Outside Lanes (Miami Jones Private Investigator Mystery Book 18) by Stewart A.J

Author:Stewart, A.J.
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Jacaranda Drive
Published: 2024-08-02T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWENTY

I spent the evening at Longboard Kelly’s with Danielle. We ate chicken Caesar salads and watched swimming. The sun fell but the humidity didn’t, and my shirt clung to my back.

“Not there again?” said Muriel from across the bar.

“I am but a phone call away. Trying to do the coach a favor by not reminding Greg about what’s going on.”

Max Partensi’s commentary had a different ring in my ears after meeting him. He was exuberant and loud. He screamed a lot. In college, I would have hated him, but I had an unnerving suspicion that he would have been a good teammate. For all their faults—and there were many—those big-man-on-campus types had a way of galvanizing a team. He spoke positively of every swimmer, even those who were hitting the wall dead last.

“Orna Tetweiler called,” said Danielle. “She’d like to come and do her final inspection the day after tomorrow.”

“Okay.”

“You finish reading the stuff?”

“I’ve been through Lizzy’s file more times than I can count. If there’s something more I need to know about being a foster parent, it isn’t in the literature.”

“It’s not the SATs, MJ. Don’t worry.”

“I’m not worried.”

I was petrified.

“You going to the arena tomorrow?” she asked.

“Not first thing. I’m going down to Miami.”

“Oh?”

“Lizzy came up with someone I should speak with.”

After leaving Detective Faust at Gun Club Road, I had stopped by my office. Lizzy handed me a piece of paper with a name on it.

“Hayden Malkovich? Who is he when he’s at home?”

Lizzy said, “I ran through all the teammates and others connected to Forrest Simpson. Hayden Malkovich was part of the Stanford collegiate squad when Forrest first moved over from the University of California.”

“Was he at the Games?”

“No. He never made it. He was NCAA-ranked, but that was as far as he went. I thought because he wasn’t at the trials, he might be willing to talk with you, tell you something useful.”

“If he’s not at the trials, where is he?”

“University of Miami. He’s now a coach there.”

“You don’t say.”

“I do say.”

“It’s a long way to go for a chat with someone who barely crossed paths with him.”

“If you don’t want my help, just say so. I could be playing solitaire on my computer.”

I had disappointed her, and that was a problem. Whenever I messed up, I never knew how to make it better with her. Doing as she suggested and driving down to Miami would help, but I sincerely hoped an iced coffee with whipped cream in the morning would have the same effect.

It was later that night when I showed Danielle the screenshot of Forrest’s diary page, hoping that the name clicked and Lizzy’s find would become a mission for us both. Although I had more or less promised Detective Faust to not show it to anyone, I figured Danielle was a safe bet since she was also law enforcement, and Muriel was safe because she was a bartender and leaned over the bar whether I liked it or not.

Danielle spotted the line.

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