By the time the girl picked it up and threw it to the infield, Emily was flying around the bases. She slid into third.
Jessie breathed a sigh of relief. The Half Moons were off to a good start.
In the grandstand in front of her, she could see Emily’s grandfather. Benny sat beside him. Violet was watching from well behind home plate. And Henry was standing along the foul line. The plan was to change places every inning, so they could all watch from different viewpoints.
Benny saw Jessie in center field and waved. His sister was too far away to see him, though.
“Did you ever play baseball?” he asked Emily’s grandfather.
“Did I ever! I love the game!” Carl Soper replied enthusiastically. “I played shortstop when I was in school and later working here at the factory. I coached our youth league years ago, and Emily loves baseball as much as I do. I guess we get it from old Home Run Herman.”
“Emily is good,” Benny remarked, watching her race to home base after the second Half Moons batter hit a single. The Half Moons were leading and had a runner on first.
“All the kids on our team are good,” said Carl. “That’s why we believe the Eagles must be cheating.”
“How come?”
“Because they always lose the championship to us,” said Carl Soper, “except this year. Suddenly they’re scoring run after run.”
“The Eagles don’t ever win?” asked Benny.
Carl shook his head. “Sometimes, but not like this. Wait till their team is up. You’ll see. They’ll be knocking the balls into the boards like crazy.”
Benny stared at the peeling billboards way across the field. Right now a Half Moons batter was up. The boy smacked the ball high and out. While the kid skimmed the bases, bringing home the other player, the ball whacked into the fence. A home run.
Benny clapped, along with Emily’s grandfather.
Meanwhile, Violet watched Danny as the ball sailed overhead. The big boy’s face turned a dull red. He wasn’t happy about the other team’s first home run of the day. But Danny struck out the next player.
One fly ball caught and one Half Moons player struck out and the Eagles changed places with the Half Moons on the field. Jessie passed Emily.
“Good work,” Jessie whispered to Emily as they passed each other slowly.
“Yeah,” said Emily without looking at Jessie. “But you wait. The Eagles will hit every pitch out of the park.”
Violet went to sit with Carl Soper, while Benny joined Henry on the foul line. He told Henry what Carl Soper had said about the Eagles hitting so many home runs during this season’s championship.
“Did you see anything?” Benny asked his brother.
Henry shook his head. “The Eagles pitcher seems okay. Nothing weird about the way he’s throwing.”
The score was nearly even by the sixth inning. The Eagles led by one point and were up at bat. So far the game appeared to be normal.
Coach Jenkins walked over to the batboy and pulled out a bat for the first hitter. The girl swung it tentatively a few times, then nodded. The bat was okay for her.
Henry knew this girl wasn’t much of a hitter. She’d been struck out easily in earlier innings.
Brandon stood on the pitcher’s mound. He swung his arm, then threw the ball. The girl’s bat contacted the ball. It arced over the diamond. Wham! The ball hit the wooden fence. A home run for the Eagles!
The girl high-fived her other teammates.
“Wow!” exclaimed Benny. “She’s good!”
Henry frowned. “Maybe she just got lucky.”
But he couldn’t say that about the second and third and fourth home runs. Player after player hit line drives right into the fence! They couldn’t all be lucky, he realized.
“They’re either a really good team,” said Henry, “or there’s something going on. I just can’t tell what it is.”
The next batter who came up seemed reluctant. From her seat in the grandstand, Violet watched the sandy-haired boy carefully. He took the bat that the coach handed him. Why was the coach handing out the bats instead of the batboy? she wondered.
The boy took an open stance and waited for Brandon’s pitch. He let the first ball go by. And the second. On the third pitch, he swung and missed. Violet could see Coach Jenkins frown.
On Brandon’s next pitch, the boy stepped into the swing, and crack! the ball went flying into center field. The ball slammed into the boards.
The sandy-haired boy ran the bases rather halfheartedly, Violet thought. When he reached home, he walked up to the coach. They talked, then the boy gathered his things and left the park.
