overly curious.

Myron closed his office door, sat down, dialed a number. A voice answered on the first ring.

"Taylor."

"Hey, Brucie."

"Myron? Jesus Christ. Hey, I appreciate you calling me back."

"Sure, Bruce. I love to cooperate with my favorite reporter."

Pause. Then: "Uh-oh."

"What?" Myron said.

"This is too easy."

"Pardon."

"Okay, Myron, let's skip the part where you break down my defenses with your supernatural charisma. Cut to it."

"I want to make a deal."

"I'm listening."

"I'm not willing to make a statement yet. But when I do, you get first crack. An exclusive."

"An exclusive? Sheesh, Myron, you really do know your media lingo, don't you?"

"I could have said scoop. It's one of my favorite words."

"Okay, Myron, great. So in return for your not telling me anything, you get what?"

"Just some information. But you don't read into anything that I ask and you don't report on it. You're just my source."

"More like your bitch," Bruce said.

"If that's what you're into."

"Not today, dear, I have a headache. So let me get this straight. You tell me nothing. I report nothing. In return I get to tell you everything. Sorry, big guy, no deal."

"Bye-bye, Brucie."

"Whoa, whoa, Myron, hold up. Christ, I'm not a general manager. Don't pull that negotiating crap on me.

Look, let's stop tugging each other's chains here. This is what we do: You give me something. A statement, anything. it can be as innocuous as you want to make it. But I want to be the first with a statement from Myron Bolitar. Then I tell you what you want, I keep quiet, you give me the exclusive scoop or whatever before everyone else. Deal?"

"Deal," Myron said. "Here's your statement: Esperanza Diaz did not kill Clu Haid. I stand behind her one hundred percent."

"Was she having an affair with Clu?"

"That's my statement, Bruce. Period."

" Okay, line, but what's this about your being out of the country at the time of the murder?"

"A statement, Bruce. As in, 'no further comment.' As in, 'I'll be answering no questions today.' "

"Hey, it's already public knowledge. I just want a confirmation. You were in the Caribbean, right?"

"Right."

"Where in the Caribbean?"

"No comment."

"Why not? Were you really in the Cayman Islands?"

"No, I was not in the Caymans."

"Then where?"

See how reporters work? "No comment."

"I called you immediately following Clu's positive drug test. Esperanza said you were in town but would not comment."

"And I still won't," Myron said. "Now it's your turn, Bruce."

"Come on, Myron, you're giving me nothing here."

"We had a deal."

"Yeah, all right, sure, I want to be fair," he said in a tone that made it clear he would start up again later. "Ask away."

Casual, casual. He couldn't just ask about Sophie Mayor's daughter. Subtlety. That was the key. Myron's office door opened, and Win swept into the room. Myron signaled with one finger. Win nodded and opened a closet door. There was a full-length mirror on the inside back. Win stared at his reflection and smiled. A nice way of passing the time.

"What were the rumors about Clu?" Myron asked.

"You mean before the positive test results?"

"Yes."

"Time bomb," Bruce said.

"Explain."

"He was pitching great, no question. And he looked good. Thinned down, seemed focused. But then a week or so before the drug test, he started looking like hell Christ, you must have seen it, right? Or were you out of the country then too?"

"Just go on, Bruce."

"What else can I tell you? With Clu you've seen it a hundred times before. The guy breaks your heart. His arm was touched by God. The rest of him was, well, just touched, if you follow my meaning."

"So there were signs before the positive test?"

"Yeah, I guess. In hindsight, sure there were lots of signs. I hear his wife threw him out. He was unshaven, red-eyed, that kind of thing."

"It didn't have to be drugs," Myron said.

"True. It could have been booze."

"Or maybe it was just the strain of marital discord."

"Look, Myron, maybe some guys like Orel Hershiser get the benefit of the doubt. But when it comes to Clu Haid or Steve Howe or some other perennial screwup, you figure it's substance abuse, and eleven times out of ten you're right."

Myron looked over at Win. Win had finished patting the blond locks and was now using the mirror to practice his different smiles. Right now he was working on roguish.

Subtle, Myron reminded himself, subtle... "Bruce?"

"Yeah?"

"What can you tell me about Sophie Mayor?"

"What about her?"

"Nothing specific."

"Just curious, huh?"

"Right, curious."

"Sure you are," Bruce said.

"How much damage did Clu's drug test do to her?"

"Tremendous damage. But you know this.