The Final Detail: A Myron Bolitar Novel

by Harlan Coben

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “The autopsy shows conclusively that Clu hadn’t taken drugs for at least two months before his death. Yet you tested him positive two weeks ago.”

  “Maybe the test was faulty,” Sawyer said.

  Win tsk-tsked. “Say, ‘I am responsible. It’s my fault.’ ”

  “Stop passing the buck in your life,” Myron added.

  “Come on, Sawyer. It’s exhilarating.”

  “That’s not funny,” Sawyer said.

  “Wait,” Win said. “You are everything, thus you are the drug test.”

  “And you are a positive guy,” Myron added.

  “Ergo the test result was positive.”

  Sawyer said, “I think I’ve had just about enough.”

  “You’re finished, Wells,” Myron said. “I’ll blab to the papers.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t know anything about a fixed test.”

  “Want to hear my theory?” Myron said.

  “No.”

  “You’re leaving the Yankees and going to work for Vincent Riverton, right?”

  “I’m not working exclusively for anyone. His conglomerate publishes my book.”

  “He’s also Sophie Mayor’s archenemy.”

  “You don’t know that,” Sawyer said.

  “He lived for owning the team. When she took over, he was pissed. She ends up being everything New York wants in an owner because she minds her own business. She makes only one move, acquiring Clu Haid, and it’s a beauty. Clu pitches better than anyone dared hope. The Yankees start heading for greatness. Then you step in. Clu fails a drug test. Sophie Mayor looks incompetent. The Yankees tumble.”

  Sawyer seemed to recoup a bit. Something in what Myron had just said had given him a new lease. Odd. “That makes no sense whatsoever.”

  “What part?”

  “All of it,” Sawyer said, chest back out. “Sophie Mayor has been good to me. I was working as a drug counselor at the Sloan State and Rockwell rehab centers when she gave me my chance to move up. Why would I want to hurt her?”

  “You tell me.”

  “I have no idea. I firmly believed that Clu was on drugs. If he wasn’t, then the test was faulty.”

  “You know the results are double-tested. There was no mistake. Someone had to fix it.”

  “It wasn’t me. Maybe you should speak to Dr. Stilwell.”

  “But you were there? You admit that?”

  “Yes, I was there. And I will no longer dignify your questions with answers.” With that Sawyer Wells abruptly spun and stormed off.

  “I don’t think he liked us,” Myron said.

  “But if it’s all about you, then we are he.”

  “So he doesn’t like himself?”

  “Sad, isn’t it?”

  “Not to mention confusing,” Myron said.

  They headed for the exit.

  “So where to, O Motivated One?” Win asked.

  “Starbucks.”

  “Latte time?”

  Myron shook his head. “Confront FJ time.”

  CHAPTER

  30

  FJ was not there. Myron called his office again. The same secretary told him that FJ was still unavailable. Myron repeated that it was imperative that he speak to Francis Ache Junior as soon as humanly possible. The secretary remained unimpressed.

  Myron returned to his office.

  Big Cyndi wore a bright green spandex bodysuit with a slogan across the chest—this on a woman who could barely squeeze into a caftan. The fabric screamed in pain, the letters in the slogan so elongated that Myron couldn’t read them, kinda like what happens to Silly Putty after you press it against a newspaper headline and stretch it out.

  “Lots of clients have been calling, Mr. Bolitar,” Big Cyndi said. “They are not pleased by your absence.”

  “I’ll take care of it,” he said.

  She gave him the messages. “Oh, and Jared Mayor called,” she said. “He seemed very anxious to talk to you.”

  “Okay, thanks.”

  He called Jared Mayor first. He was in his mother’s office at Yankee Stadium. Sophie switched on the speakerphone.

  “You called?” Myron said.

  “I was hoping you could give us an update,” Jared said.

  “I think someone is setting up your mother.”

  Sophie said, “Setting me up how?”

  “Clu’s drug test was a fix. He was clean.”

  “I know you want to believe that—”

  “I have proof,” Myron said.

