by Tom Fowler
We chatted a few minutes more before Gloria said she needed to get a good night’s rest. After a round of I-love-yous, we hung up. I put on a basketball show talking about the CAA tournament final tomorrow. All three analysts expected Hanson to win, citing Calvin as the best player on the court. They all expected the game to be something of a runaway.
If only they knew.
Middle River never managed to impress me, and the Final Score tavern fit right into this perception. The decor was shabby and basic. Shopworn wooden booths ringed the exterior of the dining area. Four-seat tables filled the rest of the space. TVs hung above the bar and on the walls. The air inside smelled of cheap beer and mediocre fried food.
Rollins walked in behind me and made a beeline left toward the bar. He sidled onto a stool on the far side, affording him a view of the entire dining room. The TVs showed a mix of events, though most displayed either the pregame show for the Hanson contest or an Orioles’ spring training game.
I recognized Eddie Ferrugia from one of the rare photos of him I saw online. His classic Italian complexion went well with the dark gray pinstriped suit he wore—white shirt, no tie. Gotta look casual on the weekend. A pair of short-haired goons flanked him at the table. The trio left one seat open. I’ve never been one to pass up so obvious an invitation.
The enforcers both glared at me but waited for their boss before making a move. “Who the hell are you?” Eddie Ferrugia said, “and why shouldn’t I let these two toss you out of here?”
I was ready to say they probably couldn’t but held my tongue. This wasn’t the time or place. “I’m Calvin Murray’s new agent,” I said.
“Kid never had one before.”
“So he clearly needed a new one.”
One of the goons pointed at me. Eddie shook his head. “I like this guy . . . for a while, at least. Now, friend, I know you’re not a fucking sports agent. What are you doing here?”
“Can’t a man just be here to watch the Hanson game?”
“Plenty of empty tables or seats at the bar.”
“Fine,” I said. “Calvin’s made you a lot of money already. He should be free to turn pro next season.” Over Eddie’s head, a TV showed tipoff was imminent. On the other side of another commercial break, of course.
“You seem to know a lot about Calvin and me,” Eddie said, narrowing his eyes and studying me. “What’s the deal? Who told you?”
“You know I couldn’t tell you.”
Before Eddie could reply, a waiter walked to the table. I ordered the one draft beer which sounded interesting. No one else requested anything despite having nothing in front of them. Coach Baker mentioned Eddie knew the owner. I guess it meant he could sit here and not run a tab.
The commercial ended, and the players lined up for the opening tip. “You staying to watch the game?” Eddie said.
“You expect it to be a close one?”
He smiled like a wolf looking at a field of chickens. “I think it will be, yeah.”
JHC possessed the ball first. Calvin brought it up the court. Judging by the size of the players, Hanson again rolled out the three-guard configuration. Calvin passed the ball, moved up the right side of the court, and came off a pick. He took the return pass, put up a twelve-foot jumper, and watched it clang off the rim. I watched Eddie for a reaction. A small smile crossed his features.
After a few minutes of action left the Presidents with a small lead, I said, “What’s your interest in Calvin?”
“It’s not just Calvin,” Eddie said. “I’m a data guy. You seem pretty smart, so I’ll presume you know what my business does.” I bobbed my head in confirmation. “I’m getting lots of good information out of this. It’ll end up allowing the company to make better decisions down the road.”
“The short-term financial gain doesn’t seem bad.”
“It’s not. A little hard to setup at first.”
“You’re not doing the book yourself?” I asked.
Eddie shook his head. “Not trying to get so involved. I want to be able to make the money. I’m fine to outsource the rest. No one’s heard of . . . what we’re doing in a while.” He was careful not to call it point shaving, even though he seemed to know I was wise to the whole scheme. “But I found a few people.” He paused. “You know I had a significant outlay of cash before this season began, right?”
This presented me a conundrum. If I admitted I knew of the expenditure and what it was, I could be outing Denise as the person who told me about Calvin and, thus, the client. I couldn’t take the chance. The two toughs with Eddie didn’t look like they’d have any qualms beating a woman. “If you have a business, laying out cash is part of it from time to time.”
