“What do we do now?” Stevie said.
“First thing is pretty easy,” Kelleher said. “We check with the Braves to see if Joe Molloy played in Sumter.”
He pulled out his cell phone and hit a few buttons. “Here it is,” he said. “Bill Acree.”
Without explaining who Bill Acree was, Bobby dialed. Stevie heard a voice on the other end of the phone say, “I’m watching Georgia play Tennessee, why in the world are you calling me?”
Clearly, Bill Acree was a good friend of Kelleher’s. “How close are you to halftime?” Kelleher asked, then nodded at the answer. “When you get there, I need you to check on whether someone played for you guys at Sumter in 1993 or even ’92 or ’94.” He paused again before saying, “Joe Molloy.” He thanked Acree, said, “Go, Dogs,” and hung up the phone.
“Who’s Bill Acree?”
“He’s the Braves’ traveling secretary,” Kelleher said. “Old friend. Very smart guy. He’ll check on Molloy at halftime and call me back. He said the name sounded familiar.”
“So if Morra is telling the truth, what do we do next?”
Kelleher shook his head. “You’re not going to like it.”
Stevie looked at him. “You’re kidding.”
“Is there any choice? You have to go back and talk to Molloy again, and you might have to try to talk to Hatley again too.”
“Oh joy,” Stevie said.
“Don’t panic. We’ll get you some help.”
Stevie let out a sigh of relief. He would definitely feel better going back to Lynchburg if he had a grown-up with him.
“Can the paper spare someone right now?” he said.
“Don’t think so,” Kelleher said. “But the Post might be able to spring a freelancer.”
“Susan Carol?” Stevie said. “I doubt she’d want to go.”
“I’ll bet different,” Kelleher said. “We’ll tell her what happened when we get to the ballpark. I think you guys can stay for the game tonight and then go down tomorrow morning. You still have the card for that cabdriver in Lynchburg? I’ll bet he’ll help you again. Just tell him this time you’re going to pay him.”
Stevie nodded. He suddenly felt very tired. He’d felt so good about mending fences with Susan Carol in the morning. He had thought he was back at the series for good. And he felt so comfortable and safe in the newsroom. Now he would be back on the train in the morning. If Susan Carol went too, it wouldn’t be so bad. Jim Hatley probably wouldn’t sic his dog on her.
The phone on Kelleher’s desk rang.
“Halftime already?” Kelleher said. He pulled out a pen and began scribbling on a notepad in front of him. “Got it, thanks a million. I’ll tell you the whole story very soon.”
He hung up and looked at his notes. “Joseph Wilson Molloy. Signed out of high school by the Braves. Spent four years in the organization: one year of rookie ball in ’92, a year at Sumter in ’93 and two years in Greenville. Released at the end of the ’95 season.”
“So Molloy’s a liar too.”
“Apparently. Lying cops really piss me off. And this many lies usually means there’s a serious story. You’re going to have to go back, I’m afraid.”
“This week just keeps getting better,” Stevie said.
“Relax,” Kelleher said. “You’ve got Susan Carol back on your side. And you guys are undefeated.”
“We’ll see,” Stevie said. He wasn’t sure if Susan Carol was actually back on his side. And he was really sure that he was a long way from undefeated. His burning cheek confirmed that.
They made reservations on the 9:00 train, the first one available on a Sunday. Kelleher called Tamara to ask her to get to Nationals Park a little earlier than normal so the four of them could find a quiet place to talk. Kelleher and Stevie pulled into the press parking lot at four-thirty-four hours before game time.
“You’re here early, Bobby,” the parking attendant said as they pulled into the lot.
They walked up the sidewalk that commemorated historic moments in Washington baseball history. Stevie couldn’t help but notice there weren’t too many of them.
Once inside the ballpark, they rode the elevator to the sixth floor and found Tamara and Susan Carol waiting for them in what was the media dining area during the regular season.
Stevie noticed that Susan Carol was drinking another cup of coffee. “How many is that for you today?” he asked, pointing at the cup.
“Not enough,” she answered. “These late-night games are killing me.”
“Speaking of which, I could use some,” Kelleher said, making his way to the small food-service area, where a large coffeepot sat in the corner. No one else was in the room except for a couple of Nationals employees who were getting set up for later.
“So,” Kelleher said to Stevie, “tell the girls about your lunch.”
Stevie did, and noticed Susan Carol wince when he got to the part about the slap. When he had finished, including Bobby’s conversation with Bill Acree about Joe Molloy, Tamara shook her head in disbelief.
“There are just no truth tellers in this story, are there?” she said.
“There’s only one thing we know for sure,” Susan Carol said. “This ain’t no kids’ movie.”
Stevie laughed. It was the Susan Carol he knew.
“So what do you think, Bobby? Another trip to Lynchburg?” Tamara said.
“Yes,” Kelleher said. “But I don’t think Stevie should go alone.”
“I agree,” Susan Carol said instantly. “I’ll go with him.”
Stevie was amazed. In under twenty-four hours she had gone from storming out of the kitchen never to speak to him again to helping him chase the story. Susan Carol read the look on his face.
“Look, we’re way past anything David told me in Boston,” she said. “There was no Joe Molloy in his story and no police report full of all sorts of contradictions and questions that weren’t answered. There was just this horrible tragedy in which all four of them were victims. I still think it’s sad and awful, but the story he told me is not the real story. And off the record only counts if your source is telling you the truth, isn’t that right?”
“Absolutely right,” Tamara said.
Susan Carol nodded. “In that case, I think two of us down there is better than one, especially if we have to go see that Hatley guy again.”
“How well does your cabbie friend know Hatley?” Kelleher asked Stevie.
“I’m not sure. A little bit, anyway,” he said.
“I think you should ask if he can call Hatley and see if he’ll meet you someplace, so there’s no issue about trespassing or dogs.”
“What should we do about Molloy?” Stevie said. “Should we have Miles call him too?”
“Absolutely not,” Kelleher said. “If he knows you’re coming back, his antenna will go up that something’s wrong. You need to just show up on his doorstep.”
“Are we worried that we’ll be followed or watched?” Susan Carol said. “After Stevie’s lunch with Morra, they’re bound to be worried that we’re going to keep going after the story.”
“Glad you brought that up,” Kelleher said. “I think we need to throw some misdirection at them.”
“How?” Susan Carol asked.
“You still in touch with David?”
“Yes,” she said. “He’s been texting me, I think trying to figure out what you and Stevie have been up to.”
“Good. Send him a text saying something like, ‘Bobby and Stevie have decided not to pursue this until after the series is over-if then.’”
“You think he’ll buy that?” Stevie asked.
“Not sure,” Kelleher said. “But it’s worth a try.”
“Let’s hope,” Stevie said.
“Okay then,” Kelleher said, standing up. “Let’s do something different for a few hours: let’s concentrate on baseball.”