”If you can stand it,“ I said.
”You can stand what you can’t change,“ Rabb said.
”You got a better idea?“
”You could blow the whistle.“
Linda Rabb had finished with her Kleenex and was looking at us again.
”Yes,“ she said.
”No,“ Rabb said.
”Marty,“ she said.
”No.“
”Marty,“ she said again, ”we can’t stand it. I can’t stand it. I can’t stand the guilt and watching how you feel every time you lose a game so they can make money.“
”I don’t always have to lose,“ he said. ”Sometimes I give up a run or two for the inning pools.“
”Don’t quibble, Marty. You’re in a funk for a week after every letter. You have lived too long believing in do-or- die for dear old Siwash. It’s killing you and it’s killing me.“
”I’m not having your name blabbed all over the country. You want your kid to hear that kind of talk about his mother. Maybe we should show him the movie.“
”It will pass, Marty. He’s only three.“
”And it’ll make nice talk in the bullpen, you know. You want me to listen to those bastards laughing in the dugout when I go out to pitch? Or maybe that doesn’t matter either because if it gets out that I been dumping games I won’t be pitching anyway. You want that?“
”No, but I don’t want this either, Marty.“
”Yeah, well maybe you should have thought of that when you were spreading your legs in New York.“
I felt a jangle of shock in my solar plexus. Linda Rabb never flinched. She looked at her husband steadily. The silence hung between them. It was Rabb who broke it. ”Jesus, honey, I’m sorry,“ he said and put his arms around her. She didn’t pull away, but her body was as stiff and remote as a wire coat hanger and her eyes were focused on something far beyond the room as he held her.
”Jesus,“ he said again, ”Jesus Christ, what is going to happen to us? What are we going to do?“
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
WHAT WOULD YOU DO if you didn’t play ball? I said.
”Coach.“
”And if you didn’t coach?“
”Scout, maybe.“
”And if you couldn’t scout and couldn’t coach? If you were out of baseball altogether?“
Rabb was looking at his thumbnails again. ”I don’t know,“ he said.
”What did you major in in college?“
”Phys ed.“
”Well, what would you like to do?“
”Play ball and then coach.“
”I mean, if you couldn’t play ball.“ Rabb stared harder at his thumbnails. Linda Rabb looked at the coffee table. Neither one spoke.
”Mrs. Rabb?“
She shook her head.
”How sure are you that if this all comes out you’ll be suspended?“ I said to Rabb.
”Sure,“ he said. ”I threw some games. If the commissioner’s office finds out, I’m finished for life.“
”What if I confessed,“ Linda Rabb said. ”If I told everyone about my past and no one said anything about the gambling part. I could say Marty didn’t even know about me.“
”They could still blackmail me with the fact I dumped the games,“ Rabb said.
”Not necessarily,“ I said. ”If I could find a way to get Doerr out of it, we might be able to bargain with Maynard. If Maynard told about you, he’d have to tell about himself. He’d be out of work too. With Maynard you’d have a standoff.“
”Doesn’t matter,“ Rabb said. He looked up from his thumbnails. ”I won’t let her.“ Linda Rabb was looking at me too.
”Could you get Doerr out of it, Spenser?“
”I don’t know, Mrs. Rabb. If I can’t, we’re stuck. I guess I’ll have to.“
”She’s not saying anything about it. What the hell kind of a man do you think I am?“
