a teddy bear gut, handsome in a boyish way, an almost old-fashioned cad, and immensely charming. Everyone loved Clu. Even Bonnie, his long-suffering wife. Their marriage was a boomerang. She'd throw him out, he'd spin in the air for a while, and then she'd catch him on the return.
Clu had seemed to be slowing down a bit. After all the times Myron had gotten him out of trouble-drug suspensions, drunk driving charges, whatever-Clu had gone puffy, reached the end of his charm reign. The Yankees had traded for him, putting him on strict probation, giving him one last chance at redemption. Clu had stayed in rehab for the first time. He'd been attending the AA meetings. His fastball was back up in the nineties.
Win interrupted his thoughts. "Do you want to hear what happened?"
"I'm not sure," Myron said.
"Oh?"
"I screwed up last time. You warned me, but I didn't listen. A lot of people died because of me." Myron felt the tears come to his eyes. He pushed them back down. "You have no idea how bad it ended."
"Myron?"
He turned to his friend. Their eyes met.
"Get over yourself," Win said.
Myron made a noise-one part sob, two parts chuckle. "I hate when you coddle me."
"Perhaps you would prefer it if I served up some useless platitudes," Win said. He swirled his liquor and tasted a bit. "Please select one of the following and then we'll move on: Life is hard; life is cruel; life is random; sometimes good people are forced to do bad things; sometimes innocent people die; yes, Myron, you screwed up, but you'll do better this time; no, Myron, you didn't screw up, it wasn't your fault; everyone has a breaking point and now you know yours. Can I stop now?"
"Please."
"Then let us begin with Clu Haid."
Myron nodded, took another swig of Yoo-Hoo, emptied the can.
"Everything seemed to be going swimmingly for our old college chum," Win said. "He was pitching well. Domestic bliss seemed to reign. He was passing his drug tests. He was making curfew with hours to spare. That all changed two weeks ago when a surprise drug test produced a positive result."
"For what?"
"Heroin."
Myron shook his head.
"Clu kept his mouth shut to the media," Win said, "but privately he claimed the test was fixed. That someone had tampered with his food or some such nonsense."
"How do you know that?"
"Esperanza told me."
"He went to Esperanza?"
"Yes, Myron. When Clu failed the test, he naturally looked to his agent for help."
Silence.
"Oh," Myron said.
"I don't want go into the fiasco that is MB SportsReps right now. Suffice to say that Esperanza and Big Cyndi did the best they could. But it's your agency. Clients hired you. Many have been more than unhappy by your sudden disappearance."
Myron shrugged. He would probably care one day. "So Clu failed the test."
"And he was immediately suspended. The media moved in for the kill. He lost all his endorsement deals. Bonnie threw him out. The Yankees disowned him. With nowhere else to turn, Clu repeatedly visited your office. Esperanza told him that you were unavailable. His temper rose with each visit."
Myron closed his eyes.
" Four days ago Clu confronted Esperanza outside the office. At the Kinney parking lot, to be more exact. They had words. Harsh and rather loud words. According to witnesses, Clu punched her in the mouth."
"What?"
"I saw Esperanza the next day. Her jaw was swollen. She could barely talk, though she still managed to tell me to mind my own business. My understanding is more damage would have been inflicted had Mario and several other parking attendants not pulled them apart. Supposedly Esperanza made threats of the I'11-get-you-for-this-you-limp-dick-son-of-a-bitch variety as they were being held back."
Myron shook his head. This made no sense.
"The next afternoon Clu was found dead in the apartment he rented in Fort Lee," Win continued. "The police learned about the earlier altercation. They were then issued a slew of search warrants and found the murder weapon, a nine millimeter, in your office."
"My office?"
"MB's office, yes."
Myron shook his head again. "It had to be a plant."
"Yes, perhaps. There were also fibers that matched the carpeting in Clu's apartment."
"The fibers are meaningless. Clu was in the office. He probably dragged them there."
"Yes, perhaps," Win said again. "But the specks of blood in the trunk of the company car might be harder to explain."
Myron almost fell over. "Blood in the Taurus?"
"Yes."
"And the police confirmed the blood as Clu's?"
"Same blood type. The DNA test will take several weeks."