Overkill(76)

“Watching the replay of a basketball game.”

“Who’s winning?”

“The team with the most tattoos. What do you want?”

“Did you get home all right?”

“I’m not at home.”

“What?”

“You staged that sweet goodbye, but I wasn’t about to leave you to your own devices. Soon as you and Kate drove off the hotel parking lot, I circled around and checked back into the room I’d just checked out of.”

Zach laughed softly. “Cagey. But thanks, Bing.”

“What do you need me to do?”

Zach briefed him on the interview with Melinda Parsons. “She didn’t want to alarm her parents, so she’s home alone and weepy with worry. It’s plain that she loves this guy. They’re expecting.”

“A baby?”

“Yes, a baby. Until her husband reappears, she shouldn’t be by herself.”

“I ain’t a midwife.”

“Just keep an eye on her, okay? At least overnight. You’ve slept in your car before.”

“Am I supposed to let her know I’m there?”

Zach thought it over. Melinda’s nerves were already shot. A strange car parked on her block might frighten her. “I’ll tell her you’re coming,” he said. “It’ll be up to her whether or not she invites you inside. She’s fragile, so be nice.”

“Aren’t I always nice?”

“Right. And for godsake, wear pants.”

Bing heaved one of his put-upon sighs. “Text me her address.”

By the time he returned to the car with two coffees, Kate was just saying goodbye to the attorney general. Zach passed her a cup. “Your brew. Foamy. Vanilla flavoring. Watch it, it’s hot.”

“Thank you.” She placed it in the cup holder without uncapping it.

“While your phone is still handy,” he said, “please send Melinda a text.”

“And say what?”

He told her about Bing. “Emphasize that I vouch for him. She can trust him.”

“He isn’t my idea of a nursemaid.”

“Then think of him as a bodyguard.”

He knew that Kate agreed with this move; she just didn’t want to credit him with thinking of it. She sent the text.

“How’d your conversation with the top dog go?” he asked.

“He wasn’t at all happy with me for speaking to Melinda without counsel.”

“You should have put the blame on me.”

“Oh, I did. He said that you had overstepped, that you weren’t calling the shots on his playing field. You’re no longer a superstar quarterback, or hadn’t anyone informed you of that?”

He gave her a sardonic smile. “Only every sportswriter in the country.” He started the car and got them back onto the thoroughfare before asking if the AG had addressed Melinda’s concerns.

“As displeased with us as he was,” Kate said, “he couldn’t easily dismiss what Melinda told us. Husbands habitually duck their wives. By itself, Cal’s failure to answer her calls isn’t alarming. However, coupled with the warning in the suicide note, the AG believes her concern has merit.” After a short pause, she added, “He also agreed that I should make myself scarce for a few days.”

“He’s no dummy. He’s worried about your welfare.”

“He’s no dummy. He’s worried about his.”

“His? What’s he got to be scared of?”

“Reelection. So far, Upton Franklin’s note has been kept under lock and key, but if what it says about Eban gets out, Sid Clarke could create a hue and cry, and the fallout from it would land in the AG’s lap. If that happens, it’ll be better if I’m unavailable for comment, since I’m the one who created the ruckus in the first place.”

“You didn’t create the ruckus. Eban Clarke did.”

“I cited that. He gave a grunt of concession. For the present, I’m still on the payroll, and, as soon as it can be arranged, he’s going to put an investigator back on Eban.”

“Back on?”

“He denied my request of two nights ago.”

“You didn’t tell me.”

“Because I knew you’d give me an argument.”

She was still trying him, but he let that one slide. “How soon before the surveillance kicks back in?”

“It depends on personnel availability.”

“Somebody should be on Eban’s tail right now. I might hire my own damn investigator.”

“Zach, he can’t be apprehended unless and until he does something criminal. The attorney general reminded me of that caveat.”

“If somebody winds up bleeding because of Clarke, I’m gonna shove that caveat up the AG’s ass,” he said, raising his voice for the first time. “And while I’m no longer a superstar quarterback, if I start talking, every-fucking-body wants to hear what I have to say and take pictures of me saying it. If he’s no dummy, your boss ought to be scared of me and what I have to say to the media about him.”

He ran out of air and had to pause to suck in some. In a mollified tone, he added, “At least he’s smart enough to tell you to lay low. Did you tell him where you’re going?”