He ignored her and pushed Jarret’s shoulder again, raising his voice. “Were you screwing her in Atlanta, too?”
The bartender broke in and seized Forrest’s arm. A waiter took his other arm and they hurried him, struggling, out the front door. Jarret and I followed them to the open walkway. Patrons dodged out of the way, stopping to watch the scuffle from a distance. A pudgy, middle-aged security guard hustled up the escalator in double steps and jogged toward us, panting.
“Let me go. That bastard is the reason my Laycee is dead.” Forrest tried to pull away from the bartender. He glared at the arriving guard with contempt. “What do you want? This is none of your damn business.”
“I’m calling the cops.” The guard pulled out his phone while the waiter and bartender cornered Forrest against a window.
A woman bystander snapped a picture of Forrest then another of Jarret and me.
“Damn it.” Jarret tugged my arm. “Come on, Liz. Security will deal with him. Let’s go inside.”
“Not yet.” I approached the guard. “There’s no reason to involve the police. No damage was done to the restaurant. We won’t file a complaint. Would you be open to escorting Mr. Huber downstairs and calling him a cab? He’s staying at the Sportsmen’s Lodge.”
“I’m not going anywhere until that bastard tells me the truth,” Forrest said.
“We can get him to the elevator,” the bartender said, boxing Forrest in.
Forrest pushed away, calling out to Jarret, “You’re a lowlife coward, Cooper.”
“You and your husband better go inside so we can calm him down,” the guard said to me.
As Jarret and I walked toward the revolving door, Forrest shouted from behind us, “Cooper.”
Jarret looked over his shoulder. “Yeah?”
“I’ll see you rot in hell.”
Chapter Twenty-two
The waitstaff, diners, and two cooks behind the kitchen counter watched Jarret and me follow the hostess to a booth in the farthest corner of the Daily Grill. A lean blond waiter stopped at the table and, smiling tactfully, took our drink order—iced tea for me, a shot of scotch and a beer for Jarret.
“Great,” Jarret said after the waiter left. “Did you see the people taking pictures of us outside? I’m probably all over Twitter by now. I wanted this to be a quiet dinner so I can apologize.”
“Now’s your chance. This better be good.”
“Ira told me a scandal would trigger the morality clauses in my Dodger and endorsement contracts.” He leaned forward, brow wrinkled and voice pleading. “An arrest would cost me income and jeopardize future deals. When Thad heard how much you hated Laycee—”
I put out my palm to stop him. “‘Hate’ is a reckless and damaging word. You don’t—”
“Okay, okay. Let me finish. Thad used your dislike of her to steer the police away from me. Team management is letting me suit up tomorrow, but I won’t play until the police clear me. If I’m arrested, I face suspension without pay.”
“In other words, you let Thad sell me out for money. You call that an apology?”
He gaped at me, incredulous. “I tried to warn you to be careful.”
“Warn me?” I stared back, too angry to breathe. “How about telling the police you misled them? That you and your lawyer put me in the middle of this to take the spotlight off you?”
“I told Thad you’re innocent. I didn’t think a little misdirection would be a problem. After all, you did kind of put yourself in the middle, Lizzie. You knew Laycee was in town. You admit you were at the house that morning. Hell, the neighbors saw you there. Thad claimed the police would leave me alone while they check you out. I can’t afford a scandal. I’m innocent.”
I clenched my fists to keep from shouting. “Did you stop to think about my career and reputation? I had to hire a lawyer, Jarret. Pratt is questioning me again tomorrow. And by the way, you’re not above suspicion. Detectives investigate multiple suspects at the same time.”
The waiter appeared with our drinks and a bread basket. “Are you ready to order?”
“Not yet.” Jarret downed his scotch. I fumed. Maybe dumping my iced tea in his lap would cool me off. After the waiter left, Jarret said, “Take it easy, Lizzie. I said I was sorry.”
“No, actually, you didn’t.”
“I’m sorry. What do you want to eat?” He handed me a menu.
That was it? I got a bigger apology when my dry cleaner had trouble removing a stain from my white slacks. “Did you spot Forrest at the bar before I came in? Is that why you wanted to sit outside?”
“Yeah. The guy is crazy. Do you know he e-mailed messages to my website, threatening to go to Dodger management if I didn’t call him? Thad told me to keep away from him. Forrest is a jerk and he just proved how much of a nutjob he is.”
“Can you blame him? You cuckolded him.”
“I told you I didn’t have sex with Laycee that night.”
That night. “And what about the night before?”