  Silence.

  “What kind of proof?” Jared asked.

  “There’s no time for that now. But trust me on this. Clu was clean.”

  “Who would have fixed the test?” Sophie asked.

  “That’s what I want to know. The logical suspects are Dr. Stilwell and Sawyer Wells.”

  “But why would they want to hurt Clu?”

  “Not Clu, Sophie. You. It fits in with everything else we have. Raising the specter of your missing daughter, taking your big baseball trade and turning it against you—I think someone’s out to hurt you.”

  “You’re jumping to conclusions,” Sophie said.

  “Could be.”

  “Who would want to hurt me?”

  “I’m sure you’ve made your share of enemies. How about Vincent Riverton, for one?”

  “Riverton? No. Our whole takeover was far more amicable than the press portrayed it.”

  “Still, I wouldn’t rule him out.”

  “Listen, Myron, I don’t really care about any of this. I just want you to find my daughter.”

  “They’re probably connected.”

  “How?”

  Myron changed ears. “You want me to be blunt, right?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Then I have to remind you what the odds are that your daughter is still alive.”

  “Slim,” she said.

  “Very slim.”

  “No, I’ll stay with slim. In fact, I think it’s better than slim.”

  “Do you really believe Lucy is alive someplace?”

  “Yes.”

  “She’s out there somewhere, waiting to be found?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then the big question,” Myron said, “is why.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Why isn’t she home?” he asked. “Do you think someone’s been holding her hostage all these years?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Well, what other choices are there? If Lucy is still alive, why hasn’t she come home? Or phoned home? What is she hiding from?”

  Silence.

  Sophie broke it. “You think someone has resurrected my daughter’s memory as part of some vendetta against me?”

  Myron was not sure how to answer. “I think it’s a possibility we have to consider.”

  “I appreciate your bluntness, Myron. I want you to remain honest with me. Don’t hold back. But I’ll also keep my hope. When your child disappears into thin air, it creates a huge void. I need something to fill that void, Myron. So until I find out otherwise, I’ll fill it with hope.”

  Myron said, “I understand.”

  “Then you’ll keep looking.”

  There was a knock on the door. Myron put his hand over the phone and said to come in. Big Cyndi opened the door. Myron gestured to a chair. She took it. In the bright green she looked a bit like a planet.

  “I’m not sure what I can do, Sophie.”

  “Jared will investigate Clu’s drug test,” she said. “If there was anything amiss, he’ll find out about it. You keep your eyes open for my daughter. You may be right about Lucy’s fate. Then again you may be wrong. Don’t give up.”

  Before he could reply, the line was disconnected. Myron put the phone back in the cradle.

  “Well?” Big Cyndi asked.

  “She still has hope.”

  Big Cyndi scrunched up her face. “There’s
a fine line between hope and delusion, Mr. Bolitar,” she said. “I think Ms. Mayor may have crossed it.”

  Myron nodded. He shifted in his chair. “Something I can do for you?” he asked.

  She shook her head. Her head was a nearly perfect cube and reminded Myron of the old game of Rock’Em Sock’Em Robots. Not sure what else to do, Myron folded his hands and put them on his desk. He wondered how many times he had been alone with Big Cyndi like this. Less than a handful for sure. Wrong to say, but she made him uncomfortable.

  After some time had passed, Big Cyndi said, “My mother was a big, ugly woman.”

  Myron had no comeback for that one.

  “And like most big, ugly women, she was a shrinking violet. That’s how it is with big, ugly women, Mr. Bolitar. They get used to standing alone in the corner. They hide. They become angry and defensive. They keep their heads down, and they let themselves be treated with disdain and disgust and—”

  She stopped suddenly, waved a meaty paw. Myron sat still.

  “I hated my mother,” she said. “I swore that I would never be like that.”

  Myron risked a small nod.

  “That’s why you have to save Esperanza.”

  “I’m not sure I see the connection.”

  “She’s the only one who sees past this.”

