QB1

by Pete Bowen

  “I spoke with Robert Greenfield this morning.” Greenfield was the President of the League. “We agreed we have a situation here we’re not prepared for. We have nothing in place for an investigative stand point. We know security but for something like this, from the NFL’s standpoint, we don’t know where to go. When there has been a crime committed in the past by a player or to a player, we’ve had law enforcement handle any investigation aspects and we’ve stayed out of it. This situation demands coordination. I’ve suggested that we bring in our own investigative team to coordinate with the various law enforcement entities and conduct any additional inquiries as they see fit. We, and I mean the collective we, from the standpoint of all professional sports, need to get a handle on this situation so we can deal with it. This could be jihad against professional athletes or any kind of celebrity. Did you see El Jazeera out front?”

  “I didn’t but I’m not surprised,” I said.

  “This is the biggest act of terror since Nine Eleven and we have all these feds and cops running around with their heads cut off. He sat up in his chair and looked across his large desk at me. Tom, I want you to come on board as the team representative in this investigation. I need you to drop whatever else you’re working on and get into this full time.”

  I thought for a second and said, “That’s easier said then done, Mr. Tierney. We’re a small agency and frankly we’re as busy as we could possibly be, at the moment. There are far bigger organizations that could conduct this kind of an investigation on a national basis.”

  “I don’t give a fuck about a national basis,” he said. I need someone on the street, here. I need to know what the fuck happened to my quarterback, right now!” He stared at me and I didn’t say anything. “I’m willing to offer you $50,000 to start this investigation right now. And a retainer of $200,000 to be paid at double your existing rates for any work done. I will also retain your firm with yearly guarantees for investigative work. I’ve cleared it with the League that you will also be offered investigative work as situations come up. You will have a separate contract with the league for that work. All of this will be guaranteed.” He stared directly at me. I was thinking, “How many athletes has he worked over this hard in the last 7 years?”

  “You’ve thought this through? My getting involved just may add to the circus outside.”

  “I need the best investigator available, working for me,” he said.

  I thought for a moment and said “I need to run this by my partner.” I thought about it for a minute, my eyes never leaving his, “Fax a contract to my office. I also need to run this by an existing client of mine for any conflict of interest.”

  “Who’s that?” said Tierney.

  “Elizabeth Reilly.”

  Chapter 11

  I got back to my house before noon. Saw a guy sitting in a car across the street and he waved to me, obviously working security. I walked up the stairs and saw Liz and Roger sitting at the kitchen table playing backgammon through the window. “Oh my God,” I said, walking through the door. “That isn’t backgammon is it? What have I told you about backgammon in this house, Roger?” I yelled. He quickly started picking up the pieces.

  “It’s just a game,” he said.

  “It’s just a game you cheat at. How many times do I have to tell you? This is an NBZ. Tell Liz what an NBZ is.” Liz sat there with an amazed look on her face. Roger mumbled something.

  “What?”

  “Tell her what an NBZ is!”

  “No Backgammon Zone.”

  “That’s right this is a No Backgammon Zone. How many games did you play, Liz?”

  “Um, two?”

  “And you lost two, didn’t you?”

  “It’s just a game, Tom,” she said.

  “Oh no, it isn’t,” I said. “It’s much more than that. It’s an opportunity to steal your money.”

  “How much did you lose?”

  “Well the first game was just learning, but I wasn’t doing too well in this game.”

  “And this was for the money, right?”

  “It was for a dollar.”

  “And the next game would have been double or nothing and so on till he owned you. He’s a devious little shit.”

  “You’re mean, Mr. Mullins,” Roger said.

  “He’s been wonderful, Tom,” Liz said. “He made coffee and toast and called up the police and got my things delivered here.”

  “NBZ, Roger.” I shook my finger at him, “Fucking kid. Go put on some nice clothes, we got work to do.” Roger folded up the game and ran out the back door with the board under his arm.

  “He cheats at backgammon?” asked Liz. I just shook my head and sat down across from her.

  “How are you doing?” I said.

  “I don’t know. I’m trying not to think about it.”

  “Did Roger tell you where I’ve been?”

  “He said you were talking with the team.”

  “I was with Oscar Tierney. He wants to hire us to investigate the murder.”

  “Aren’t the police doing that?”

  “That’s not the problem. The problem is between the SFPD, State Investigators, FBI and Homeland Security, there could be a difficult investigation as a turf war will inevitably break out. Feds are supposed to trump everyone else, but I have very little confidence in them. Tierney wants someone on his side, coordinating or at least representing him and the League.”

  “He’s a smart guy. He’s always been nice to me.”

  “What about you? Have you talked to an attorney?”

  “I don’t know who to call. Tony and his agent handled the legal stuff.”

  “Have you talked to anyone?”

  “I just woke up. All I’ve done is lose a game of backgammon.”

  “We should go talk to Tony’s lawyer and his agent. His agent is Rosenbloom isn’t it?”

  “Yes, I’ve met him a few times.”

  “Let’s call him and tell him we want to see him. He should be able to get you headed in the right direction. Who is Tony’s lawyer?”

