I’d found paper for the project by going to garage sales until I came on an empty journal of about the right vintage for Annie to have kept. Ken took three days over the writing. I didn’t tell anyone, not even Mr. Contreras or Jake, about the project. It’s the kind of story people like to repeat, and it wasn’t one I wanted to hear in a courtroom.
There was some positive fallout. Ira and Eunice Previn’s chauffeur drove them to my office one morning to give me a backhanded thanks for making Joel’s role in Stella’s trial look less inept, or at least more explicable.
“I let my ties to Sol and the temple blind me to all the holes in the case. You were better than us on this one, young lady,” was all Ira said.
“It was more than that,” Eunice said. “We didn’t know—we didn’t want to know. Sol was one of the only people at the temple who took me—took our family—for what it was. Not me being the stereotypical black sexual animal ensnaring Ira, but a man and a woman who respected each other. And Joel—my only child—we wanted so much for him and—”
She broke off, squeezed her eyes shut as if she could blot out the pictures from the past. Ira tried to take her hand but she shook him away.
“I had three miscarriages, and then Joel, and—I wasn’t ready for such a sensitive boy. I—his music, I wish I’d let him follow his music.”
She stood, head erect, spine straight, marched to the door with Ira following more slowly in her wake. I wished I could believe the resolution of the story would send Joel into rehab, but his drinking was such an entrenched part of his life now that I wasn’t optimistic.
There was another, better outcome to the story: Murray decided it was high time someone actually wrote my cousin’s biography. He got a nice advance from Gaudy Press—with Boom-Boom back in the headlines, they thought it was a worthwhile project, assuming Murray could give them a quick turnaround.
As the cold spring turned into summer, I found myself taking refuge in singing. I would play a recording Jake made of counterpoint to Vittoria Aleotti’s madrigals, trying to match my voice to the intervals, sometimes succeeding. Even when I failed, the music, the muscles, the voice brought me a kind of connection to my mother that made the night in the coal dust seem like one more bad dream, nothing more.
In June, Jake came with me to Wrigley Field to see St. Eloy’s play in the Catholic League championship game. Stella, who was there with Betty, Frank and their daughters, looked at me with loathing, but the lithium seemed to be holding—at least she didn’t try to punch me.
Mr. Villard sat on the first-base side so that he could watch Frankie at short. Adelaide was with him, helping him in and out of his seat. At the end of the game, he beamed enthusiastically at Frank and Betty: no promises for the future, a lot can change in a boy’s life, a talented kid at fifteen may have developed as far as he ever will, but he liked what he’d seen; he’d make sure Frankie Junior got a spot in one of the league’s premier talent camps this summer.
A few days later, Mr. Villard came to High Plainsong’s last concert—High Plainsong’s Swan Song, they’d billed it, with medieval songs and music about swans dominating the second half, and me performing a duet with Jake from Vittoria Aleotti’s “Garland of Madrigals,” to end the first.
A few days later, I got a letter from Mr. Villard.
Dear Ms. Warshawski,
I’ve always liked players with guts and determination. They dig deeper, often outlast flashier players. You did a major service to baseball and to the Cubs by exposing Gil Brineruck; you saved my life, and now, your visits bring me a lot of pleasure.
I heard through the grapevine that you lost your car and lost a lot of income this spring. This check is from me, no strings attached, but maybe you can get yourself a nice little car. The other check is for your friend. The only song I can sing is “Take Me Out to the Ball Game,” but he and his musician friends are major leaguers, I can see that, and they deserve to keep their own playing field green.
Two checks fluttered out. Mine would buy me a very nice little car indeed. I wrote Mr. Villard a thank-you note, then sat daydreaming in front of car websites. Muscle car or getting-around-town car?
The front bell roused me. I looked at my security camera monitor: it was Frank. I almost didn’t let him in, but he looked so uncomfortable that I finally released the lock.
Just as it had been when he first showed up in April, it was hard for him to find a way to talk. I sat quietly until he blurted, “Tori, I’m so sorry. You saved Ma. You saved Frankie. I know you almost died because of me, and I can’t even pay your bill.”
“It’s okay, Frank.” I couldn’t meet his eyes.
“I made a big mistake, letting you go.”
“You did the right thing, letting me go. You brought me great comfort when I needed it most, but we weren’t right for each other.”
“Yeah, but—” He broke off, but I could see all the unsaid words on his face: if he’d stayed with me, it all would have turned out differently, he wouldn’t have whiffed the curve, it would be him in Cooperstown, just as Boom-Boom was in Toronto.
“No, Frank,” I said, my voice gentle. “I would have made you a lot unhappier down the road than you ever made me. My dad never cared much for men who rated success by how much money or power they had. To him, a successful man was honest in his public and private affairs. You have four beautiful children, and that’s something I will never have. You’re a good dad to all of them. You go home and remember to feel proud of that.”
“Yeah, okay, yeah.”
I walked him to the door and stood on the sidewalk until he climbed into his truck.
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Table of Contents
Also by Sara Paretsky
Copyright
Dedication
Thanks
Contents
1. SHORTSTOP
2. HOME BASE
3. SLUGGER
4. OUT AT THE PLATE
5. WHIFFING THE CURVE
6. FORCE PLAY
7. CROWD NOISE
8. CALLING TIME
9. MINOR LEAGUE
10. BALK
11. FLEEING THE LIONS
12. BRUSH WORK
13. BUY ME SOME PEANUTS
14. EJECTED
15. INTO THE GAP
16. BRUSH BACK
17. KEEP ON TRUCKIN’
18. BALLPARK CHATTER
19. MY LAST DUCHESS
20. DOG DAYS
21. THE UMPIRE STRIKES BACK
22. THE TOO-REAL THING
23. THE PLAY’S THE THING
24. SHORT RELIEF
25. HIGH AND OUTSIDE
26. ROACH MOTEL
27. DEAD BALL
28. BLOOD SPORT
29. IT AIN’T BEANBAG
30. GAMER GATE
31. ROAD TEST
32. CHIN MUSIC
33. FLORAL OFFERING
34. MIXING IT UP
35. FAMILY TIES
36. CHANGEUP
37. HIGH SPIRITS
38. SUICIDE SQUEEZE
39. PINCH HITTER
40. SOUND CHECK
41. LAND OF THE DEAD
42. STICKBALL
43. DINNER PARTY
44. HIGH AND INSIDE
45. BEHIND IN THE COUNT
46. IN THE MADHOUSE
47. OLYMPIC TRYOUTS
48. RUNDOWN
49. BEANBALL
50. WILD PITCH
51. RIGGING THE GAME
52. SWINGING FOR THE FENCES
53. FIFTEEN-DAY DL
54. LOADING THE BASES
55. MONEY PITCH
56. CLUTCH HITTER
57. STEALING HOME