“It wasn’t a company expense.” Eddie waved his hand. “Forget it. Suffice it to say Calvin is in my debt, and he’s paying it off a game at a time.” He leaned forward. The two guys with him both glowered at me. For the first time since I sat down, I felt the menace at the table. “Now tell me why I’d give it all up.”
“It’s the right thing to do,” I said. “I can see you’re into employing socially conscious gentlemen.”
One of the goons chuckled. The other one knitted brows at his partner. Eddie maintained a neutral expression throughout. “I know you got a better reason.”
“If he goes pro, it’s a bigger pie. You can cut a nice-sized slice of it.”
“Lot more of a challenge there, too. There’s a ton more eyes on the NBA.”
“You’re a data guy,” I said. “You’re smart. Figure it out.” I sipped my beer while Eddie ruminated on this.
“Maybe I could,” he said after a moment. He’d probably thought about it already, and the result was he wanted Calvin to stay in school. “You know why I got involved in the first place? The kid needed help, but I ain’t so altruistic. I did it because I graduated from Hanson.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. Trying to help my alma mater.”
I remembered asking Baker if this went beyond basketball, and he denied it right away. Now I could try and pry it from Eddie. “So this is bigger than just a kid on the basketball team.”
Eddie shrugged. “Right now, I’m enjoying what Calvin does. After this . . . who knows?”
Not much of an answer. I checked the TV, which we’d been watching on and off during our conversation. Hanson led by two midway through the first half. A chyron crawled across the bottom of the screen, informing the viewers Calvin scored ten points on four-of-eleven shooting. “Come on,” I said, goading him. “You told me I’m smart. You seem smart, too. I’m sure a guy like you has some ambition, especially considering your . . . employees.”
Both goons now glared at me. Eddie looked both amused and curious at the same time. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, I don’t think you hired these guys for their math skills.” I leaned a little closer to the one on my left, whose expression was especially sour. “No offense. I’m sure you don’t need to take your shoes off to count past ten.” His expression softened for a second before a deep frown replaced it.
“It’s a fair observation,” Eddie said, and his two legbreakers stopped shooting daggers at me. “I guess you could say my guys match my ambition. I have people specifically for data and analysis, and I have employees with . . . other useful skills.”
“There’s a power vacuum in this county,” I said. It was true. A few people maintained small criminal groups, but no one stepped up to control the county like Tony had done for years in the city.
“So I’ve heard.” Eddie’s smile widened. “The same could be true in Baltimore.”
I didn’t want to betray my association to Tony, so I played this one close to the vest, also. “I heard there’s a guy there. Been in charge for a while.”
Eddie shrugged. “People get old. Things change. Nature abhors a vacuum.”
A couple years ago, I encountered an enterprising gangster who thought he could usurp Tony and run organized crime in the city in a much more mode
rn fashion. His plans came to an end when a bullet burst his skull as he stood next to me. I’d never been able to get the windbreaker I wore on the fateful night clean again. While I felt no attachment to Eddie Ferrugia, I also didn’t want to see him shot by someone in Tony’s influence, especially if I would be close by. “You’ve watched The Wire, I presume? Omar’s wisdom seems to apply.”
“If I go after the king, I won’t miss. Big if, though.”
“It would be,” I said.
We lapsed into silence as the first half pressed onward. Some good back-and-forth action in the final minutes saw Hanson take a one-point lead into the locker room. “Good game,” Eddie said.
“So far.”
“I think it’ll stay this way.” He excused himself to take a phone call, walking outside the tavern.
The goons stared at me in silence until it grew uncomfortable sitting at the table. They looked brawny and capable, but I’d seen larger men working for Tony. “It’s been real, fellas,” I said, getting up and walking to the bar. I grabbed an empty stool near Rollins to his right, keeping two vacant between us.
