Free The Closer by Alan Mindell Page A

some."
    Terry didn't answer.
    "Brass gave me a choice," Rick stated. "Either I get some answers or they will."
    "You going to talk to him?"
    "Murdoch doesn't talk to me."
    "What then?"
    "We tail him one night," Rick said softly, like he was a bit embarrassed.
    "We?"
    "I'll go to satisfy brass. You go 'cause you're at least a little involved."
    "Might be dangerous," Terry replied, frowning.
    Rick shrugged.
    "Something else bothers me," Terry went on.
    "What?"
    "I've never known you to care what brass thinks."
    "I don't," Rick answered quickly. "But I'm afraid if we don't do something, they will. And if he's in trouble, we might be able to help."
    Terry nodded. There was another knock at the door. Clayton again. Time for pregame practice to begin. Terry and Rick got up and followed Clayton out of the room.
    Â 
    Oakland kept winning. Midway through the road trip they swept a doubleheader in Detroit, improving to five games above .500 and moving ahead of Seattle into second place in their division, only three and a half games behind Texas. Plus, in the wild card race (the second place team with the best record in each league qualified for the playoffs at the end of the season), they trailed only New York, by just two games.
    Terry continued his fine pitching, recording his fourteenth straight save in the nightcap of the doubleheader. And Rick's magic with the young pitchers, especially Myong Lee Kwan, persisted. In fact, over the last thirty games, the pitching staff's combined earned run average was below 3.00, the best in the majors during that period.
    But the big news was Murdoch's torrid hitting. It had become the talk of baseball. Since that first game in Seattle, he'd batted above .450, and his season's average climbed to .320. And near the end of the road trip, his consecutive game hitting streak reached thirty, the longest in the big leagues in more than three years.
    Murdoch's name was now being mentioned in connection with Joe DiMaggio's long-standing record hitting streak of fifty-six games in a row.

Chapter Eleven
    "I don't think he's after a hooker," Rick said while driving, he and Terry following Murdoch through a rundown Boston neighborhood. "Not when he could get practically any woman he wanted, without costing himself a penny."
    "Maybe he doesn't want to risk any publicity," Terry replied.
    "All some media guy'd have to do is spot him down here. He'd get plenty publicity."
    "Maybe he doesn't care."
    "But I care," Rick answered firmly. "Guy chasing DiMaggio's record... Chasing whatever he's chasing down here."
    Terry merely shrugged, probably less at Rick's comment than at his own inane responses. Perhaps he could be excused though, because it was late, he was tired and didn't feel especially comfortable in this vicinity.
    "Besides," Rick added. "He doesn't care if someone recognizes him, why the disguise?"
    Terry couldn't disagree. Ten minutes ago they had come up behind Murdoch—like Rick, driving a rental car—and observed him wearing a brown pullover knit cap above a long dark wig. He looked much more like a strung-out poet or musician than the ballplayer who'd gotten a key ninth inning hit just an hour ago, in their 5-3 victory over Boston.
    "He's not looking for drugs either," Rick said, sounding speculative.
    "What makes you say that?"
    "He'd have stopped and scored by now. Only profession outnumbering hookers around here is the drug dealers."
    Terry had to agree. He'd seen them standing on practically every street corner. Police were also well represented. In a span of five minutes, he'd counted almost a dozen patrol cars.
    "I'm sure you're the only manager in baseball that would be out here like this," Terry said.
    Rick didn't answer right away. Terry noticed, even in the dark, a very serious expression cross his face. When Rick finally spoke, he sounded distant.
    "This neighborhood's a little too familiar."
    Unsure of his meaning, Terry didn't know how to react, so he remained silent. Besides,