Follow the Sharks (25 page)

I lit a cigarette, and Stern waved the smoke away.

“The first year Eddie was called up to the Red Sox,” I continued, “Kelly left him alone. Eddie figured it was all past him. It wasn’t until his second year up that Mary Ann Mikuni got in touch with him. Eddie had established himself by then. He was a great pitcher. The team was favored to win every time he took the mound. She managed to remind him where he stood with her and Kelly. There was a game with Cleveland which Eddie was scheduled to pitch. The Sox were favored by two and a half runs. Eddie was instructed to keep it close. Win, okay. But by no more than two runs. Eddie resisted. He was a big leaguer, he had his pride. But Kelly had him. So he kept it close. He won the game, and he won the bet they made him lay down, and that was the beginning of the end for him.”

By now we were cruising into Williamstown. I told Catlett where to turn to get onto the road that would take us to Lanesborough and Jake Grabowski’s farm.

I touched Stern’s leg. “I hope all this can be kept quiet,” I said. “The thing that’s eaten away at Eddie’s soul all these years has been the fear that his son would find out that he ended up throwing baseball games.”

“I can’t promise that,” said Stern.

I shrugged. “I suppose if it has to, it’ll come out anyway.”

“So then what happened?”

“Then they had him. He tried to do whatever they wanted. At first he was allowed to win, but they were betting against him, just trying to beat the odds. And, of course, they made Eddie bet against himself. He was a good pitcher, but in the big leagues no one’s that good. Eddie sometimes lost games. And gradually it wore him down. He lost his confidence, and with it went his gift. He wasn’t always favored to win any more. So if the Sox were a one-run underdog when he pitched, he had to lose by more than one run so Kelly could cover the spread. It did something to Eddie’s head. A psychologist could probably explain it. He’d always had great control. It’s what enabled him to groove a pitch in a certain situation so someone could get a hit that would allow a run to score, and then get the out he needed. But he lost it all. In a way, I think his mind rebelled against what he was doing. Subconsciously he decided to be so bad that he’d no longer be allowed to pitch. That seemed the only way out of it.”

“So he lost his job.”

“He quit. He had been sent down. He still had a healthy arm. It happens to pitchers. They lose their control. The Red Sox hoped he’d work it out. But Eddie knew better. So he retired. He hoped that would be the end of it, and for a while it was. But then Kelly got ahold of him, reminded him of what he knew, and demanded money.”

“Sure. Blackmail. Extortion,” said Stern.

“Yes. Eddie had a good job with his father-in-law, he had access to company funds, and Sam trusted him. Kelly figured he could bleed Eddie. Eddie refused. Kelly threatened him, said he’d leak it all to the papers. Eddie told him to go ahead. He was ready to face it. Instead, Eddie’s friend, Bobo Halley, who was in the same boat, was killed. Kelly made it clear that something like that could happen to him, too. Or to his wife and child. That’s when Eddie quit his job with Sam and left Jan and E.J. He hoped to put as much distance between himself and his family as he could. He didn’t care what Kelly did to him. But he didn’t want Kelly to think that his family mattered to him.”

“Jesus,” said Stern. “That poor bastard.”

“Yeah, I know. And none of us had any inkling of what was going on. Yesterday, when I saw him, Eddie told me that sometimes he hoped Kelly would just kill him and be done with it. He wanted to run away, but he didn’t dare leave E.J. and Jan. He
wanted
Kelly to know where he was. But Kelly made it clear that he wasn’t done with Eddie. He wanted money. Eddie didn’t have any. He tried to get some easy money, betting on games. But you know how that works.”

“Yeah,” said Stern. “No one wins in the long run.”

“Nope. So Eddie just got deeper in the hole. And he couldn’t run away because he feared for E.J.”

“And he was right.”

“He was right,” I said. “They snatched E.J. Then they called Eddie. They knew he’d cooperate. They knew Sam had money. After they got it, they would’ve killed the two of them. But they got away. And Mary Ann Mikuni realized she was into something a whole lot deeper than she had intended. That’s when she got ahold of me. I guess Kelly found out.”

“Sayonara, Mary Ann Mikuni.”

“It’s just a mile or so down this road,” I said to Catlett. “On the right. A white farmhouse and a big old barn.” To Stern I said, “They were following me, I guess. They figured I’d lead them to Eddie. Which I did.”

“It’s not your fault,” said Stern.

I nodded. “I know that. And we do have E.J. Now I just hope the hell Eddie hasn’t run away again.”

