The kids came back with pens and paper. Stevie and Susan Carol both signed, writing the kids’ names and “Best wishes.”
Susan Carol looked around. “Is there someplace quiet we can talk?” she said. “Given the subject matter…”
Molloy nodded. “I understand. Follow me.” He turned to his wife, who had come back after the kids had retreated to the family room. “Nance, we’ll be on the back porch. Give us a few minutes, okay?”
“Of course,” she said. “Anyone thirsty?”
“We’re fine,” Susan Carol said. “Thanks, though.”
They followed Molloy to the back porch, which was screened in. It was chilly but dry, and they sat on comfortable chairs. Stevie was very glad he’d worn a sweater and a rain jacket.
“Little bit cold,” Molloy said. “But private. So, what exactly can I do for you kids?”
Susan Carol looked at Stevie. Since he had talked to Molloy on Friday, it was really up to him to start. Stevie took a deep breath.
“Chief, after we talked Friday, I went back to Washington,” he said, “and as you can imagine, we’re doing research on everyone involved in this story-”
“And you found out that I played with Doyle in Sumter,” Molloy said. “I knew I should have brought that up when we talked.”
“Why didn’t you?” Susan Carol asked, her tone soft and nonaccusatory.
Molloy shook his head as if to say he didn’t know. “Good question,” he said finally. “I assume we’re under the same ground rules as Friday?”
Stevie shook his head. “Not telling the truth changes things a little,” he said. “We need the truth now, and we need to be able to use the information you give us. We’ll check with you first if we need to quote you specifically on something, though.”
Kelleher had briefed him on how to handle this. “Rules of protecting sources are fairly basic,” he said. “As long as they tell you the truth, you protect them. You catch them in a lie, all bets are off.”
Molloy leaned forward for a moment, and Stevie wondered if perhaps he’d been too rough and they were going to get thrown out of the house.
“That’s not unfair,” he said finally.
Susan Carol reached into the purse she was carrying and pulled out a tape recorder. “So we get it right,” she said. “Okay?”
“Okay,” Molloy said as she turned the tape on and put it down in front of where he was sitting.
“After you left, Steve, I almost tried to call you because it occurred to me that you’d have to talk to Norbert eventually, and when you mentioned my name, the fact that we played together in Sumter was bound to come up,” he said, his voice calm and measured.
“Actually, we haven’t spoken to him yet,” Stevie said.
“Then who-”
“Doesn’t really matter,” Stevie said. “But it does raise some issues. You told me you didn’t follow baseball, didn’t even know who Norbert Doyle was. That kind of goes beyond forgetting to mention you were teammates.”
“You’re right,” Molloy said. “And I suppose whoever told you we were teammates also told you that Analise and I dated before she and Norbert met.”
“That did come up,” Susan Carol said. “The version of the story we heard was that you wanted to nail Norbert Doyle for Analise’s death, and that Jim Hatley wouldn’t let you do it.”
He shook his head. “It wasn’t nearly that simple,” he said. “Whoever gave you that version is leaving a lot of facts out.”
“Why don’t you fill us in,” Stevie said.
Molloy sighed and looked at the tape recorder. It seemed to Stevie as if he was making a decision.
“Okay,” he said finally. “I was upset with Norbert-obviously. Everyone in town knew he was a drinker. But I didn’t try to nail him. I didn’t really want the truth about that night to come out either.”
“What is the truth?” Susan Carol said quietly.
“The truth is that he didn’t belong behind the wheel that night, and I knew it.”
“You mean because you smelled alcohol on his breath at the scene?”
“No, I knew it before the accident.”
“How?”
“I got a call from the manager at the restaurant where Norbert and Analise were having dinner. He said they’d had a fight and that Norbert had had a lot to drink. I told him to keep them there and that I would come and drive them home.
“I got there about two minutes too late.”
“And this manager will confirm your story?” Stevie asked.
Molloy shook his head. “I don’t know. His name was Tom Barton. He left town years ago. I have no idea where he is now.”
