097 Squeeze Play

by Carolyn Keene

  "What story are you working on?" Nancy asked.

  "The one about his being washed up," Brenda said to Nancy with a smile. "What else?"

  "I don't think a slump means he's washed up," George said. "He'll be back in the majors soon, you just wait."

  "I find that hard to believe after today's performance," Brenda said. "Anyway, what are you two doing here? In search of a mystery?"

  "Hardly," Nancy answered. "We just came to see Luke."

  "Who?" Brenda asked.

  "I'm sure you don't remember him," George said.

  "Try me," Brenda challenged.

  "Luke Darlington," Nancy finally said. "We all went to high school with him."

  Brenda shrugged. "I don't really remember him. He's the catcher, isn't he?"

  "Right," George said, raising her chin slightly. "He played today."

  "Yeah, but not too well," Brenda answered, rolling her eyes. With a quick wave over her shoulder, she headed off.

  "She sure lost interest when she found out we were only meeting Luke," George said.

  "Some people never change," Nancy said, grinning.

  Several minutes later Bess appeared at the end of the corridor. "Am I late?" she asked.

  "No," George said. "We'll probably have to wait awhile for Luke to finish changing."

  "Did I miss Sean?" Bess asked.

  Nancy and George laughed and nodded.

  "I'm afraid so, Bess," Nancy said. "But after the way he pitched, I doubt he'd have been much fun." *

  "I heard from the fans at the concession stand that he wasn't doing too well," Bess said, removing her barrette to let her long hair fall loosely over her shoulders. "You'd never believe how much information you can get there."

  "Like what?" George asked, folding her arms across her chest.

  "Well, a lot of Ranger fans blame Stormy Tarver for the fact that the whole championship's being played in River Heights," Bess said. "They say Stormy could have avoided the accident at their stadium, but she was either too cheap or too broke to replace the pipe. She had been warned it was about to break."

  "The fans certainly seemed to like her when she was in the stands," George remarked.

  "It's kind of a love-hate thing, I guess," Bess said. "Ranger fans love her when she's winning and hate her when she's not. But I heard a lot of people talking about the fact that she's having financial problems."

  Suddenly Nancy touched both her friends on the arm and motioned them to stop talking.

  "Listen," she said. "I heard something, like someone groaning."

  "I heard it, too," said Bess. "But where is it coming from?"

  "This way," Nancy urged.

  The moans got louder as they neared the door to the parking lot and silently pushed it open. George and Bess followed Nancy out into the bright sunlight. She checked right, then left, her eyes coming to rest on a large Dumpster pushed up against the outside wall of the stadium.

  Slowly Nancy lifted the lid and boosted herself up to peek inside. Except for a little garbage, the bin was empty. But then the moaning sounded again.

  Nancy peered around the back and saw a man lying in a heap in the narrow space between the Dumpster and the wall. His hands and feet were tied, his mouth gagged, and terror shone in his eyes!

  Chapter Three

  The man behind the Dumpster was struggling against the ropes.

  "Help me," Nancy said, turning back to George and Bess.

  Together, the girls pushed the large metal bin out from the wall, then Nancy slid the handkerchief down from the man's mouth.

  "Thank you," he gasped. "I didn't think I would ever be found."

  "What happened?" Nancy asked as she worked at the knots in the ropes.

  "I'm not sure," the man said excitedly. His black hair hung limply in his face, and his eyes were still wide with fear. "I left the field about halfway through the seventh inning. I was walking up the steps that lead from the corridor when I heard a noise behind me. Before I could turn around, someone hit me on the head and everything went black. The next thing I remember was waking up behind this Dumpster."

  "Do you work at the Roost?" George asked, eyeing the man's plain blue jeans and green T-shirt.

  "No, no," he said, pulling his hands free from the ropes. "I'm Anthony Reyes."

  The three girls stared at him blankly.

  "You know," he went on, "Freddy the Falcon."

  Nancy's eyes grew round.

  "You're the guy in the bird suit?" Bess said, surprised.

  Anthony nodded, then reached down to untie the ropes that still held his feet.