The second half started as I nursed my second beer. It was colder than the first but didn’t taste much better. Adequate, as brews went. I caught Rollins’ eye and shrugged my left shoulder. He didn’t acknowledge it, but I didn’t think he would. He was one of those people who didn’t miss anything but didn’t give any indication he saw anything, either.
Hanson opened the final twenty minutes with some quick passes and good offense, taking a five-point lead three minutes in. The Huskies pushed the ball up the court on their next possession. Calvin picked off a pass, however, sprinted down the court, and threw down a powerful dunk. He pounded his chest as the crowd roared, and the Northeastern coach called a timeout to corral his beleaguered players.
It didn’t help much. I noticed Eddie watching the game with interest, but his jovial expression of the first half vanished as the Presidents maintained their lead. When the whistle for the TV timeout sounded with inside of eight minutes left, JHC enjoyed a nine-point lead. The last I checked the line, it held at six. They still had opportunities to let Northeastern whittle away at it, but Eddie didn’t seem pleased with the current progress of the contest. The announcers told us Calvin scored eight points this half but also dished out six assists.
As the rest of the game unfolded, it became obvious Hanson was playing to win. Eddie looked more and more unhappy, which prompted a couple conferences with his intimidating tablemates. The buzzer sounded a few minutes later. JHC won the conference as expected, vanquishing Northeastern by a final of 85 to 74. They won and covered, and Eddie’s red-faced glower told me all I needed to know about his thoughts on the matter.
Now, I was worried for Calvin and by extension, Iris and Denise. If Hanson was supposed to win and not cover the spread, Eddie and a few others probably took a bath on the outcome. Why would Calvin risk so much to defy someone I could help him get away from? I fired off a quick text even though I knew he wouldn’t see it until later. Eddie looks pissed. I hope you know what you’re doing. Let me know if anyone is in trouble.
Rollins’ eyes flicked toward the door. He got up and left, and I followed about a minute later after I paid my tab. As I walked out, I saw Eddie look at me and chat with his goons.
I got into the S4 and drove away. I’d gone about a block before I saw a car pull out of the lot and follow me.
Rollins wheeled from the lot before I did. I called him as I drove down Eastern Boulevard. “I seem to have grown a tail,” I said when he picked up.
“You sure?”
“Eddie was talking to his enforcers when I left. Thirty seconds after I hit the street, a car pulls out behind me.”
“Lot of people could be leaving after the game,” he said.
“True. I think this is someone tailing me, though. They’re hanging back and trying to make it look like they’re not following me.”
“Where are you now?” I heard tires squeal over the connection.
“On a leisurely drive down Eastern,” I said. “I’m not even speeding. Plenty of cars have passed me, but the one behind me just stays there.”
The line was silent for a moment. Then Rollins said, “I see you. The car dogging you is a dark gray sedan, right?”
“Looks like it.”
“I’m on him.”
I stayed on the boulevard even though it wasn’t the fastest route back into the city. It was direct, however, and it afforded me plenty of spots to turn off should I need one. “I’m not keeping you from a hot date, am I?” I asked as I traversed the bridge over Back River.
“He’ll wait,” Rollins said.
We passed the treatment plant Back River is infamous for. It took a couple blocks for the smell to dissipate. Soon, we crossed the border into the city, and Eastern lost its Boulevard status, becoming a mere Avenue. “There’s a police station not far from here,” I said. “I’m going to pull in there and presume whoever’s following me won’t do the same.”
“I’ll stay on him,” Rollins said.
“Thanks. You’ll tell me where he ends up?”
“Unless he loses me.”
“I don’t see it happening.”
“Me, either,” Rollins said, and he broke the connection.
A few blocks later, I turned into the small police precinct. Sure enough, the sedan behind me kept going. I watched Rollins’ truck go by in the group of cars which happened to be behind them. I turned around, pulled out of the lot, and drove home. Gloria was still out of town, so I found a sports highlight show and watched it. Before long, the talking heads raved about Hanson and how they stepped it up in the second half. I didn’t share their enthusiasm.
