John Feinstein - Change-up - Mystery at the World Series

Stevie looked at his watch. “Is King’s open today?” he said.

“Absolutely,” Hoy said. “They serve a brunch and then dinner on Sunday.”

“Do you think Mr. DeSoto would be there now?”

“I’d think so…”

“We’ve got an hour and fifteen minutes until the train,” Stevie said. “How about we swing by there?”

He looked at Susan Carol, who nodded. “Great idea,” she said. “Maybe we can get a better sense of who-if anyone-is telling the truth.”

KING’S TAVERN LOOKED NOTHING like Stevie had pictured it. He’d imagined a dark place with tattered furniture and a bartender named Joe.

Instead it was brightly lit, with comfortable-looking booths and tables with white tablecloths on them. The bartender was definitely not named Joe. Her name tag said Amber, and she reminded Stevie a little bit of Tamara Mearns.

“Hey, Amber, is Mickey around?” Miles asked as the three of them approached the bar.

“In his office,” she said, pointing in the direction of a hallway. “You want me to bring you something to drink back there?”

The place was pretty full, considering that it was mid-afternoon. Stevie noticed TV screens placed strategically around the bar area, with a different NFL game being shown on each screen.

“No thanks, hon, I’m fine,” Miles said, waving at Amber and leading Stevie and Susan Carol down the hall.

“Are you the mayor of Lynchburg or something?” Susan Carol asked. “Does everyone know you?”

“Something like that,” Miles said with a smile. He knocked on a door that was marked Big Boss and pushed it open just as they heard “Come on in” from the other side.

The office wasn’t very big, or maybe it was but it appeared small when Mickey DeSoto stood up from behind the desk, hit a remote to turn off the TV, and came around to greet his visitors. He was, by Stevie’s estimate, at least six foot five, and although he wasn’t fat, he was just plain big -big shoulders, long arms, big all over. He had a shock of white hair and an easy smile.

“Hey, Miles, what’s up!” he said enthusiastically. Seeing Stevie and Susan Carol, he stopped short and pointed. “I know you kids. Why do I know you kids?”

“Kidsports,” Miles said.

“That’s it!” DeSoto said. “Hey, grab chairs. What in the world brings you two to Lynchburg and my little establishment? Are you hungry?”

Actually, Stevie was starving. “We’re kind of in a rush, Mr. DeSoto,” Susan Carol said as they sat down. “We’re trying to catch the four-thirty train to Washington.”

“That’s in an hour!” DeSoto roared. “Tell me what you want and I’ll get the kitchen cranking. We’ll have you fed and out of here with time to spare, won’t we, Miles?”

“Take him up on it,” Miles said. “The food’s good.”

Stevie ordered a hamburger and French fries and, coaxed by DeSoto, a vanilla milk shake. Susan Carol asked for lemonade and a Cobb salad-which made DeSoto wince noticeably.

“Come on, girl, we need to put some meat on your bones,” DeSoto said. “Best steaks in town. It’s on me. Give it a shot.”

She thanked him but said no, and he raced off to put in the order.

“We need to get cracking here,” Susan Carol said to Miles.

“If we’re out of here at four-fifteen, even four-twenty, you’ll make the train,” Miles said. “Station’s five minutes away.”

DeSoto came back in and sat again. “So, much as I wish it were true, you didn’t come to see me because you’ve heard how good our food is. What can I do for you?”

They had decided before coming inside that the best way to get a straight answer about Hatley and Doyle was to just ask about what he remembered about the two of them from twelve years ago without going through the whole story again.

“Mr. DeSoto-” Susan Carol began.

“Mickey, please,” he interrupted.

“Okay, Mickey. I’m sure you know what a great story Norbert Doyle has become during this World Series. We’re wondering what you remember about him from his days in Lynchburg.”

The big smile vanished from Mickey DeSoto’s face. “Is this to be quoted?” he asked.

“No, it’s not,” she said. “We’re just trying to confirm some things…”

“Like the fact that he drank?” DeSoto said. “Look, the guy straightened his life out. He went to rehab. He’s raised those kids. Why revisit all this now?”

“We understand what you’re saying,” Stevie said. “But there are conflicting stories.”

“About what?” DeSoto said.

Stevie looked at Susan Carol. She squared her shoulders. “How about if we ask it this way: what, if anything, can you tell us about Norbert’s relationship with Officer Jim Hatley?”

The smile returned. “His relationship with Jim? Hell, he probably wouldn’t be alive if not for Jim Hatley. The number of nights Jim drove him home from here when he was drunk are almost countless. I remember one night the two of us couldn’t even stand him up. I had to throw the poor guy over my shoulder to get him to the car. How Jim got him inside his house, I have no idea.”

“So Jim didn’t drink with him then?” Stevie asked.

DeSoto laughed again just as the door opened and Amber came in carrying a tray full of food and drinks. She cleared space on a table next to DeSoto’s desk and set up the food. She put down a plate with a healthy-looking steak on it for Miles.

“Amber, I didn’t ask for anything,” Miles said.

“I know,” she said, smiling at him. “But I know what you like.”

She walked out, leaving Miles looking a little bit red-faced. Stevie was curious but knew this wasn’t the time to ask Miles any personal questions.

“You were saying about Jim Hatley,” Susan Carol said, taking a sip from her lemonade.

“Jim never drank in here after work-never,” DeSoto said. “He came for the food and the company. That summer he just more or less adopted Norbert because the kid needed help. He was the one who got him to go to rehab after the accident.”

“What do you know about Joe Molloy’s relationship with Analise Doyle?” Susan Carol asked, switching subjects on a dime.

DeSoto shrugged. “Not much. I know that he had dated her before she ended up with Norbert, but to be honest, I don’t remember if I found that out before she died or-”

He stopped in midsentence and smacked himself in the forehead. “I can’t believe I forgot about that,” he said, almost to himself.

“Forgot about what?” Susan Carol said.

“The night of the accident, Joe Molloy was in here.”

“Afterward?” Susan Carol said.

“No. Before. He came in for dinner and sat at the bar. I remember asking him if he had the night off, because he was having a glass of wine with his dinner. I was surprised when he said he had the graveyard shift, because it wasn’t like Joe to drink at all, much less drink before he went on duty.”

“Did he drink a lot that night?” Stevie asked.

“I don’t know,” DeSoto said. “I wasn’t working the bar, I just stopped to talk for a minute. He might have only had the one glass of wine. Even that surprised me. Like I said, he was never a drinker-still isn’t, in all the years I’ve known him.”

This was an interesting twist to the story-or maybe not. Maybe it was another meaningless scrap of information. But what was truly important was that DeSoto had confirmed Jim Hatley’s version of his relationship with Doyle. They finished their food and thanked him for his time.

“What kind of story do you plan to write?” he asked as they stood to leave.

“Honestly? We have no idea,” Susan Carol said. “There’s one more person to talk to, and if he won’t tie up the loose ends, then they can’t be tied.”