“Is there anyone who can confirm the story?” Susan Carol put in.
Molloy smiled sadly. “Jim Hatley. But I don’t think he’s likely to talk to you two anytime soon. There might still be a record of the restaurant’s call in about a drunk patron, I don’t know.”
Stevie and Susan Carol looked at each other. “So the part about you being first on the scene…,” Stevie said.
“Is true,” Molloy said. “I was closest to the scene because I was still at the restaurant when the call came in.
“I was probably as much of a wreck when Jim showed up as Doyle was. That’s why he sent me away to go tell the babysitter. Jim showed me the report the next day and said to me, ‘He’s going to have to live with the guilt the rest of his life.’ I felt pretty guilty myself, so I said I’d go along on one condition.”
“What was that?” Susan Carol asked.
“That he get Norbert into rehab. He agreed.”
“So what was the purpose of your lies on Friday?” Stevie asked. “Why embroider the story for me?”
Molloy sighed again. “I was being both stupid and selfish, I guess. Stupid to think the truth wouldn’t come out. Selfish because I want to be chief. And if it becomes public knowledge that Jim and I knew Norbert was drunk and that we let it slide, and then basically falsified the report, I’m done. They can’t touch Jim-he’s retired. I might not get fired, but I’ll never be chief now. I probably don’t deserve to be chief.”
He stopped and looked away, clearly upset.
Stevie looked at Susan Carol, who gave a tiny shake of her head to indicate he shouldn’t ask another question right at that moment. Molloy broke the silence.
“If Norbert had not been an alcoholic, Analise would be alive today. If the restaurant manager had kept them there longer, or if I’d gotten there…” Molloy paused again and sighed. “Look, I give him credit because I think he’s stayed sober since rehab. He did go out and turn his life around after that night. But it doesn’t change what happened.”
This was the first Stevie had heard of Norbert’s going to rehab. If Susan Carol was surprised, she didn’t show it.
“But why do you feel guilty?” Susan Carol said. “You got there as fast as you could. You helped get the guy into rehab. Yes, you let him off the hook on the accident, but your intentions, it seems to me, were good.”
“Well. Did I get there as fast as I could? I didn’t turn the siren on and speed to the restaurant. It didn’t seem that urgent. It’s hard not to think of all the ways you might have done it differently when someone ends up dead…”
Molloy shook his head again. “That’s not even the point, though, really. We all knew Norbert Doyle did a lot of drinking and driving. We should have stopped him before someone died.”
The tape clicked, indicating it needed to be flipped over. Susan Carol leaned forward and turned it off.
“I think we’re done,” she said. “For now. We’ll be back in touch before we write, and we may call if we have follow-up questions. I’m sorry to have to dredge all this up again.”
They walked in silence to the door and shook hands briefly and said goodbye. The rain was still pelting down as Molloy closed the door behind them. Miles Hoy’s cab was at the curb waiting for them. They sprinted for the car, dove in through the back door, and were surprised to see someone sitt
ing in the front seat next to Miles.
“Miles?” Susan Carol said before the man swung around so that Stevie could see his face.
“Oh my God!” Stevie yelled.
“Don’t panic, kid, everything’s going to be fine,” Jim Hatley said. “Miles, my house please. The fare is on me.”
20: JIM HATLEY
MILES HOY PULLED AWAY from the curb and had driven to the corner before Stevie recovered from his shock and found his voice again.
“Miles, what’s this about?” he said. “Are you in on this too?”
Hatley laughed. “Miles isn’t in on anything,” he said. “Nancy Molloy called me and said you kids were talking to Joe. She’s scared because Joe’s scared. She asked me if I would talk to you because she’s afraid you won’t believe Joe.”
“Why wouldn’t we believe him?” Susan Carol asked.
“Because he lied to you on Friday,” Hatley said. “He called me that night to ask me why I ran you off. Then he told me he panicked and lied to you.”
“So you two are friends?” Stevie asked, becoming more incredulous by the minute.
