Sudden Death (12 page)

They were on the road, headed for New York City, by 9 a.m. “First stop, Tiffany’s, for Hunter’s surprise,” Reid said.

As they entered the glamorous store, Reid was recognized immediate ly. The manager approached and shook his hand. “Mr. Clark what a pleasure. How may I be of service?”

Reid took him aside and spoke with him quietly. The manager showed them to a comfortable, semi-private sitting area and offered them coffee, tea and pastries, then he turned and walked away, saying, “Please excuse me, I’ll be right back.”

He reappeared and held out a highly polished silver tray for Reid to inspect. Sitting on a black velvet liner were five pairs of the biggest, most brilliant diamond stud earrings he had ever seen. Reid nodded his approval and said, “Hunter, please choose a pair.” “Oh my God!” she gasped, dazzled by the sight. “Go ahead,” the manager said, “pick a pair and try them on.” Hunter’s hands shook as she reached for a pair. Betsy helped her put them on. They were magnificent. “I think you hit it on the first try. They’re exquisite on you,” Reid said.

Everyone agreed. Reid handed a credit card to the manager, who said, “I’ll be right back.” Hunter walked over to Reid and for the first time that he could remember, she was speechless. She hugged him fiercely and wouldn’t let go. Finally she whispered, “Thank you, I love them almost as much as I love you.”

“You’re very welcome. Enjoy them. I love you, too.” He signed the receipt and they left the store. “Okay, next stop, Betsy’s choice, Bendel’s or Barney’s.”

“OhmyGod, OhmyGod!” Betsy shrieked. “How do I decide which heaven is the right one?” Everyone laughed. “Hunter, you decide for me.” “How about both?” Hunter suggested. “Why not?” Reid said. “Really? Thank you,” Betsy said. They stopped at Barney’s first. Once again, Reid was recognized immediately. He spoke with the manager, who introduced them to Heather, who would be Betsy’s personal shopper. Reid said, “Okay, Bets, here’s the challenge. You have two stores to split your time between. You have two hours to buy anything and everything you can. Spend as much time as you want here, then we go to Bendel’s to spend the remainder of the time.” “
Oh My God!
” she screamed again, hysterically. “Ready, go,” Reid said. It was the funniest sight any of them had ever witnessed. Betsy started with shoes, rapidly throwing them on and off. Pradas and Jimmy Choos flew in every direction. After about an hour, she had wreaked havoc in most areas of the store. It was exhausting just watching her. Finally, having done extensive damage in the couture clothing department, she declared, “Okay, I’m done,” as she collapsed into a chair. “Next stop, Barney’s,” Reid said as everything was loaded into the van. Betsy’s repeat performance was every bit as amusing as the first. Joan rested in a chair as Reid and Hunter chased Betsy through the store, laughing all the way.

“Time for lunch,” Reid announced as they left the store. “Just one quick stop on the way. I need to go to my apartment and make sure she’s moved out.”

They all knew Reid meant Jennifer. They drove to his apartment on the Upper West Side. Joel and the girls followed him and noticed the apprehension on his face as they rode the elevator. He slowly opened the door and peeked inside. Walking through the living room, all was quiet. There was no sign of her until he passed the dining room, where she had thrown roses he had sent all over the room. The empty vase was knocked over on the table with a big water stain around it. They followed him to the bedroom where he opened a closet. It was empty except for a paper napkin taped to a hanger. He turned the hanger and saw a big, ‘F U’ with her signature underneath. He breathed a sigh of relief. She was gone. “Another one bites the dust,” he mumbled under his breath. Betsy said, “That’s awful.” “Gimme a break,” he said, folding the note and stuffing it in his pocket. He looked around the rest of the apartment. Everything was intact. They cleaned up the mess in the dining room and left. “Everything all right, dear?” Joan asked as they got in the van. “Yup,
juuust
fine.”

Reid called Buck and asked where the press conference was to be held.

“Just come to my office,” Buck said. “Jay’s on his way. He wants to give us an update before we speak with the press.”