  Nancy frowned. "And you say you were hit over the head before the eighth inning?"

  "That's right," Anthony replied.

  "Then who was bugging Sean Reeves out on the mound?" George asked Nancy.

  "I don't know, but it made Sean mad enough to tackle whoever was in that costume," Nancy said, raising her eyebrows. "I'm calling the police."

  "There's a phone by the front entrance," Bess said. "I'll show you."

  It took Nancy only a few minutes to report the mugging of Freddy the Falcon.

  "The police are on their way," she told Anthony, whom she found walking stiffly up and down the hall. "Would you mind telling us why you were leaving before the end of the game?"

  "I umpire youth baseball at five every Sunday," Reyes stated without hesitation. "If we're at home, I always leave before the last two innings to beat traffic and get there on time. The Falcons help sponsor the league, so they're happy to have me involved," Reyes said.

  Dozens of people would have known about Anthony's schedule, Nancy realized. Just about anyone could have mugged him.

  "Let's see if we can find the Freddy the Falcon costume," Nancy said to them all.

  Anthony and the girls searched for the feathered uniform in the corridor that led past the locker rooms. Then they headed back up to the wide walkway where fans had recently been funneled out of the stands. About a hundred feet short of the main exit, Nancy heard a rattle and squeak. In another moment she saw two men in white overalls pushing a low cart topped by six garbage cans.

  Anthony and the girls stepped out of the way as the men pushed their load past.

  "Wait a minute!" Nancy shouted, reaching into one of the cans. She had noticed a blue feather poking up.

  The two men stopped and watched in surprise as Nancy pulled out the Freddy the Falcon costume. "The imposter must have dumped it," Nancy said as Anthony Reyes took the costume and began examining it.

  "Where did that garbage can come from?" Nancy asked the workers.

  "This whole bunch came from the Ranger side of the field," answered the taller of the two men.

  "Stormy Tarver's side," George commented.

  "She was gone when Freddy the Falcon went to the pitcher's mound," Nancy said. "I remember her being gone until the eighth inning when the Rangers pulled ahead."

  "Do you think Stormy would do such a horrible thing?" Bess asked as the men pushed their cart on down the corridor.

  "Someone did. But why?" George said, shaking her head. "Nancy, I bet this has something to do with the note Freddy gave Sean Reeves."

  "Could be," Nancy answered, carefully examining the corridor for more clues. "Maybe Luke will know something," she said as they returned to the locker room corridor.

  As if on cue, Luke Darlington walked out of the locker room speaking with another player with mahogany-colored skin and short black hair. Without his uniform on, it took Nancy a minute to recognize him as the starting pitcher, Rod Sanders.

  Luke smiled brightly at George and got a big grin from Bess when he remembered both her and Nancy's names. He introduced Rod, who greeted each of the girls.

  "You played a good game," Sanders said, slapping Luke on the shoulder. "That run wasn't your fault. Reeves should have pitched what you called for." Reaching into his pocket, he added, "I'll see you later. I'm late."

  As he pulled a set of car keys from his pocket, a piece of white
paper fluttered to the ground. Nancy reached down and picked it up. It was blank except for the number 814 written on one side.

  "Thanks," Rod said as she handed the note back to him. He quickly stuffed it into his pocket and walked toward the exit.

  Nancy waited until Rod was out of sight, then put her hand on Luke's wrist.

  "What did Rod mean when he said Sean should have thrown the pitch you asked for?" Nancy asked.

  "In the ninth inning," Luke said with a shrug. "When the runner stole home, I asked for a fastball, but Luke threw a knuckleball instead. I wasn't ready for it—that's why it got away from me. It probably cost us the game."

  "But I thought the pitcher was always supposed to throw what the catcher called for," Nancy said.

  "He is," Luke answered, shaking his head. "Sean said he got the signals mixed up. It happens."

  "Yes, I suppose," Nancy said quietly.

  "Nancy thinks something strange is going on with Sean," George explained. "The mascot who hugged him in the eighth inning was an imposter, and he gave Sean a note." Then Nancy, George, and Bess told Luke all that had happened and asked him if he knew Anthony. The two men shook hands.