  “Past what?”

  She thought about that one for a moment. “What’s the first thing you think when you see me, Mr. Bolitar?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “People like to stare,” she said.

  “Hard to blame them, don’t you think?” Myron said. “I mean, the way you dress and stuff.”

  She smiled. “I’d rather see shock on their faces than pity,” she said. “And I’d rather they see brazen or outrageous than shrinking or scared or sad. Do you understand?”

  “I think so.”

  “I’m not standing alone in the corner anymore. I’ve done enough of that.”

  Myron, unsure what to say, settled for a nod.

  “When I was nineteen, I started wrestling professionally. And of course I was cast as a villain. I sneered. I made faces. I cheated. I hit opponents when they weren’t looking. It was all an act, of course. But that was my job.”

  Myron sat back and listened.

  “One night I was scheduled to fight Esperanza—Little Pocahontas, I should say. It was the first time we’d met. She was already the most beloved wrestler on the circuit. Cute and pretty and small and all the things … all the things that I’m not. Anyway, we were performing in some high school gym outside Scranton. The script was the usual. A back-and-forth match. Esperanza winning with her skill. Me cheating. Twice I was supposed to nearly have her pinned when the crowd would go wild and she’d start stamping her foot, like the cheers were giving her strength, and then everyone would start clapping in unison with her stomps. You know how it works, right?”

  Myron nodded.

  “She was supposed to pin me with a backflip at the fifteen-minute mark. We executed it perfectly. Then as she was raising her hands in victory, I was supposed to sneak up on her and whack her in the back with a metal chair. Again it went perfectly. She collapsed to the canvas. The crowd gasped. I, the Human Volcano—that’s what I was called then—raised my hands in victory. They started booing and throwing things. I sneered. The announcers acted all concerned for poor Little Pocahontas. They brought out the stretcher. Again you’ve seen the same act a million times on cable.”

  He nodded again.

  “So there was another match or two, and then the crowd was ushered out. I decided not to change until I got back to the motel. I left for the bus a few minutes before the other girls. It was dark, of course. Nearly midnight. But some of the spectators were still out there. They confronted me. There must have been twenty of them. They started shouting at me. I decided to play back. I did my ring sneer and flexed”—her voice caught—“and that was when a rock hit me square in the mouth.”

  Myron kept perfectly still.

  “I started bleeding. Then another rock hit me in the shoulder. I couldn’t believe what was happening. I tried to head back inside, but they circled around me. I didn’t know what to do. They started moving in closer. I ducked down. Someone hit me over the head with a beer bottle. My knees hit the pavement. Then someone kicked me in the stomach and someone else pulled my hair.”

  She stopped. Her eyes blinked a few times and she looked up and away. Myron thought about reaching out to her, but he didn’t. Later he’d wonder why.

  “And that’s when Esperanza stepped in,” Big Cyndi said after a few moments had passed. “She jumped over someone in the crowd and landed right on me. The morons thought she was there to help beat me up. But she just wanted to put herself between me and the blows. She told them to stop. But they wouldn’t listen. One of them pulled her away so they could keep beating me. I felt another kick. Someone yanked my hair so hard my neck snapped back. I really thought they were going to kill me.”

  Big Cyndi stopped again and took a deep breath. Myron stayed where he was and waited.

  “You know what Esperanza did then?” she asked.

  He shook his head.

  “She announced that we were going to be tag team partners. Just like that. She shouted that after she’d been taken off on the stretcher, I’d visited her and we realized that we were actually long-lost sisters. The Human Volcano was now going to be called Big Chief Mama and we were going to be partners and friends. Some of the spectators backed off then. Others looked wary. ‘It’s a trap!’ they warned her. ‘The Human Volcano is setting you up!’ But Esperanza insisted. She helped me to my feet and by then the police showed up and the moment was over. The crowd dispersed pretty easily.”

  Big Cyndi threw up her thick arms and smiled. “The end.”

  Myron smiled back. “So that’s how you two became tag team partners?”