Buck and Jay were seated at the conference table in Buck’s opulent office when Reid and Joel arrived. Thick gray-blue smoke hung lazily throughout the room. The air filter was struggling to keep up as curls of smoke rose from cigars sitting side by side in a crystal ashtray.

Joel slowly strolled around the large office. First, he took in the view of the city through the two floor-to-ceiling, windowed walls, and then he moseyed over to the opposite corner, where a gallery of pictures of Buck with various celebrities, athletes and a few past U.S. presidents were hung.

Reid helped himself to a Cohiba from the humidor as he sat at the table. He lit up, and they got down to business. Jay explained that Detective Alto had run checks on everyone on the list. At the moment, no one looked more suspicious than any other. They had already interviewed and cleared about half of them. David Jordan had struck gold with two clients after Reid left him. He wasn’t happy when Reid’s name was brought up, but he certainly had no desire to threaten him. Of the three past girlfriends, two, Alyssa and Sydney, were models, working overseas for the past few months. Mikaela, the third, was dating another wealthy pro athlete and had all but forgotten Reid. Curiosity overcame Reid; he interrupted, asking who the guy was. “Ross Misrok,” Jay answered. “Oh great,” Buck snickered. Reid just laughed. “Private joke?” Jay asked. “May I continue?” “Sorry,” they both said, still chuckling. Jay continued, “Hubie from GolfCo made up for his loss with another golf investment. Believe it or not, he’s a major stockholder in Eagle. He certainly doesn’t want you dead.” He paused and puffed on his cigar.

“Bruce, your old family friend has been in a rehab facility for about a year. Mard, your other partner in GolfCo, declared bankruptcy and killed himself.” “Oh no,” Reid moaned, burying his face in his hands. Jay gave him a moment, then continued. “The hecklers that you had removed from the golf course were just rowdy fans. They’ve been thrown out of other sports venues for similar activity. That leaves Jennifer, Eli, Mike Gatto and any tour pros you think may have a problem with you.”

“Oh yeah, I forgot to show you this,” Reid said as he pulled the napkin from his pocket and handed it to Jay. “I found it in my apartment this morning. It was on a hanger in the closet that Jennifer cleared out.”

“Nice note,” Jay said. “Obviously she’s pissed. Guess we better ques tion her immediately.”

“I’m not surprised she wrote it, but she wouldn’t want to kill me. She may be a golddigger, but she’s not a murderer.”

“One never knows,” Jay said in a mysterious tone. Then, more serious ly, he added, “Reid that’s the kind of thing that you can’t tell about a person until it’s too late.” “Do what you have to do,” Reid said, shrugging. “You wouldn’t know where any of the others are, would you? We know Eli lives in Philadelphia, but we can’t find him. As for Mike Gatto, we have absolutely no idea of his whereabouts. He’s like a phantom.” “I have absolutely no idea.” After another pull on his cigar, Jay said, “Okay, I’m done. Now tell me if you’ve thought of any other golfers we should check out.”

Reid had been thinking about this. “Two come to mind, Bill Rogers and Jim Turner. They both think they’re hot shit. Both are wannabe’s. They know they don’t have a real chance, so they’re always irritable. They both tell me often to grow up or shut up. Funny thing is, even if I wasn’t on the tour, they still really wouldn’t stand a chance. There are others, but we all poke fun at each other and break each other’s balls all the time. Certainly nothing serious.”

“Okay,” Jay said. “Before we go to the press conference, I have one more possibility I want to run by you both. What about Carl or someone else at Eagle?”

Reid and Buck both were taken aback. Very concerned, Buck asked in disbelief, “Did I just hear you correctly?”

“Calm down and hear me out. Maybe they sent the note just to rattle Reid. It would have saved Eagle $30 million if he lost the Masters. I know the argument against it; Reid wins and the company sells more. But it is a possibility. I just wanted you both to know before I follow it up.”

“Hold on a second, Jay,” Buck said. “Questioning Carl could really damage the endorsement deal. Their attorneys haven’t even finished writing the contract yet. I don’t want to blow the whole thing over a false accusation.”

