angry that he couldn't find his voice.
"Who gave you the authority to talk to Walt Kaplan?" he finally said with barely controlled fury.
"Nobody." \
Petrie gave me an astonished look. "He's the enemy, for chrissake!"
"To me, he was a lead."
"I don't know about you, Stoner," Petrie said, tugging at the skin on top of his head as if there were still hair there to be pulled out. "Why do you think we hired you? Who the hell's side are you on?"
"I thought you hired me to find Bill Parks as quickly as I could."
"That did not mean you were to negotiate with his fucking agent!"
"I didn't do any negotiating, Hugh. He called me up, and I went to see him."
"How the hell did he know you were on the case!" Petrie almost shouted. He took a deep breath. "Don't answer that. I don't think I want to know."
"Kaplan claims that Parks left camp over the contract dispute. That you know that, and that you hired me to pressure Bill into signing."
"Pressure him how?" Petrie said.
"Presumably by employing me to dig into his past, possibly into a drug problem, and then by using what I get on him to bring him back to the bargaining table." I stared at him. "Is that your strategy, Hugh?"
Petrie didn't answer the question. "What the hell do you care what Kaplan said? Just find Bill, okay?"
I shook my head. "Not okay. I told you before, if you think that Parks has a drug problem, you go to the league or the DEA. I'm not interested in blindly involving myself in a cocaine case."
"Did Kaplan say that Parks had a nose problem?" Petrie said with curiosity.
"No. But he gave me the impression that Bill's career could be ruined by my investigation. Given the current atmosphere, I assumed that meant drugs."
Petrie eyed me for a moment. "That's probably a safe assumption," he said dryly, and walked over to the bar on the far side of the room. He poured himself a beer out of an open can on the bar and sat down on a wooden stool. "You want something to drink?"
I shook my head.
"I don't know why I should be surprised by this crap anymore," he said.
He seemed genuinely aggrieved, although I had trouble believing that he hadn't speculated in the same way that I had about Parks -and probably about some of his other players too.
He must have guessed what I was thinking, because he drew himself up on the chair and gave me a cold look. "You know, Stoner, I don't owe you an explanation of why we hired you. The team doesn't owe you anything but your salary."
"I don't have to keep working for the team, either," I said.
Petrie laughed. "A cop with principles -there's a change." He took a sip of beer and put the glass down on the bar. "As far as I know at this time, Bill Parks is clean. We have heard rumors about a second grand jury investigation, following up on another DEA sting. Several sealed indictments are to be handed down in the near future. Whether Bill is part of that package I don't know."
"But it wouldn't surprise you," I said.
"Like I said, nothing should, anymore." Petrie turned on the stool so that he was facing me, one foot cocked in the rungs, the other leg stretched to the floor. "Five, six years ago I would've gotten really worked up over this kind of thing. Kicked in a TV set or broken somebody's jaw. Now I just don't care." He cribbed his hands around his knee. "The human race sucks. Let's face it. So fuck them all. I run my business. I make a good profit. I'm fair to the players. I give them a chance to make a lot of money. And when things go wrong, I look for a reasonable solution. But I'll be goddamned if I'm going to beat myself over the head because of somebody else's hard luck, or greed, or stupidity. If it turns out Bill has a drug problem, we'll trade him. Or maybe we'll let him play out his contract and then trade him. You wanted to hear the truth. That's the truth. We'll know in time, won't we?"
"So why bother to look for him?" I said. "Why not let nature take its course and wait for the grand jury to release its
"Who gave you the authority to talk to Walt Kaplan?" he finally said with barely controlled fury.
"Nobody." \
Petrie gave me an astonished look. "He's the enemy, for chrissake!"
"To me, he was a lead."
"I don't know about you, Stoner," Petrie said, tugging at the skin on top of his head as if there were still hair there to be pulled out. "Why do you think we hired you? Who the hell's side are you on?"
"I thought you hired me to find Bill Parks as quickly as I could."
"That did not mean you were to negotiate with his fucking agent!"
"I didn't do any negotiating, Hugh. He called me up, and I went to see him."
"How the hell did he know you were on the case!" Petrie almost shouted. He took a deep breath. "Don't answer that. I don't think I want to know."
"Kaplan claims that Parks left camp over the contract dispute. That you know that, and that you hired me to pressure Bill into signing."
"Pressure him how?" Petrie said.
"Presumably by employing me to dig into his past, possibly into a drug problem, and then by using what I get on him to bring him back to the bargaining table." I stared at him. "Is that your strategy, Hugh?"
Petrie didn't answer the question. "What the hell do you care what Kaplan said? Just find Bill, okay?"
I shook my head. "Not okay. I told you before, if you think that Parks has a drug problem, you go to the league or the DEA. I'm not interested in blindly involving myself in a cocaine case."
"Did Kaplan say that Parks had a nose problem?" Petrie said with curiosity.
"No. But he gave me the impression that Bill's career could be ruined by my investigation. Given the current atmosphere, I assumed that meant drugs."
Petrie eyed me for a moment. "That's probably a safe assumption," he said dryly, and walked over to the bar on the far side of the room. He poured himself a beer out of an open can on the bar and sat down on a wooden stool. "You want something to drink?"
I shook my head.
"I don't know why I should be surprised by this crap anymore," he said.
He seemed genuinely aggrieved, although I had trouble believing that he hadn't speculated in the same way that I had about Parks -and probably about some of his other players too.
He must have guessed what I was thinking, because he drew himself up on the chair and gave me a cold look. "You know, Stoner, I don't owe you an explanation of why we hired you. The team doesn't owe you anything but your salary."
"I don't have to keep working for the team, either," I said.
Petrie laughed. "A cop with principles -there's a change." He took a sip of beer and put the glass down on the bar. "As far as I know at this time, Bill Parks is clean. We have heard rumors about a second grand jury investigation, following up on another DEA sting. Several sealed indictments are to be handed down in the near future. Whether Bill is part of that package I don't know."
"But it wouldn't surprise you," I said.
"Like I said, nothing should, anymore." Petrie turned on the stool so that he was facing me, one foot cocked in the rungs, the other leg stretched to the floor. "Five, six years ago I would've gotten really worked up over this kind of thing. Kicked in a TV set or broken somebody's jaw. Now I just don't care." He cribbed his hands around his knee. "The human race sucks. Let's face it. So fuck them all. I run my business. I make a good profit. I'm fair to the players. I give them a chance to make a lot of money. And when things go wrong, I look for a reasonable solution. But I'll be goddamned if I'm going to beat myself over the head because of somebody else's hard luck, or greed, or stupidity. If it turns out Bill has a drug problem, we'll trade him. Or maybe we'll let him play out his contract and then trade him. You wanted to hear the truth. That's the truth. We'll know in time, won't we?"
"So why bother to look for him?" I said. "Why not let nature take its course and wait for the grand jury to release its
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