“Okay, we’re about done here,” I said. I should have pocketed the ball right then, but instead I tossed it back to him.

“Don’t you believe in fate, Alex? With you and Leon helping me, I know this is going to work out.”

“Leon,” I said. “About Leon…”

“He’s expecting us today, by the way,” Randy said. “I figure we can go see him after lunch.”

“Expecting us?” I said. “For what?”

“To bring us up-to-date on the case,” he said. “I talked to him a few days ago, you know, when he told me where to find you.”

“Up-to-date?” I said. “On the case?”

“I feel a slinky coming, Alex.”

“Randy, don’t.”

“I got to throw one, Alex. I’m bringing out the slinky.” He went into a slow windup.

“Randy, so help me God, if you throw a slinky…”

“Get down, Alex. Here comes the slinky…”

I could have thrown my hands up in the air. Or turned my back to him. It probably would have stopped him. I don’t know why I went down into the position, my glove in front of me, my right hand behind my back. Maybe it was just instinct. Or maybe part of me really did want to see him throw the slinky again, one more time.

He threw the ball, dropping down into that sidearm delivery. Just like the old days.

And just like the old days, the ball bounced five feet in front of me.

I didn’t catch it, but at least I stopped it. That was the one thing I was always good at. Whatever it took, whatever part of my body I had to sacrifice, I could always stop the slinky.

“I think I hurt my arm,” Randy said. We were sitting at the bar in Jackie’s place, sitting in front of two big plates of his Wednesday corned beef.