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“Yes.”
“Couldn’t. Basketball.”
“Right, of course. Like I said, I was more a bench warmer. Anyway, my son told me he was gay when he was fifteen, though it was hardly a surprise. I wanted to be supportive of his choices, and I thought I could make a profit with the club. But I was wrong on both counts.”
“How so?”
“We started great. I mean, Man United was a big hit. And it was fun. Really. And I tried to keep it clean. Sure, some of the dancers engaged in private deals. Made side money. That’s going to happen.”
“You mean prostitution?”
“Right, whatever. But then the mob came in. They came in hard. They wanted a cut of everything. They started pressing the guys to do more. We tried to stand up to them but…”
“And Joey Turant was one of those mobsters?”
“He and his family, yes.” She shook her head and looked off. “Jordan didn’t get how dangerous the Turants were. I told him to back off. But that wasn’t his personality.”
“I’m sorry.”
She nodded, took that in, gave herself a second. “Do you want to know where I think Bo is?”
“Yes, of course.”
“I think he’s buried somewhere out in the desert. I think they killed him too.”
Myron considered that. Donna studied his face.
“You don’t agree,” she said.
“I don’t know.”
“But?”
“But I think Bo’s alive.”
“Why?”
Myron said nothing.
“The attorney-client privilege again?”
“Do you know Bo’s real name?” Myron asked.
Now it was Donna Kravat who stayed quiet.
“Donna?”
“You seem like a good guy,” she said. “But I don’t really know you. I don’t know why you’re here.”
“I told you.”
“You found something out about Bo, and now you’re looking for him. Like I said before, I think he’s buried in the desert somewhere. But if he’s not, if he’s on the run, maybe a guy like you is part of the reason why.”
“It’s not. I want to help.”
Her face closed down. She put the sunglasses back on and lay back. Myron had to find a way to get her to speak to him again.
“You’re a basketball fan,” he said.
