Change-up (21 page)

Stevie saw Miles smile in the rearview mirror.

It started to rain en route to the Molloy house. “I hope this isn’t a harbinger,” Susan Carol said.

“I think you and I working together again is a harbinger of
good
things,” Stevie said.

“Why, Stevie, you
do
say the sweetest thangs.”

“Stop it, Scarlett,” he said, a wide grin on his face.

They pulled up to a brick two-story house at the far end of a quiet cul-de-sac.

“Do we have a plan here?” Stevie asked as they pulled up.

“Do we ever have a plan?” Susan Carol answered.

She had a point.

“I’ll be right here,” Miles Hoy said.

They jumped out and hustled up to the front porch to get out of the rain.

“Ready?” Susan Carol said.

Stevie nodded. She rang the doorbell. They waited. Several seconds went by. Stevie heard a dog bark. Oh please, he thought, not another dog. Finally the door was opened by an attractive woman of about forty wearing what was no doubt her Sunday go-to-church dress.

“Hi,” she said. “May I help you?”

“Mrs. Molloy?” Stevie said, just to be sure.

“Yes?” she said.

Susan Carol, as usual, took over from there. “Mrs. Molloy, my name is Susan Carol Anderson, and this is Steve Thomas. We’re reporters covering—”

“Kidsports!”
Mrs. Molloy said. “I recognize you both! Hey, come in. The kids will be thrilled to meet you!”

Stevie had been uncertain what kind of reception they might get at the Molloys’, but a hero’s welcome was not on the list he had made in his head.

“Well, we really don’t want to bother you …,” Susan Carol said.

“No, no, please come in, it’s starting to rain hard out there.”

She ushered them into the front hallway. “Joe, Joey, Denise, come out here, we’ve got surprise visitors,” she called toward the back of the house.

Joe Molloy, still wearing a white shirt and tie, and two neatly dressed kids, maybe eleven and nine, Stevie guessed, appeared in the hall.

“Steve?” Joe Molloy said. “Is that you? What brings you back here?”

Before Stevie could attempt an answer, his wife was introducing her two kids. “This is Joey, he’s a seventh grader,” she said. “And Denise is in fifth. They both used to love your show.”

Stevie and Susan Carol thanked them for watching and shook hands with both of them. “Hey, kids, why don’t you go find some paper and pens so you can get autographs,” Joe Molloy said. That seemed a bit much to Stevie, but the kids both scrambled off to find paper and pens.

“So what brings the two of you back to Lynchburg on a rainy Sunday afternoon?” Molloy asked.

“We’re really sorry to just show up like this, Chief, but we need some more help on the story you talked to Steve about on Friday,” Susan Carol said. She had been in full Scarlett mode since Mrs. Molloy opened the door.

Molloy shrugged. “Sure. I’m not sure what else I could tell you, but I’ll try.”

The kids came back with pens and paper. Stevie and Susan Carol both signed, writing the kids’ names and “Best wishes.”

Susan Carol looked around. “Is there someplace quiet we can talk?” she said. “Given the subject matter …”

Molloy nodded. “I understand. Follow me.” He turned to his wife, who had come back after the kids had retreated to the family room. “Nance, we’ll be on the back porch. Give us a few minutes, okay?”

“Of course,” she said. “Anyone thirsty?”

“We’re fine,” Susan Carol said. “Thanks, though.”

They followed Molloy to the back porch, which was
screened in. It was chilly but dry, and they sat on comfortable chairs. Stevie was very glad he’d worn a sweater and a rain jacket.

“Little bit cold,” Molloy said. “But private. So, what exactly can I do for you kids?”

Susan Carol looked at Stevie. Since he had talked to Molloy on Friday, it was really up to him to start. Stevie took a deep breath.

“Chief, after we talked Friday, I went back to Washington,” he said, “and as you can imagine, we’re doing research on everyone involved in this story—”

“And you found out that I played with Doyle in Sumter,” Molloy said. “I knew I should have brought that up when we talked.”

“Why didn’t you?” Susan Carol asked, her tone soft and nonaccusatory.

Molloy shook his head as if to say he didn’t know. “Good question,” he said finally. “I assume we’re under the same ground rules as Friday?”

Stevie shook his head. “Not telling the truth changes things a little,” he said. “We need the truth now, and we need to be able to use the information you give us. We’ll check with you first if we need to quote you specifically on something, though.”