  “I don’t know,” she said.

  “Tom, I’m sorry about not telling you about Tony in Sonoma. It was a bad time for me. Tony had left the week before and I was miserable.”

  “Well, I figured something was going on. Nothing was said for a couple of minutes. “It was wonderful,” I said. She leaned against me and started crying.

  “Oh my God, what a mess.”

  “What happened last night?”

  “I don’t know.” She looked at me and said, “I really don’t know. I hadn’t heard from Tony for a month. Before he left, he asked me to stay while he was figuring things out. He asked me not to talk about us to anyone. He said he had to figure it out on his own. He wouldn’t say what the problem was. He just said he was working through some problems and he hoped we could stay together. This was after he had been living by himself for a month, after just walking out. I didn’t really have anywhere to go, so I stayed. I have a music studio in the house, so I just kept working. I was waiting to hear what we were going to do.”

  “Was there another woman?”

  “He said there wasn’t.”

  “Were you guys not getting along before all this?”

  “Well, he had become distant. He said it was a contract thing that would eventually resolve itself. I thought he just needed some space so I didn’t bug him about it. I guess I’m not confrontational. When he said he was moving out in April, I couldn’t believe it. The next week I decided to go up to Sonoma to have a change of scenery. And, I met you there.”

  “He moves out for a month and then says he’s going to leave town for awhile and you don’t hear from him for a month and then one night he shows up murdered in the garage.”

  “That’s about it.”

  “What happened last night?”

  “I took an Ambien at midnight and at around 2 AM I woke with the SWAT team in the room. I was in bed and there were men in my room with guns. I got dressed an
d they took me to the police station. They read my rights and asked if I needed a lawyer. I said no because I didn’t know anything about what had happened. They gave me a test to see if I fired a gun and a blood sample. I had nothing to hide. I didn’t even see the body. I just saw lots of people around the car and the place lit up with police cars. It was a nightmare. They questioned me for a long time. They decided to release me and then asked me who I wanted to call. I couldn’t think of anyone and so I said you.”

  “What are you not telling me?”

  She thought for a few seconds, “Nothing.”

  “They’ll look at every phone call or email you’ve ever made. If there is anything else, tell me or your lawyer now and we’ll deal with it.”

  She looked at me and said, “There is nothing.”

  “Someone either followed Tony from the airport or knew he was showing up at the house last night. Was there any contact between you and him, email, cell phone? This is all easy to determine. If there is anything you’re not saying, tell me now and we’ll deal with it.”

  She turned to me and looked me in the eye. “Like I told the police, Tom, I don’t know anything.”

  We found a number for Rosenbloom’s agency. Liz called him and arranged an appointment for 1:30 downtown. He said he was anxious to see her and had been trying to contact her. I thought about logistics and said, “I think we should get a driver. That way we won’t have to fuck with parking.” I called a friend with a limo and arranged to be picked up. I showered, put on a suit. Roger, Liz and I piled into the car. She had on a black dress and looked stunning. I told her so.

  “Wow, this is a big car, isn’t it? I rode in one of these when I was on Leno.” Roger had his little netbook computer open on his lap. He had an Internet roaming card my office paid for. It came in handy sometimes.

  “Anything new in the investigation?” I asked as we drove downtown. Roger typed.

  He was looking at news stories. “A number of Arab extremist organizations have taken credit for the shooting. The FBI cautions not to take this seriously until something is proven. It’s an article from the AP. Other news organizations have picked up the story.”

  I called Tonelli, told him about working with the team and asked him if he had anything. He told me that he couldn’t talk but would speak to the guys upstairs, see what he could share and get back to me. I saw Liz wipe a tear away from her eye.

  Reading the computer screen Roger said, “There are some stories about sports teams and celebrities increasing security. The President has issued his regrets about the loss of a great athlete but has urged the public not to jump to any conclusions until more of the facts are in.” Roger read through a few more pages. “The head of Homeland Security stated that there had been no indication of increased terrorist communication regarding any type of plots against Americans. They have raised the terror alert status to Orange.”

  “Thank God, we’re saved,” I said. Liz looked over at me. “I’m sorry.”

  She laughed, “Don’t be. That’s funny.”

  We pulled up to a high rise on California Street and got out at the front door and took the elevator up to the 56th Floor. Mr. Rosenbloom was making a few bucks as an agent. We were shown into his office. It was a large office with an incredible view of the Bay. There was a bank of TV screens, all lit with different channels on one wall. Nonstop coverage of the latest “terror” incident. We were immediately shown in with introductions all around. Rosenbloom knew of Roger and me. He hugged Liz and told her how sorry he was for her loss. “This is a terrible thing for you and everyone who knew him. He was an exceptional athlete but he was also a tremendous guy. I got to know him as a man and I’m just beside myself over this.” He started crying, Liz was crying and Roger was crying. Rosenbloom composed himself wiping away tears and passed around the tissue box.

  He drew himself back into the business mode. “We should probably discuss Tony’s estate,” he said. He looked over at me. “This information is private. I might suggest that Tom and Roger leave us for this.”