  "This is strange," Luke said when they had finished. "Sean was upset, even before the game started. He snapped at me when I asked how his arm felt, and he didn't sign any autographs before the game like he usually does. It all seemed to start with a phone call he got just before we went on the field."

  "He got a phone call?" Nancy asked.

  Luke nodded. "He didn't say what it was about, but he was in a bad mood after it."

  By the time the police arrived, Nancy was sure she had a mystery on her hands. She gave the officer a quick statement.

  "I see you're still quite the detective," Luke said after listening to Nancy talk to the officers. "Why don't I take you to Sean's house. I'd like to make sure he's all right."

  "Good idea," Nancy said. "As long as you don't mind bringing me back here later for my car."

  Luke agreed. Nancy checked to make sure that Anthony was all right. Then she followed the catcher and her friends to the parking lot and climbed into Luke's sporty red sedan.

  "Sean's a good guy and a great pitcher when he's on his game," Luke said as he turned into the street. "We've gotten to know each other some since he moved to River Heights."

  "Is he in any kind of trouble?" Nancy asked from the backseat.

  "Not that I know of," Luke replied as he turned into a subdivision of expensive new homes. "I don't think he has time to get into trouble. Every minute that he's not at the ballpark, he spends with his little girl."

  "Sean has a daughter?" Bess asked, leaning forward in the seat beside Nancy.

  "Yes, a five-year-old named Caitlin, who can already throw a mean fastball," Luke said, smiling a little. "Caitlin is the only thing more important to Sean than baseball."

  "Is there a Mrs. Reeves?" Bess asked, peering at Luke curiously.

  "No," Luke answered slowly. "Sean's wife died two years ago."

  There was a moment of silence as Luke pulled his car up in front of a large new home with stained glass above the double front doors.

  "Sean's renting this place," Luke said as he stopped the car.

  "I guess it's true about all his money," George remarked, taking in the house.

  "Yes, Sean's got a good contract," Luke said as they made their way to the door. "But he's going to have to get his game back if he wants to keep it."

  Nancy surveyed the well-kept yard as Luke rang the doorbell. She was wondering what would make a seasoned professional tackle a mascot and then dash out of the stadium after the game.

  Sean cracked the door open. He was still in his dirty, grass-stained uniform. Though he was over six feet tall, Nancy thought he looked more like a frightened child than a famous baseball player. His dark hair was tousled and his broad shoulders hunched forward. His deep brown eyes expressed a mixture of fear and suspicion.

  "Luke," he said. The word sounded more like an accusation than a greeting. Rather than invite the group in, Sean stood in the doorway, blocking the entrance.

  "We came over to see if everything was all right," Luke said. He was stammering a little, as though searching for words. "These are my friends, Nancy Drew, George Fayne, and Bess Marvin."

  Sean's eyes moved cautiously from one to the other. But even when Bess flashed him her most flirtatious smile, Sean's expression remained glum. "I'm okay, but kind of busy," he said firmly. "See you tomorrow." He started to close the door.

  "Wait," Luke said, holding the door open with his right hand. "Just let us come in and talk for a while, maybe have something to drink." Luke was calm but absolutely determined.

  Nancy saw the tendons on the sides of Sean's neck stand out as he glared at Luke. For a moment Nancy was uncertain which man would win the stare-down.

  "All right," Sean said, finally stepping away from the doorway.

  Nancy, George, and Bess followed Luke into a spacious tiled entryway. To the left was a formal living room. On the right was the dining room,

  and through an arched doorway Nancy could see the kitchen.

  "Have a seat. I'll bring some lemonade," Sean said, motioning to a couch.

  "Please, let us help," Nancy said brightly.

  Luke led the way to the kitchen. Sean brought up the rear, still looking as though he'd like to throw them all out.

  As Luke and Sean fixed lemonade, Nancy took in the surroundings. The big kitchen had gleaming white countertops and all the latest appliances. A high counter formed one side of the kitchen area, and beyond it was a family room that looked as if it had been ransacked. An end table was overturned and magazines were scattered on the floor. A vase had been broken, jagged pieces of blue glass embedded in the carpet.

