“WOW, DAD, game of the century and we’re sitting in your car,” Ariel said. “Can’t wait to tell my grandkids someday about the epic championship game I almost saw.”
“Ingrate. Up until an hour ago, you were feasting on sugary sweets in one of the owners’ boxes! Tell your grandkids about that.”
“This is so lame.”
“Shhh, quiet for a second.”
Cooper didn’t want to care about the Eagles or the game or anything else that wasn’t related to the three murders he was investigating. But he couldn’t help it; the game was one for the record books. It was a nail-biter right up to the very end, when the new quarterback managed some kind of insane Hail Mary pass (and oh, did Cooper regret not being able to see it) and, with just seconds to go…clinched the Eagles’ victory.
“Dad.”
“Wow, wow, wow,” Cooper said, stunned.
“Dad,” Ariel said. “I can’t believe we missed that!”
His daughter was right. He should have waited to squeeze Glenn Sable until after the game was over. Maybe that would have revealed another piece of the puzzle, because one thing was clear: Glenn Sable had not been happy about the prospect of an Eagles victory.
Did he have Archie murdered to ensure the team’s loss? And if so, why? A winning team was far more profitable than a runner-up. None of this made sense.
“Well,” Cooper said, “at least there’s the Super Bowl to look forward to.”
“Where are we going to watch that?” Cooper Jr. asked. “In a dumpster behind the stadium?”
“Keep joking, kid,” Cooper replied. “Wiseasses don’t go to Chickie’s and Pete’s for a celebratory dinner.”
“We’ll never get a table there. Not on a day like this.”
“You’re lucky to have a father who knows a guy who knows a guy. There’s a table waiting for us.”
“Don’t drink too much beer when we’re there,” Ariel said. “Mom doesn’t like it when you drink too much beer, then drive us home.”
“I promise I will drink an entirely appropriate amount of beer,” Cooper assured his daughter. “Now, let’s beat the crowd and feast on some Crabfries.”