Free Hounded by David Rosenfelt

have been forced to do so; we won’t know that for a while. But one thing is for sure: he knew the people who have done this to you.”

 
     
    I want to know everyone Danny Diaz spoke to on the phone.
    Cell phone, home phone … every call in and out.”
    If Sam Willis were worried about delivering the information to me, he’s hiding it well. “No problem.”
    “How far back can you go?” I ask. Sam can access pretty much anything online, and since everything in the history of the world is now online, that makes him a valuable guy. The fact that he is not legally entitled to do much of what he does makes him even more valuable.
    “How far back do you want to go?”
    “Since birth, but I’ll take the last couple of months.”
    “Give me twenty-four hours,” he says.
    “I’ll be happy to give you twenty-four hours, as long as we can start them twelve hours ago.”
    “Okay … I’m on it.”
    “I want whatever the phone company has got. If he ordered a pizza, I want to know the toppings.”
    “They don’t record the content of the calls, Andy. They just know when they were completed and how long they lasted.”
    “We clearly have too much privacy in this country,” I say, but I have a hunch that Sam thinks I’m serious.
    Sam goes off to do his computer magic, and as he walks out, Laurie walks in. I would make the ‘Sam for Laurie’ trade any day of the week, but I have a feeling that today is going to be an exception. It’s because of what she has in her hand.
    A Frisbee.
    “Feel like going to the park?” she asks.
    My mind is racing. “The park? Are you crazy? It’s seventy degrees out.”
    “Does that mean it’s too hot, or too cold?” she asks.
    “Whatever. It certainly isn’t Frisbee weather.”
    “I thought we’d take Ricky, Tara, and Sebastian to Eastside Park for a little while. He’s been cooped up in the house too long.”
    “House-cooping is good; I just read a study on it somewhere. I only wish I had known about it when I was a kid.”
    “We’ll be back in an hour or so; you can use a break. And it’ll be good bonding time for you and Ricky,” she says.
    “Tell him to come in here and watch the Mets game with me.”
    “Did you also see the study about women being more in the mood for sex after throwing a Frisbee in the park? It was in USA Today .”
    Laurie and I have abstained since Ricky came to live with us. “No, I missed that.”
    “The statistics show it to be a real turn-on. Never having actually played Frisbee with a man, I can’t confirm or deny that.”
    “What did USA Today say happens when the woman is rejected on her Frisbee proposal?”
    “It’s quite clear on that,” she says. “Icicle-city.”
    “I’ll race you to the park.”
    So we go to Eastside Park, Laurie, Ricky, Tara, Sebastian, and me. Within five minutes, we’re throwing the Frisbee on the lower level near the baseball fields, and Ricky and Laurie seem to be enjoying it. Tara and Sebastian have absolutely no interest in the process, and when Ricky throws it near them, trying to get them to jump at it, they just lie there and look at him like he’s nuts.
    For myself, Frisbee-throwing has never really had much appeal. I like games that have a beginning and end, and you keep score and come up with a winner. If there’s no winner, how can you mock the loser?
    The game of Frisbee, as best I can tell, consists of throwing it, and catching it. If you miss, you pick it up and throw it again, with no apparent penalty. I’m therefore not sure what the incentive is for catching it.
    But it’s a beautiful day, and being in the park with our rapidly growing family is not unpleasant. I also recognize that there are going to be very few relaxing moments coming up; the intensity of preparing for trial simply does not allow for them.
    We take a long detour on the way home and stop at the Fireplace, a restaurant on Route 17. I get hamburgers for Ricky, Tara, Sebastian, and myself, and a salad for