anymore?”
I shook my head. “Far from it, Ace. The old-timers hate me. It
was an unusually loyal group because it was getting smaller every
year. They looked out for each other. They didn’t send each other
to jail.”
I pushed out of the chair and went into the kitchen to pour a
fresh glass of water.
When I came back, Amy had closed the pizza box and was sitting
upright on the couch, less like a cat and more like a human for
a change.
“I have a tip for you,” she said. “It will be in the paper tomorrow,
but you deserve to hear it early.”
“Yeah?” Something about her attitude was a little off suddenly,
something in the way she kept her eyes away from mine while she
talked that made me uneasy.
“I got a call from a guy today who read my first story about Gradduk
and said he could tell me when Sentalar and Gradduk met.”
“That’s pretty huge,” I said, dropping back into my chair.
She nodded and took a sip of diet Coke but didn’t say anything
immediately.
“Well, where was it? Where’d they meet?”
“At a bar on Lorain,” she said. “This guy, he’s a bartender. Told
me that he remembered both Gradduk and Sentalar as soon as he
saw their pictures. According to him, they met in the bar about
two weeks ago.”
“He get a sense for whether it was a friendly meeting, romantic,
or professional?”
She pushed the diet Coke can around the coffee table with her
fingertips. “He said Gradduk was making a pass at Sentalar, and
she was trying to get him to leave her alone.”
I frowned. “That doesn’t sound like Ed.”
Amy pushed the can aside and rummaged in her purse until she
found a notebook. She flipped it open, said, “These are direct
quotes from the bartender,” and began to read.
“The guy, Gradduk, he kept putting his hand on her arm, leaning
down to talk real soft to her, pretty intense. And she shrugged
him off a couple times. I remember once she said, 'You don’t have
a prayer.’ And then he said, “I’m not taking no for an answer.’ And
she answered that he was going to have to take no for an answer.
They talked for another minute or two, and then she pulled away
from him and said, in a loud voice, 'Just leave me the hell alone.’
That was when I stepped in and told him he needed to listen to the
lady. And he ignored me—well, didn’t say anything to me—but he
did get up and walk off. And as he was walking, he looked back at
her and said, 'You know I’m not going away.’”
Amy closed the notebook and returned it to her purse.
I shook my head. “I don’t believe it. This is some loser just hoping
to steal fifteen seconds of fame by making up a story or fabricating
what he really saw.”
Amy raised her eyebrows. “He remembers the incident pretty
damn clearly. And Cal Richards was very interested. I called him
and filled him in late this afternoon, and he said it actually meshed
nicely with the picture he was developing of their relationship.
Thanked me for my reporting, like all of a sudden I was his favorite
person.”
“What’s the picture he’s developing?”
“He wouldn’t tell me a whole lot of it, obviously, but he did say
Anita Sentalar’s phone records showed numerous but brief calls
from Gradduk in recent weeks. And apparently the guy she works
with, the partner in her law firm, said he knew Gradduk had
shown up at the office a few times, and Sentalar had asked him to
leave.”
I sat with a half-eaten breadstick in my hand and felt myself beginning
a slow burn toward anger. This wasn’t fair to Ed. Not by a
long shot. It was just a snippet of a weeks-old conversation in a
crowded bar, but it would convict him in the public’s opinion even
more than he already was.
“You can’t run that story, Amy,” I said. “It’s ridiculous. That’s an
unsubstantiated, one-sided account of a conversation that may
never have even happened.”
This time her eyebrows arched so high they almost joined her
hairline. “Excuse me? I can’t run that story? Like you’re
I shook my head. “Far from it, Ace. The old-timers hate me. It
was an unusually loyal group because it was getting smaller every
year. They looked out for each other. They didn’t send each other
to jail.”
I pushed out of the chair and went into the kitchen to pour a
fresh glass of water.
When I came back, Amy had closed the pizza box and was sitting
upright on the couch, less like a cat and more like a human for
a change.
“I have a tip for you,” she said. “It will be in the paper tomorrow,
but you deserve to hear it early.”
“Yeah?” Something about her attitude was a little off suddenly,
something in the way she kept her eyes away from mine while she
talked that made me uneasy.
“I got a call from a guy today who read my first story about Gradduk
and said he could tell me when Sentalar and Gradduk met.”
“That’s pretty huge,” I said, dropping back into my chair.
She nodded and took a sip of diet Coke but didn’t say anything
immediately.
“Well, where was it? Where’d they meet?”
“At a bar on Lorain,” she said. “This guy, he’s a bartender. Told
me that he remembered both Gradduk and Sentalar as soon as he
saw their pictures. According to him, they met in the bar about
two weeks ago.”
“He get a sense for whether it was a friendly meeting, romantic,
or professional?”
She pushed the diet Coke can around the coffee table with her
fingertips. “He said Gradduk was making a pass at Sentalar, and
she was trying to get him to leave her alone.”
I frowned. “That doesn’t sound like Ed.”
Amy pushed the can aside and rummaged in her purse until she
found a notebook. She flipped it open, said, “These are direct
quotes from the bartender,” and began to read.
“The guy, Gradduk, he kept putting his hand on her arm, leaning
down to talk real soft to her, pretty intense. And she shrugged
him off a couple times. I remember once she said, 'You don’t have
a prayer.’ And then he said, “I’m not taking no for an answer.’ And
she answered that he was going to have to take no for an answer.
They talked for another minute or two, and then she pulled away
from him and said, in a loud voice, 'Just leave me the hell alone.’
That was when I stepped in and told him he needed to listen to the
lady. And he ignored me—well, didn’t say anything to me—but he
did get up and walk off. And as he was walking, he looked back at
her and said, 'You know I’m not going away.’”
Amy closed the notebook and returned it to her purse.
I shook my head. “I don’t believe it. This is some loser just hoping
to steal fifteen seconds of fame by making up a story or fabricating
what he really saw.”
Amy raised her eyebrows. “He remembers the incident pretty
damn clearly. And Cal Richards was very interested. I called him
and filled him in late this afternoon, and he said it actually meshed
nicely with the picture he was developing of their relationship.
Thanked me for my reporting, like all of a sudden I was his favorite
person.”
“What’s the picture he’s developing?”
“He wouldn’t tell me a whole lot of it, obviously, but he did say
Anita Sentalar’s phone records showed numerous but brief calls
from Gradduk in recent weeks. And apparently the guy she works
with, the partner in her law firm, said he knew Gradduk had
shown up at the office a few times, and Sentalar had asked him to
leave.”
I sat with a half-eaten breadstick in my hand and felt myself beginning
a slow burn toward anger. This wasn’t fair to Ed. Not by a
long shot. It was just a snippet of a weeks-old conversation in a
crowded bar, but it would convict him in the public’s opinion even
more than he already was.
“You can’t run that story, Amy,” I said. “It’s ridiculous. That’s an
unsubstantiated, one-sided account of a conversation that may
never have even happened.”
This time her eyebrows arched so high they almost joined her
hairline. “Excuse me? I can’t run that story? Like you’re
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