Page 57 of Think Twice

“I don’t have to answer your questions.”

“I spoke to his doctor. A mutual friend of ours named Ellen Nakhnikian. She said Greg was healthy.”

“Doctors can’t say anything. Patient-client—”

“Well, maybe. But Greg is dead, so Dr. Nakhnikian had no issue talking to me.”

She stuck out her chin. “Greg went to another doctor.”

“Did he now?”

“He didn’t want anyone to know.”

“Noble,” Myron said. “But that’s not what happened. Dr. Nakhnikian saw Greg two months before you two ran off. Gave him a clean bill of health.” Myron switched gears, hoping a sudden change might throw her. “Do you know who Cecelia Callister is?”

“No.” Then: “Wait, the name is familiar.”

“She was a big model. She was recently murdered along with her son Clay.”

“Oh right. I read about that. What does that have to do with—?”

“The police think Greg did it. That’s why I’m here. They want to question him.”

“That makes no sense. Greg is dead.”

“Yeah, Grace, that’s not going to fly. I’ll keep digging. But worse—the cops will keep digging. Heck, Joey the Toe will keep digging. I beat them all here, but they’ll find you too. It’s just a question of time.”

“I’m telling you—”

And then from behind Myron, another voice, a familiar male voice, said, “Let it go, hon. Damn, Bolitar, you always were a stubborn son of a bitch who didn’t know when to quit.”

Myron turned around. He had a full beard now covering up his famous baby face. His straight hair had been permed to a curl. But there was no doubt.

It was Greg Downing.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Yeah, look, I didn’t lie to you. I planned to run off, just like I told you.”

Greg and Myron sat at an ash-wood kitchen table. The kitchen was white, except for the raw-wood ceiling beams. The refrigerator and freezer had glass doors. Grace was working some kind of gleaming espresso machine.

“I needed to quit coaching. Just like I told you. The game… I mean, you know better than anyone, Myron. It consumes you. It takes everything you have. I had spent my life doing it. The fire just wasn’t burning anymore.”

Grace placed the coffee cup in front of Myron. Myron smiled a thanks.

“Wow, I’m sorry,” Greg said.

“Huh?”

“All that talk about being tired of the game,” he continued. “That probably sounded insensitive. I get how lucky I was. I had a long career. And… and I took that away from you. I’m sorry, man. You know that.”

Myron wasn’t sure how to reply to that, so he went with, “No reason to rehash the past right now.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I guess you’re right. How did you find us anyway? Or is that a state secret?”

The room filled with the aroma of top-echelon coffee beans.

Myron ignored the question. “You don’t have cancer, do you?” he said.