point in stating the obvious.

"One time Clu tried to explain it to me," Enos continued. "'Sometimes,' he said, 'you don't want to escape the world; sometimes you want to escape yourself.'" He cocked his head. "Do you believe that?"

"Not really," Myron said. "Like a lot of cute phrases, it sounds good. But it also sounds like a load of self-rationalization."

Enos smiled. "You're mad at him."

"I guess I am."

"Don't be. He was a very unhappy man, Myron. A man who needs so much excess... there is something broken inside him, no?"

Myron said nothing.

"Clu tried. He fought hard, you have no idea. He wouldn't go out at night. If our room had a minibar, he'd make them take it out. He didn't hang out with old friends because he was afraid of what he might do. He was scared all the time. He fought long and hard."

"And he lost," Myron added.

"I never saw him take drugs. I never saw him drink."

"But you noticed changes."

Enos nodded. "His life began to fall apart. So many bad things happened."

"What bad things?"

The organ music revved immediately into high gear, the legendary Eddie Layton opening up with his rendition of that ballpark classic "The Girl from Ipanema." Enos lifted the bat to his shoulder, then lowered it again. "I feel uncomfortable talking about this."

"I'm not prying for the fun of it. I'm trying to find out who killed him."

"The papers said your secretary did it."

"They're wrong."

Enos stared at the bat as though there were a message hidden beneath the word Louisville. Myron tried to prompt him.

"Clu withdrew two hundred thousand dollars not long before he died," Myron said. "Was he having financial problems?"

"If he did, I didn't see it."

"Did he gamble?"

"I didn't see him him gamble, no."

"Do you know that he changed agents?"

Enos looked surprised. "He fired you?"

"Apparently he was going to."

"1 didn't know," he said. "I know he was looking for you. But no, I didn't know that."

"So what was it then, Enos? What made him cave?"

He lifted his eyes and blinked into the sun. The perfect weather for a night game. Soon fans would arrive, and memories would be made. Happened every night in stadiums around the world. It was always some kid's first game.

"His marriage," Enos said. "That was the big thing, I think. You know Bonnie?"

"Yes."

"Clu loved her very much."

"He had an odd way of showing it."

Enos smiled. "Sleeping with all those women. I think he did it more to hurt himself than anyone else."

"That sounds like another one of those big, fat rationalizations, Enos. Clu may have made self-destruction an art form. But that's not an excuse for what he put her through."

"I think he'd agree with that. But Clu hurt himself most of all."

"Don't kid yourself. He hurt Bonnie too."

"Yes, you're right, of course. But he still loved her. When she threw him out, it hurt him so much. You have no idea."

"What can you tell me about their breakup?"

Another hesitation. "Not much to tell. Clu felt betrayed, angry."

"You know that Clu had fooled around before."

"Yes."

"So what made it different this time? Bonnie was used to his straying. What made her finally snap? Who was his girlfriend?"

Enos looked puzzled. "You think Bonnie threw him out over a girl?"

"She didn't?"

Enos shook his head.

"You're sure."

"It was never about girls with Clu. They were just part of the drugs and alcohol. They were easy for him to give up."

Myron was confused. "So he wasn't having an affair?"

"No," Enos said. "She was."

That was when it clicked. Myron felt a cold wave roll through him, squeezing the pit of his stomach. He barely said good-bye before he hurried away.
Chapter 23
He knew Bonnie would be home.

The car had barely come to a full stop when he shot out the driver's door. There were perhaps a dozen other vehicles parked on the street. Mourners. The front door was opened. Myron headed inside without knocking. He wanted to find Bonnie and confront her and end this. But she wasn't in the living room. Just mourners. Some approached him, slowing him down. He offered his condolences to Clu's mother, her face ravaged with grief. He shook other hands, trying to swim through the thick sea of grief-stricken and glad-handers and find Bonnie. He finally spotted her outside in the backyard. She sat alone on the deck, her knees tucked under her chin, watching her children play. He steeled himself and pushed open the sliding glass doors.

The porch was cedarwood and overlooked a large swing set. Clu's boys were on it,