“He just quit the game,” said Violet, surprised.
“Looks like it,” Mr. Soper agreed. “Maybe he’s sick. Why else would a player quit when his team is winning?”
At the beginning of the next inning, Coach Jenkins came into the bleachers to where Violet was sitting.
“Are you Violet Alden?” he asked her.
“Yes,” she replied, wondering what the man wanted.
“Your sister, Jessie, said you are a good ballplayer. Our left fielder just went home sick. And we don’t have any substitutes. Would you like to play with us?” He grinned, adding, “We’re winning, you know.”
“Well …” Then Violet realized this was a good opportunity. With two Aldens working on the inside, there was a better chance to find out if the Eagles were cheating. “Yes,” she said. “It sounds like fan.”
As she put on an Eagles T-shirt, Violet noticed it was Jessie’s turn to bat. Once more Coach Jenkins took a bat from the batboy and gave it to Jessie to test.
Jessie swung the bat tentatively, then held it out straight. The bat seemed fine, not too heavy. She hit a good one deep in the outfield, but it was not a home run.
During a time-out, Jessie murmured to Violet, “I’m glad you’re on the team. I can’t tell what the Eagles are doing to cheat. Or even if they are cheating. You can help.”
“I’ll try,” said Violet.
It was her turn to bat. She hit a single. It was funny, but only she and Jessie hadn’t hit home runs. Were the other players that good?
All too soon, the game was over. The hard-hitting Eagles had won.
After the Eagles had left, Emily jogged over to Jessie. “The last game on Friday is the tie breaker. If we lose that game, we lose the championship.”
“But if you win, you’ll win the championship,” Jessie said.
Henry and Benny joined them.
Brandon walked up, his glove hanging off the end of a bat. “It’s important for us to go out winning,” he said. “Because after Friday we can’t play anymore.”
“We still have two days,” Henry reminded everyone. “The ballpark could be saved in two days. It’s not impossible.”
Two days isn’t much time, Violet thought.
As she turned, she saw a familiar face behind the batting cage. It was the sandy-haired boy who had quit the team. He motioned for her to come over.
“I thought you went home sick,” Violet said to him.
“I was supposed to,” said the boy. “My name is Eric. Did you take my position?”
Violet nodded. “Right in the middle of the game.”
“I think you should know something,” Eric said. “It’s about —”
Just then Coach Jenkins loomed over them.
“Eric!” he boomed. “How’s that stomachache?”
“Oh, it still hurts,” Eric said quickly. “I was just going home. I wanted to see if we won.”
“We did,” said the coach. “Violet here did a fine job of filling in for you. Will you be back for the championship game on Friday?”
“Uh — no,” stammered Eric. “I don’t think I’ll be better by then.”
“Let me walk you to the clubhouse,” Coach Jenkins said. “You can collect the rest of your things.”
As the coach led him across the field, Eric flashed a desperate glance over his shoulder. Violet knew he was tryin
g to give her a message. It must be something important.
But how could she find out what it was?
CHAPTER 5
The Woman in Purple
After the game, the Aldens went back to the inn. Everyone was disappointed because the Half Moons had lost.
The innkeeper, Bud Towers, noticed the long faces as he served a lunch of turkey salad and watermelon slices. “Looks like our team didn’t win today.”
“Nope,” answered Benny.
“How about if we do a little sightseeing?” Grandfather suggested.
“Where are we going?” Benny wanted to know.
“To someplace special,” was Grandfather’s mysterious answer.
When they had finished eating, they all got in the station wagon and drove south. Grandfather pulled the car into the parking lot of a strange house.
Violet stared at it as they all climbed out. “It looks like it belongs in a fairy tale,” she murmured.
The house had pointed roof lines and odd gables. Ivy clung to the old bricks and stonework. Diamond-shaped windows in witch’s-hat dormers overlooked a garden.
