When we were in the car with Seidman driving and Phil next to me in the back seat, Phil put down the report and said, “Now talk. No jokes, no lies, no errors and you’ll have a no-hitter.”
I talked as we shot through the early morning darkness, headed I didn’t know where. I told him the truth from start to finish including the Shatzkin and Lugosi material.
“So,” said Phil, “what do you make of it?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “There’s no link between the two cases. It’s crazy.”
“There’s a link,” said Seidman from the front seat. I could see his sunken-eyed skull of a face in the rearview mirror.
“Yeah,” I said. “Me. I’m the missing link.”
“And …?” said Phil.
“I’ll work on it,” I said.
“How’s your knee?” Phil said, turning his head away from me out the window.
That was the blow I almost couldn’t handle. My mind went blank, and I reviewed more than four decades of life with Phil. There had never been anything like this.
“Ruth told me,” he explained.
“Told you?”
“The money,” he said.
Seidman pretended to hear nothing.
“I thought you’d break my head if you found out,” I said.
Phil’s hands were in his lap. They wanted to do something, but his mind was stopping him.
“I don’t like it,” he said, “but I need it.”
