wouldn't do that," Dixie said.
"No, he just called and wanted to meet me in a parking garage and then decided not to come and, oddly enough, four guys happened to be there who want me to lay off this case and they had guns."
"Parking garage? There was a shooting last night at a parking garage on the waterfront." I nodded.
"Jesus Christ," Dixie said, "was that you?" I didn't answer.
"Jesus Christ," Dixie said again. "I ... what are we going to do?"
"We're going to talk with Dwayne."
"Spenser, Dwayne's a good kid, he's a quality kid, he wouldn't ... he must have been under pressure."
"We'll find out what kind of quality kid he is," I said. "So far he seems to me to be a loudmouthed pain in the ass. I'm way out on a goddamned limb trying to save his neck."
"I know, I know, don't think I don't know that. But the kid is so great. We can't lose him. I mean he's a blow off the court sometimes, I see him in the interviews talking about himself in the third person. I know he can be irritating. But on the court ... Spenser, he is the most coachable kid I ever had. He's got better work habits than I have. He listens, he does what I tell him, he practices more than anybody on the team. He stuck with the program for four years. He could have gone pro after his sophomore year. But he stayed here out of loyalty, out of respect for me and his teammates. Guys with talent like Dwayne, they can dog it through college, take the big pro contract, never really learn the game. Dwayne could pass more, maybe, but he's got all the fundamentals. He knows the game. He feels it. Spenser, the kid is a genius in his own way."
"Get him in here, Dixie. I'm now covering up point shaving and accessory to attempted murder for him. I need to find a handle on this thing or I'm going down with him."
"You didn't report the attempt to the cops?"
"No," I said. "I couldn't figure out how to do that and not get Dwayne dragged into it. What were you doing in the garage? Why did you agree to go there? Why did these guys want to hit you? Cops aren't dumb. Cops been lied to a lot in their career. They know about that."
"And if they find out it was you and you didn't report it?"
"Pretty well eliminates my chances for the gumshoe hall of fame," I said. "Get him in here."
Dixie nodded. He rose and walked past me to his office door and stuck his head out.
"Vicki," he said to his secretary, "tell Dwayne I want to see him, please."
Dixie came back around his desk and sat heavily in his swivel chair.
"Goddamn," he said. "Goddamn."
We were quiet while we waited for Dwayne. When he came in he filled the room. It was always startling to see Dwayne up close. When I wasn't with him, I forgot how big he was and tended to think of him in normal-sized terms. But in shorts and a tank top, with a towel draped over his shoulders, he was startling in his size. And more startling in his athleticism. He moved as gracefully as any corner back, and he was built like a good middleweight boxer, except that he was six feet nine inches tall. As he moved the muscles bunched and rolled under his skin.
"What's happening, Coach?" Dwayne saw me but didn't look again.
"Come in, Dwayne, close the door, sit down."
Dwayne did all three and looked at Dunham. Dixie put his hands behind his head and laced the fingers. He leaned back against the spring on the swivel chair and took in a breath and let it out.
"Dwayne," he said, "you gotta help us."
Dwayne's eyes shifted to me when Dixie said us and shifted back to the coach. He nodded. "Sure," he said.
"Dwayne, you got to tell us what the hell is going on."
"I don't know what you mean, Coach."
"Yeah, you do. You been shaving points. Last night you set this man up to be murdered."
Dwayne's head was shaking back and forth in denial all the time Dixie talked.
"You called him," Dixie said, "you told him to meet you in a parking garage, and instead of you, when he got there he found some people with guns."
Dwayne's head continued to
"No, he just called and wanted to meet me in a parking garage and then decided not to come and, oddly enough, four guys happened to be there who want me to lay off this case and they had guns."
"Parking garage? There was a shooting last night at a parking garage on the waterfront." I nodded.
"Jesus Christ," Dixie said, "was that you?" I didn't answer.
"Jesus Christ," Dixie said again. "I ... what are we going to do?"
"We're going to talk with Dwayne."
"Spenser, Dwayne's a good kid, he's a quality kid, he wouldn't ... he must have been under pressure."
"We'll find out what kind of quality kid he is," I said. "So far he seems to me to be a loudmouthed pain in the ass. I'm way out on a goddamned limb trying to save his neck."
"I know, I know, don't think I don't know that. But the kid is so great. We can't lose him. I mean he's a blow off the court sometimes, I see him in the interviews talking about himself in the third person. I know he can be irritating. But on the court ... Spenser, he is the most coachable kid I ever had. He's got better work habits than I have. He listens, he does what I tell him, he practices more than anybody on the team. He stuck with the program for four years. He could have gone pro after his sophomore year. But he stayed here out of loyalty, out of respect for me and his teammates. Guys with talent like Dwayne, they can dog it through college, take the big pro contract, never really learn the game. Dwayne could pass more, maybe, but he's got all the fundamentals. He knows the game. He feels it. Spenser, the kid is a genius in his own way."
"Get him in here, Dixie. I'm now covering up point shaving and accessory to attempted murder for him. I need to find a handle on this thing or I'm going down with him."
"You didn't report the attempt to the cops?"
"No," I said. "I couldn't figure out how to do that and not get Dwayne dragged into it. What were you doing in the garage? Why did you agree to go there? Why did these guys want to hit you? Cops aren't dumb. Cops been lied to a lot in their career. They know about that."
"And if they find out it was you and you didn't report it?"
"Pretty well eliminates my chances for the gumshoe hall of fame," I said. "Get him in here."
Dixie nodded. He rose and walked past me to his office door and stuck his head out.
"Vicki," he said to his secretary, "tell Dwayne I want to see him, please."
Dixie came back around his desk and sat heavily in his swivel chair.
"Goddamn," he said. "Goddamn."
We were quiet while we waited for Dwayne. When he came in he filled the room. It was always startling to see Dwayne up close. When I wasn't with him, I forgot how big he was and tended to think of him in normal-sized terms. But in shorts and a tank top, with a towel draped over his shoulders, he was startling in his size. And more startling in his athleticism. He moved as gracefully as any corner back, and he was built like a good middleweight boxer, except that he was six feet nine inches tall. As he moved the muscles bunched and rolled under his skin.
"What's happening, Coach?" Dwayne saw me but didn't look again.
"Come in, Dwayne, close the door, sit down."
Dwayne did all three and looked at Dunham. Dixie put his hands behind his head and laced the fingers. He leaned back against the spring on the swivel chair and took in a breath and let it out.
"Dwayne," he said, "you gotta help us."
Dwayne's eyes shifted to me when Dixie said us and shifted back to the coach. He nodded. "Sure," he said.
"Dwayne, you got to tell us what the hell is going on."
"I don't know what you mean, Coach."
"Yeah, you do. You been shaving points. Last night you set this man up to be murdered."
Dwayne's head was shaking back and forth in denial all the time Dixie talked.
"You called him," Dixie said, "you told him to meet you in a parking garage, and instead of you, when he got there he found some people with guns."
Dwayne's head continued to
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