  “That’s how. When the president of FLOW heard about the incident, he decided to capitalize on it. The rest, as they say, is history.”

  They both sat back in silence, still smiling. After some time had passed, Myron said, “I had my heart broken six years ago.”

  Big Cyndi nodded. “By Jessica, right?”

  “Right. I walked in on her with another man. A guy named Doug.” He paused. He could not believe he was telling her this. And it still hurt. After all this time it still hurt. “Jessica left me then. Isn’t that weird? I didn’t throw her out. She just left. We didn’t speak for four years—until she came back and we started up again. But you know about that.”

  Big Cyndi made a face. “Esperanza hates Jessica.”

  “Yeah, I know. She doesn’t exactly go to pains to hide that fact.”

  “She calls her Queen Bitch.”

  “When she’s in a good mood,” Myron said. “But that’s why. Up until we broke up that first time, she was more or less indifferent. But after that—”

  “Esperanza doesn’t forgive easily,” Big Cyndi said. “Not when it comes to her friends.”

  “Right. Anyway, I was devastated. Win was no help. When it comes to matters of the heart, well, it’s like explaining Mozart to a deaf man. So about a week after Jess left me, I moped into the office. Esperanza had two airplane tickets in her hand. ‘We’re going away,’ she said. ‘Where?’ I asked. ‘Don’t worry about it,’ she said. ‘I already called your folks. I told them we’d be gone for a week.’ ” Myron smiled. “My parents love Esperanza.”

  “That should tell you something,” Big Cyndi said.

  “I told her I didn’t have any clothes. She pointed to two suitcases on the floor. ‘I bought you all you’ll need.’ I protested, but I didn’t have much left, and you know Esperanza.”

  “Stubborn,” Big Cyndi said.

  “To put it mildly. You know where she took me?”

  Big Cyndi smiled. “On a cruise. Esperanza told me about it.”

  “Right. One of those big new ships with four hundred meals a day. And she made me go to every dumb ac
tivity. I even made a wallet. We drank. We danced. We played friggin’ bingo. We slept in the same bed and she held me and we never so much as kissed.”

  They sat for another long moment, both smiling again.

  “We never asked her for help,” Big Cyndi said. “Esperanza just knows and does the right thing.”

  “And now it’s our turn,” Myron said.

  “Yes.”

  “She’s still hiding something from me.”

  Big Cyndi nodded. “I know.”

  “Do you know what it is?”

  “No,” she said.

  Myron leaned back. “We’ll save her anyway,” he said.

  At eight o’clock Win called down to Myron’s office.

  “Meet me at the apartment in an hour. I have a surprise for you.”

  “I’m not much in the mood for surprises, Win.”

  Click.

  Great. He tried FJ’s office again. No answer. He didn’t much like waiting. FJ was a key in all this, he was sure of it now. But what choice did he have? It was getting late anyway. Better to go home and be surprised by whatever Win had in store and then get some rest.

  The subway was still crowded at eight-thirty; the so-called Manhattan rush hour had grown to more like five or six. People worked too hard, Myron decided. He got off and walked to the Dakota. The same doorman was there. He had been given instructions to let Myron in at any time, that indeed Myron was now officially a resident of the Dakota, but the doorman still made a face like there was a bad odor whenever he passed.

  Myron took the elevator up, fumbled for his key, and opened the door.

  “Win?”

  “He’s not here.”

  Myron turned. Terese Collins gave him a small smile.

  “Surprise,” she said.

  He gaped. “You left the island?”

  Terese glanced in a nearby mirror, then back at him. “Apparently.”

  “But—”

  “Not now.”

  She stepped toward him and they embraced. He kissed her. They fumbled with buttons and zippers and snaps. Neither one spoke. They made it into the bedroom, and then they made love.

  When it was over, they clung to each other, the sheets tangled and binding them close together. Myron rested his cheek against her soft breast, hearing her heartbeat. Her chest was hitching a bit, and he knew that she was quietly crying.