Catlett braked the car to a stop.

“We’re not there, yet,” I said. “It’s around this bend.”

Then I saw the uniformed police officer approach. Catlett turned his head to the open window, and when the cop bent down, Catlett said, “What’s the trouble?”

“I’m sorry, sir. You’ll have to turn around. There’s fire apparatus in the road.”

I felt a hand twist my guts. I leaned forward. “Is it the Grabowski place?”

The cop’s face was expressionless. “Please, you can’t go any farther.”

Catlett produced his wallet and held it open to the cop. “FBI,” he said. “What’s the story?”

“I’m sorry, sir. I didn’t realize—”

“It’s all right,” said Catlett impatiently. “What’s going on?”

“The Grabowski place. Yes. Burned to the ground early this morning. The arson man from the State Police is here, and—”

“Let’s go,” said Stern.

He and Catlett leaped from the car and began to jog along the roadway. I eased myself out and followed them, hopping as well as I could on my stiff and aching right leg.

Around the corner and past the row of big oaks that lined the road lay what was left of Jake Grabowski’s farmyard. Where his barn had once stood lay a black heap of charred timbers. Wisps of smoke still drifted up from them, and a fire truck stood nearby with several firemen clad in black rubber coats and black boots watching. The farmhouse was a dark corpse. The once peeling white exterior was stained a sooty black. The empty windows looked into a blackened interior. The front door was missing. A hole gaped in the roof. From the pasture came the low mournful cries of Jake’s cows, asking to be milked.

I hobbled through the muddy farmyard to where Stern and Catlett stood talking with a gray-haired man in shirtsleeves. Stern glanced at me and said to the man, “This is Mr. Coyne. He’s a lawyer. He’s with us. Coyne, this is Captain Melcher. Arson. Why don’t you start over?”

“Okay,” said Melcher. “I guess somebody passing by on the main drag saw the sky all lit up and called the fire department. By the time they got here there was no chance to save the barn. They did the best they could with the house, but…”

“What about—?” I began.

“Two bodies. Adult males. They found them in the barn, along with some cows.” Melcher smiled sympathetically. “Not much left of them, I’m afraid. The ME’s got them. Try to make an identification.”

“I can tell you who they were,” I said.

Melcher darted a glance at me. “Not by looking at them, you can’t.”

“So what do you figure?” said Stern.

“No doubt,” said Melcher. “Both places were torched. Gasoline. The barn was full of hay. It must’ve gone up in a matter of minutes. The house was slower.”

“And the bodies?” said Catlett.

Melcher shrugged. “They were lying together in the middle of the barn. Of course, it’s hard to say exactly what happened. They were fully clothed, it would appear. Now that right there is suspicious, if you know what I mean. We figure the fire broke out around four in the morning. That’s kind of early even for farmers to be up and around.”

I had heard enough. I wandered away from the skeletal remains of Jake’s farm and sat down heavily on the ground beside the road, my back to the horror I had just seen. It was clear to me what had happened. After the two guys in the Buick left me and E.J. on the banks of the Deerfield River, they’d returned here to take care of Eddie. Kelly’s henchmen, Peter Lucci and Vincent Quarto, I had no doubt. I hoped, at least, they had had the decency to kill Jake and Eddie before they left them to burn.

And I knew it was my fault. I had led them here. Stern had been right about me all along. I should have left the sleuthing to him. I butted in where I didn’t belong, I didn’t know what I was doing, and I’d made things worse.

This time I had got Jake and Eddie killed.

I pounded my bad leg with my fist. The jolt of pain felt good. It was what I deserved. I wanted to make it hurt worse. I hit my leg again and again.

I
FELT AN ARM
around my shoulder. I looked up to see Marty Stern squatting beside me. “Hey, easy, there,” he said softly. “Just take it easy.”

“Don’t you see?” I said. “I brought them right here.”

“Now, we don’t know that, do we? We don’t know anything, yet. Let’s just wait a bit, okay? Catlett’s on the horn right now.”

I nodded and fumbled a cigarette from the pack in my shirt pocket. My hands trembled, but I managed to get it lit. Stern sat on the ground beside me. We both stared across the road, away from Jake’s farm, at the broad meadow that was blanketed with yellow and purple wildflowers. Beyond the meadow rose some low hills, and beyond them darker mountains climbed to the clear blue sky. It was a beautiful August morning in the country.

