Think Twice

Myron sat there and blinked. In his mind’s eye he saw the puzzle pieces. Then he saw himself sweep all the pieces off the table and onto the floor. His voice sounded far away in his own ears. “But it was your Instagram page.”

“Yeah, duh. My mom ran all my social media stuff — Instagram, OnlyFans, whatever. When the Bucks came to town, Spark invited us to a game. My mom, well, it may sound weird for a son to say so, but she’s hot. A total smoke show. Spark introduced Greg to Mom after the game—”

“That game,” Myron interrupted, remembering the curvy blonde in the photo sitting next to Bo. “Was it in Phoenix?”

“Yeah, against the Suns. That’s where we’re from. Spark and I were raised in Scottsdale.”

“So you and Greg aren’t—”

“Are you serious?” Bo looked up at Cowboy. “We’re good, Cal. I’ll call you if I need anything.” To Myron he added, “Take a sip of the beer. You’ll feel better.”

Myron did, trying to think it through.

“Can I ask you something?” Bo asked.

Myron nodded.

“Am I really safe staying here? Cal and I, we can move on if not.”

“I won’t tell anyone.”

“And there’s no way for Joey to track us down?”

“I don’t see how,” Myron said. “Did you kill Jordan Kravat?”

“Wow, not beating around the bush. Do you think I’d tell you if I did?”

“It might save us some time,” Myron said.

“No, I didn’t kill Jordan. I loved him.”

“Jordan’s mother thinks you had something to do with it.”

“Donna? No, she doesn’t. She may have said that to you, but that’s because she doesn’t want to face the truth.”

“That being?”

“She let Joey into our lives. Invited him in really. Donna couldn’t make enough money just running the nightclub. So she teamed up with Joey. He started pressuring us. Always wanting more money. It got out of control. Jordan tried to step in, and it got him killed.”

“Donna said you and her son were on the outs.”

He considered that for a moment. “We were, I guess. But I mean, we were young. It was all sort of volatile. Neither of us thought we were meant to be forever.”

“Did you kill him?” Myron asked again.

“No.”

“What about Greg?”

“What about him?”

“I’m thinking about the timing,” Myron said. “Greg started DMing your mother. He travels to Vegas. Then Jordan gets murdered and Greg disappears.”

“Greg didn’t disappear,” Bo said. “He and Mom fell hard for each other. They decided to travel the world. When he died, she was crushed.”

“I don’t think Greg is dead.”

“Of course he is. You said you were Greg’s manager or something?”

“His agent. We’d known each other since we were kids.”

“Well, you must not have been very close,” Bo said.

“Why do you say that?”

Bo started wiping the bar with a rag. “Why do you think Greg quit his job and ran off in the first place?”

“He said he wanted to get out of the rat race.”

Bo shook his head. “No, man. Greg was sick.”

Myron said nothing.

“He got a bad diagnosis. The Big C. That’s why Greg quit coaching. That’s why he and Mom ran away. Because he didn’t have much time left.”

Chapter Fourteen

The next step was obvious: Find Bo’s mom.

They did. Fast.

By the next day, Myron was in Pine Bush, New York. Win had offered to come, but Myron decided to handle it himself. Pine Bush was classified as a hamlet rather than a town or a city and while the definition was confusing, it really just meant “pretty dang small.”

Bo/Brian had put on a convincing performance, but something about it kept bumping Myron. The kid was lying. Not about everything. But once Myron realized that some level of deception was at hand, he stopped pushing him for information. He let Bo talk himself out. Myron nodded along as though he was buying every word, and then he apologized to Bo for the mistake. He never told Bo why he’d been looking for Greg. He didn’t inquire — though man oh man he wanted to — where Bo’s mom resided now that Greg was dead. He figured that Bo either would lie to him or tip her off or more likely, both.

He wanted to catch Bo’s mom unawares.

They — Myron, Win, and Esperanza — found clues fast. Bo and Spark’s mom had been named Grace Konners. Five years ago, right around the time she and Greg presumably ran overseas, she changed her last name to Conte. She kept the Grace. That was not uncommon. It is hard to change first names, to not react when you hear your name called and, of course, to react when you hear a name that was not yours. It can trip you up.

Once Grace changed her last name, boom, she vanished off the so-called grid. No credit cards. No mortgages. No employment records. No social media accounts. All Grace Konners activity stopped, and no Grace Conte activity took its place.

That fit.