Sacrifice Fly Read Online Free PDF Page A

Edgar.”
    “Watch.” He ignored my response. “I mean, listen.”
    He motioned with his head to where Nicky G was on the pay phone, leaning against the
     wall, the phone cradled between his shoulder and ear, and the racing form folded under
     his arm. Edgar pressed a few buttons on his cell and then held it out to me.
    “Get a load of this.”
    “Edgar, I’m busy. Just—”
    He pushed the phone at me. “Just listen. Geez.”
    I took the phone to shut him up and put it to my ear.
    “Honey,” a raspy voice said. “I sweartagod, I just got here. I’m gonna grab a quick
     burger with the boys—maybe watch a few innings—and come right on home.”
    Nicky G lying to his wife. And I was listening to it on Edgar’s cell phone.
    I handed the phone back to Edgar. “Nice trick,” I said.
    “Trick?” He grabbed the phone. “Took me half an hour to set that up. Had to get special
     wiring, a miniature—”
    “It’s also illegal, Edgar.”
    “Illegal, shmillegal. I’m just having some fun.”
    “Don’t let any of the guys around here in on your fun. Or Mrs. Mac. They might take
     your fun away from you.”
    Edgar folded up his cell phone and stuck it in his pocket. He took a sip of Bass and
     replaced it with a little tomato juice.
    “Whatsa matter, Ray?” he asked. “Bad day with the kiddies?”
    “School was fine. Leave it alone, Edgar.”
    I reached under the bar, pulled out the Daily News and handed it to Edgar, knowing the sports section had a better chance of shutting
     him up than I did. As he flipped to the back pages, I went down to the other end of
     the bar to tend to the two twenty-something ladies who were finishing up their light
     beers.
    “Two more?”
    “Please,” said the one on the right. “Do you know if those two officers from last
     Tuesday night will be coming in tonight, Ray?”
    Last Tuesday? It took me the same amount of time to get their beers as it did for
     me to remember last Tuesday night.
    “Mullins and Glass?” I said. “I don’t know. They may be with their girlfriends.”
    “They got girlfriends?” the one on the left said.
    “That didn’t come up in conversation?”
    “No,” the one on the right said. “It did not.”
    “Must have slipped their minds.” I looked over my shoulder. “You want me to see if
     Edgar’s available?”
    “Emo?” they both whispered. “When we want a date with a cop wannabe, we’ll let you
     know,” the one on the left said and then slammed the bills in front of her. “Could
     you give us some quarters for the pool table, Ray? I feel like slapping some balls
     around.”
    I did as they asked and got a couple more for Petey and Kevin. Nicky G—now finished
     lying to his wife—was also finished with his burger. I put another vodka tonic in
     front of him. Back at the other end, Edgar was tapping the newspaper.
    “You see the San Diego game last night?” he asked.
    “I don’t have satellite.”
    “Gotta get that package, Ray. Great investment. You should talk to Mrs. McVernon about
     putting one in here. I could even install it if she wants. Be great for business.”
     He tapped the page again. “Guy pitched a complete game shutout. Eighty-four pitches.”
    “Eighty-four pitches?” I said.
    “Yep. Bee-you-tee-full.” He closed his eyes. “That’s … nine point three pitches per
     inning. Talk about getting the job done.”
    “How’d the other guy do?” I asked.
    “Huh?”
    “The other pitcher. How’d he do?”
    Edgar moved his finger along the bottom of the box score and said, “Heh. Pitched a
     three hitter, struck out six. Walked none. Tough loss.”
    I nodded. A good pitcher will do that. Your opposite number’s up there on the mound
     throwing bullets, you’d better come out with your A game.
    “Hey, that reminds me,” Edgar said. “Mets’re on. You mind?”
    I grabbed the remote from under the bar and switched the TV to the Mets game.
    “I’m keeping the sound off, though.”
    “No problem,