A few minutes later Catlett came over and scootched down in front of us. “Some good news, Chief,” he said to Stern. “They picked up Kelly and Quarto and Lucci. They were all there at Kelly’s house. Kelly was very cool, said nothing, called his lawyer. The other two’re nervous. Maybe something’ll happen.”

Catlett glanced at me and frowned. “There’s something else…”

“Yeah, okay,” said Stern, starting to stand up.

“No, go ahead,” I said. “I’ve got a right to know.”

“Now, look—” said Stern.

“I want to hear it.”

He stared at me for a moment, then nodded and sat beside me again. “Okay,” he said to Catlett. “What is it?”

“I talked to the Medical Examiner. One of the bodies is definitely Jake Grabowski’s. A local dentist made his false teeth. And the other one fits the description of Donagan. And…”

“Go ahead,” said Stern.

Catlett lifted his eyebrows. Stern glanced at me. “I’m all right,” I said.

Catlett nodded. “Okay. Both men had been shot. Once in the forehead. The bodies were burned pretty bad, but the ME was able to determine that they were dead before the fire.”

“What about E.J.?” I said.

Catlett nodded. “I checked on that, too. He’s fine. He’s on his way home with his grandfather and his mother.”

“No, I mean—”

“He doesn’t know. None of them know. We’ll have to call the local police. That’ll be their job.”

“Don’t,” I said. “It should be my job. I want to do it.”

Stern stared at me. “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure. I’ve been thinking about it. I want to do it.”

“Well,” said Stern, “you better wait until they positively identify the body.”

“The ME’s checking,” said Catlett. “He’s getting Donagan’s dental records. They’ll know pretty soon.”

“I’d like to go home now,” I said to Stern. “Can we do that?”

Stern shrugged. “I guess so. Catlett can drive us to your car, and you and I can go back in it. He’ll have to come back here for a while to keep an eye on things.”

We went over to the FBI car. Stern and I got in, and Catlett paused to talk with Melcher for a minute. Then he climbed behind the wheel. “I told him I’d be back. I explained the case to him a little. We’ll cooperate with each other. No problem.”

We drove back to the Riverview Inn where Stern and I transferred to my car. Stern drove while I rode beside him. I tried to rehearse in my mind the speech I would have to make to E.J. Donagan. It never came out right, so after a while I gave up and smoked cigarettes and watched the countryside roll by.

Stern stopped by an MBTA station near my apartment and got out of the car. I climbed out, moved around to the driver’s side, and slid behind the wheel.

“You sure you’re okay?” he said, leaning in to me.

“Sure. Pisser.”

“I mean, can you drive?”

“Sure.”

“Get that leg looked at.”

I nodded.

“And for Christ’s sake stop acting like a baby. What happened, happened. The bad guys killed them, not you. Okay? Self-pity doesn’t suit you.”

“Appreciate the advice,” I said.

Stern slapped the roof of my car. “I’ll call you when I hear anything.”

“Thanks.”

He started to leave. “Wait a minute,” I said.

He turned back. “Yeah?”

“What are the chances of keeping the stuff about Eddie’s gambling out of the papers? It’ll be awfully important to E.J. Especially now.”

“I told you,” said Stern. “I can’t promise anything. It all depends. It’s complicated with Donagan and Grabowski dead. Now the media’ll latch onto it. You’ve got to be ready for that.”

“You’ll do what you can?”

He nodded. “I will.”

When I got back to my apartment I shucked off my clothes and unwrapped the bandage from my leg. By standing with my back to the full-length mirror on my closet door and craning my neck I was able to see my wound. It looked too small and clean to hurt as much as it did. It was simply a scabby gouge maybe four inches long across the back of my thigh. What they called in the movies a superficial flesh wound. Probably needed stitches. Otherwise there’d be an unsightly scar to mar the classic beauty of my leg. I’d see somebody about it tomorrow.

I limped, naked, into the bathroom and turned on the faucets to fill the tub. I found a bottle of bubble bath that Sylvie had left in the linen closet and poured some of that in, then went to the kitchen and poured about six fingers of Jack Daniels into a tumbler. I looked through my tapes and found Beethoven’s Ninth, Sir Georg Solti conducting the Chicago Symphony. I smiled. Lots of years earlier Eddie Donagan had called the second movement “Huntley-Brinkley music” and had proclaimed the awesome Choral Symphony a “great show.” I slid the cassette into the slot, turned it up loud, and as the magnificent first strains of the deaf man’s music filled my little cell high above the harbor, I carried my glass of corn mash into the bathroom and sank into the hot tub.