QB1 (8 page)

“So do you have a girlfriend now, Tom?” Liz
asked.

“Mr. Mullins just dates whores now,” said
Roger. He pronounced whores, “who-ares”. “Mr. Mullins has been
living like a rockstar when it comes to women,” Roger said. “I
think there is a definite lack of maturity when it comes to
relationships.”

I got off my seat across for Roger. Got him
in a head lock and gave him a nuggy on the top of the head while he
screamed.

“You’re so mean, Mr. Mullins,” cried Roger as
I sat back down. Liz was laughing at us.

“Who-ares, Roger?” she asked.

“I brought a girl around the office one day
and she was dressed for a walk on the beach. Velma saw her and told
me she didn’t appreciate my bringing my who-ares around the office.
So now it’s the go-to line for any woman I’m with.”

“I hope I’m never referred to that way,” she
said.

“Velma a little overprotective and a little
crazy. She loves us though,” I said.

“She loves me,” said Roger. “I don’t know
about you.”

We pulled into Team Headquarters. Satellite
trucks. cops, swarms of people standing around outside, more than
earlier today. This was the first exposure Liz had to this. “Wow! I
think I should wait in the car. This is going to be weird.”

“Don’t worry about it,” I said. "The more the
merrier.”

“This looks like in front of our house after
you shot Chucky, Mr. Mullins,” said Roger. Security directed our
car out of sight of the press and ushered us into a side entrance.
Shawn Samuelson was there to greet us. We were shown into a meeting
room with a number of men sitting around a table. I nodded to
Tonelli and Captain Conners. Oscar Tierney jumped up from his place
at the head of the table, ran around and hugged Liz.

“I’m so sorry, Elizabeth,” said Tierney.
“It’s just such a terrible loss for everyone, words don’t seem to
work.” They embraced for a long moment. “I’m so glad you came
today, Elizabeth. I need to get an update from these people who are
working on solving this, but I’d like to spend some time with you.”
He directed Liz to a seat and shook hands with me. “Good to see you
again, Tom. I’m glad you could make it.” And then he shook hands
with Roger. “Ahhh yes, it’s the other half of the dynamic duo,
young Roger Goody. I’ve seen you on TV, boy.” Roger shook his hand
with a big smile on his face. We all sat and then I noted our old
friend FBI Special Fucking Agent Herbert Nelson seated on the other
side of the room. I nodded and smiled at him.

“Agent Nelson,” I said as sweetly as I could.
He nodded back at me but I could see he had his “fuck you” face on.
There were introductions all around; another FBI agent, a guy from
Homeland Security, two State of California Investigators and some
security people from the team. Altogether, a group of about 15
people were in the room.

Not surprisingly with the size of his ego, it
was Nelson who spoke first. “Before we get started, Mr. Tierney, I
want to bring up that since we’re all here to discuss progress on
the case of Tony Reilly’s murder last night, I’m going to have to
question the appropriateness of having a possible suspect in the
room.” He let that sink in. I knew we were about to rock and roll.
“I’m referring to the widow, Mrs. Elizabeth Reilly.”

Did I mention this guy is an asshole? Chief
Conners immediately spoke up, “Last night a tactical team found
Mrs. Reilly asleep in her bed at the crime scene. She was
immediately taken downtown and given a residual test and a blood
test. She has been completely cooperative. She was thoroughly
questioned about every aspect of the crime and was simply unaware
of what had happened or where her husband had been for the last
month. We don’t feel Mrs. Reilly was involved in this crime. After
further investigation today, checking phone records and email,
there has been nothing more that would give us any reason to
suspect Mrs. Reilly of any involvement. I don’t see any reason she
shouldn’t be involved in an informal discussion of progress.” I
could see Liz was about to stand and bolt. She wasn’t crazy about
being there, anyway. Before she could stand, I put my hand firmly
on her arm, holding her down. I wanted to play.

