“I’m going to hang up with you and make a phone call to my colleagues in New York City. They’re going to send over a couple of uniformed officers who will march into Mr. McPhearson’s very important meeting. They will then handcuff him and take him into custody so we can ask him the questions we need to ask. Or... You could put him on the goddamned phone right now. Any part of that you don’t get?”

“Please hold.”

As he drove, Hill shook with silent laughter.

“Put me on fucking hold again.”

The phone line clicked. “George McPhearson.”

“Ahh,” Sam said, “finally.”

“I don’t appreciate you intimidating my staff.”

“And I don’t appreciate being stonewalled by people who think a meeting is more important than getting justice for a dead man. In my world, nothing is more important than that.”

“What do you want?”

“Tell me who might want Willie Vasquez dead for failing to catch that ball.”

“Other than everyone in the Metro D.C. area and surrounding environs?”

“Yes, other than that. Sponsors, for instance, or angry agents who might’ve benefitted from a hefty new contract for a free agent after he won the World Series. We’re interested in talking to those types of people.”

“Are you accusing me of having something to do with this?”

“Should I be?”

“Of course not! He wasn’t just my client. He was my friend too. I’m heartbroken over what happened to him—both on the field and afterward. He was one of the hardest-working, most dedicated athletes I’d ever had the pleasure to work with.”

“Did your PR agency write that tidy little sound bite for you or did you come up with it all on your own?”

“What the hell is your problem?”

Sam held the phone away from her ear as he bellowed at her, wondering if he would’ve spoken to her that way if she’d been standing right in front of him. For his sake, she hoped not. “Murder is my problem, Mr. McPhearson. I want to know who in Willie’s orbit might’ve had something to gain by the Feds winning that game, beyond the obvious. I’m thinking sponsors or perhaps a manager or agent who had a big deal riding on a trip to the World Series.”

He was silent for so long that Sam wondered if he’d hung up on her. “Hello? McPhearson?”

“I’m here.”

“And?”

“We all had a lot riding on that game, Lieutenant,” he said in a far more weary, conciliatory tone. “There were deals lined up if the team made it to the World Series, not just for Willie but for several other players on the Feds as well.”

“Who else do you represent on the team?”

“Lind, Mulroney, Hattie, Smith and Ortiz.”

“Who among them had the most to lose?”

“Willie.”

“Second?”

“Lind.”