Page 122 of Never Flinch

“Yeah. The softball version of a sinker. If I don’t lose the actual knack when I’m under pressure, I’ll get strikeouts and a lot of ground balls. For the grounders, it’s up to my fielders.”

“Well, good luck,” Holly says. “I wish I could be there.”

“Haven’t had any insights onourcase, I don’t suppose. Although the Trig catch was brilliant.”

“I’ve thought about it a lot,” Holly says. “No leads?”

“We’ve almost certainly ID’d the car the killer was driving when he killed George Carville—the farmer—as a Toyota Corolla or Avalon, but what good is that?”

“Not much, I suppose. They are very common.”

“And the guy has been very lucky. It’s Ralph Ganzinger’s case, which is probably just as well for us, but if you think of anything, let me know.”

“Are you sure Alan Duffrey had no friends that would take up his cause in this extreme way?”

“Colleagues, but no real friends since he left the Army in 2016.”

“Never married?”

“No, but we—Tom and I, that is—have reason to believe he was about as hetero as they come. A deep dive on his computer turned up a couple of high-end escort services he may have used, credit card receipts tend to verify that, and he was an occasional Pornhub visitor.”

“What kind of Pornhub visits? Young girls? Or boys?”

Izzy laughs. “On Pornhub, most of them look young. Have you never been there? Even for a scouting expedition?”

“No,” Holly says. She has on a few occasions visited a site called Passionate Kisses, but that at least has a wrapping of romance on the sexy stuff. Kind of like the novels of Colleen Hoover, which Holly enjoys.

“Pornhub’s actually a little sad,” Izzy says, “and Duffrey never went for the pretend schoolgirl stuff. Or the schoolboy stuff, once you discount the pix Cary Tolliver slipped onto his computer. Pretty much straight-up boffing. Grinsted pointed that out, and the prosecutor—Allen—countered by saying Duffrey probably erased all the nasty stuff… except for the stuff Duffrey thought was safely hidden. Which, it turns out, he never had anything to do with.”

“But someone cared enough to start this vendetta in Duffrey’s name,” Holly says.

“Tom thinks it’s just a crazy person.”

“I like Tom, but I think he’s wrong. I keep asking myself who cared enough to start killing people as a result of that trial. Who felt guilty enough himself to do that?”

“Well, if you think of anyone, let me know.”

“No friends who might be out for revenge? You’re sure?”

“Not that we know of.”

From outside, Holly hears the rattle of a room service trolley. Kate calls, “Dinner’s here, Holly! Don’t let it get cold!”

“I have to go, Izzy—time to eat. I’m having hundred-dollar lamb chops.”

“What the fuck, are they dusted in gold?”

Holly laughs, ends the call, goes into the suite, and eats her expensive dinner. Kate makes conversation by asking about Holly’s work as an investigator. Holly opens up a little… although not about her moreoutrécases. She rarely talks about those.

8

After dinner, Holly gets a call from Tom Atta, who is at Dingley but ineligible for the big game because of the hamstring pull. He tells her that he also called the Real Christ Holy Church administrative extension. “Got someone named Lois.”

“Did she sound like she was singing?”

Tom laughs. “Actually, she sorta did. Said Fallowes wasn’t there, and when I asked about Chris Stewart, she got all cagey and said she wasn’t free to divulge the names of parishioners.”

“They know him,” Holly says. “Lois may not know what he’s up to, but I’d bet my house and lot that Fallowes does.”

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