“The FBI hasn’t had a chance to question Mrs.
Reilly yet,” countered Nelson. The implication being the SFPD is
incompetent versus the superior questioning skills of the FBI.
“There is certainly motive for Mrs. Reilly to want her husband
dead. We estimate the size of the estate of Tony Reilly at $25
Million. There was marital discord; the couple was separated at the
time of the incident. There is also opportunity for the crime as no
one else seems to have known where Mr. Reilly was for the last
month and Mrs. Reilly being the only one home. I’ll concede it may
not have been Mrs. Reilly who pulled the trigger but certainly with
the domestic situation between the couple, there is reason to
continue to suspect Mrs. Reilly of involvement in the crime.”
Nelson paused and then went in for the kill, “I also question the
relationship between Private Investigator Thomas Mullins and Mrs.
Reilly. Her first call was to him following the questioning at San
Francisco Police Headquarters was suspicious. Why did she call him?
Phone records don’t indicate communication between these two people
but our investigation has turned up a meeting between the couple on
the afternoon of April 21st in a Sonoma Restaurant called the Wine
Country Bistro. The couple was seen leaving the restaurant
together. My gut feeling is that Elizabeth Reilly and Thomas
Mullins may both be involved and I feel it is inappropriate that
they be involved in any discussion of the crime.”

What an asshole! I knew he probably got a
ration of shit following the silly business of trying to arrest
Roger’s Dad for the lab computer break in. The contentious
relationship between us went back years. My first thought was that
the guy had snapped to bring this up now. I looked over at Oscar
Tierney and wondered if I was still going to be working for him an
hour from now.

The room was quiet as I started to speak.
“Herb, can I call you Herb? After all, we go back what, 5 years?
All those times I busted your balls for being incompetent? How you
never seemed to actually solve anything but somehow managed to take
the credit for everything? The way I treated you with such
disrespect every time I ran into you? The practical jokes, teasing
you about your social ineptness, I know I’ve been an asshole to you
and I’m sorry. I didn’t realize just how much I’ve hurt you that
you would come after me like this. Accusing me of an affair with
the wife of Tony Reilly and implicating us in his murder? Holy
shit, Herb! We’re in unchartered territory here. This really breaks
new ground for even you, Special Agent Nelson. I’ve seen some
fucked up shit from you, but…wow! Now ordinarily, I could just let
this go because I know, its just Herbie being Herbie. But, you’re
freaking me out here. And knowing you like I do, you’re about to
leak this fucked up fairy tale to the press and ruin the life of an
innocent woman and set back this investigation where it may never
get solved. Here is what I have to do. I’m going out beyond the
fence and wait till every network has a close up of my face and
announce that an FBI Special Agent, Herbert Nelson, a man with a
personal grudge against me has concocted a story of an affair
between the wife of Tony Reilly and myself and has gone as far as
implicating us in his murder. All this despite the fact that he
doesn’t have a shred of evidence. I’m going to make a
recommendation that given the importance of this case that the
Federal Bureau of Investigation immediately re-examine the
personnel assigned to this case in order that we can move forward
and find the people responsible for the death of Tony Reilly. So…
my question to you Herbie, you dumb motherfucker, is do you want to
be cleaning urinals in the Fargo office by the end of the week or
do you want to try and figure out who killed Tony Reilly?”

Chapter 13

The meeting turned around after the little
shitstorm between Nelson and me. All the law enforcement agencies
had input and there was no evidence or any progress to speak of. No
one knew where Tony Reilly had been for the last month. There were
no leads on the terror implications of the killing. San Francisco
and the League were working on a reward for information leading to
solving the crime which would be announced. What it came down to
was despite a tremendous amount of investigative manpower, no one
had anything.

After the meeting, Oscar Tierney brought
Nelson and the other FBI Agent who turned out to be his new
superior back to his office for a meeting with the three of us.
Oscar read Nelson the riot act. He promised a call to the Director
of the FBI. He warned him that if he heard of anything in the press
about Elizabeth and my involvement in the killing, he would join me
in denouncing the FBI as ridiculous. Nelson mumbled something about
having to run down every lead, but Tierney stopped him. “You think
long and hard before you go public with that bullshit Agent
Nelson,” and then threw them out of his office. That left the two
of us sitting there alone.

“I certainly hope you two didn’t kill Tony.”
He grinned at me.

“He’s an idiot, Mr. Tierney.” We sat there in
silence for a minute.

“What do you suggest? I have no confidence
that anyone in that meeting is going to figure this out,” said
Tierney.

