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“Any suspects?”
“I already told you what I thought-you need to talk to Freddy.”
“Fu
“What? As in-?”
“As in, no one knows where the hell he is, even though he was specifically instructed to stay put.”
“This is very curious.”
“It’s more than that. Get this, Co
“O’Brien, I think you need to pick him up.”
“Way ahead of you. I’ve got an APB out. We’ll get him.”
“Good. So… how is Liponsky taking the news?”
“Not well. Her home office is all over her for botching the nab.” A smile spread across her face. “As a fellow law enforcement officer, of course, my hearts bleeds for her.”
“I can see that. Mine, too.”
O’Brien pushed herself out of her chair. “I’ve got to check in with my office. I’ll be in touch.”
“Sure I can’t buy you a drink?”
O’Brien hesitated. For half a second, Co
Well, Co
Fortunately, he didn’t have to think about it for long. The question was answered for him when the PGA’s main man Richard Peregino entered the bar and made a beeline for Co
Co
Without waiting to be invited, Peregino pulled out a chair and sat at his table. “Can I talk to you, Co
Co
Peregino didn’t smile. “I need your help.”
Co
Peregino nodded. “We think there’s a leak.”
“What, in the plumbing?”
“No, you-“ He cut himself short. “To the press.”
“A leak about what?”
“About the extortion scheme. The threat from the killer.”
Co
“No, it isn’t. There’s already been way too much turmoil surrounding this tournament, what with one murder on the course and another not far away. If they find out about this, it could be the end of the Masters.”
Co
“At the least, there’ll be a call for us to terminate the tournament. They’ll accuse us of risking lives to keep the income flowing.”
“Aren’t we?”
“No. We’re demonstrating that we won’t be pushed around by some bully with a big knife.”
The distinction seemed pretty thin to Co
Peregino ignored him. “This issue has ramifications that go well beyond the Masters tournament. This could affect the whole PGA.”
“How so?”
“The PGA has an image to maintain. We have a tradition of excellence, of athleticism pushed to-”
“Stop, stop,” Co
“That would be one way of putting it, yes.”
“So what do you expect me to do about it?”
Peregino tapped his finger against the aromatic candle centerpiece. Co
Co
“I’m sure they’ll be firing questions at you-including questions relating to the murders. I would… um…” His fingers absently twiddled a sugar packet. “I would take it as a personal favor if you would not mention what happened tonight. You know. About the… the…”
“The payoff?”
“Well, yeah…”
“The extortion scheme?”
“Yeah…”
“The bungled FBI operation.”
“Yes, Co
“What’s in it for me?”
“Why did I know it would come to this? All right, here’s the deal. You keep mum about the blackmail, and I’ll wipe your slate clean.”
“What does that mean?”
“I’m talking about your lengthy record of PGA infractions and violations. I’ll erase the whole ugly mess. Like it never happened.”
Co
“I wouldn’t put it that way…”
“Tell me, Peregino-is this ethical?”
A familiar look returned to Peregino’s eyes-the look of contempt. “It’s necessary. So-are you in?”
“I don’t know. What do I care about my PGA record? It hasn’t done me any harm so far.”
“Get with the program, Cross. I’ve got enough material to kick your butt off the tour two times over. And don’t think I won’t do it, either.” He paused, letting the words sink in. “It would be a shame if that happened now, wouldn’t it? Just when it looked as if you might actually win a major tournament.”
“You’re going to kick me out on the last day of the tournament, for alleged violations that happened well before? No way.”
“Don’t be so sure.”
“I’ll go to the press. I’ll tell them everything. Including that you tried to blackmail me into silence.”
“Maybe you will. Maybe you won’t. But even if you do-you won’t finish the tournament.”
Co
“I need an answer now, Cross. So I know whether to approve you for play tomorrow.”
Co
“Good thinking.”
Co
“Good enough.” Peregino pushed himself up from the table. “Uh… thank you. For doing the right thing. You’ll feel good about this.”
I feel, Co
“If you’d like, we could hold a mock press conference. Let you practice dodging questions.”
“Gosh, that does sound-“ Co
Co
The figure at the end of the corridor stopped. Co
It was Ed Frohike, the President of the John McCree Fan Club. “How ya been, Ed?”
Ed’s face was a mix of surprise, confusion, apprehension. “I’m fine.”
“I haven’t seen you around the last day or two. Where ya been?”
Ed answered awkwardly, diverting his eyes toward the floor. “Well, you know. Without John in the tournament… it hasn’t been so… interesting for me.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. What are you doing here today?”
“Oh…” He craned his neck. “I… just had to get my things.”
“Your things?”