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From a lounge chair on the lanai to their suite, Del watched the morning’s first rays filter through the palm canopy and across the dewed lawn. A lone bather made his way down the path to the crescent-shaped pool. The steady soundtrack of the manmade falls slapping the water’s surface was interspersed with the occasional shriek of a golden plover or the crow of one of the many feral roosters that roamed the grounds of the Hanalei Cove Resort.
He’d blamed the roosters the first two nights for his lack of sleep. As well as the metallic clonk every time the air conditioner kicked in. And the rustling of the sheets on their bed. And the time change. In truth, he cradled the culprit in the palm of his hand. His bleary eyes sought out any and every story on the PED 11, as they’d been branded. Their ranks included Red Sox all-star third baseman Rip Monroe and Mets southpaw Dario Fernandez, who had won sixteen games for the NL wild-card winners. Only Andy Weldner, who had missed most of the season rehabbing a sore elbow, had copped to the charges, confessing to experimenting with unapproved substances in an effort to speed his recovery.
His voicemail was a mix of sympathetic words from Milo, Edsell, and Ginny Lupin, and messages from reporters seeking comment. Sam Nightengale was the most prolific, averaging two calls—and a text or two—a day. From her tone one might infer she really had been invited to the wedding. “Good morning, Del. Hope you’re having a great time out there. When you get a sec can you give me a quick call back. Got something new I’d really like to get your take on.” She didn’t even bother identifying herself anymore.
The rolling of the sliding glass door drew Del’s attention. He thumbed his phone dark and set it on the table top.
“Come back to bed,” Dana yawned. Her eyes were half closed, her hair tangled and piled high to one side.
“I’m watching the sunrise.”
“No you’re not.” She slid the door closed behind her and sat down on the chair next to his, tucking her knees up under her sweatshirt so only her feet and ankles stuck out.
“I couldn’t sleep. Came out here so I wouldn’t bother you.”
“Del, you can check your phone a thousand times, it’s not going to change anything. If people are going to talk they’re going to talk. All you’re doing is making yourself miserable and ruining our trip.”
“I just wanted to see if Wicker had any news for me. That’s all.”
“And did he?”
“He’s working on it. Trying to figure out how my name got dragged into it.”
“So let him work. You can’t do anything from here, so can we at least find something to do to take your mind off it? We’ve got seven more days. If it’s all going to be like this I’m going to throw that damn thing over the cliff.”
It wasn’t the first threat she’d made on his phone. There’d been a subtler one yesterday afternoon when she’d caught him checking his messages after lunch. The sympathy that had flowed so readily on Sunday was gone.
“Sorry. You want to go get some breakfast or go for a walk?”
“No. I want to go back to bed. With you.”
She rose and extended her hand. He took it and followed her in, depositing his cell on the shelf just inside the door. Dana lifted her sweatshirt high over her head and slipped back beneath the covers. Del stripped to his boxers and joined her. They did what honeymooners do best, then fell asleep. The sun was high above the island when they woke again.
“You want to go snorkeling today?” Dana asked over breakfast in the outdoor lounge. “We can rent gear right down by the pool.”
“Nah,” Del shrugged.
“How about one of those boat trips then?”
“I don’t know.”
“Maybe you’d rather just sit around and mope all fucking day.” Dana slid her chair back from the table. “Go for it. Sulk. I’ve had enough. I’m going to the spa.”
“Dana.” He rose and took two steps after her. She continued on without looking back. Glancing around the dining area Del caught a half dozen quickly dropping faces. He slumped back into his seat and sipped his coffee alone. When he finished, instead of turning right to head back to their room, he took a left and followed the path through the jungle and down to the bay. He’d find a secluded spot and call Wicker, then do his best to let it go the rest of the day. Maybe somehow make it up to Dana. As he weaved through couples on the narrow sand beach, his phone vibrated in his palm.
It wasn’t Wicker. The number had a 206 area code. He recognized it as Sam Nightengale’s, the last person on earth he wished to talk to. Had she been bluffing about having new information?
“Hello,” Del answered hesitantly.
“Del? Oh, wow, it’s great to finally get past your secretary. You’re one tough bird to reach. How’s the honeymoon?”
“Great. Having a wonderful time.”
His Teva sandals compacted tide-smoothed shards of seashells into the brown-sugar sand as he strolled further down the beach, beyond the last towel, on which a girl he’d noticed earlier in the week lay face down with her bikini strap untied.
“Which island are you guys on?”
“Cut the crap, Sam. What the fuck do you want? Why do you keep calling when I clearly have nothing to say to you?”
“Oh, come on, Del. I’m not your enemy. I’m just trying to do my job. Gather the facts.”
“Whatever.”
“I mean, I have most of the big pieces. You failed three tests. You used HGH. And they’re going to suspend you the first fifty games of the season.”
“None of that’s true, but go on.”
“Which part?”
“None of it. I’ve never tested positive in my life. And if you knew anything you’d know they wouldn’t let anyone keep playing if they failed one test, let alone three. And the tests we take don’t even catch HGH, so anyone who did use it—and I didn’t—wouldn’t be caught anyway. You said on your last message you had something new. This is all old. It’s been in every story I’ve read this week. Wrong every time.”
“Okay, okay. Have you heard the part about the writers campaigning to take the Rookie award away?”
Del went woozy, as if he’d stood up too quickly and cracked his head on a shelf. He gazed out at the waves breaking over the black rocks poking through the surface of the bay in the distance and waited for his vision to recalibrate. Now even the topless sun bather was too close. He moved toward a narrow wooden dock that jutted out a hundred feet into the water.
“They want to give it to Garrick Owens. Clearly he was clean. I’ve got bigger biceps than he does.”
“What? They can’t do that. Can they?”
“Don’t know. They’ve never tried.”
Del stepped tentatively onto the dock. The boards groaned softly under his sandals.
“I played clean. You want facts, I didn’t take anything. I never failed a test and I never will.”
“Are you willing to take a lie detector test?”
“Ask the people accusing me to take one first. Whoever they are. They’re the ones lying. Not me.”
Del flipped his phone shut and studied the grim reflection scowling back from its shiny blue face. It mouthed an F-bomb and shook its head. In the water below, a pair of orange-and-white clown fish darted arbitrarily, left, then right, then up toward the surface and back down again. A larger yellow fish with big black eyes swam into view. Del shifted his hand, casting a beam of light into the water as the sun reflected off his cell. The yellow fish tacked toward it, then reset its course when Del adjusted the phone again.
He glanced over his shoulder, toward the beach. The topless girl lifted her head and laid it back down again. No one else was within 200 feet of the dock. Del loosened his fingers and watched the phone slide out of his hand. With a soft plup it broke the surface of the water. The yellow fish altered its path again briefly to chase it, then abandoned pursuit and let it sink to the bottom of the bay.
Dana wasn’t in the room when he returned. Had she been and gone? No, nothing seemed to have been touched since they left for breakfast. He made his way up to the resort lobby and waited outside the entrance to the spa, poring over promotional literature from every outfitter on the island. Dana appeared surprised to find him when she emerged half an hour later.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
She walked past him without making eye contact.
Keeping pace, Del held out a brochure for a catamaran cruise of the Na Pali Coast. “If we hurry, we can grab some lunch before it starts.”