Cover-Up: Mystery at the Super Bowl by John Feinstein

Author:John Feinstein
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780375890710
Publisher: Random House Children's Books
Published: 2007-11-13T05:00:00+00:00

Stevie was quite proud of the fact that, for once, he was the one who had come up with an idea. Susan Carol had kept the card that Dr. Snow had given her at the party, which had his cell number on it. Snow must have picked up on the first ring because an instant after she had finished dialing, Stevie heard her say, “Dr. Snow? Hi. It’s Susan Carol Anderson.”

She paused, clearly waiting to see if he remembered her.

“Right, at the party on Tuesday.”

She rolled her eyes as he responded. “No, not quite six feet tall.

“The reason I’m calling is that I think you and I should talk.”

Her face turned red at his next response. “No, not over drinks. I’m fourteen years old. I can’t drink for seven more years.

“I understand. People get confused because I’m tall. We do need to talk, though, about what you told me the other night.”

She listened for a moment. “If you’d like, I’ll refresh your memory. It was about drug testing and the Dreams’ offensive line….”

Stevie thought he heard shouting coming from the other end of the phone.

“No, actually, you never said anything about off the record,” Susan Carol finally said. “In fact, what you said was, ‘I’ll give you a scoop, gorgeous.’”

More shouting.

“No, I haven’t spoken to anyone about it, except my friend Steve Thomas—who is here working for the Washington Herald and CBS….”

Now Stevie could actually hear Snow’s words: “CBS?! CBS knows about this! Are you out of your mind? Look, I was drunk, I didn’t know what I was talking about—”

Susan Carol broke in. “I know you were drunk, doctor, but I’m pretty sure you knew exactly what you were talking about. I don’t want to embarrass you. That’s why we need to talk.”

Susan Carol waited. Stevie heard nothing coming from the other end of the phone. “Well, then, let’s find some sort of neutral spot where no one will see us.”

She listened for a minute. “Okay, then, seven o’clock. Spell that for me.” She began writing on a phone notepad that was sitting on the night table. “All right, Steve and I will meet you there at seven.”

She hung up.

“And?”

“The team is staying at a hotel out in the suburbs. Apparently there’s a YMCA just across the street where some of the players have been going to work in the weight room in the mornings. He wants to meet us there at seven tonight.”

“Where is it?”

She looked at the notepad. “Greenbriar. Wherever that is. Look, I have access to a car with a driver. He’ll know the area. Why don’t you meet me at the Canterbury at six-thirty so we can go from there. I’m taping the rest of the show at four o’clock. Even with Jamie’s screwups, we’ll be done in plenty of time.”

“The driver won’t ask questions?”

“No. What does he care if I want to go to some YMCA?”

He nodded. “So, you don’t want me to come over at six so we can have a drink first?”

For a split second she didn’t get it.

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