  Nancy felt Bess's hand on her arm. She, too, had noticed the disarray.

  "What happened?" Luke asked calmly. "It looks like there's been a fight."

  Sean shrugged and glanced uneasily at the family room. "Caitlin just knocked over some things."

  "Sean, Nancy is a detective. If you're in some kind of trouble, she can help," Luke said.

  Sean's eyes narrowed. "I'm not in any trouble. Like I said, Caitlin just got a little rambunctious."

  "We know about the mascot," Nancy broke in. "He was an imposter."

  Sean's face turned red and his hands clenched into fists. "It was all an act," he said.

  Nancy surveyed the room again, this time spotting a piece of slightly crumpled yellow paper by the telephone that sat on the counter. She walked casually around the counter and perched herself on the stool closest to the phone. Without touching the paper, she read the words scribbled in large block letters.

  Nancy couldn't believe it! Lose the game or Caitlin dies, it said.

  Chapter Four

  Nancy reached slowly for the note and glanced up to see Sean's eyes riveted on her. She reread the words, convinced that they could mean only one thing. Sean's daughter had been kidnapped.

  "Sean," she said gently. "If something has happened to Caitlin, you'll need help."

  Sean followed behind Luke as he crossed the room to take the note from Nancy's hand.

  Luke's expression was serious. "Nancy's right," he said to his friend.

  Defeat crossed Sean's face. He settled onto a stool and, with his elbows propped on the counter, dropped his head to his hands.

  "They said they'd hurt Caitlin if anyone found out," Sean said slowly. "I have to do what they say, it's the only way."

  Luke went to Sean, putting his hands on the pitcher's shoulders. "You have to tell us what's going on," he said. "Nancy's the best detective around. She can help you and she'll be careful."

  "Sean," Nancy said firmly. "Where is Cait-lin?"

  "I don't know," the pitcher said at last, shaking his head. "I left her here with the sitter and everything was fine until—"

  "Until what?" Nancy asked.

  "Until just before the game," Sean said. He glanced tow
ard George and Bess.

  "It's okay," Nancy said. "They've helped me on lots of cases. We're a team."

  Finally, with a deep sigh, Sean turned back to Nancy and Luke. "Until just before the game," he said. "The manager called me into his office. He said I had a phone call. It was Rebecca, the sitter, and she was hysterical. She kept saying, They're going to hurt us.'" Sean paused and rubbed his palm across his forehead.

  "Take it easy," Nancy said, touching Sean's arm.

  Sean took a deep breath and closed his eyes for a minute as though concentrating. "She said, 'Do exactly what I say, or they're going to hurt Caitlin. They want you to stay in the game and wait for instructions, but don't tell anyone about this, or you'll be sorry.' She was sobbing, and then the phone went dead."

  "Just before the eighth inning, the mascot gave you this note," Nancy said, pointing to the piece of yellow paper.

  Sean nodded. He got up from the stool and paced across the room.

  "But it wasn't the real mascot," Bess said.

  "Just someone who stole the mascot costume," Nancy added.

  "Do you have any idea who could have done this?" George asked.

  "No," Sean said firmly, turning toward them. "I can think of lots of people who'd want the Falcons to lose the game, but nobody would take my little girl—nobody is that cruel."

  "Someone is," Nancy said gravely. "And we need to find out who." She hopped down from her stool and paced the floor near the counter. "After you got the phone call, did anyone besides the fake mascot contact you or talk to you about Caitlin?" Nancy asked, stopping in front of the large window that framed Sean's backyard.

  "No one," Sean said. He shook his head slowly as he walked to the coffee table in the family room, picking up a framed picture.

  "Is that Caitlin?" Nancy asked gently.

  Sean nodded and handed her the picture. It showed a smiling five-year-old with dark hair cropped short around her face and big brown eyes that immediately reminded Nancy of Sean. She was wearing a baseball hat with the logo of Sean's major league team, the Captains.