“Don’t worry, I thought about that. When I speak with Carl, I’m going to tell him that neither of you know anything about my questioning him. He’s smart enough to understand that I have to follow every possible scenario, probable or not. I’ll make sure he is okay with it. That is, if I clear him.” “Alright,” Buck said, “But please handle him gently.” “Of course…Okay, let’s go. Where’s the press conference?” “Downstairs on the fourth floor,” Buck said. “I temporarily rented a huge empty office so we could hold the conferences right here. But before we go, I need to tell you about a call that I got this morning from Art Fornham, our director at AllSport. When he heard about the threats, he immediately thought about a recent situation on campus. There was an attempted break-in at our indoor target range. It was unsuccessful so he didn’t bother us with it when it happened. They didn’t even get through the steel door before the alarm rang. By the time the cops arrived, the perps were gone. They dusted the area and found prints belonging to some punks from a Harlem street gang. Turns out, we’ve had a couple of guys from the same gang training at AllSport. Both were excellent basketball players, but both were thrown out of camp for drug use. Names were John Morgan and Tony Jacobs.”

Buck flipped open a leather-bound folder that was on the table. Removing a page he said, “Art faxed this over a little while ago. We’ve made it a practice to tape every conversation we have with the athletes at camp. We also keep their schedules and a log of each time they enter or leave the campus, just in case. Due to the questionable character of some of our athletes, it seemed wise to protect them, or AllSport, if they ever get into serious trouble or become suspects in a crime. This is Art’s report describing John Morgan and a transcript of their conversation as he kicked Morgan out of AllSport. I’ll read it to you. ‘John Morgan is twenty-one and has excellent potential in the NBA. His nickname, Burn, is due to his reputation of burning people on and off the court. The Foundation’s recruiters originally found him on the street in Harlem, playing schoolyard ball. He is an amazing basketball player. Nobody can stop him on the court. He came to AllSport with serious baggage, though. Raised in a broken home, he grew up on the streets. Drugs, violence and theft were his life. He was a member of a tough street gang named Slam, whose members have been known to kill. They are more like a hoodlum basketball team then a street gang. Camp recruiters originally had a tough time convincing him to leave the gang and come to AllSport. Once he arrived, he quickly adapted and began enjoying camp life. He was by far the best basketball player on campus, aside from the NBA pros, of course. Morgan spent about eight months at AllSport before he was caught doing crack cocaine on campus. He was brought in by security, and I gave him a serious lecture. As per Reid’s rules, he was given one warning. As you know, the second time anyone is caught with drugs, they are thrown off campus and out of the ICSF’s program altogether, with no chance for re-admittance. Morgan’s posture and attitude during the lecture was laid back and arrogant.

‘Buck, these are excerpts transcribed from the recording of my meeting with Morgan. I’m sending them to you word for word and, while very crude, they give you an idea of Morgan’s arrogance. I don’t think I could do justice in describing his attitude to you without you reading it exactly as he said it.’ “This excerpt is from the first warning:” Yo, Reid Clark ain’t gonna throw me outta here. Ain’t no one gonna throw me outta here! I’m the best fuckin’ hoops player this place ever seen. AllSport needs me. When I make my millions in the NBA, I’ll donate lots to AllSport. You’ll see. ‘Two months later, we caught him doing crack again. He was brought in this time kicking and screaming. Security had to restrain him with handcuffs and leg irons. They held him until he came down from his high. Once he was calm enough, they brought him to my office.” “This is the transcript of that meeting,” said Buck.

Morgan:

Fornham: Morgan: Fornham:

Fornham: Well John, I guess you know what happens now, right? Morgan: Yeah, I know. You yell at me and tell me to stay straight and not do it again. Then I go back to practice and stay clean.

