Change-Up: Mystery at the World Series by John Feinstein

Author:John Feinstein [Feinstein, John]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-0-375-89351-3
Publisher: Random House Children's Books
Published: 2009-08-11T04:00:00+00:00

15: THE GOOD COP

WHEN THEY WALKED BACK TO THE CAB and Stevie asked if he could go next to the police station, Miles Hoy asked the question Stevie’d been waiting for: “When are you going to tell me what you’re really looking for here?”

Stevie nodded. “You’re entitled,” he said, and on their way to the police station, he filled him in. Hoy listened and said little.

“I wasn’t here back then,” Hoy said after a pause. “I was still working in Atlanta.”

“What brought you here?” Stevie asked.

“My grandparents owned a house here and they left it to me. I’d always liked Lynchburg—it’s a nice, small town. People are friendly—even Jim Hatley, most days. I drive the cab and I also do some part-time coaching at the junior high school. Keeps me busy enough.”

Stevie asked him if he knew Joe Molloy.

“Everyone knows Joe Molloy,” he said. “He’ll be chief when Bob Lawson retires in a few years. Good man. I think you’ll like him.”

The police station, as it turned out, was behind the courthouse, just across a parking lot from the back door. It was just before four o’clock when they pulled up. Hoy volunteered to come inside and try to smooth the way for him—Stevie gratefully accepted the offer.

They walked into the small one-level building and found a burly cop with a mustache sitting behind the desk. “What’s up, Miles?” he asked in a friendly tone. Stevie doubted he would have been greeted quite so warmly on his own.

“Young man here needs a minute with Chief Molloy,” Hoy said. “Is he around?”

The desk cop, whose name tag said J. G. Brendle, looked at Stevie as if waiting for him to explain. When Stevie stayed quiet, he just shrugged. “He’s here,” he said, picking up the phone. “Let me see if he’s busy. Why don’t you guys have a seat.”

Brendle put the phone down a minute later and said: “Miles, you’re in luck. He’ll be right out.”

A few seconds later a door swung open and a tall man with blond hair and an easy smile walked over to them.

“Miles, what have you brought me today?” he asked, hand out as he approached Hoy.

“Someone who has some interesting questions for you, I think,” Hoy answered.

Molloy turned to Stevie. “Joe Molloy,” he said.

“Steve Thomas,” Stevie said, shaking the proffered hand. “I work for the Washington Herald.”

Molloy snapped his fingers. “Kidsports,” he said. “You and that girl were on that show last year, weren’t you?” he said.

Stevie nodded. “Didn’t last very long,” he said.

“Too bad, my kids really liked you. Come on back and you can tell me what you need.”

Stevie looked at Hoy to see if he was going to come with him. “I’ll wait here,” Hoy said.

“You sure?” Stevie said.

“Oh yeah,” Hoy said. “You’re the reporter, I’m just the driver.”

Joe Molloy led Stevie through a maze of hallways until they reached the back of the building. They passed a door marked Chief Lawson, turned one more corner, and walked into a comfortable office that belonged to Molloy.

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