Avery nodded and accepted a mug of strong-smelling black coffee. “We’re not paid to deduce the obvious. Do you know of anything that might be relevant to our investigation?”

“Carmen’s brother has been in some trouble in the Dominican Republic. Willie bailed him out a couple of times, but then he cut off the money, which made Carmen’s family mad. Marco made some threats toward Willie.”

“What kind of threats?”

“The kind that resulted in Willie getting a restraining order against the guy to keep him away from his family.”

“Has the brother-in-law been here?”

“I believe there was an altercation last winter, during the off-season. I don’t have the details on that, but I was notified that he had a personal issue with the brother-in-law and stadium security was aware of it too in case the guy tried to gain access to him there.”

Avery took notes as Collins spoke.

“You’re really going to look into the brother-in-law after what happened last night? You gotta figure this was someone pissed about him losing the game for us.”

“We’re looking at everything. How long did you stay at the stadium last night after the game ended?”

“I was there until about five o’clock this morning.”

“What did you do during that time?”

“Bob Minor and I met with the media. That was fun. Kind of like having a root canal without Novocain. After that, I spent some time in the locker room with the team, and then I met with Ray Jestings, the team’s owner.”

“Did you encounter anyone who was mad enough about Willie’s error that they might’ve wanted to harm him?”

Collins stared at him, incredulous. “Everyone wanted to harm him. People were furious.”

“Was anyone furious enough to act on the urge?”

“I’d like to think not, but who knows? This was as close as any of them have ever come to a World Series. They wanted it badly.”

“Was anyone particularly vocal in regard to Willie?”

“Rick Lind was pretty pissed. He’d gotten us two outs. He needed one from Willie, and Willie let him down.”

Avery wrote down Lind’s name and circled it. “If you think of anything else that might be relevant, give me a call.” He handed over his business card and drained his mug. “Thanks for the coffee.”

“No problem.”

On the way out, glass crunched under his feet as he passed through the wrecked living room. He liked sports as much as the next guy, but this was over the top by anyone’s standards. Who smashed up their own home over a baseball game? That question was on Avery’s mind as he returned to the stadium to speak with Hugh Bixby.

In the foyer to the office portion of the stadium, Avery asked the same receptionist to direct him to Bixby.

“I’ll see if I can find him,” she said.