Chapter 35

Los Angeles, October 3, 1984

The cutoff age for the youth fall baseball league was sixteen, but Sam Brick guessed the kid at the plate had to be almost twenty. Tall, rangy, big shouldered, already growing a mustache. He obviously wasn’t twice as big as Morris, but it sure felt that way. It didn’t surprise Brick when the kid smoked a shot down the third-base line. What did surprise him was when his son dove to his right and stretched out fully so he could catch the ball, then scrambled back to his feet and doubled off the runner who’d been on first. The poor baserunner probably thought he could score on the play and had reached second before he realized the ball was caught. What fourteen-year-old makes a play like that? That was a major-league play. No doubt about it! Brick was on his feet cheering wildly. So were all the other parents in the stands, even the ones whose kids were playing for the other team. He was also proud of the way Morris handled it. Didn’t even crack a smile. He got back into his crouch and kept his focus only on getting the final out of the game.

Esther, Morris’s six-year-old sister, had been squirming in her seat the last two innings. She tugged on Brick’s coat jacket.

“This is so boring I might die,” she announced in a breathless voice, a hand raised to her forehead, the tiny palm facing outward as if she might faint any second now. “Can’t we leave yet? Please?”

Brick couldn’t help grinning. What was really eating at Esther was all the attention her big brother was getting. While Morris was quiet and reserved, Esther was a natural-born actress, and it bugged her when she wasn’t the center of attention. Like Morris, she was small for her age, with thin pipe cleaner legs and arms. Morris, though, physically took after him. He might’ve been short, but he had a fireplug body. Esther was a redhead like her mom and was going to be a beauty when she grew up.

“Thanks to your brother’s heroics the game won’t be lasting too much longer. We’ll pick up Mom afterward and go out for pizza and ice cream. How does that sound?”

“I just don’t know if I can stand it another minute,” she said, hamming it up.

Brick tousled her hair. “Give it your best shot, okay, sweetie?”

Esther let out an overly dramatic sigh. “If I must.”

The next batter grounded out to second. Game over.

Brick and his daughter made their way to the field. While Morris celebrated with his team, Esther held on to Brick’s arm and swung around as if she were playing on a jungle gym. The celebration ended, and Morris joined them.

Brick extended his hand. “Quite a game, son,” he said. “You were easily the star.”

Morris grinned sheepishly as he took his dad’s hand. “I did okay,” he said.

“I’d say more than okay. A home run, two other hits, outstanding plays at third.”

Esther let go of her dad’s arm and rolled her eyes with exasperation. “Big deal,” she exclaimed. “All Morris does is fall like this.”

She flopped onto the grass field with all the grace of a duck doing ballet, her thin arms and legs flailing awkwardly.

Morris broke out laughing. “Esther the pest,” he said.

Esther was quickly on her feet, her face animated with passion, her tiny fists clenched. “Morris the booger head!” she shouted.

Morris’s grin became something wicked. “Dad,” he said, “is it too late to trade the little pest for a dog? Even one of those annoying toy poodles? Any dog would be better behaved.”

“Booger head!” Esther yelled.

Brick was struggling not to laugh. Before he could scold either of them, the large cumbersome cellular telephone that he carried for work rang. Morris and Esther stopped their feud to watch him. They knew that calls that came over this phone were serious business. He answered the phone and listened quietly as he was told about the dead woman who had been found and the things that were done to her. The good humor he’d been feeling only seconds earlier was gone. Even though Morris and Esther hadn’t heard the call, they could tell something bad had happened, and their expressions became subdued as well. Little Esther started crying. Brick corralled his daughter and smoothed her hair, trying to comfort her.

“You have to go to work?” Morris asked.

Brick tousled his hair. He lifted Esther with one arm and kissed her softly on the top of her head. “Let’s get the two of you home,” he said. “Mom will take you for pizza and ice cream.”