“Book a trip to Ohio. It’s time to revisit Mr. Arlington. Let’s go back and talk to the link we have left. Arlington wasn’t in town when the murder went down, but maybe he set something up. Darnell and Rudy ran drugs together. Darnell had a reason to be pissed at Ben Little. You two go back to the station house, get your tickets and between now and tomorrow, think up a plausible scenario involving Rudy and Arlington that culminates in Little’s murder. Then take your theory, splash it in Arlington’s face, and see what he says.”

“Got it,” Oliver said.

“What about you?” Marge said. “I thought you wanted to go with us.”

“Rudy’s missing, Ryan’s missing. I think I need to be in town for a spell.”

THE COACH WAS dressed in black jogging pants and a collared, striped black-and-white ref’s shirt. A whistle hung from around his neck. Multiple basketballs were bouncing on a wooden gym floor as his boys were going through drills. “I don’t have to talk to either of you.” Darnell’s voice was molten metal. “I hope you realize that!”

“We appreciate your cooperation,” Marge told him.

Oliver said, “It’s very important that we talk to you. Why else do you think the government would allocate our travel not once, but twice?”

Arlington was still angry, but he held it back. He blew three sharp punches on his whistle, and the dribbling stopped. The big gym echoed as he spoke. “Twenty minutes free practice time. Work on whatever you want, just as long as you’re working. I’m going into my office. I can see what you’re doing. Anyone who shirks is gonna incur my wrath.”

Coach led Marge and Oliver into a glass-walled office that looked over the gymnasium. The floor space was ample—about four times the size of the Loo’s office with shelving that sagged under the weight of trophies. The walls were plastered with certificates of honor as well as black-and-white photos of Polk High winning athletic teams past and present. Arlington’s desk was tucked into a corner, but he elected to stand at the window and watch his charges work.

“You have quite a legacy,” Marge told him.

“Wrong,” he said. “I’m creating a legacy.”

Oliver took out his notepad and quickly glanced at his outline of the story that he and Marge had invented to link Darnell with Rudy. Then he regarded Arlington. “We’re just trying to get at the truth about Ben Little. The guy went out of his way to help you. What are you so angry about?”

“Get off it,” Darnell shot back. “I know how you guys operate. You don’t get what you what, you make shit up.”

Away from his wife and children, Marge could see the drug runner in Darnell. “I want to talk to you about Rudy Banks.”