I check through my messages before we leave, just in case someone else has called to confess to the Preston murder. No such luck, and within a half hour Adam and I are in the car heading to Charlie’s.
On the way Adam says, “I need to create an arc for you.”
“An ark? Like a boat?”
He shakes his head. “No, a character arc. That’s all movie executives care about. The character has to change, develop during the script. Have an arc.”
“I pretty much haven’t changed since I was eleven years old,” I say. “Wait a minute… I just started eating mushrooms a few months ago. And I’ve got a couple of hairs growing on my left ear… that’s new…”
He laughs. “I don’t think that’ll do it.”
“So how can I help?”
“What about if you had a disease?” he asks.
“I don’t think I want to help that bad.”
“No,” he says, “what about if I create a disease for you to have while you’re handling the Miller trial? Life-threatening, but you don’t let it stop you. You’re fighting for your life and Willie’s at the same time, staring your own mortality and his right in the face.”
“How does that help you?” I ask.
“It’s a catalyst for your change… your arc. Gives you a new perspective… that kind of thing. Terms of Endearment meets Anatomy of a Murder.”
“I don’t like it,” I say, “but as long as the pipe is going to take the whole project into the sewer, I don’t care either way.”
He takes this as a yes. “You got any preference? I mean, for the disease.”
I think about it for a moment; it isn’t every day one gets to pick the ailment he will heroically fight. “Just something that doesn’t hurt and can’t be sexually transmitted.”
He nods. “That makes sense.”
* * * * *
VINCE IS WAITING for us at our regular table when we get to Charlie’s. He’s watching a Mets-Yankees interleague game on the large-screen TV, and the first thing I do is look at the score, which will be a sure predictor of his mood. Vince is a die-hard Mets fan, but the Yankees are ahead 5-1. It could get ugly.
At least for the moment Vince has nothing obnoxious to say, because he has a hamburger stuffed into his mouth. All of us, Laurie, Pete, Vince, myself… we all have different reasons why Charlie’s is our favorite restaurant. Vince’s reason is that when he orders a hamburger, they don’t assume he wants it with cheese. Other restaurants start with the cheeseburger, and that’s what you get unless you specifically direct them to remove the cheese. Vince says that the historic status quo in America is just a hamburger, no cheese, and he resents that the cheese-ites, as he calls them, have taken over. Vince needs some significant therapy.
I introduce Adam to Vince and explain Adam’s presence. Vince, no doubt anticipating his portrayal in the movie, flashes the charming side of his personality, which in his case means eliminating most grunting and spitting. Once we get the pleasantries and ordering of our food and beer out of the way, I try to get to the heart of the matter. Laurie is waiting for me at home, and that is a far more appealing prospect than this boys-night-out.
“So tell me about Schilling,” I say.
As if on cue, Adam takes out his notepad and pen, causing Vince to give me a wary glance. “It’s okay,” I say, “he’s sworn to secrecy.”
Vince nods, though he doesn’t seem convinced. “You screwed me by giving away that story on Quintana.”
“We’ve been through that,” I say. “I apologized. I begged for your forgiveness.”
He sneers. “That was all bullshit.”
I have the advantage of knowing that Vince can never stay mad at me. I defended his son, Daniel, last year on another headline-making case. Daniel was accused of being a serial killer of women, when in fact the actual killer was contacting him and providing information that would eventually frame him. I won an acquittal, though Daniel was subsequently murdered by the real killer. In the process I learned some secrets about Daniel that would hurt Vince terribly if ever publicly revealed. All in all, the episode won me “friend points” with Vince that can never be erased.
Vince finally gets around to what he has to tell me. “I’ve got something on your boy. In return I want to be your media contact until this is over. You got a story to plant, I’m your gardener.”
“What if what you have isn’t good? What if I know it already?”
“Then the deal is off,” he says, which both surprises and worries me, since he’s confident his bad news is significant.
“Fine,” I say as the waitress arrives with our beer.
“Six years ago Schilling was involved in another shooting death.”
Adam reacts, almost coughing up his beer. “Tell me about it,” I say to Vince, though I dread hearing it.
“He went out hunting with some buddies, in a town called Hemmings, about two hours outside of Milwaukee. One of the group got shot.”
“By who?” I ask.
“They couldn’t pin it on anybody… finally classified it as an accident. But there are people that believed Schilling was involved. He had argued with the dead guy an hour before it happened.”
If this piece of news is as Vince describes it, I instinctively know three things. One, this is not good. Two, it will come out whether Vince breaks the story or not. And three, when it comes out, it will create a media firestorm, further messing with prospective jurors’ minds. “Can you give me the particulars? Names, places…”
Vince takes out a piece of paper from his coat pocket and hands it to me. “You’ve got three days to find out what you can before the shit hits the fan.”
It’s very important to me that I get on this before the entire world is after the same information I am. “Three days? Come on, Vince, you can do better than that.”
He shakes his head. “Nope. I go with it on Monday. Somebody could be beating me to it right now.”
I inhale my hamburger and beer and head home, leaving Adam behind to hang out with Vince. It’ll be a clash of the titans, Adam’s irresistible upbeat enthusiasm versus Vince’s immovable grouchiness. Adam may be in over his head. My guess is that within an hour Vince’ll have him writing The Vince Sanders Story.
Laurie is waiting for me when I get home, and I’m anxious to talk to her about the information Vince has given me. Laurie, it turns out, is anxious to have sex. I weigh my options, debating with myself whether to talk or have sex, while I’m ripping my clothes off. Then, since I’m not comfortable with naked talking, I decide to go with the sex.
After we’re finished, I decide to go with sleep rather than talk, but Laurie again has other ideas. “You said you wanted to talk to me about something,” she says.
I nod and tell her about the shooting in Wisconsin.
“You want me to go out there to check it out?” she asks.
I’m jolted awake by the realization that Hemmings must be reasonably close to Findlay, her hometown and possible future place of employment. “No,” I say, “I need you working here. I’m the one with the least to do right now, so I should go.”
Laurie doesn’t argue with me, acknowledging that she really is busy and adding that Wisconsin will likely be a temporary safe haven from the danger of Quintana, just in case Moreno hasn’t successfully called him off.
She doesn’t try to dissuade me, nor does she mention the proximity to Findlay. It pops into my head that maybe I should go to Findlay and check out the place, maybe personally catch this Sandy Walsh loser doing something slimy. I doubt I’ll have time, but the thought is pleasant and intriguing enough to let me sleep with a smile on my face.
The next morning I get into the office before Edna, which is not exactly a news event. I decide to go online and make my own travel arrangements to Wisconsin, to leave late this afternoon.