night she was murdered,' Myron said, 'Clip went to her apartment.'

'But she wasn't supposed to meet with us until Monday,' Calvin said.

'Did you hear her say that?'

Calvin plucked at his chin with his thumb and pointer. The track lights from above his desk reflected off the receding forehead. His face remained the ever placid pool. 'No,' he said slowly. 'Clip told me.'

'He lied to you.'

'But why?'

'Because he's hiding something.'

'Do you know what?'

'No,' Myron said. 'But I intend to find out tonight.'

'How?'

The blackmailer still wants to sell,' Myron said. 'I'm his new buyer.'

Calvin tilted his head. 'I thought you said the blackmailer was dead.'

'She had a partner.'

'I see,' Calvin said with a slow nod. 'And you're meeting tonight?'

'Yep. But I don't know when or where. He's supposed to call.'

'I see,' Calvin said again. He made a neat fist and coughed into it. 'If it's something damaging. I mean, something that could affect the outcome of the vote tomorrow . . .'

I'll do whatever is right, Calvin.'

'Of course. I didn't mean to imply otherwise.'

Myron rose. 'Let me know when he gets here.'

'Sure.'

Myron entered the locker room. TC was in his pregame pose -- sprawled on a chair in the corner with a Walkman plugged into his ears, his eyes blazing straight ahead and unmoving. He did not acknowledge Myron. Leon was also there. He, too, studiously avoided Myron's gaze. Not surprising.

Audrey approached. 'How did it go with--?'

Myron shook his head to silence her. She nodded, understanding. 'You okay?' she asked.

'Fine.'

'You think they can hear us?'

'I'm not taking any chances.'

Audrey looked left, then right. 'You find something new?'

'Plenty,' Myron said. 'You should have your story tonight. And then some.'

The gleam in her eye expanded. 'You know where he is?'

Myron nodded. The locker room door opened. Calvin popped his head in. He leaned over and spoke to the Kipper for a moment. When he left, Myron noticed that he turned right, which led to the exit, as opposed to left which would have taken him back to his office.

The cellular phone in Myron's pocket rang. He looked up at Audrey.

Audrey looked back. He moved closer to the corner and picked it up.

'Hello?'

An electronically altered voice said, 'You got the money?'

'You got lousy timing,' Myron said.

'Answer my question.'

Leon pulled up his gym shorts. TC stood and bobbed his head in rhythm to the music.

'I have it,' Myron said. 'I also have a game tonight.'

'Forget the game. Do you know Overpeck Park?'

'The one in Leonia? Yeah, I know it.'

'Turn in the right side off Route Ninety-five. Then go down a quarter mile and make another right. You'll see a cul-de-sac. Park there and look for a flashlight. Approach with both your hands raised.'

'Do I get to say a password?' Myron asked. 'I loves passwords.'

'Fifteen minutes. Don't be late. And for the record, I know your superhero partner is in his Park Avenue office. I have a man watching it. If he leaves between now and then, the deal is off.'

Myron turned off the phone. It was coming to a head now. In fifteen minutes it would all be over - one way or another. 'Could you hear?' he asked.

Audrey nodded. 'Most of it.'

'There's going to be some weird stuff going down,' Myron said. 'I need an unbiased journalist to record it. You want to come along?'

She smiled. 'That was a rhetorical question, right?'

'You'll have to keep on the floor in the backseat,' he went on. I can't risk having you spotted.'

'No problem,' she said. 'It'll remind me of my high school dates.'

Myron turned toward the door. His nerves were as frayed as an old horse whip. He tried to look nonchalant as they exited. Leon was lacing up his sneakers. TC remained still, but this time his eyes followed them out.

Rain beat down, blackening the pavement. Cars were just starting to enter the arena lot in force. Myron took the back exit over the New Jersey Turnpike and onto the northbound lanes just past the final toll booth. He veered to the right, staying on Route 95.

'So what's going on?' Audrey asked.

'The man I am about to meet,' he said, 'killed Liz Gorman.'

'Who's Liz Gorman?'

'The blackmailer who was murdered.'

'I thought her name was Carla.'

'That was an alias.'

'Wait a minute. Isn't Liz Gorman the name of some sixties radical?'

Myron nodded. 'It's a long story; I don't have time to go into details.

Suffice to say the guy we're about to meet was part of the blackmail scheme.

Something went awry. She ended up dead.'

'Do you have evidence?' Audrey asked.

'Not really. That's what I need you for. You have your microcassette player?'

