Read Three Strikes and You're Dead Online
Authors: Jessica Fletcher
Three Strikes and You're Dead (30 page)
“You were with Junior at the bar the night he was killed.”
“Is that a question?”
“No. I know you were the one who called nine-one-one.”
“That’s right.”
“I also understand that you and Junior had a fight that night.”
“Is there anything you don’t know, Mrs. Fletcher?”
“Lots, I’m afraid. What did you fight about?”
“We fought about Ty.”
“Ty? Why?”
“Junior was bad-mouthing Ty something fierce, calling him every name under the sun. I wouldn’t want to repeat what he said.”
“There’s no need to. My only question is why you were compelled to come to Ty’s defense.”
“Because I’d had enough of Junior’s nastiness. If he thought he could get away with bad-mouthing someone, he did. He just tortured that poor guy from the fan club. It made me sick. By that point, I had decided to break off the relationship, if you can even call it that. I had what I needed, anyway.”
“So you were a witness to Junior’s abusiveness to Ty?”
“It went beyond that. Believe me, Mrs. Fletcher, Junior Bennett’s enmity against Ty was an obsession. I suppose he got a lot of his hatred from his father. God, how I detest that man. Anyway, Junior was determined to sink Ty’s chances of making it to the major leagues. He lied about him constantly, made up stories about how Ty was dealing drugs and having sex with underage girls and placing bets against his own team. It was all a lie, and I’d reached a point where, story or no story, I wasn’t about to be a party to it any longer. Ty Ramos is as nice a guy as you could ever meet, a straight shooter in every sense of the word.”
I thought of Ty’s admission that he, too, had placed some bets on sporting events, and was glad Karen Locke wasn’t aware of it.
“Tell me about finding the body,” I said.
She shrugged. “Junior had too much to drink, as usual, and went after his two favorite victims. He had already reduced the fan club president to tears. All the kid wanted was for him to sign his bat.”
“An aluminum bat?” I asked.
She nodded. “Carter took it and said he’d get the guys to sign it.”
“And did he?”
“I didn’t see.”
“And Junior’s other favorite victim was Ty, I assume.”
“Yes. Junior was at his bigoted best that night, calling Ty every name in the book, and then disparaging his mother. Anyway, the boys decided to take it outside. I went to get a ginger ale and talk to the bartender. She and I went to school together. The whole team went outside to watch the fight, but they came back right away. I didn’t see Junior, but I didn’t think anything of it. The guys on the team took off, and when Junior didn’t come in after an hour, I went to find him.”
Jerry poked his head into the living room. “Steak’s ready to go,” he announced. “Sure you can’t stay for dinner, Mrs. Fletcher? We have lots.”
“Again, thank you, no. I’d better be going.”
He disappeared again into the kitchen, and I stood. “I can’t tell you how much I appreciate your openness, Ms. Locke. And I apologize if what I said at the spa offended you.”
“I deserved it, Mrs. Fletcher. Frankly, I’m seriously considering getting out of television reporting after the baby is born. You may not believe this, but I was ashamed of what I did to Mrs. Duffy. I don’t enjoy sticking microphones in the faces of grieving people. Please pass along my apologies to the Duffys.”
“I’m sure they’ll be happy to hear that, Ms. Locke. I have to call Judge Duffy for a ride home. He’s at a golf course near here.”
“You can use the phone in the den.”
I called Jack and he said he’d be by to pick me up in fifteen minutes. Karen invited me to join them on the patio, where her fiancé had set a table and served up sliced steak, a leafy green salad, French bread, and a bottle of Zinfandel, which he insisted I taste. “Karen can’t have it,” he said, “and I want someone to appreciate what a great vintage this is.”
“It’s delicious,” I said, and turned to Karen. “Have you finished your report on gambling?”
“Just about,” she said. “It’s a sad story, far beyond the segment on sports betting here in Arizona. People use their mortgage money to buy lottery tickets. They place bets with money that should be used to put food on their tables. It’s tragic, really. Gambling can be an insidious addiction, a disease. It’s ruined so many people.”
“A piece of bread?” Jerry asked me. “Goes nicely with the wine.”
“No, thank you, I—”
“Sylvester Cole is a case in point,” Karen said absently, sprinkling dressing on her salad.
I’d picked up my wine glass but stopped with it halfway to my lips. “What do you mean?” I asked.
“He’s an example of gambling being capable of ruining someone,” she said. “He was a successful sports agent a while back, but his gambling habit got the better of him. From what I’ve been able to dig up, he’s on the brink of bankruptcy. That’s why he’s pursuing Ty so aggressively as a client. He needs a big score to pull himself out of debt, and Ty could be his savior.”
“I see,” I said, wondering whether the Duffys were aware of the agent’s dire financial straits. If so, I was certain they wouldn’t encourage Ty to sign with him under any circumstances.
A car horn sounded.
