“At this point in my life, I’ll take an arrest. But it’ll be up to you to absolve Chase as someone who didn’t throw the game.”
“I think the facts speak for themselves, but I can’t erase the truth. Chase took the money, even though he never appeared to do anything to warrant it.”
“You do what’s right by your profession, Cal,” Hugh said. “You’re a good man. And it’s a shame that there aren’t more journalists like you out there seeking the truth for truth’s sake.”
“It’s the only way to be a reporter,” Cal said.
“Well, I can’t thank you enough, and just know that you’re welcome out here at the Dollinger ranch any time.”
“Don’t worry, Hugh. I won’t stop trying. Whether Chase had a weak moment or was forced into taking that money, that doesn’t matter to me. He didn’t deserve what happened to him—and neither did you.”
Cal hung up and embraced Kelly. According to another FBI agent who responded to the scene, the Murphys still had plenty to answer for, including breaking out of federal custody and running over a highway patrolman’s bike. However, the agent suggested that all was likely to be forgiven in light of the facts that emerged.
Cal and Kelly drove to Kelly’s mother’s house and spent the night there, awaking in the morning as a reunited family. They gathered all of Maddie’s belongings and returned home.
* * *
LATER THAT AFTERNOON, Cal was sitting at his desk while he put the finishing touches on his follow-up article about what happened with Chase Dollinger. In light of the previous night’s incident, an anonymous person emailed Cal the missing footage from the bus security camera. The video depicted what Cal had suspected all along—that someone shoved a needle into Dollinger while he was asleep, ensuring that he never woke up.
Cal managed to sift through all the sordid details, including how many players Amy Lincoln had co-opted into her plan. Through a detailed analysis by two other staff sports writers, the best they could determine was that McCutcheon, Portman, and Mariners’ shortstop, J.J. Bavaro, were the only ones who appeared to make an attempt to throw the game. However, Cal learned from McCutcheon that Amy Lincoln had apparently gathered enough dirt on all of them to either ruin their personal lives or their careers through various means.
While Cal wanted to pursue the specifics of this claim, he decided to let Major League Baseball investigate that and make any such determinations as to the validity of the claim. There had been enough carnage already, and the last thing Cal wanted was to potentially end the career of a few promising young players. The facts spoke for themselves. Nobody was going to question his professionalism after what he’d been through.
The last piece of information Cal was waiting on was from Jarrett Anderson, who called just after 5:00 p.m.
“Cal, Cal, Cal,” Anderson said. “I guess do what you need to do has different meanings for us.”
“I took it to mean that I needed to get out of there.”
“That’s not exactly how I meant for it to go down. I was hoping maybe you could call in some help, maybe that Washington senator you know, and pressure them to let you go free or at least get them to delay your arraignment until more facts came to light. Breaking out wasn’t what I intended for you to do at all.”
“Just don’t be so cryptic next time, okay?” Cal said.
“Next time? Are you planning on getting arrested by the FBI again?”
Cal laughed. “Of course not, but you never know.”
“Well, on that note, let me tell you what we found. The reason this scandal didn’t raise any alarm bells with the bureau’s gambling division was because there was no unusual trend regarding the Mariners in that game. After a thorough examination of all the local sports books, we found that the majority of the bets were placed on the Mariners to win. If anyone was intending to make a lot of money off this game, they did it quietly.”
“Thanks, Jarrett. That’s what I needed to know. This was never about money—it was all about revenge.”
“That’s what we’ve found too,” Anderson said.
“Good luck, Cal. I’ll put in a good word for you and make sure that nobody at the bureau even thinks about leveling a single charge against you for what you did when you escaped custody.”
“I appreciate it. Later.”
Cal hung up and finished his story. He sent it to Buckman for editing. A half hour later, Buckman called Cal.
“Come into my office,” Buckman said.
Cal hustled down the hall and took a seat across from Buckman.
“As always, this is great reporting,” Buckman said. “I’m considering submitting this for an award in investigative reporting.”
“Thank you, sir. I’m sorry that I got tangled up in all this. I never intended to be part of the story; I just wanted to report it.”
“Well, you can’t always control what happens when you start pursuing a story, and you don’t have anything to apologize for. Understand?”
Cal nodded.
“Now get home to that lovely wife of yours,” Buckman said with a wink. “Any woman who is that knowledgeable about the 1919 World Series is a keeper, in my opinion.”
Cal smiled as he left Buckman’s office. He called Kelly and told her he was on his way home, but he needed to make a quick stop along the way.
Fifteen minutes later, Cal was standing on the hospital floor where he’d been just a couple days before, faking stomach issues. He waited for a few minutes until Quay came down the hallway, wheeling a cart of food from the hospital’s cafeteria.
“I bet that’s not from Bitterroot,” Cal said.
Quay stopped and looked up. “Mr. Murphy, as I live and breathe. What brings you back here? Last time you were here, you were doing everything you could to get out of this place.”
Cal chuckled. “Read about it in tomorrow morning’s edition of The Times.”
“I’ll look forward to that,” Quay said. “So what brings you down here?”
“I have something for you,” Cal said with a wink.
He dug into his pocket and retrieved a baseball signed by Jackie Robinson. Cal got permission from Kelly to give it away, even if it would fetch a hefty price on the sports memorabilia market.
Quay’s eyes sparkled as he studied the ball. “Is this for real?”
Cal nodded. “And it’s yours.”
“Now, Mr. Murphy, I can’t—”
“I won’t take no for an answer,” Cal said. “You just keep being great at what you do. Jackie Robinson would be proud to know you.”
Cal patted Quay on the back before spinning around in the opposite direction and walking down the hall.
There was another story out there waiting for Cal to uncover.
THE END
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I am grateful to so many people who have helped with the creation of this project and the entire Cal Murphy series.
Krystal Wade was a big help in editing this book as always.
I would also like to thank my advance reader team for all their input in improving this book along with all the other readers who have enthusiastically embraced the story of Cal Murphy. Stay tuned ... there's more Cal Murphy coming soon.
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR
R.J. PATTERSON is an award-winning writer living in southeastern Idaho. He first began his illustrious writing career as a sports journalist, recording his exploits on the soccer fields in England as a young boy. Then when his father told him that people would pay him to watch sports if he would write about what he saw, he went all in. He landed his first writing job at age 15 as a sports writer for a daily newspaper in Orangeburg, S.C. He later attended earned a degree in newspaper journalism from the University of Georgia, where he took a job covering high school sports for the award-winning Athens Banner-Herald and Daily News.
R.J. enjoys the great outdoors of the Northwest while living there with his wife and four children. He still follows sports closely.
He also loves connecting with readers and would love to hear from you. To stay updated about future projects, connect with him over Facebook or on the interwebs at www.RJPbooks.com and sign up here for his newsletter to get deals and updates.
Dead on Arrival
© Copyright 2018 R.J. Patterson
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the written permission of the Publisher, except where permitted by law.
This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real locales are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
First eBook Edition 2018
Cover Design by Dan Pitts
Published in the United States of America
Green E-Books
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Dead on Arrival Page 18
