“You could have asked him to join you.”

“He looked wrong there, too. He looked like a Broadway sharpie, out of an old movie. Looked like a weasel, wore a fedora. He could have been in Guys and Dolls, saying he’s got the horse right here.”

“I think I see where this is going.”

“And what I think,” he said, “is I’m not the only DH in the lineup…Hello? Dot?”

“I’m here,” she said. “Just taking it all in. I don’t know who the client is, the contract came through a broker, but what I do know is nobody seems to be getting antsy. So why would they hire somebody else? You’re sure this guy’s a hitter? Maybe he’s a big fan, hates to miss a game, follows ’em all over the country.”

“He looks wrong for the part, Dot.”

“Could he be a private eye? Ballplayers cheat on their wives, don’t they?”

“Everybody does, Dot.”

“So some wife hired him, he’s gathering divorce evidence.”

“He looks too shady to be a private eye.”

“I didn’t know that was possible.”

“He doesn’t have that crooked-cop look private eyes have. He looks more like the kind of guy they used to arrest, and he’d bribe them to cut him loose. I think he’s a hired gun, and not one from the A-list, either.”

“Or he wouldn’t look like that.”

“Part of the job description,” he said, “is you have to be able to pass in a crowd. And he’s a real sore thumb.”

“Maybe there’s more than one person who wants our guy dead.”

“Occurred to me.”

“And maybe a second client hired a second hit man. You know, maybe taking your time’s a good idea.”

“Just what I was thinking.”

“Because you could do something and find yourself in a mess because of the heat this ferret-faced joker stirs up. And if he’s there with a job to do, and you stay in the background and let him do it, where’s the harm? We collect no matter who pulls the trigger.”