asks, though I suppose Teri has already answered that question for him.
“Andy,” I say, and wait until he offers his hand before I walk over and shake it. His grip is powerful, his biceps enormous, and my mind processes the fact that this wheelchair-bound invalid could twist me into a pretzel. “Walter Simmons from the Giants gave me your name. He said you might be willing to talk to me about Kenny.”
“Kenny’s my best friend. I’ll help in any way I can.”
“I take it you don’t think he’s guilty.”
“No fucking way.”
Teri seems to cringe slightly from the language and excuses herself so that we can talk. As soon as she does, Bobby launches into a spirited defense of Kenny, whom he ranks as sort of a male, football-playing Mother Teresa.
“He’s the reason I have my job,” says Bobby. “He told the Giants that if they didn’t hire me, he’d become a free agent and move to a team that would. He wouldn’t back down, so they did.”
I doubt that the story is quite how Bobby describes it but it’s probably how he believes it. “How long have you known him?”
“Sophomore year in high school. That’s when I moved to Passaic and we met on the football field. I was the right guard. He ran right behind my ass for over a thousand yards that year and two thousand each of the next two. Still holds the Jersey state record. Kenny and I were both named high school all-Americans.”
Bobby and Teri were both at the bar the night that Preston was killed, and Bobby admits with reluctance that he saw Preston and Kenny leave together. He completely rejects any possibility that Kenny is the killer. “And I told that to the police,” he says. “I don’t think they wanted to hear it.”
The conversation moves back to Bobby’s own football career, mainly because that’s where he moves it. My guess is that pretty much every conversation he has moves to the same place. He talks about how he was going to attend Ohio State on a full football scholarship. That all came to an end when he was injured in a car crash.
“It happened in Spain,” he says. “I was taking a few weeks to travel through Europe. I was on one of those winding roads, and my car went over the edge. I haven’t been out of this chair since. If it happened here, with American doctors… who knows if it would have been different, you know?”
I don’t know what to say, so I don’t say anything. Everything Bobby ever wanted disappeared when his car went a few inches off the side of the road. I can almost feel the disappointment in the air, weighing on him.
I’m relieved when the door opens and Teri comes in, still wearing her nurse’s uniform. She also has with her a young boy, whom she introduces as Jason, their seven-year-old son. Jason seems tall for his age and has none of his father’s offensive lineman bulk. He’s either going to be a wide receiver when he grows up or, if he takes after his mother, a nurse.
“I’m off to work, Bobby,” Teri says. “Don’t let Jason stay up too late.”
He smiles. “What do you mean? I thought we’d go out drinking tonight.” He taps Jason lightly in the ribs. “Right, big guy?” Jason taps him right back and mimics his “Right, big guy.” There seems to be an easy relationship between father and son.
Teri says goodbye to me and leaves. Once she’s out of the house, Bobby says, “She works like crazy and takes care of me and Jason. She’s unbelievable.”
“Can you drive?” I ask.
He nods. “Yup. They make hand controls for cars. But it’s still a hell of a lot easier when she’s with me. The team lets her come on road trips.”
Jason asks Bobby to read him a story, and I take advantage of the interruption to say my goodbyes.
I drive back home, no more enlightened about the facts of the case, but liking my client a little more. He has taken good care of this one friend, and on some level it makes it harder for me to believe he killed another one.
LAURIE MAKES MY favorite for dinner, pasta whatever. She seems to add anything lying around into the sauce, and somehow it turns out terrifically. The best part is, she never tells me the ingredients, since if I knew how healthful they were, I probably wouldn’t eat them.