“No, not at all,” Hatley said. “But he told me you snooping around could be trouble for Norbert Doyle. And he was my friend, once upon a time.”
“So what did happen that night?” Stevie said. “What’s the truth?”
Hatley held a hand up. “Let’s wait until we get to my house. You can run a tape recorder once we get there.”
“So you’ll talk to us on the record?” Stevie said.
“I will only talk to you on the record.”
They drove in silence through the rain until they came to Brill’s Lane, which Stevie recognized immediately. His stomach churned a little bit at the memory of the great dog chase. Hoy pulled into the driveway.
“You stay here, Miles,” Hatley said.
“I think maybe I should come in,” Miles said.
“I understand,” Hatley said. “But you stay here. The kids will be fine.”
Stevie wasn’t so sure he wanted to take Hatley at his word, but the look on his face made it clear that Miles wasn’t going to be welcome inside.
“It’s all right, Miles, we’ll be okay,” Stevie said.
“Don’t worry,” Hatley said, climbing out of the cab. “Remember, I came looking for them, not the other way around. This won’t take long. You can probably make it back to Washington for the game tonight.”
He got out and started walking into the house. Stevie looked at Susan Carol. They could easily get away right now. “Should I take off?” Miles said.
“No,” Susan Carol said. “We need to talk to him anyway. Let’s go, Stevie.”
They both followed Hatley up his front steps and into the house, which was apparently unlocked. He led them into a large living room with a high ceiling and a large fireplace. Hatley gestured for them to sit, then tossed a couple of logs into the fireplace and knelt to light them.
“You kids want anything to drink?” he said once the fire was started, acting as if they were old friends who had dropped by for a Sunday visit.
“Thanks, we’re fine,” Susan Carol said.
“Actually, I’d like a Coke if you have one,” Stevie said. He was thirsty and he wanted a moment alone with Susan Carol.
“Be right back,” Hatley said.
He walked off, presumably to the kitchen.
“Why do I feel like this is another setup?” Stevie hissed at Susan Carol.
“Stay calm,” she said. “He clearly wants to talk, so we’ll let him talk. Maybe we’ll even believe him…”
Hatley walked back in carrying an ice-filled glass of Coke and a coffee mug. He looked at Susan Carol. “You sure I can’t get you something?”
Susan Carol shook her head. Hatley sat down in a chair next to the couch. He turned to Stevie. “First, I want to apologize to you for Friday,” he said. “I got carried away. Watching Norbert pitch the other night-I was so happy for him after everything he’d been through. And then this guy Walsh came by telling me there’d be reporters down here snooping around, trying to ruin it for him. And not two hours later there you were. I overreacted.”
The man sipping coffee in front of a fire on a rainy Sunday afternoon was considerably different than the snarling jerk who had confronted Stevie two days earlier.
It suddenly occurred to Stevie that he hadn’t seen or heard the dog who’d chased him. “Where’s your dog?” he asked, even though it was an irrelevant question.
“Out in the barn,” Hatley said. “I didn’t want to scare you to death again.”
This was all too weird. Two days ago Hatley sics his crazy dog on him. Then he shows up out of nowhere and half kidnaps them, and now he’s mister sensitive? Susan Carol was clearly thinking the same thing.
“Okay, Sergeant Hatley,” she said. “Why don’t you tell us your version of what happened that night?”
“It will be my pleasure,” Hatley said. “Where’s your tape recorder?”
The back part of Hatley’s story wasn’t all that different than what they already knew-or thought they knew-except for one key thing: Hatley had been friends with Norbert Doyle and they did hang out at the same bar, but they were not (according to Hatley) drinking buddies.
“If you do any research on cops, a lot of us drink too much,” Hatley said. “But it wasn’t like that with me and Norbert. I went into King’s Tavern after work to eat. The food there was good, and it was the only place in town where the kitchen stayed open late.
