Double Play (22 page)

“
Then
you’re the only one. I may not understand the terminology, but I
check the run lines for every game and no one from here to Vegas
thought Chicago would make it past three games.”

“
Whatever happened to the little girl who used to root for the
underdog?”

“
She
turned off the cartoons and started watching baseball. Cartoon
canines notwithstanding, underdogs usually lose.”

Quinn rolled his
eyes. “Why even play the games then? ESPN should just call Cat
McDaniel to get their bottom line. Think of all the time that
would
save.”

She pressed her
lips together, refusing
to
let his sarcasm ruffle her. “I’m just saying that
Chicago barely grabbed the wildcard. They were lucky to even make
it into the playoffs. The Soldiers have been the best team in the
division since summer. Unless your feeling came with house money,
you should’ve ignored it. You’d have a fatter wallet right
now.”

And I’d have
my office back
.

She’d never admit
it out loud, but if the Soldiers did lose the next game, it would
have one positive outcome: Quinn could take his winnings and hit
the road.

“
There’s still one more game. I can get it back.”

“
The
momentum’s in our favor.” Cat walked across the living room and
flipped on the balcony light, looking outside the glass doors for
any leftover police gear. “Let’s go outside, I don’t wanna wake
Benji.” She slid open the door and stepped out onto the balcony. It
was chilly, but she still had her wool pea coat on. Her socks
soaked up the cold concrete and she hopped over to a patio chair,
sitting down and pulling her knees up to her chest.

Quinn had draped
the couch afghan around his
hunching
shoulders. He quietly slid the glass door
shut and pulled a plastic patio chair across the balcony,
positioning it next to hers.
He
combed his shaggy reddish-blond locks off his face.
“This
place is pretty decent. I’m glad you’re doing so well for
yourself.”

She gauged him
for a short second to see if he was teasing her. Quinn was so often
sarcastic that his rare moments of sincerity took her by surprise.
He didn’t notice her stare; instead his pale eyes were as big as
moons as he gazed into her living room like a sad kid outside a toy
store window.

“
You
know, you could have a nice apartment like this, too,” she said
softly.

“
Not
with my work. It’s good money but not steady.”

“
Well,
when the money’s good why don’t you save some? That way when times
are tough, it’ll tide you over.”

“
Thanks for the economic lesson. And here I thought Benji was
the teacher.”

She blew out a
puff of air. His sincerity had been nice while it
lasted.

“
Nah,
there’s not a whole lot to save. I cover my nut and the rest gets …
reinvested. That’s just the way it works.”

“
Have
you ever thought about a different line of work?” Cat rushed to
continue before he could protest. “I mean, I could get you a gig at
the stadium. It’s nothing too fancy, but there are always openings
in concessions.”

He scoffed and
looked at her like she’d just suggested he become a gigolo. “I’m
not exactly the hairnet type.”

“
Oh,
the guy sleeping on my secondhand futon is too good to serve
nachos?”

“
I’m a
little old to work concessions.”

“
There’s no age limit.”

“
Are
you telling me you’d slop cheese for minimum wage?”

“
Do
you know how many hot dogs I had to fling before I got to report?”
She realized her voice had risen and took a deep breath, quieting
herself before she incurred the wrath of Mr. Finley. “That’s
how it works for Cabbage Patch Kids like us, Quinn. We can’t just
nepotize our way into a corner office and an expense account. You
gotta put the time in and work your way up.”

“
Sounds like a lot of work.”

“
It
is, but
it’s
worth it in
the long run.” She sighed. “You’re always looking for the easy way
out.”

“
Yeah,
but I really put my time into looking for the easy way out.” His
smile had lost none of its charm.

The guy was hard
to resist when he tried. Sometimes she envied him. Even when times
were good, she didn’t go a day without worrying about something but
Quinn, well, in his own words, “refused to be life’s
bitch.”

She followed his
nonchalant gaze around the apartment yard. Theirs was the only
illuminated balcony in the complex, but the street lamps flooded
the empty parking lot beneath them with light.

“
You
know, when we moved in here, the landlord showed us two units, but
the other one didn’t have a balcony. Benji wanted to go with this
one so he could grow tomatoes out here in the springtime. I can’t
help but think if I’d just told him to go to the stinking Farmer’s
Market instead, Ryan Brokaw never would’ve fallen and
then—”

“
Oh,
Jesus. Don’t beat yourself up over that. The guy isn’t dead; he
just broke his chicken wing.”

She expected
Benji not to get it, but Quinn watched sports, he played
sports … he should understand the repercussions of a star
player being benched before the playoffs. She figured he did, but
he just didn’t care. That was to be expected, after all. When you
didn’t take your own life seriously, how could you see the value of
someone else’s?

“
A
playoff appearance can be a once in a lifetime opportunity for a
ballplayer. I feel like I took that away from him. I know that’s
what everyone thinks.”

Quinn shivered
and wrapped the blanket tighter around his shoulders. “Who cares?
You have no reason to feel guilty, Cat. He took the playoffs away
from himself because he was acting like a drunken douchebag. The
sooner you realize that, the sooner you can just start telling
people to back off.”

“
I
guess.”

She knew he was
right but unlike Quinn, Cat was life’s bitch. Worse, she was
baseball’s bitch.

Quinn nudged her
chair leg with his foot. “Benji tell you that nosy pig was here
again, sniffing around the apartment like it was a donut
shop?”

She’d been
waiting for the perfect time to broach the subject and now met his
eyes, ready give him her pitch. It had occurred to her on the
flight home that the only way she and Benji could get rid of the
detective was by getting Quinn to cooperate.