Benny had never seen a house like this. “I want to live here!” he exclaimed. Then he remembered his own wonderful house in Greenfield. “But I won’t ever leave you, Grandfather.”
James Alden laughed. “It’s okay, Benny. Everyone is enchanted with Washington Irving’s home.”
“Is that who lived here?” asked Henry. “I’ve read some of his stories.”
“So have I,” Jessie chimed in. “The Legend of Sleepy Hollow. And Rip Van Winkle.”
They walked inside and joined a tour group already in progress. The guide told them the story of Rip Van Winkle, the man who fell asleep for twenty years.
“Boy!” Benny commented. “I bet he was really hungry when he woke up!”
Everyone in the group laughed.
But the listeners were spellbound as the guide recited the tale of the little men Rip Van Winkle found bowling in the mountains and how Rip fell asleep for twenty years. When Rip went back home, nobody knew him and the town had changed.
After the story, the Aldens walked along a wooded trail that led them to the Hudson.
“The river is at its widest here,” Grandfather remarked. “It’s magnificent, isn’t it?”
The children enjoyed the awesome view of gray-blue water tipped with whitecaps and dotted with boats.
Then they climbed back up the trail to the car. It was such a nice day, Grandfather drove around until he found a deli with outdoor tables. The turkey salad and watermelon at the inn had been good, but they decided they needed a little something “to fill up the corners,” as Grandfather quipped.
They ordered baskets of fried onion rings and nachos to share, and sodas.
Jessie turned slightly to see the other diners: Someone had caught her eye. Two tables over, she saw a man who looked familiar. It took her a second to recognize Mike Percy, the Half Moons coach, without his blue baseball jersey on. Today he wore slacks and a green-striped shirt.
A dark-haired woman sat with him. She wore a purple dress and shoes. Even her purse was purple. Jessie guessed she liked that color a lot.
Grandfather noticed the couple, too. “Why, there’s Beverly Percy. That must be her husband, Mike.”
“It is,” said Jessie. “I mean, that’s the coach. Who’s the lady?”
“Mrs. Percy is the town council member who started the movement to tear down the ballpark,” Grandfather replied.
Violet took a second glance at the woman. Mrs. Percy was pretty, with shiny dark hair and blue eyes. But she didn’t smile. She seemed angry about something her husband was telling her.
Just then the Aldens’ food came. Grandfather passed around the onion rings and divided the cheesy nachos on small plates.
Henry dipped an onion ring in spicy sauce. He was sitting with his back to the Percys but was closest to their table. When the wind blew just right, he could hear parts of their conversation.
“… got the council members right where I want them …” said a harsh female voice.
That has to be Mrs. Percy, Henry thought.
“They vote the day after tomorrow,” said Mike Percy. “I hope you’re right —”
“I’m always right,” Beverly Percy snapped. “Just keep looking for that …” The wind snatched away the rest of her sentence.
Henry strained to hear more, but a noisy party of six claimed the table between the Aldens and the Percys.
“They’re leaving,” Violet said. “I think they’re coming this way!”
Grandfather’s chair scraped as he stood. “Hello, Mrs. Percy. How nice to see you here.”
“Yes,” said Mrs. Percy coolly. Her tone said she wasn’t pleased to see him at all. “Are these your grandchildren?” She looked sharply at the Alden children.
“They are indeed,” said James Alden. “This is Henry, Jessie, Violet, and Benny.”
“Would you like an onion ring?” Benny offered.
“No, thanks.” Beverly Percy smiled, but it seemed fake, Violet thought.
“We’ve already met,” Mike Percy said quickly. “At the ballpark. Violet and Jessie are pinch-hitting —”
“We must go,” interrupted Mrs. Percy. She gave the Aldens a last once-over before leaving in a cloud of strong-smelling perfume.
Jessie thought she recognized the perfume. A saleswoman had once given her a sample in a department store. It was called Purple Passion, Jessie recalled. Even the woman’s fragrance was purple!
