Drop Shot (1996) (22 page)

Until Duane finally stepped away.

Duane had given the woman one more brief hug. There had been muffled voices, but Myron couldn't make out any specific words. Duane looked left, then right, then moved away. The woman was already starting to close the door, but she glanced out one last time. And that was when Myron saw her.

The woman was Deanna Yeller.

Chapter
26

The morning.

Myron had not confronted Duane. He'd stumbled to Jessica's in something of a daze. He'd opened the door with his key and said, "I'm sorry. I had to "

Jessica shushed him with a kiss. Then a bigger kiss. Hungrier kiss. Myron tried to fight off her advances, though some might call his struggle less than valiant.

He rolled over in the bed. Jessica was gently padding across the room. Naked. She slipped into a silk robe. He watched, as he always did, with utter fascination. "You're so hot," he said, "you make my teeth sweat."

She smiled. There is something that happens to men when Jessica looks at them. Shallow breathing. Fluttering stomach. A cruel longing. But her smile raised all those symptoms to the tenth power.

"Good morning," she said. She bent down and kissed him gently. "How are you feeling?"

"My ears are still popping from last night."

"Nice to know I still have the touch," she said.

The understatement of the millennium. "Tell me about your trip."

"Tell me about your murder first."

He did. Jess was a great listener. She never interrupted, except to ask the right question. She looked at him steadily without a lot of that phony head nodding or out-of-context smiling. Her eyes focused in on him as if he were the only person in the world. He felt lightheaded and happy and scared.

"This Valerie got to you," Jessica said when he finished.

"She had no one. Her life was in danger and she had no one."

"She had you."

"I only met her once. She wasn't even signed yet."

"Doesn't matter. She knew what you were. If I were in trouble, you'd be the person I'd run to." She tilted her head. "How did you know my room number and hotel?"

"Aaron. He was trying to be intimidating. He succeeded."

"Aaron threatened to hurt me?"

"You, me, my mom, Esperanza."

She hesitated, thinking. "Esperanza would be my choice. I mean, if it has to be one of us."

"I'll tell him." He took her hand. "I'm glad you're home."

"No third degree?"

Myron shook his head.

"But I owe you an explanation."

"I don't want one," he said. "I just want to be with you. I love you. I've always loved you. We are soul mates."

"Soul mates?"

He nodded.

"When did you decide this?" she asked.

"A long time ago."

"So why not tell me before now?"

He shrugged. "I didn't want to scare you off."

"And now?"

"Now it's more important to tell you how I feel."

The room was still. "What am I supposed to say to that?" she asked.

"Nothing."

"I do love you, Myron. You know that."

"I know."

Silence. A long silence.

Jessica crossed the room. Naked. She was not self-conscious about her body. Then again, she had no reason to be. "It seems to me," she began, "there are a lot of weird connections with this murder. But there is one overriding constant."

Change of subjects. That was okay. Enough had been said for one day. "What?" Myron asked.

"Tennis," she said. "Alexander Cross is killed at a tennis club. Valerie Simpson is murdered at the national tennis center. Valerie and Duane have an affair both are professional tennis players. Those two kids who supposedly killed Alexander Cross what's their names?"

"Errol Swade and Curtis Yeller."

"Swade and Yeller," she repeated. "They were both up to no good at a tennis club. The Ache brothers and Aaron are connected to an agency who deals with tennis players. That leaves us with Deanna Yeller."

"What about her?"

"Her sleeping with Duane. It can't just be a coincidence."

"So?"

"So how would she have met Duane?"

"I don't know," Myron said.

"Does she play tennis?"

"What if she does?"

"Keeps things constant." She stopped. "I don't know. I'm ranting. It's just that everything circles back to tennis except for Deanna Yeller."

Myron thought about it a moment. Nothing clicked, but something did rumble somewhere in the back of his brain.

"Just a thought," she said.

He sat up. "Before you said 'supposedly' killed Alexander Cross. What did you mean?"

"What real evidence do you have that Swade and Yeller murdered the Cross kid?" she asked. "They might have just been convenient scapegoats. Think about it a second. Yeller was conveniently killed by the police. Swade has conveniently fallen off the face of the earth. Who better to take the fall?"

"Then who do you think killed Alexander Cross?" he asked.

She shrugged. "Probably Swade and Yeller. But who knows for sure?"

More rumbling in the brain. But still nothing surfaced. Myron checked his watch. Seven-thirty.

"You in a rush?" she asked.

"A little."

"I thought Duane Richwood doesn't play until one," she said.

"I'm trying to land a kid named Eddie Crane. He's playing in the juniors at ten."

"Can I come along?" she asked.

"Sure."

"What are your chances of landing him?" she asked.

"I think they're pretty good. His father might be a problem."

"The father doesn't like you?"

"I think he'd prefer a bigger agency," Myron said.

"Should I smile sweetly at him?" she asked.

Myron thought a moment. "Flash a little cleavage. I'm not sure this guy's into subtle."

"Anything to get a client," she said.

"Maybe you should practice a little first," he said.

"Practice what?"

"Flashing cleavage. I'm told it's something of an art."

"I see. And on whom should I practice?"

Myron spread his hands. "I'm willing to volunteer my services."

"The sacrifices you make for clients," she said. "It's heroic, really."

"So what do you say?"