“That’s my ride,” I said, taking a last quick sip of wine. “I can’t thank you enough for your hospitality—and your candor. Congratulations on your pending marriage and the birth of your baby.”
She walked me to the door.
“Good luck with clearing Ty,” she said. “I hope he didn’t do it, and, if so, I hope you can help get him off.”
“Thanks,” I said, thinking that if Ty were to be cleared, it would take a lot more than luck.
I climbed into Jack’s car, my mind racing with all I’d learned and put together.
“Any luck?” he asked.
“Maybe,” I said. “I’ve got to make an important phone call.”
Chapter Eighteen
Thompson Stadium was an eerie place without fans cheering for their favorite teams. There was a deathly stillness, interrupted only by loud claps of thunder, and streaks of vivid white lightning in the dark skies above. The weather forecast was for a violent cold front to move through, with thunder-storms producing heavy hail and downpours. A flash flood warning was in effect.
Meg Duffy had wanted to accompany Jack and me, but Jack persuaded her to stay home with Ty. “No telling what’s going to happen,” he told her. “I’d feel more comfortable with you here.” She protested mildly but eventually agreed. Ty had wanted to come, too, but Jack reminded him that he was under house arrest and would be in violation of his bail if he left the house for anything other than court appearances and doctor visits. I knew how much he wanted to be with his teammates again, and felt bad for him. But the law is the law, and violating even a minor aspect of it would be foolhardy.
Jack peppered me with questions as we drove to the stadium. I answered as best I could without giving away too much information.
“You’re convinced you’ve identified Junior Bennett’s murderer?” he asked more than once.
“I believe I have,” I replied each time.
“Well, who is it?” he responded, sounding as though he were demanding an answer from his customary perch behind a courtroom bench.
“I know it’s difficult for you,” I said, “but you’ll just have to exercise some patience.” I had to smile at the expression on his face. Patience was not Judge Jack Duffy’s strong suit.
We pulled into the parking lot, unmanned now that the season was over, and crossed it to spots reserved for players, team managers, and stadium employees.
“That’s H.B.’s car, isn’t it?” Jack asked, pointing to a silver Jaguar with its owner’s initials on the license plate, followed by a number indicating which car it was in his fleet of vehicles.
“Yes, I’ve seen him in it before,” I said.
“What’s he doing here?” Jack muttered as he pulled into a space a few removed from the Jaguar.
“We’ll find out soon enough,” I replied.
“You knew he’d be here,” he said.
“Let’s just say I’m glad he is.” I turned and placed my hand on his arm. “Look, Jack, I know I’m keeping you in the dark about tonight, but I feel it’s necessary if I’m to be successful.”
“And I don’t want to do anything to get in your way, Jess. All I want is for Ty to be exonerated and to be able to get on with his life.”
“We share that goal,” I said.
Other cars started arriving, including a few in which team members were crowded in together. It reminded me of those small circus cars from which a dozen people seem to emerge. They poured out one after the other, their attire spanning the range from neat, conservative outfits to baggy shorts, oversize T-SHIRTS, and sandals. Carter Menzies was one of the better-dressed players, especially in contrast to the catcher, Billy Murphy, who looked as though he was wearing pajama bottoms topped by a sleeveless white undershirt.
“How did you manage to get the team here on such short notice?” Jack asked. “With the season over, these guys don’t have any obligation to show up.”
“Oh, but I think they do, Jack, especially when their bosses, the team owner and its manager, put out the word.”
“How did you know they’d be doing that?” he asked.
“I asked them to.”
“Will you please tell me—”
“All in due time,” I said. “Let’s get inside and join them.”
As we left Jack’s car and walked toward the players’ entrance, Buddy Washington pulled up.
“Hello, Buddy,” we said as the manager got out of his car and paused to hitch up his trousers over his sizable girth.
“Hello to you,” Buddy said.
“How’s your wife?” I asked.
“Doing better,” he replied, a smile crossing his face. “It looks like the treatments are working. She’s gaining strength every day, and her spirits are improving, too.”
“That’s wonderful news,” I said.
“It sure is,” Buddy said. “So, here I am. H.B. put out the word and we all jump.”
“That’s nothing new, is it?” Jack said.
“I suppose not. What brings you here tonight, Mrs. Fletcher?” Buddy asked. “Do you have a locker to clean out, too?”
I laughed. “No, I don’t, but if I did, I’m not sure I’d want anyone to know what’s in it. I remember what you said at the team dinner about being able to know a lot about a player’s entire life by what’s in his locker.”
Buddy chuckled. “It’s true,” he said. “I should have had them back here to clean them out sooner, but with all that’s been going on, the wife’s situation and the murder and all, I just never got around to it. What I can’t figure out is why H.B. decided we had to do it now. He called and said he had something important to say to the team and wanted the lockers cleaned at the same time. Anybody know what it’s all about?”
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