“I’m fifteen years older than Norbert. He was a kid when he was here-twenty-four, twenty-five? I was closer to forty. It was a happy time in my life. My marriage was good, and my kids were teenagers. I already had fifteen years in on the force and wanted to get to twenty-five so I could have enough money to build a house like this, hunt and fish, and maybe do some part-time work teaching. I have a degree in animal pharmacology from Virginia Tech, and I teach part-time over at Radford University.”
He paused, picked up his coffee mug, and smiled.
“I’m betting Joe left that out of his story.”
Stevie and Susan Carol both nodded. He had.
Hatley went on to say that Doyle was one of several ballplayers who had come into King’s-same reason as the cops: good food and a kitchen that stayed open late.
“Norbert, sober, was a good guy,” he said. “Good sense of humor, very self-deprecating, especially after he didn’t pitch well. But he drank a lot. It got to the point where I was driving him home a lot of the time. That was when he’d talk about his marriage.”
“What about his marriage?”
“It was falling apart. He said he and Analise were fighting all the time. He was convinced she was cheating on him when he was on the road. That’s kind of a ballplayer’s ultimate nightmare, you know. The travel schedule is hard on any marriage, especially when you’re kicking around the minor leagues. And drinking makes you paranoid.”
“Paranoid?” they both said.
“Yes, paranoid,” Hatley said. “Norbert thought there was something going on between Analise and Joe Molloy.”
“And you’re saying there wasn’t?”
Hatley shook his head. “Like I told you, Joe and I were never friends. He was always a pretty boy who played a lot of politics in the department. That’s how he got to where he is right now. But he loves his wife. I can’t know for sure, but I don’t believe there was anything going on.
“Sober, Norbert knew Analise would never cheat on him. Drunk, he wasn’t so rational.”
Stevie and Susan Carol looked at one another. The story kept getting more complicated by the minute.
“Just so I’m clear on this,” Susan Carol said. “You aren’t trying to say that the accident wasn’t an accident, are you?”
Hatley shook his head. “No, I’m not saying that. What I’m trying to tell you is the reason Joe went along with the way I wrote the report.”
Stevie started to say that they already knew why, but Susan Ca
rol shot him a look that clearly said, “Keep quiet.”
“Joe knew that Norbert shouldn’t have been driving that night,” Hatley said. “He got a phone call from the restaurant where Norbert and Analise were having dinner.”
“He told us that,” Susan Carol said. “He got there too late.”
“No, he didn’t,” Hatley said. “He never went. He called me and said, ‘Your pal’s drunk again, go drive him home so he doesn’t hurt Analise.’ I was the one who got there too late.”
“Why didn’t he go himself?”
“I guess he thought Norbert Doyle was my problem, not his.”
Stevie’s mind was swimming upstream. At that moment he was completely convinced that Hatley was telling the truth. Molloy had lied once, why not a second time? The good cop was turning out to be the bad cop, and the bad cop was turning out to be the good cop.
“Does Norbert know this?”
“I don’t know… Norbert was a mess after the accident, as you can imagine. I may have told him, I don’t remember, but he wasn’t in any state to take it in one way or the other. He only ever blamed himself.”
“Molloy told us the reason he went along with your report was because you agreed to get Norbert to go to rehab.”
Hatley laughed. “He told you that? Wow, that’s good. I told Norbert he was going to rehab in the hospital that night. You can ask him that if you want. Joe went along with the report because he knew if he had responded to the call from the restaurant himself, instead of calling me, the Doyles wouldn’t have been in the car that night. He was saving his own skin.”
“Does Mrs. Molloy know all this?” Susan Carol asked.
“No, I’m sure not,” Hatley said. “And I’ll be very sorry when she finds out her husband hasn’t been honest with her all these years.”
“Have you talked to Norbert this week?” Stevie asked.
He shook his head. “No. We keep in touch sporadically, mostly by e-mail now. He updates me on the kids, things like that. I wrote to him to congratulate him after game two but didn’t hear back, which certainly isn’t surprising. Then that guy Walsh showed up on my doorstep saying that if I talked to anyone in the media, it could cost Norbert millions.”
Change-up: Mystery at the World Series Page 17