Page 25 of 40-Yard Line

“What did she want?” asked Georgie.

“She wanted me to slow everything down, and anything that came up leaning toward CTE, I was supposed to lose. She needs for this to not be reported until after December 17th.”

“Why then?” asked Georgie.

“It’s the championships,” said Carl. “What does it matter? Why does that date matter to her?”

“I don’t know. That’s the truth,” he said, shaking his head. “Felix, I just needed the money to pay off my student loans and debts.”

“And what about Cavet and his family? What do they get?” asked Georgie. “Do you have any idea the bullshit that woman has placed in their contracts? It’s criminal, and she’s going to go to jail. So are you.”

“No,” said Carl.

“Carl! He tried to destroy evidence.”

“Yes, and he almost did. We need him to remain right here and feed that woman what she wants to hear. You make one move to her side. You lose so much as a paperclip, and I will make sure you never see the light of day again.”

“What do you want me to do?”

“What did you tell her today?” asked Felix.

“Nothing. There’s nothing to tell yet. I meant it when I said that the tissue and toxicology samples are around here somewhere. I just have to find them. She wanted to know if we had full results from the brain studies yet. I told her it might be a few weeks.”

“What did she say to that?” asked Carl.

“She said that was good for her, and she’d appreciate it if I could make it last longer. Apparently, at some point, the league officials are coming in to question all the owners.”

“When?” asked Georgie.

“Before December 17th. That’s all I know, I swear. I’m sorry, Felix. I promise I wasn’t going to tamper with anything, just buy her some time so that I could get out of debt.”

“Well, you’re deep in debt now,” said Carl. “You owe that viper, you owe me, you owe Felix, you owe fucking everyone!”

Roger took a seat on the stool, lowering his head in shame. Felix knew that he’d been struggling with his student loans and credit card debt, but he’d made it a practice not to interfere in personal matters with his employees. Roger was a grown man, and he would need to figure this out by himself.

“What now?” he asked, looking up.

“Swear to me that you won’t run or tell her that we know,” said Carl.

“I swear, Mr. Robicheaux. I swear to God I won’t say a word to her. What do I do with the money she gave me?”

“Does that help you?” smirked Carl.

“Yes, sir. It pays all my credit card debt and some of my student loans.”

“Then pay those bills fast. In cash. Don’t put it in the bank. Go to the credit card companies and pay the debts in cash. That way, even if she’s stupid enough to claim that she bought you, there’s no trace of that money hitting your bank account. You could always just claim that someone loaned it to you or that you hit the jackpot at the casino.”

“Thank you, sir,” said the younger man. Georgie smiled at her husband, loving that soft, fatherly side of him.

“Out of curiosity,” said Georgie, “did the toxicology report show anything at all?”

“Triptans. It’s an ingredient most commonly used in migraine medications. I suspect he had severe headaches that were almost debilitating at times. There were a few traces of pain medications, but I think it was an injectable. No narcotics, no illegal drugs that appeared in the bloodstream. Tissue samples are still running.”

“That’s what we suspected,” said Georgie. “The migraines could be caused by CTE, right?”

“Definitely,” said Felix and Roger together. The older man smiled at the younger man, shaking his head. He was a good doctor, a good coroner, and he hoped like hell this didn’t ruin his career forever.

“One other thing,” said Roger. “I’ve seen several suicides by blade to the wrists. Without fail, there is blood beneath the nail beds.”

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