I tuned out the show when they started discussing where JHC would be seeded in the big tournament. As the winner of a rather small conference, they received an automatic bid but were unlikely to get a favorable matchup. They’d probably be the underdog. I wondered how Eddie would handle this. It was easy to shave points when you were expected to win.
A little while later, Rollins called. “Where’d they end up?” I said.
“You’ll never guess.”
“I definitely won’t if you tell me.”
“John Hanson College.”
My mouth fell open. A few seconds later, I said, “Did you break it off there?”
“Yes,” Rollins said. “Too hard to follow them without being seen on campus.”
Eddie was an alumnus of JHC. I got the feeling from Coach Baker this mess went beyond basketball. Now the goons who sat with Eddie and spent much of their time glaring at me wound up on campus.
Something was rotten in the state of Maryland.
Chapter 17
Gloria and I were Skyping when my phone buzzed. Calvin. I told her I’d call her back and flipped my laptop shut. Calvin sent a text in response to mine from earlier. I know what I’m doing. Fuck Eddie. I want to be done with him. I shook my head and blew out a deep, exasperated breath. Calvin was still young, but how could he be so stupid? The last time we talked, I got the impression he would ride this out. Now, I wondered what happened to change his mind.
You’re not the one he’ll go after. How do you know your mom and Iris are safe?
I waited for a response, drumming my fingers on the desktop. It came in a moment later. My mom is staying with a friend. Iris is with my cousin. He’s got a nine.
I presumed he meant a nine-millimeter. Eddie has big guys on his payroll. They have guns, too. Your cousin might be in trouble. Where’s Tamika?
How you know about Tamika?
For Christ’s sake, Calvin, I’m a detective. Is she safe?
She’s with my cousin, too.
Great. A single point of failure. Eddie Ferrugia’s goons would find the hiding place, storm in, shoot Calvin’s cousin, and walk out with his girlfriend and infant daughter. Or they’d shoot Tamika, too, and simply take Iris. Eddie struck me as more ambitious than ruthless, but I didn’t think th
e strong-arm squad on his payroll would have much compunction at the thought of murdering a woman.
You put them all in danger, Calvin. I hope you’re happy.
A few minutes later, he sent a reply. I am.
I sighed in disgust and slammed my phone down. The idiot would get someone killed, and all because he wanted to spit in Eddie’s eye. I could’ve gotten him out from under before, but at this point, who knew what would happen? All I knew was Eddie looked pissed at the end of the game, and I didn’t expect him to take it lightly. Calvin could have held down the final score and didn’t. In another situation, I may have applauded him for finding his spine.
Now, I lamented the likely collateral damage. I picked up my phone and sent Calvin another text. Where’s your cousin? I want to make sure they’re safe. I can move them if I need to. If he told me where they were, I could turn to a couple people to find temporary housing for them. It would be some place with no association to Calvin, his family, or me. Eddie and his legbreakers wouldn’t be able to find them. It was more than Calvin deserved, but I wouldn’t be doing it for him.
Don’t worry about them. They’re safe.
Dammit, Calvin, this is serious. Let me help them. You’re putting them in danger.
I waited. He didn’t reply.
The next morning, I drove to my office after breakfast. I logged onto the BPD’s network and searched for Eddie Ferrugia. They held no data on him. Not even a parking ticket. His business was incorporated in the county, so as far as the city of Baltimore went, Eddie Ferrugia didn’t exist.
I recalled last evening at the Final Score. The guys with Eddie were total unknowns. Rollins followed them to the John Hanson campus. Then it hit me: someone as observant as Rollins would have gotten the tag number. I should have asked him for it last night. To rectify this, I sent him a text requesting it. He responded with it within a minute, adding to my suspicion he never slept.
While still in the BPD systems, I punched in the license number. It spat out a result almost right away: Ronald Garver, age thirty-four, and the member of the duo who actually showed a neck. I scrolled past his measurements and other useless information, and his job jumped off the screen at me.
