“Have you spoken to him since the game the other night?”

“I’ve left him a couple of messages. Haven’t heard back from him yet.”

“What about you? A lot to lose?”

“Of course, but I also represent six players on the Giants, so either way, I come out fine.”

“Any of his sponsors stand to lose big-time because of Willie dropping that ball?”

“Not enough to kill him over it. They spread it out over the big names so they don’t have all their eggs in any one basket.”

“Just like agents, right?”

“Yes, I suppose you could say that.”

“Why weren’t you at the game with so many of your players in it?”

“I was there. I flew back to New York afterward.”

Sam’s phone beeped with another call that she ignored. “What about Willie’s manager?”

“Charlie Engal. He’s in Europe for a month with his wife, celebrating their thirtieth wedding anniversary.”

“During the baseball play-offs?”

“He didn’t manage baseball players when he got married. What do you want me to say?”

“I’d like to give you my number in case you think of anything that might be relevant to the investigation.”

“Um, sure. Hang on while I get a pen. Okay, go ahead.”

Sam gave him the number. “And you might want to train your people that when cops call for you, put them through.”

“You’ll have to pardon our ignorance. We don’t get many calls from the police.”

The phone beeped again, indicating whoever was trying to reach her was calling again. “I’ll pardon it this time, but if I call you again and hit a brick wall, I won’t be so forgiving. Thanks for your time.”

Sam ended the call before he could say anything else. It pleased her to get in the last word.

“You told him,” Hill said.

“I don’t like when people get in the way of my investigation. They always think they’ve got something more important going on than I do.” Speaking of that, she remembered the calls she’d ignored and checked her list of recent calls. Shit. They were both from Scotty’s school. She called right back.

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Eleven

“This is Sam Holland. I mean... Cappuano. You called me?”

“Ah, yes, Mrs. Cappuano. Your son Scotty is in the nurse’s office. He’s complaining of a stomachache, and he asked us to call you.”

“Oh, um, okay, I’ll be there to get him right away.”

“We’ll let him know. Thank you.”

“Drive faster,” she said to Hill. “My son is sick at school. I need to get him.”

“Sure.”