Fornham: No John, you’re finished at AllSport. You’re going home today. If you desire, we will take you directly to a rehab clinic and the foundation will cover the bill, but as far as continuing your training at AllSport, no chance. Sorry. That’s bullshit; I want to talk to Reid. He knows what I can do on the court. He’ll let me stay. I’m afraid not, John. I spoke with him an hour ago. He said that’s it, the rules are the rules; you’re done. It was Reid who offered to pick up the rehab bills, though. So where are we taking you, the clinic or home? Fuck you! Fuck all of you, including Reid. This sucks! I’m not goin to any fuckin’ rehab clinic. I don’t got no fuckin’ drug problem. I do crack to calm my nerves. I can stop whenever the fuck I want. Maybe you should have thought of that after the first time you were caught. Did you think we were kidding? Oh, forget it. Don’t even answer that. This meeting is over. Where are we taking you, home or rehab? Morgan: Take me home, but we’re
not
done. Buck continued reading, “Buck, after Morgan was gone, I called Reid to let him know how it had gone and told him about the last comment. If I can be of any more help, please call. I’ve tried to stay out of Reid’s way during this troublesome time. I hope he’s doing OK. Please let him know that I’m concerned about him. Thanks, Art’” When Buck finished reading, Jay turned to Reid and asked, “How could you have forgotten about this? You have to think hard, man. This is just the kind of stuff I need to do my job and hopefully save your life. Please, think back. Try to remember if there are more situations like this in your past.”

“I don’t know, Jay, I guess when it happened, I didn’t take it seriously. Obviously now I see it in a different light. Give me some time; if I think hard enough, I’ll probably come up with more. I realize
now
how important it is.” “It’s not just important, Reid, it’s vital.” “You’ve made your point, Jay. I promise.” “Good…okay,” Jay shook his head and sighed. “It never ceases to amaze me, just as I think we’re narrowing it down, the list grows. Happens all the time… Oh well, I’ll follow it up, thanks Buck. Good job on the temporary press room downstairs. It’ll save us a great deal of time.”

The room was packed, wall to wall. Jay handled the meeting without any bickering between Reid and the press. They finished in about 15 minutes and Jay promised another 15 the next day. The press appreciated that he was openly communicating with them.

A reporter from the Post approached them as they left the room. “Gentlemen, I think we need to talk. Can we go somewhere private?” “What’s so important that you can’t say it here?” Jay asked. “I received an anonymous tip.” “Let’s go to my office,” Buck said. The reporter introduced himself as Eric Fisher, a sportswriter from the

Post
. In the elevator, he started to say, “I received a…” Jay cut him off, “Not yet, Eric, the walls have ears.” They all remained quiet until they entered Buck’s office. Eric began immediately. “As I was saying, I received an anonymous call this morning. The caller had a deep voice, probably male, and was anything but educated. He sounded like he was from the hood, as they say. Anyway, he told me that the threat to Reid should be taken
very
seriously. Reid can play golf in any tournament, but he cannot win. Second place is fine, but he can’t win. If he wins, he’s dead.” Eric looked at Jay. “That’s almost word for word what he said. Then he hung up before I could ask any questions.” “Did you get a chance to record any of the call?” asked Jay. “No, my phone tap was in my car.” “We need to call the phone company for a trace,” Jay said. “I already called them; they’re working on it,” Eric said. “You know the red tape there.” “Thank you for informing us,” Jay said. “Do you have a business card?

I may need to contact you.” Eric and Jay traded business cards. As he stood up to leave, Eric turned to Reid and said, “Good luck.” Once he was gone, Jay said, “Oh yeah, I almost forgot. We had a breakthrough on the source of the note paper. The blue dye in the paper is only used by one manufacturer, and they sell it exclusively to The Office Warehouse. Lucky for us they only have four stores, two in LA and two in NY. We’re checking to see which ones recently sold any of the blue paper. Gentlemen, I think we are getting close.”

“That’s excellent,” Buck said. “I hate to break up the party, but we need to get downtown to Tri-Beca. Carl and the advertising team are meeting us at the studio. Jay, you’re welcome to come, if you want.”

“Thanks, I think I will. I’ve got a feeling this clown is close by. The more eyes we have watching, the better. Let me call my office. I want them to start researching that phone call. We also need to check out Rogers, Turner and those basketball players. I’ll be ready in a minute.”