“About what?” DeSoto said.
Stevie looked at Susan Carol. She squared her shoulders. “How about if we ask it this way: what, if anything, can you tell us about Norbert’s relationship with Officer Jim Hatley?”
The smile returned. “His relationship with Jim? Hell, he probably wouldn’t be alive if not for Jim Hatley. The number of nights Jim drove him home from here when he was drunk are almost countless. I remember one night the two of us couldn’t even stand him up. I had to throw the poor guy over my shoulder to get him to the car. How Jim got him inside his house, I have no idea.”
“So Jim didn’t drink with him then?” Stevie asked.
DeSoto laughed again just as the door opened and Amber came in carrying a tray full of food and drinks. She cleared space on a table next to DeSoto’s desk and set up the food. She put down a plate with a healthy-looking steak on it for Miles.
“Amber, I didn’t ask for anything,” Miles said.
“I know,” she said, smiling at him. “But I know what you like.”
She walked out, leaving Miles looking a little bit red-faced. Stevie was curious but knew this wasn’t the time to ask Miles any personal questions.
“You were saying about Jim Hatley,” Susan Carol said, taking a sip from her lemonade.
“Jim never drank in here after work-never,” DeSoto said. “He came for the food and the company. That summer he just more or less adopted Norbert because the kid needed help. He was the one who got him to go to rehab after the accident.”
“What do you know about Joe Molloy’s relationship with Analise Doyle?” Susan Carol asked, switching subjects on a dime.
DeSoto shrugged. “Not much. I know that he had dated her before she ended up with Norbert, but to be honest, I don’t remember if I found that out before she died or-”
He stopped in midsentence and smacked himself in the forehead. “I can’t believe I forgot about that,” he said, almost to himself.
“Forgot about what?” Susan Carol said.
“The night of the accident, Joe Molloy was in here.”
“Afterward?” Susan Carol said.
“No. Before. He came in for dinner and sat at the bar. I remember asking him if he had the night off, because he was having a glass of wine with his dinner. I was surprised when he said he had the graveyard shift, because it wasn’t like Joe to drink at all, much less drink before he went on duty.”
“Did he drink a lot that night?” Stevie asked.
“I don’t know,” DeSoto said. “I wasn’t working the bar, I just stopped to talk for a minute. He might have only had the one glass of wine. Even that surprised me. Like I said, he was never a drinker-still isn’t, in all the years I’ve known him.”
This was an interesting twist to the story-or maybe not. Maybe it was another meaningless scrap of information. But what was truly important was that DeSoto had confirmed Jim Hatley’s version of his relationship with Doyle. They finished their food and thanked him for his time.
“What kind of story do you plan to write?” he asked as they stood to leave.
“Honestly? We have no idea,” Susan Carol said. “There’s one more person to talk to, and if he won’t tie up the loose ends, then they can’t be tied.”
“Joe Molloy?” DeSoto said.
Susan Carol shook her head. “Norbert Doyle,” she said. She reached across the desk to shake his hand. “Thanks very much for the meal. And the conversation.” She turned to Stevie. “We need to go catch that train.”
Miles Hoy tried hard to turn down the hundred-dollar bill Kelleher had given Stevie that morning to pass on to him.
“I’m not allowed back in Washington if I’m still carrying this money,” Stevie said. “You’ve more than earned it.”
“I’ll take it on one condition,” Miles said. “You invite me to Philly for a game next year and Susan Carol comes up for the game too.”
“Done,” they both said. Hugs were exchanged and they made the train with about a minute to spare.
As soon as they were settled, Stevie called Kelleher, who was headed to the ballpark. “What’s the weather like back there?” Stevie asked.
“Lousy,” he said. “It’s drizzling right now and cold. They say the rain will clear off but the temperature will probably be in the forties for the game.”
Stevie groaned at the thought. He walked Kelleher step by step through their afternoon. When he was finished, Kelleher sighed.
“Let’s assume that Hatley’s version is the truth,” he said. “That would mean Molloy has now lied twice. Is there more that we don’t know? That he’s not telling us?”
Stevie thought. “Well, if he knows that going straight to the restaurant rather than just calling Hatley might have been the difference…”
“Then he’s got a lot to feel guilty about,” Kelleher said. “It’s bad police work, and really bad human work. It probably would hurt his career. And it could hurt his reputation even more, especially with Norbert Doyle being a national hero right now.”
“Why wouldn’t he just tell us about it off the record?” Stevie said.
“With his wife maybe listening around a corner?” Kelleher said. “I doubt he’s ever told her or anyone else the truth, if that’s what the truth is. Plus, you guys told him he couldn’t go off the record today, right?”
“True,” Stevie said. “So, what do we do now?”
“We wait until tomorrow and find a way to talk to Norbert Doyle. Whether he’ll tell the truth is a completely different question.”
Stevie hung up and filled Susan Carol in on what Kelleher had said. Which reminded him of something.
“The thing you knew that you didn’t want to tell me last night,” he said. “It was rehab, right?”
She nodded. “Yes. Now that three different people told you about it today, I’m off the hook. I never broke my word to David, and you’ve got the story anyway.”
“I’m not so sure what we’ve got,” he said.
“We’re close,” she said. “I think Bobby’s right. There is a missing piece to the puzzle. Molloy is still lying for some reason, and Doyle or Felkoff or both didn’t want us talking to Hatley because he might tell us the truth.”
“But the part Molloy seems to be lying about makes him look bad, not Doyle,” Stevie said. “Molloy and Hatley both agreed that Norbert shouldn’t have been driving and probably caused the accident because he was drunk.”
Susan Carol nodded. “You’re right. The big difference is that in the Molloy version he’s the hero because he forced Doyle to go to rehab. In the Hatley version he and Norbert decided that on the night of the accident.”
“Seems to me we’re splitting hairs here-especially in terms of what the public outside of Lynchburg, Virginia, cares about.”
“Good point,” she said.
Stevie reopened The Great Gatsby, hoping to get some serious reading done before they got back to Washington. It wasn’t a very long book if he could just focus for a while. Susan Carol was working on her computer, finishing her paper, writing along as if it were a ball game sidebar. He decided to try to finish his book before the train pulled back into Union Station.
Twenty minutes later he closed the book after having read about two pages. He couldn’t stop thinking about Doyle and Molloy and Hatley and Analise and David and Morra. He must have dropped off, because Susan Carol roused him as the bright lights of the station came into view.
“Come on, Sleeping Beauty,” she said. “With luck, we’ll be at the park in time for first pitch.”
They actually walked in during the national anthem, drawing comments from their seatmates about how nice it was of them to show up.
“Believe it or not, we had to catch up on our schoolwork today,” Susan Carol said as they sat down. “We’re only moonlighting here, you know.” In her case, at least, there was some truth in what she was saying.
Game five, unfortunately, was a lot like game one, except that the weather was miserable. Even wearing a sweater and a rain jacket, Stevie found himself shivering as the temperature kept dropping.