“What about it?”
“I’ll admit that it factored into our choosing you.”
Griff covered his heart with his hand, pretending to have had his feelings hurt. “You mean there was more to it than my being the ideal physical specimen?”
Speakman ignored his sarcasm. “You cheated your team, the league, and most of all your fans. Making you a persona non grata, Griff. I’m afraid you’ll be subject to insults.”
“I haven’t had any confrontations.”
“There hasn’t been time for any,” Laura said.
Her reasonable tone irritated him. “I’m not expecting to win any popularity contests, okay? I cheated and broke the law. I was punished for my crime. All that’s behind me.”
“But there’s also the matter of the bookmaker who died.”
Griff had wondered when that would come up. If they had any smarts at all, and he believed both did, they would inevitably have asked about Bandy. He was surprised only that it was the wife who had cracked open the delicate topic.
“Bill Bandy didn’t die, Mrs. Speakman. He was murdered.”
“You were a suspect.”
“I was questioned.”
“You were arrested.”
“But never charged.”
“Neither was anyone else.”
“So?”
“So the murder remains unsolved.”
“Not my problem.”
“I hope not.”
“What the hell—”
“Did you do it?”
“No!”
Their exchange was heated and rapid, followed by a tense silence that Griff refused to break. He’d said what he had to say. He didn’t kill Bill Bandy. Period. The end.
“However,” Speakman said in the soft and conciliatory tone of an undertaker, “the shadow of suspicion was cast on you, Griff. You were eventually released for lack of evidence, but that doesn’t vindicate you.”
“Look, if you think I killed Bandy, then what the hell am I doing here?” He flung his arms wide to encompass the room, the house. “Why would you want me to father your kid?”
“We don’t think you committed murder,” Speakman said. “Absolutely not.”
Griff shifted his angry gaze over to Laura to see if she shared her husband’s belief in his innocence. Her expression remained impassive, not accusatory, but sure as hell not exonerating.
Then why was she hiring him to go to bed with her? Did he really need this kind of abuse?
Yeah, unfortunately he did. He needed the money. He had to get back on his feet, and six hundred grand was a better than fair shot at doing so. To hell with them, with her, if she thought he’d clobbered Bandy. They must not have felt too ambiguous about it, either way, or he wouldn’t be here. On top of being crazy, they were hypocrites.
“The matter of Bandy’s homicide as well as the federal crimes for which you were convicted remain black marks against your name, Griff,” Speakman said.