Kelleher had briefed him on how to handle this. “Rules of protecting sources are fairly basic,” he said. “As long as they tell you the truth, you protect them. You catch them in a lie, all bets are off.”

Molloy leaned forward for a moment, and Stevie
wondered if perhaps he’d been too rough and they were going to get thrown out of the house.

“That’s not unfair,” he said finally.

Susan Carol reached into the purse she was carrying and pulled out a tape recorder. “So we get it right,” she said. “Okay?”

“Okay,” Molloy said as she turned the tape on and put it down in front of where he was sitting.

“After you left, Steve, I almost tried to call you because it occurred to me that you’d have to talk to Norbert eventually, and when you mentioned my name, the fact that we played together in Sumter was bound to come up,” he said, his voice calm and measured.

“Actually, we haven’t spoken to him yet,” Stevie said.

“Then who—”

“Doesn’t really matter,” Stevie said. “But it does raise some issues. You told me you didn’t follow baseball, didn’t even know who Norbert Doyle was. That kind of goes beyond forgetting to mention you were teammates.”

“You’re right,” Molloy said. “And I suppose whoever told you we were teammates also told you that Analise and I dated before she and Norbert met.”

“That did come up,” Susan Carol said. “The version of the story we heard was that you wanted to nail Norbert Doyle for Analise’s death, and that Jim Hatley wouldn’t let you do it.”

He shook his head. “It wasn’t nearly that simple,” he said. “Whoever gave you that version is leaving a lot of facts out.”

“Why don’t you fill us in,” Stevie said.

Molloy sighed and looked at the tape recorder. It seemed to Stevie as if he was making a decision.

“Okay,” he said finally. “I
was
upset with Norbert—obviously. Everyone in town knew he was a drinker. But I didn’t try to nail him. I didn’t really want the truth about that night to come out either.”

“What is the truth?” Susan Carol said quietly.

“The truth is that he didn’t belong behind the wheel that night, and I knew it.”

“You mean because you smelled alcohol on his breath at the scene?”

“No, I knew it
before
the accident.”

“How?”

“I got a call from the manager at the restaurant where Norbert and Analise were having dinner. He said they’d had a fight and that Norbert had had a lot to drink. I told him to keep them there and that I would come and drive them home.

“I got there about two minutes too late.”

“And this manager will confirm your story?” Stevie asked.

Molloy shook his head. “I don’t know. His name was Tom Barton. He left town years ago. I have no idea where he is now.”

“Is there anyone who can confirm the story?” Susan Carol put in.

Molloy smiled sadly. “Jim Hatley. But I don’t think he’s likely to talk to you two anytime soon. There might still be
a record of the restaurant’s call in about a drunk patron, I don’t know.”

Stevie and Susan Carol looked at each other. “So the part about you being first on the scene …,” Stevie said.

“Is true,” Molloy said. “I was closest to the scene because I was still at the restaurant when the call came in.

“I was probably as much of a wreck when Jim showed up as Doyle was. That’s why he sent me away to go tell the babysitter. Jim showed me the report the next day and said to me, ‘He’s going to have to live with the guilt the rest of his life.’ I felt pretty guilty myself, so I said I’d go along on one condition.”

“What was that?” Susan Carol asked.

“That he get Norbert into rehab. He agreed.”

“So what was the purpose of your lies on Friday?” Stevie asked. “Why embroider the story for me?”

Molloy sighed again. “I was being both stupid and selfish, I guess. Stupid to think the truth wouldn’t come out. Selfish because I want to be chief. And if it becomes public knowledge that Jim and I knew Norbert was drunk and that we let it slide, and then basically falsified the report, I’m done. They can’t touch Jim—he’s retired. I might not get fired, but I’ll never be chief now. I probably don’t deserve to be chief.”

He stopped and looked away, clearly upset.

Stevie looked at Susan Carol, who gave a tiny shake of her head to indicate he shouldn’t ask another question right at that moment. Molloy broke the silence.

“If Norbert had not been an alcoholic, Analise would
be alive today. If the restaurant manager had kept them there longer, or if I’d gotten there …” Molloy paused again and sighed. “Look, I give him credit because I think he’s stayed sober since rehab. He
did
go out and turn his life around after that night. But it doesn’t change what happened.”