  I stood up and said, “Oh sure.”

  “I’m comfortable with letting them stay,” Liz said. “They’ve been helping me.”

  “If you’re comfortable Elizabeth, I’m comfortable.” I sat back down. “Have you retained an attorney to represent you?” he asked.

  “No, I haven’t. I’m not sure who Tony used,” she said.

  “Well, he used us,” said Rosenbloom, “Our staff attorneys. We’re a full service agency. We even pay your bills.”

  “Yes, Tony told me that,” she said. “So, is there any money left?”

  “You really don’t know, do you Liz?” said Rosenbloom.

  “I don’t. Tony told me about some endorsement deals but I don’t know the specifics.”

  Rosenbloom sat back in his chair and looked at Liz. “And you don’t know anything about his will?”

  Liz shrugged her shoulders, “I have a credit card that always works and I don’t spend much. I’ve got some money I saved from when I was working on cruises. We didn’t talk about money very much. I just knew he was unhappy about his contract. I’m pretty much into my own thing in the music business, for what it’s worth.”

  “Liz, Tony signed a contract in March with Nike for $27 million dollars. That contract is still in effect and I don’t see them canceling it. There are also a couple of other endorsement deals that were already completed that total over $7 million. His last six months have been very lucrative. We’ve invested all that for him. He also had an insurance policy that will pay $5 million plus the mortgage on the house.” The room became silent as Rosenbloom looked at her. She looked stunned. Roger’s mouth was open and his eyes wide. Rosenbloom continued, “My job is to protect our clients and maximize income. And Elizabeth, you’re sole beneficiary. The total estate is probably in the area of $40 million before taxes.”

  Liz shook her head and said, “Are you kidding? I thought we were screwed unless he got a new contract and he said he was going to hold out till he got one. I thought it was going to be Hamburger Helper without the hamburger.”

  Rosenbloom said, “The contract is a whole different story than endorsements. Let me tell you about what was going on with his contract. Tony had completed his original contract of 3 years at $550,000. He wasn’t even drafted, that’s the money you make in his position as third string. The team designated him the franchise player. He was going to receive a salary of $14 million this year. That’s the average of the top 5 players in the game at Quarterback. That’s a lot of money but, we felt that was unacceptable because that was only a one-year contract with no bonus money. If Tony were a free agent, he could expect the highest contract in football and a huge signing bonus. We told the team Tony would sit out the year rather than play under the franchise tag contract. It was never going to work and I can only attribute the team’s stance to sheer arrogance and stupidity. It isn’t the first time Tierney’s been accused of that.”

  Rosenbloom continued, “What the Team had to do was trade Tony or Paul Isackson and trading Tony Reilly wasn’t really an option after last season. Tony proved he was a better quarterback than Isackson. Why Tierney was screwing around with this is beyond me. I don’t get what the end game was for San Francisco. Tierney’s always been a tough negotiator but this was ridiculous. He alienated Tony and the fans with this craziness.”

  “I know the last couple of months were difficult for Tony. I know that it hurt your relationship with him,” he said to Liz.

  “You can say that again,” she said. “I thought we were over.”

  “Don’t feel bad, he was angry and barely speaking to me. He wasn’t himself. He was anxious and angry with a situation he couldn’t do anything about except wait for it to be worked out. He wanted to play football but we were out of options. Last month he said the situation was driving him crazy. He was taking off till it was resolved. He didn’t know or he wouldn’t tell me where he was headed. He told me to send him an email when it wa
s done. I’ll be honest with you; I had no idea where he was for the last month. Three days ago I sent him an email and said I thought the situation was about to change and that he should probably return. When they found his body last night, it was the first time I knew where he was in a month.”

  “Join the club,” said Liz.

  “He wrote me back that he would be returning early in the morning. Up to that time, I was sending him daily emails keeping him up to date on negotiations which frankly until yesterday afternoon hadn’t budged in a month. The Team was dragging its feet, for God knows why. This should have been handled months ago. I still don’t know what the issue was with the Team. They finally worked out a deal to trade Isackson to Miami a couple of days ago. It was all going to happen today. The contract making him the highest paid quarterback in football was ready for his signature. That all turned to shit this morning.”

  I said, “Yes it did. That’s an amazing coincidence.” I thought about it for a minute. “I don’t like coincidences. Mr. Rosenbloom, who knew Tony was on his way back?”

  Rosenbloom said, “People on my staff and I told the Team that we would be in today to sign. No one was going to say anything until it was a done deal.”

  “Who were you dealing with on the Team?”

  “Details of the contract were worked out with the Head of Player Personnel, George Crowley.”

  “Did you tell him Tony was arriving early this morning?”

  “No, I told Oscar Tierney.”

  “When did you tell him?”

  “It was about 7 PM last night.”

  “Can you find out if your staff leaked or told anyone that Tony was on his way back?”

  “Sure, but that’s highly doubtful.”

  “Why?”

  “Because they knew they’d get fired by disclosing something like that. It goes to the press and there would have been a crowd of reporters waiting for him when he landed. I can’t imagine that happening out of this office.”