When Grandfather left to pay the check, Jessie remarked, “Not very friendly, was she?”
“Not at all,” Henry agreed.
The next day Benny leaped out of bed. “Come on, Henry!” he told his older brother. “We don’t want to be late!”
“I’m up,” Henry said. “I’ll be ready in two minutes. We still have to eat breakfast.”
“Okay, but hurry!”
The previous day the Aldens had taken a walk around the outside of the old factory. Carl Soper had been there, pruning some bushes. He told them he tried to take care of the old place, even though nobody paid him. And he offered to show the children the inside the next day. They had eagerly agreed to come back.
Now, eager to get back to the factory, the children quickly ate their breakfast of carrot muffins, fresh-squeezed orange juice, and sausage patties. Grandfather left for a meeting, and they walked quickly to the old building. Carl and Emily Soper were waiting for them at the entrance.
Carl jingled a ring of keys. “Good morning,” he said. “Ever been inside an abandoned hat factory?”
“No, sir,” Violet replied. “We’re very excited.”
“Well, there isn’t much to see.” Carl fitted a key into the lock. “I still have keys because I’m the last long-term employee. And I clean up the outside every now and then.”
The door swung outward on creaking hinges. Even though it was daytime, the factory was dim inside. Violet wasn’t so sure she wanted to take this tour now.
“It’s okay,” Emily reassured her. “I’ve been in here a zillion times. Nothing will bother you.”
What about that ghost? Jessie wanted to ask. Of course, she didn’t believe in ghosts. But Danny Jenkins had said the factory was haunted. The Aldens had seen a mysterious light in the windows with their own eyes.
Carl led them into a large dusty room. Long worktables stood in rows, covered with more dust. Rectangular and square outlines marked the floor and tables.
“That’s where the equipment used to be,” Carl explained. “When the factory closed, they sold all the machinery. This is the room where I worked.”
Benny sneezed from the dust. “What was your job?”
“I was a blocker,” Carl replied. “I took the hats that were just made and steamed them into shape. Turned up the brims, rounded the crowns, that sort of thing.”
“Gramps was a great blocker,” Emily said. “He was the best.”
Carl smiled sadly
at Emily. “That was all a long time ago.” He moved down the hall to another room.
This room was much smaller and just as dusty. Benches were pulled up to a plain table. The walls were lined with small wooden doors.
“Our break room,” explained Carl. “This was where we stored our lunches and coats. We ate in here when it was too cold to go outside.”
He walked over to a long row of narrow wooden lockers against the wall and opened one. Each locker was labeled with heavy printed initials, faded to gray on stiff paper, slotted into a small frame near the top of its wooden door. Carl slowly ran his finger over the initials C.S. “My old locker,” he said.
Henry wandered around the room, trying to imagine what it was like working in this factory many years ago. Sunlight streamed in through the dirty, broken window. The men would have been sitting around the table with their bologna sandwiches and laughing at one another’s jokes. It was a shame the place had been closed down.
“Tomorrow is our last game,” Emily told Jessie and Violet. Emily looked worried.
“I know,” said Violet. “We’ll catch the Eagles cheating while they’re playing.” At least, she hoped they would.
Benny was opening and closing locker doors, looking inside each one. Inside one locker was a pair of old, worn-out boots, in another a ragged work shirt hung on a hook. It seemed every locker had some scrap of paper or small reminder of the worker who had left it years ago.
“Hey, look at this,” Benny called.
Everyone ran over and crowded around Benny.
“What is it?” asked Emily.
“See?” Benny pointed to the pair of faint initials framed in brass at the top of a locker door.
H.S.
Carl drew in his breath. “This must have been the locker of Herman Soper, my uncle. Good work! I never really knew where it was.” He was delighted with Benny’s find.
“Wow! But … your uncle worked here long before you did,” said Jessie. “And plenty of other workers passed through this factory after he left. You think his locker was never used again?”
The Home Run Mystery Page 3