This was the first Stevie had heard of Norbert’s going to rehab. If Susan Carol was surprised, she didn’t show it.

“But why do
you
feel guilty?” Susan Carol said. “You got there as fast as you could. You helped get the guy into rehab. Yes, you let him off the hook on the accident, but your intentions, it seems to me, were good.”

“Well.
Did
I get there as fast as I could? I didn’t turn the siren on and speed to the restaurant. It didn’t seem that urgent. It’s hard not to think of all the ways you might have done it differently when someone ends up dead….”

Molloy shook his head again. “That’s not even the point, though, really. We all knew Norbert Doyle did a lot of drinking and driving. We should have stopped him
before
someone died.”

The tape clicked, indicating it needed to be flipped over. Susan Carol leaned forward and turned it off.

“I think we’re done,” she said. “For now. We’ll be back in touch before we write, and we may call if we have follow-up questions. I’m sorry to have to dredge all this up again.”

They walked in silence to the door and shook hands briefly and said goodbye. The rain was still pelting down as Molloy closed the door behind them. Miles Hoy’s cab was
at the curb waiting for them. They sprinted for the car, dove in through the back door, and were surprised to see someone sitting in the front seat next to Miles.

“Miles?” Susan Carol said before the man swung around so that Stevie could see his face.

“Oh my God!” Stevie yelled.

“Don’t panic, kid, everything’s going to be fine,” Jim Hatley said. “Miles, my house please. The fare is on me.”

MILES HOY PULLED AWAY
from the curb and had driven to the corner before Stevie recovered from his shock and found his voice again.

“Miles, what’s this about?” he said. “Are you in on this too?”

Hatley laughed. “Miles isn’t in on anything,” he said. “Nancy Molloy called me and said you kids were talking to Joe. She’s scared because Joe’s scared. She asked me if I would talk to you because she’s afraid you won’t believe Joe.”

“Why wouldn’t we believe him?” Susan Carol asked.

“Because he lied to you on Friday,” Hatley said. “He called me that night to ask me why I ran you off. Then he told me he panicked and lied to you.”

“So you two are friends?” Stevie asked, becoming more incredulous by the minute.

“No, not at all,” Hatley said. “But he told me you snooping around could be trouble for Norbert Doyle. And
he
was my friend, once upon a time.”

“So what did happen that night?” Stevie said. “What’s the truth?”

Hatley held a hand up. “Let’s wait until we get to my house. You can run a tape recorder once we get there.”

“So you’ll talk to us on the record?” Stevie said.

“I will
only
talk to you on the record.”

They drove in silence through the rain until they came to Brill’s Lane, which Stevie recognized immediately. His stomach churned a little bit at the memory of the great dog chase. Hoy pulled into the driveway.

“You stay here, Miles,” Hatley said.

“I think maybe I should come in,” Miles said.

“I understand,” Hatley said. “But you stay here. The kids will be fine.”

Stevie wasn’t so sure he wanted to take Hatley at his word, but the look on his face made it clear that Miles wasn’t going to be welcome inside.

“It’s all right, Miles, we’ll be okay,” Stevie said.

“Don’t worry,” Hatley said, climbing out of the cab. “Remember, I came looking for them, not the other way around. This won’t take long. You can probably make it back to Washington for the game tonight.”

He got out and started walking into the house. Stevie
looked at Susan Carol. They could easily get away right now. “Should I take off?” Miles said.

“No,” Susan Carol said. “We need to talk to him anyway. Let’s go, Stevie.”

They both followed Hatley up his front steps and into the house, which was apparently unlocked. He led them into a large living room with a high ceiling and a large fireplace. Hatley gestured for them to sit, then tossed a couple of logs into the fireplace and knelt to light them.

“You kids want anything to drink?” he said once the fire was started, acting as if they were old friends who had dropped by for a Sunday visit.

“Thanks, we’re fine,” Susan Carol said.

“Actually, I’d like a Coke if you have one,” Stevie said. He was thirsty and he wanted a moment alone with Susan Carol.

“Be right back,” Hatley said.

He walked off, presumably to the kitchen.

“Why do I feel like this is another setup?” Stevie hissed at Susan Carol.

“Stay calm,” she said. “He clearly wants to talk, so we’ll let him talk. Maybe we’ll even believe him….”