Jessica gave him a look. The look, actually. Myron felt it in his toes, to name one place. She leaned toward him. "No."

"No?"

She put her lips to his ear. "Let's try out my new oils first"

One word: Yowzer.

Chapter
27

Jessica hadn't need to flash cleavage.

Both Cranes were immediately entranced. Mrs. Crane chatted with Jess about her books. Mr. Crane couldn't stop smiling and sucking in his gut. At the start of the second set Mr. Crane tried to chew down the commission a half point. A very good sign. Myron made a mental note to bring Jess to more business gatherings.

There were other agents there. Lots of them. Most wore business suits and had their hair slicked back. They ranged in age, but most looked pretty young. Several tried to approach, but Mr. Crane shooed them away.

"Vultures," Jessica whispered to Myron as one forced his card on Mr. Crane.

"Just trying to hustle business," Myron said.

"You're defending them?"

"I do the same thing, Jess. If they're not aggressive they don't have a chance. You think the Cranes are going to come to them?"

"But still. You don't hang around like these guys."

"What exactly am I doing now?"

Jessica thought a second. "Yeah, but you're cute."

Hard to argue. Eddie crushed his opponent 6-0, 6-0, but the match was not as close as the score indicated. Eddie lacked finesse. He relied on power. But what power. His racket ripped through the still air like the reaper's scythe. The ball shot off the strings as though from a bazooka. The finesse would come. But for now the awesome power was more than enough.

After the players shook hands Eddie's parents went onto the court.

"Do me a favor," Myron said to Jess.

"What?"

"Get rid of the parents for a couple of minutes. I want to talk to Eddie alone."

She did it with a lunch invitation. Jessica escorted Mr. and Mrs. Crane to the Racquets restaurant overlooking the Grandstand. Myron accompanied Eddie to the locker room. The kid had barely broken a sweat. Myron had exerted himself more just watching. Eddie walked with big, unhurried steps, a towel draped around his neck, completely relaxed.

"I told TruPro I wasn't interested," Eddie said.

Myron nodded. That explained Aaron's generous offer to let Myron represent Eddie. "How did they respond?"

"They were pretty pissed," Eddie said.

"I bet."

"I think I want to go with your agency," he said.

"How do your parents feel?"

"Doesn't matter really. They both know it's my decision."

They walked a few more steps.

"Eddie, I need to ask you about Valerie."

He half-smiled. "Are you really trying to find her killer?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"I don't know. It's just something I have to do."

Eddie nodded. The answer was good enough for him. "Shoot"

"You first met Valerie at Pavel's camp in Florida?"

"Right"

"How did you two become friends?"

"You ever been to Pavel's academy?" Eddie asked.

"No."

"You might not get it." Eddie Crane stopped, brushed the hair from his eyes, continued. "It probably sounds weird a sixteen-year-old girl and a nine-year-old boy being close friends. That's pretty normal in tennis. You don't make friends with kids your own age. They're the enemy. Val and I were both lonely, I guess. And because of our differences we weren't threats to each other. I guess that's how it started."

"Did she ever mention Alexander Cross?"

"Yeah, a couple of times. They dated or something."

"Did you get the impression they were serious?"

He shrugged. The guard checked their passes and let them enter. "Not really. Tennis was her life. Boyfriends were peripheral."

"Tell me more about Pavel's academy. What was it like for Valerie?"

"What was it like?" Eddie grinned sadly, shook his head. "It was like one big game of King of the Mountain. Every kid is trying to knock off every other kid."

"And Valerie was king of the woman's side?"

Eddie nodded. "The undisputed king."

"Did Pavel and Valerie get along?"

"Yeah. At first anyway. He motivated Val like no one else could. She would practice for hours with his assistants, and just when you thought she couldn't take one more step Pavel would come out and boom! it was like an energy boost. Val was a great player, but Pavel knew how to get her competitive juices really flowing. When he was there, she blew away everyone else. Diving, stretching, running down every lob. She was incredible."

"So when did things start going wrong?"

Eddie shrugged. "When she started losing." He said it like it was the most natural thing in the world.

"What happened?"

"I don't know." He stopped again, thinking. "She stopped caring, I guess. It happens to a lot of the players. They burn out. Too much pressure too fast."

"What did Pavel do?"

"He tried all his old tricks. You see, Pavel fostered the whole dog-eat-dog atmosphere. It weeded out the weak, he told me. But Valerie wasn't responding anymore. She still beat most of the girls. But when she played against the game's greats Steffi, Monica, Gabriela, Martina she didn't have the heart to beat them anymore."

Eddie sat in a chair in front of his locker. Very few people were around. The floor, carpeted in an office-brown, was littered with little pieces of wrap and bandaging. Myron sat down next to him. "You told me you saw Valerie a few days before she died."

"Yeah," Eddie said. "In the lobby of the Plaza." He took off his shirt. The kid was bony. The kind of bony where it appears the chest concaves into the heart. "I hadn't seen her in a long time."

"What did she say to you?"

"She was going to make a comeback. She seemed pretty excited about the idea, kinda like the old Val. Then she gave me your number and told me to stay away from Pavel and TruPro."

"Did she say why you should stay away?"

"No."

"Did she say anything else?"

He paused, his mind flashing back. "Not really. She was kinda in a hurry. She said she had to go out and settle something."