“
Detective Kahn? Yeah. Benji called me in the middle of a press
conference last night. Did you talk to him?”

“
He
left another card but I don’t have anything to say to
him.”

“
Well,
I’m going to need you to tell him that.”

He looked away
and she reached out to touch him lightly on the
shoulder.

“
I
really need your help on this. He keeps coming around the stadium,
Quinn. It makes it hard for me to tell people I didn’t do anything
wrong with a cop on my heels.”

He didn’t
respond. The balcony air fell quiet except for a few gusts of
chilly wind swirling around the siblings.

“
I
know why you don’t want to talk to the cops. Trust me, I get
it.”

“
Get
out of my head, Cat.”

“
I’m
not in your head, I’m only saying that I don’t like dealing with
them, either. The McDaniels haven’t had the best experiences with
the justice system.”

He scoffed.
“That’s like saying the Cubs haven’t had the best experiences with
championships.”

Cat ignored his
attempt to get her off topic. “
But
this cop isn’t going to
stop until he’s satisfied and right now he thinks we’re all hiding
something because you keep avoiding him. So can’t you just talk to
him?”

“
I
don’t know.”

“
I’m
not asking you to do anything. It’s one phone call.”

“
Yeah,
right. You open the door of communication with these guys and they
won’t leave you alone. They’re like telemarketers, except instead
of getting a week in a timeshare, I’m getting a week in Erie County
lockup.”

“
Come
on, you didn’t do anything wrong. Just tell him what happened, no
matter how many times he asks, and eventually he’ll go
away.”

“
Jeez.” Quinn took a long look at the night sky before meeting
her gaze
with regretful green
eyes
. “Fine, I’ll call him tomorrow.”

Relief flooded
over her. She clasped her hands together and bowed her head toward
him. “Thank you.”

“
Anything for you, Sis.” He smirked. “Maybe I’ll even offer to
meet him for coffee and a donut, the oink-oink special.”

She rose to her
feet and patted his head softly. Her luck was running out and it
was best not to push it any further. “I’m going to bed. See you
tomorrow.”

Cat tapped the
pointy
toes of her
burgundy ankle
boots
together as she waited in the plastic chair outside of Roger’s
office. His secretary, Aimee, was gone for the day, as was most of
the building staff. They had a day in between games and Roger had
encouraged everyone to take it off. Of course, that didn’t include
him or, after a text message woke her up, her.

He’d asked her to
come in as soon as she could but here he was, making her wait in
the lobby for fifteen minutes in front of his closed door. That was
unusual in itself. He never shut his office door. The only other
time she’d seen it closed was when Melissa Staats had met with him
over Damien’s disappearance. The wait was even stranger. He never
made her wait.
Roger
never made anyone wait. That was one of the reasons he was so
popular in the league. Baseball was a world where people were
ranked both on the field and off—priority went to the exceptional
players first, then the front office bigwigs, any reporters from
the national media, the good to average players, particularly
attractive members of the marketing department, and last and least,
media personnel with juicy scoops. No one else merited a hello in
the hallway, let alone office time. Roger Aiken was the exception.
He treated everyone as his equal.

His graciousness
was what made it so ironic that his daughter had been biggity,
brash, bratty and a couple of other B words Cat was too polite to
say. Of course that had been before their little adventure together
in Santo Domingo. Paige was a changed person now, or at least it
had seemed that way the last time Cat had seen her. Witnessing a
murder and narrowly escaping death yourself will do that to you.
Cat knew firsthand. And although the current situation wasn’t
pleasant and might result in the end of yet another job,
at least
her life wasn’t
at stake.

Be grateful
for small blessings
.

She peeked at the
wall clock again. Twenty minutes had passed. She wondered if this
was the kind leader’s passive-aggressive way of reprimanding her.
That’s how nice guys operate. Benji had never yelled at her, but
after he’d found out she’d covered for Spencer, he given her an
hour of the silent treatment. She preferred a shouting
match.

Finally, Roger’s
door whooshed open and she jumped to her feet, startled. Joel Faulk
shot out of the doorway and nearly ran into her as he sprinted to
the hallway.

“
Joel!
Whoa!” She held her hands up defensively. “You off to a burning
building now?”

“
Huh?”
His brow furrowed as though he was trying to register who she
was.

Cat gave him a
tentative smile, puzzled by his befuddlement.

“
You
okay?”

“
Oh,
hi, Cat.”

“
Where’s the fire?”

“
N-nothing. I gotta go.”

He took off
toward the hallway before she could say anything further. Roger
stepped out of the doorframe. “Cat, sorry to make you
wait.”

Cat took one look
at the
puffy
bags under
his
dark
eyes and knew
it hadn’t been on purpose. Not even the morning after the Hudson
wedding—when Roger had passed out in the Hudson’s gazebo with
Kiki’s garter on his head—had Roger looked this slag. Cat, along
with every other member of the Soldiers, had that image indelibly
imprinted in her brain.

“
That’s okay. What’s up?”

“
Why
don’t you come inside? This is a private matter.”

She shot another
look back into the waiting room. It was empty and she imagined most
of the front office was, but she followed him inside and shut the
door behind her.

Roger pointed at
his couch. “Have a seat. We need to talk.”

Cat wanted to
throw up. Nothing good ever followed those words. No one says, “We
need to talk, you’re getting a raise,” or “We need to talk. You’re
getting a corner office.”

“
I got
a call from Detective Kahn this morning.”