“Don’t even go there, Scarlett,” Stevie said. “My loyalty has never been at issue this week.”
She moved closer to him so she could speak softly and said, “Neither was mine, really. I hope you know that.”
He said nothing, and she slid her arm through his as they pushed onto the elevator to go back up to the press box and write. It had been, Stevie thought, quite a day.
Stevie called Miles Hoy on the way to the train station the next morning and was relieved when he answered right away. He explained that he needed to talk to Joe Molloy again and that he was coming back to town with a friend.
“Let me find out if he’s working or at home today,” Miles said. “I’ll pick you and your friend up at the train station.”
“I’d rather he didn’t know we were coming,” Stevie said.
“Gotcha,” Miles said. “I’ll handle it.”
Stevie told him what time the train got in-12:40-and he said he’d call back if there was any sort of problem.
As soon as they got on the train, Susan Carol started to work on a paper for school. Stevie grabbed the Sports section of the Post. Stevie always enjoyed comparing Tom Boswell’s columns in the Post with Kelleher’s. Boswell saw wonder and beauty in everything that took place on a baseball field; Kelleher was skeptical about the teenage choral group that sang the national anthem.
The trip passed fairly quickly. Stevie finished off the two Sports sections and then quickly fell asleep-again-while trying to wrestle The Great Gatsby to the ground.
Stevie noticed a chill in the air and an overcast sky when they got off the train. “Wonder what it will be like for the game tonight,” he said as they walked through the small station.
“Supposed to be cold and maybe rainy,” Susan Carol said. “Great football weather.”
“Well, when you play the World Series the last week in October, that’s bound to happen.”
Miles Hoy was waiting with his cab as promised. Stevie introduced him to Susan Carol.
“Wow, a budding Erin James,” he said, shaking hands with Susan Carol.
“What’s that mean?” Susan Carol said as they slid into the backseat of the cab.
“She’s very tall,” Stevie said. “I guess I didn’t get a chance to tell you that.”
“How tall?”
“She said six three.”
Susan Carol winced. “Ooh God, I hope I’m not that tall. Five eleven is plenty for me.”
“Me too,” Stevie said, and saw the Smile-which made him smile.
Hoy jumped behind the wheel. “So, here’s the deal,” he said. “Our timing should be perfect. Joe’s on call today, but he’s not at the station. He and his family go to church in the morning and then out to brunch. But they should be home by now.”
“You didn’t tell him we were coming, did you?” Stevie asked.
“Absolutely not,” Hoy said. “One of the guys who works for me driving one of my other cabs lives down the street from Joe. He gave me the info.”
“Miles, you should have been a reporter,” Susan Carol said in her best Scarlett O’Hara voice.
Stevie saw Miles smile in the rearview mirror.
It started to rain en route to the Molloy house. “I hope this isn’t a harbinger,” Susan Carol said.
“I think you and I working together again is a harbinger of good things,” Stevie said.
“Why, Stevie, you do say the sweetest thangs.”
“Stop it, Scarlett,” he said, a wide grin on his face.
They pulled up to a brick two-story house at the far end of a quiet cul-de-sac.
“Do we have a plan here?” Stevie asked as they pulled up.
“Do we ever have a plan?” Susan Carol answered.
She had a point.
“I’ll be right here,” Miles Hoy said.
They jumped out and hustled up to the front porch to get out of the rain.
“Ready?” Susan Carol said.
Stevie nodded. She rang the doorbell. They waited. Several seconds went by. Stevie heard a dog bark. Oh please, he thought, not another dog. Finally the door was opened by an attractive woman of about forty wearing what was no doubt her Sunday go-to-church dress.
“Hi,” she said. “May I help you?”
“Mrs. Molloy?” Stevie said, just to be sure.
“Yes?” she said.
Susan Carol, as usual, took over from there. “Mrs. Molloy, my name is Susan Carol Anderson, and this is Steve Thomas. We’re reporters covering-”
“Kidsports!” Mrs. Molloy said. “I recognize you both! Hey, come in. The kids will be thrilled to meet you!”
Stevie had been uncertain what kind of reception they might get at the Molloys’, but a hero’s welcome was not on the list he had made in his head.
“Well, we really don’t want to bother you…,” Susan Carol said.
“No, no, please come in, it’s starting to rain hard out there.”
She ushered them into the front hallway. “Joe, Joey, Denise, come out here, we’ve got surprise visitors,” she called toward the back of the house.
Joe Molloy, still wearing a white shirt and tie, and two neatly dressed kids, maybe eleven and nine, Stevie guessed, appeared in the hall.
“Steve?” Joe Molloy said. “Is that you? What brings you back here?”
Before Stevie could attempt an answer, his wife was introducing her two kids. “This is Joey, he’s a seventh grader,” she said. “And Denise is in fifth. They both used to love your show.”
Stevie and Susan Carol thanked them for watching and shook hands with both of them. “Hey, kids, why don’t you go find some paper and pens so you can get autographs,” Joe Molloy said. That seemed a bit much to Stevie, but the kids both scrambled off to find paper and pens.
“So what brings the two of you back to Lynchburg on a rainy Sunday afternoon?” Molloy asked.
“We’re really sorry to just show up like this, Chief, but we need some more help on the story you talked to Steve about on Friday,” Susan Carol said. She had been in full Scarlett mode since Mrs. Molloy opened the door.
Molloy shrugged. “Sure. I’m not sure what else I could tell you, but I’ll try.”
The kids came back with pens and paper. Stevie and Susan Carol both signed, writing the kids’ names and “Best wishes.”
Susan Carol looked around. “Is there someplace quiet we can talk?” she said. “Given the subject matter…”
Molloy nodded. “I understand. Follow me.” He turned to his wife, who had come back after the kids had retreated to the family room. “Nance, we’ll be on the back porch. Give us a few minutes, okay?”
“Of course,” she said. “Anyone thirsty?”
“We’re fine,” Susan Carol said. “Thanks, though.”
They followed Molloy to the back porch, which was screened in. It was chilly but dry, and they sat on comfortable chairs. Stevie was very glad he’d worn a sweater and a rain jacket.
“Little bit cold,” Molloy said. “But private. So, what exactly can I do for you kids?”
Susan Carol looked at Stevie. Since he had talked to Molloy on Friday, it was really up to him to start. Stevie took a deep breath.
“Chief, after we talked Friday, I went back to Washington,” he said, “and as you can imagine, we’re doing research on everyone involved in this story-”
“And you found out that I played with Doyle in Sumter,” Molloy said. “I knew I should have brought that up when we talked.”
“Why didn’t you?” Susan Carol asked, her tone soft and nonaccusatory.
Molloy shook his head as if to say he didn’t know. “Good question,” he said finally. “I assume we’re under the same ground rules as Friday?”
Stevie shook his head. “Not telling the truth changes things a little,” he said. “We need the truth now, and we need to be able to use the information you give us. We’ll check with you first if we need to quote you specifically on something, though.”
Kelleher had briefed him on how to handle this. “Rules of protecting sources are fairly basic,” he said. “As long as they tell you the truth, you protect them. You catch them in a lie, all bets are off.”