'Sure.'

'Let me have it.'

Audrey reached into her purse and handed it up front.

'I'm going to try to get him to talk,' Myron said.

'How?'

'By pushing the right buttons.'

She frowned. 'You think he'll fall for that?'

'Yeah, I do. If I push the right ones.' He picked up the car phone. 'I have two separate phones here: the car phone and the cellular in my pocket. I'm going to dial the car phone with the cellular and keep the line open. This way, you can listen in. I want you to take down every word. If something happens to me, go to Win. He'll know what to do.'

She leaned forward and nodded. The windshield wipers whipped shadows across her face. The rain picked up its tempo, glistening the road in front of them. Myron took the next exit. A sign reading Overpeck Park greeted them a quarter-mile later.

'Get down,' he said.

She disappeared from view. He made the right turn. Another sign told him the park was closed. He ignored it and proceeded ahead. It was too dark to see anything, but he knew there were woods on his left and a horse stables straight ahead. He made the first right. The car's headlights danced across a picnic area, illuminating tables, benches, garbage cans, a swing set, a sliding board. He reached the cul-de-sac and stopped the car. He killed the lights, turned off the engine, and dialed the car's number on his cellular. He answered with the car's speakerphone so Audrey could listen in. Then he waited.

For several minutes nothing happened. The rain pelted down on the roof like tiny pebbles. Audrey remained still in the back. Myron put his hands back on the wheel and felt his grip tighten. He could hear his heart thumping in his chest.

Without warning, a beacon of light sliced through the night like a reaper's scythe. Myron shaded his eyes with his hand and squinted. He slowly opened the car door. The wind had picked up now, spraying the rain into his face. He hefted himself out of the car.

A male voice, distorted by the elements, shouted, 'Put your hands up.'

Myron raised them above his head.

'Open your coat. I know you're carrying a gun in a shoulder holster. Take it out with two fingers and toss it onto the seat of the car.'

Keeping one hand in the air, Myron unbuttoned his coat. He was already drenched from the rain, his hair matted against his forehead. He took out the gun and put it on his car seat.

'Close the door.'

Again Myron obeyed the voice.

'Do you have the money?'

'First I want to see what you brought,' Myron said.

'No.'

'Hey, be reasonable here. I don't even know what I'm buying.'

A brief hesitation. 'Come closer.'

Myron stepped toward the light, ignoring the symbolism. 'Whatever you're selling,' he said, 'how do I know you haven't made copies?'

'You don't,' the voice said. 'You'll have to trust me.'

'Who else knows about this?'

'I'm the only one,' the voice said, 'who is still alive.'

Myron picked up the pace. His hands were still in the air. The wind whipped into his face. His clothes were sopping. 'How do I know you won't talk?'

'Again, you don't. Your money buys my silence.'

'Until someone ups the bid.'

'No. I'm leaving after this. You won't hear from me again.' The flashlight flickered. 'Please stop.'

Ten feet in front of him stood a man wearing a ski mask. He had a flashlight in one hand and a box in the other. He nodded at Myron and lifted the box. 'Here.'

'What is it?'

'First, the money.'

'For all I know, the box is empty.'

'Fine. Go back to your car and leave then.' The man in the ski mask turned around.

'No, wait,' Myron said. I'll get the money.'

The ski mask faced Myron again. 'No games.'

Myron headed back to the car. He had moved about twenty paces when he heard the gunshots. Three of them. The noises did not startle him. He slowly turned around. The man with the ski mask was down. Audrey was running toward the still body. She was carrying Myron's gun.

'He was going to kill you,' Audrey cried. I had to shoot.'

Audrey kept running. When she reached the still body, she ignored it and scooped up the box. Myron slowly walked toward her.

'Open it,' he said.

'Let's get out of this rain first. The police--

'Open it.'

She hesitated. No thunder bellowed. No lightning struck.

'You were right before,' Myron said.

Audrey looked puzzled. 'About what?'

'I was looking at this the wrong way.'

'What are you talking about?'

Myron took another step toward her. 'When I asked myself who knew about the blood in the basement,' he began, 'I only remembered Clip and Calvin. I forgot I told you. When I wondered why Greg's lover would have to keep her identity a secret, I thought about Fiona White and Liz Gorman.

Again I forgot about you. It's hard enough for a woman to get respect as a female sports reporter. Your career would be ruined if anybody found out you were dating one of the players you covered. You had to keep it quiet.'