“I’m not sure about the terror angle and that
seems to be where everyone is heading. I think you have to figure
out where Tony was for last month and who knew it. I think I’d
start with his friends and teammates. Someone knows something about
where he’s been. I’d like to talk to his friends on the team.”

Tierney called his secretary on the intercom
and said, “Susie get me the contact list for the team. He turned
back to me, “Start with Cochran, Isackson and Benson. Also, touch
base with Coach Warren.” The center, the quarterback and the star
middle linebacker were probably a good place to start. “I’ll call
them and tell them you’ll be over to see them tonight. They all
live in the area. Charlie Warren should be in his office waiting
for you.” I took the list and told Tierney I would keep him
informed and appreciated his support.

“Mr. Tierney, if this business with me being
implicated in the murder heats up, all you need to do is say the
word and I’ll end our relationship. I won’t let it become a
distraction. There was nothing going on between Liz and me.”

“Tom,” he took my hand and looked me in the
eye, “find out who killed Tony Reilly.”

Chapter 14

Head Coach Charlie Warren looked like shit.
Roger and I walked in and sat in front of his desk. He held his
head up with the elbow and the palm under the chin. His eyes
watched but his head didn’t move. “Coach Warren I’m investigating
the death of Tony Reilly for the Team.” I then smelled the booze
across the desk and concluded that Superbowl Champion Coach Charles
Francis Warren, Notre Dame, USMC…was shitfaced.

“What can I do for ywou?” he said. That’s how
he said it, ‘ywou’. He was shitfaced.

“Coach, I want to make sure the security of
the team is as good as it can be and I would appreciate access to
the team and your support.”

He took his head off his palm, straightened
up and said, “You know who was the most exciting quarterback,
ever?” Didn’t wait for an answer, it was a rhetorical question.
“Fran Tarkington.” That’s all he said. He put his head back on his
elbow.

Roger goes Wiki on Tarkington. “The Mad
Scrambler, Tarkington led the Minnesota Vikings to three Superbowl
appearances. He started out in Minnesota. He was traded to the New
York Giants and then went back to the Vikings. He’s 6th on the all
time passing list with 47,000 yards and 4th on the list with 342
career touchdowns. He was a good one.”

Warren looked at Roger, “How do you know
about him?”

“I’m a football fan,” said Roger.

“Yea, I used to love to watch Scramblin
Fran,” said Warren.

“What do you think Tony Reilly’s legacy will
be, Coach?” I asked.

He thought about it for a minute. “Probably
the best single season a quarterback ever had.” He shook his head,
“What a tragedy. I can’t remember a sadder day. I loved that
kid.”

I saw we weren’t going to get much out of
Charlie Warren today. We said our goodbyes and went looking for
Liz. She was already in the car waiting for us. Roger opened his
computer. Liz was on her cell. I gave our driver the address for
Jerry Cochran’s house and we took off. “What’s going on, Roge?”

“Celebrities getting armed, buying guns,”
said Roger, “other than that, just a lot of speculation.”

Liz closed her cell and sighed, “The coroner
doesn’t expect to release the body till Sunday. They’re talking
about holding the services at Grace Cathedral next week some time.
Rosenbloom’s office is going to handle the details. The Team is
involved too.

I asked her, “What do you want to do, now?
We’re going over to see Jerry Cochran to see if he can fill us in
on what Tony might have been up to for the last month. You want to
stay with us?”

“Jerry and Penny Cochran are my two favorite
people in the world. I’d love to see them,” she said. “I don’t
think Jerry knows much or Penny would have told me.”

Jerry Cochran lived 10 minutes away in
Sunnyvale. We rang the doorbell and the whole family answered the
door. Jerry stood holding a baby and a two year old stood at his
mother’s knee. Penny Cochran immediately burst into tears hugging
Liz while Jerry welcomed Roger and me into the house. Cochran was
big. Six feet four, handsome, well spoken, he was a Media Studies
major out of USC. He was often on TV and radio as a Team spokesman.
You just knew he had a future in broadcasting. After Penny, it was
Jerry’s turn to hug Liz. “I loved him, Elizabeth,” he said. “I’ve
never been so torn up about losing anyone before,” he said and
started to cry, “sorry,” turning away and wiping away tears. “I’ve
been a mess all day.”