CHAPTER 63

THE SUN was setting as they finished their meal. Herbert had served the dinner in a Roman ruin-style pavilion next to an elaborate water garden with a pond, waterfall, and hundreds of thirsty flowers.

“I wonder if Herbert rents out for parties,” said Roy, as he used chopsticks to push a last bit of spicy pork into his mouth.

“If you had a full-time gig here would you ever want to leave?” said Mace as she sipped on a glass of Chinese beer.

Roy glanced at her. “So about me asking you to join me in the hot tub-”

“What about it?” Mace cut in.

“Uh, nothing.”

Her tone softened. “Look, it’s just been awhile. The last few years did a number on me. Made it hard to have a normal relationship. Hell, if I ever could in my line of work.”

“I understand that.”

“But I like hanging with you. And you put a lot on the line for me. I won’t forget that.”

Mace leaned forward and made marks on a cloth napkin with her sticks. “Diane Tolliver’s office.”

“You want to go back to there? Why?”

“Something happened, Roy. Those guys came after me right after I was there.”

“How would they have even known you were there? I was the only one up there with you and I didn’t tell anybody.”

“We also need to get into Diane’s house.”

“Won’t the police have it taped off?”

“It’s just tape.”

“No, it’s just a felony. More than one, actually. You could go back to prison.”

Her face eased into a hard mask. “I’m already in prison, Roy, but I’m apparently the only one who can see the damn bars.”

“What do you hope to find at her house?”

“She wanted us to talk to Andre Watkins. The bandits beat us to it. So we have to get that information from another angle.”

“Come on, shouldn’t we leave this to the police?”

“Some jerks tried to kill me. I’m not walking away from that.”

“You have no idea if that’s connected to what happened to Diane.”

“My gut is telling me different. And I listen to my gut.”

“It’s never wrong?”

“Not on the important issues, no.”

Roy eyed the immense gymnasium facility Altman had shown them across from the guesthouse.

“You up for a little B-ball?”

“What? You didn’t have enough with Psycho?”

“I would assume it would be a little friendlier than that.”

“Never assume. Remember how you described my play? I can hard-foul with the best of them. But I didn’t bring my uniform.”

“I bet a guy like Altman has all that stuff.”

“What do you have in mind?”

“One-on-one?”

“I saw what you did to Psycho. You’re out of my league.”

“Come on, I’ll take it easy on you.”

“Gee, just what I wanted to hear.” She paused. “How about a game of HORSE instead?”

“HORSE?”

“Yeah, you know the game, right.”

“I think I played it once or twice.”

“Well, in the interest of full disclosure, I spent the last two years of my life playing it every day. Still game?”

“No problem.”

“Don’t sound so confident. What are we playing for?”

“Playing for?”

“I’m not getting all hot and sweaty for nothing.”

“You up for anything?”

“Not if the loser has to give the winner a full-body massage while naked, or some crap like that.”

“No nakedness or bodily touching. I promise.”

She looked at him warily.

“Come on, Mace, trust your gut.”

“Okay, my gut says whatever you propose I accept.”

“Okay. You win, we both keep investigating this thing without the cops. I win, we go to the cops and tell them everything and let them handle it.”

Mace looked at him with a stony expression.

“You’re not going to back off your gut, are you?” he said.

“I guess I expected a little more from you, Roy.”

“I think you’ll thank me at some point. You ready?”

Mace stood. “Better bring your A-game, Kingman.”

CHAPTER 64

I FEEL LIKE I’m back in college,” said Roy as they gazed in awe at the facility Abe Altman had built with Warren Buffett-fueled riches.

“You were on a major college team. I only played girls’ high school ball in a Catholic league, meaning we had no money. This is like hoops heaven to me.”

Roy pointed to the rafters. “He even has a facsimile of the NCAA championship banners the men’s and women’s teams won at Maryland.”

They spent a few minutes checking out the pool, full-size locker room with showers, sauna, steam room, and exercise room equipped with the latest machines. There was one room with workout clothing neatly laid out that looked like it had never been worn. Rows of athletic shoes lined one wall.

“This is like some sports fantasy,” he said.

“Let’s get down to business, because I’m really looking forward to kicking your ass,” said Mace.

“Now who’s overconfident?”

“You must really want out of this.” Her tone was flat and hard.

“How about wanting to keep both of us alive? Doesn’t that count for something?”

She bumped him with her shoulder. “If you want to call it living.”

“What?”

“Being a chickenshit.”

“So why’d you go along with the bet?”

“Like I said, because I really want to kick your ass.”

They found a large room filled with all the athletic gear one could want, from baseball mitts to boxing gloves. There were at least fifty basketballs placed neatly on racks, many with college logos on them.

Mace pulled out one. “For old times’ sake.”

He looked down to see the familiar UVA Cavaliers logo painted on it.

They walked out to the court, where Roy did a mock cheer from the invisible crowd. She threw the ball hard at his gut. He easily caught it before impact. “So what was it like to play in front of thousands, Mr. Superstar?” she asked.

“Greatest time of my life.”

“Glory days?”

“Being a lawyer pays the bills. It’s not like I get out of bed every day thanking the Lord Almighty for the opportunity to make rich people even richer. It’s not like what you used to do as a cop.”

“Then get out of it. Go back to being a CJA, or join the public defender’s office.”

“Easier said than done.”

“It’s only hard if you make it.”

“I’ll keep that in mind. Ladies first.” He bounced the ball to her.

“Shall we just dispense with the layup portion of the program?”

“Whatever you want.”

She marched off fifteen feet at a hard right angle from the hoop. She set up and fired. Nothing but net.

Roy clapped. “I’m impressed. Not even warmed up.”

“Oh, au contraire. I had the hot sauce on my noodles. And your loser bet made me even hotter. I’m like fire inside.”

“Mace, I really think you’ll thank me later for-”

“Just shoot!”

Roy took his place and swished it.

Twenty feet out at a forty-five degree angle Mace banked it in.

“About the limit of your range?” he asked. “Guess you’ll find out.”

He made a swish.

Mace said, “Okay, that’s H for you.”

“What the hell are you talking about? I made the shot.”

“I banked my shot, Roy. You swished it. You got an H.” He stared at her openmouthed. “What?” she said. “You thought I banked it because I couldn’t do it clean from twenty?”

She grabbed the ball from him, set up at twenty, and hit nothing but the bottom of the net.

“Okay, I’ve got an H,” he said sullenly.

“Yes, you do.”

After nearly an hour, over eighty shots and very few misses, each stood at H-O-R-S.

Mace set up her shot and banked in an arced twenty-five-footer.

“So just to be clear, do I need to bank or can I swish?” he asked.

“I’ll take it easy on you, wimpy boy. You can choose.”

Roy bounced the ball twice, took aim, and released. His shot missed not only the net but the rim as well.

Mace bent down, picked up the ball, and looked over, open-mouthed.