The Home Run Mystery

by Gertrude Chandler Warner

  “Maybe nobody wanted to use the locker of the ‘cheater,’” Carl said. He shook his head sadly.

  “Maybe nobody used it but somebody sure cleaned it out, though,” said Benny.

  Benny stood on tiptoe to peer into the shelf at the top of the locker. “No old magazines, no book of matches … and look.…”

  “I see what you mean,” said Henry, peering into the locker. The locker’s shelf was crooked and it had been knocked that way recently. The wood where the shelf had been attached to the locker was fresh and clean, unlike the dark wood of the rest of the locker.

  “Are you suggesting Home Run Herman’s locker has been searched?” Emily murmured. “You guys really are detectives. I bet you will find out the truth about Herman and about the Eagles’ home run streak, too.”

  Jessie glanced at Violet, Henry, and Benny. They couldn’t let Emily and her grandfather down.

  But this doubleheader mystery was far from being solved. And they only had two more days.

  CHAPTER 6

  The Ghost Returns

  When they finished touring the abandoned factory, the Alden children, Carl, and Emily walked back to the ballpark.

  Right away, Violet noticed a white truck pulled up alongside the curb. Carl Soper saw the truck at the same time.

  “Who are those guys?” asked Violet.

  A man squinted through an instrument mounted on a tripod that looked something like a camera. Way across the field another man stood holding a pole.

  “Surveyors,” said Carl. “The first man is looking through something called a level transit. The man with the pole is called a rodman. His rod has marks on it that the surveyor uses to measure the boundaries of a piece of property.”

  “Why are they here?” Jessie wanted to know.

  “Good question,” said Carl, his face grim. “The town council doesn’t vote until tomorrow afternoon about tearing down the ballpark. Somebody hired this crew a little ahead of schedule, if you ask me.”

  “Maybe she did.” Benny pointed toward the grandstand.

  Sitting on the bottom bleacher was Beverly Percy. Today she wore a purple flowered top over purple slacks. She was smiling as she watched the men working.

  “The nerve of that woman!” Carl stalked over to the grandstand. Emily and the Aldens followed.

  Mrs. Percy watched their approach. “Hello, Carl,” she said. “How are you?”

  “I was fine until I saw these surveyors,” Carl replied. “Did you hire them?”

  She nodded. “I thought it was in the town’s best interest to get the ball rolling. The sooner we get rid of this reminder of Pikesville’s bad times, the sooner we can rebuild the town into a place people will want to visit and make their home.”

  “Very pretty speech,” Carl said evenly. “I’m sure you’ve got all the council members convinced, but it doesn’t wash with me. You have no right to have the ballpark surveyed until the council has voted.”

  Mrs. Percy stood, as if dismissing Carl. “I understand why you are bitter, Carl. It was your relative who brought bad luck on Pikesville. Too bad you share his name. But Pikesville can wipe out those old memories. And it will.”

  “But the council doesn’t vote until tomorrow,” Henry said. “Why are you so sure everyone will vote to tear down the ballpark?”

  Beverly Percy gave him and the other Aldens a sharp glance. “You children don’t even live here. Why don’t you mind your own business?”

  “Their grandfather was asked to advise the council,” Carl reminded her. “As I recall, you’re an outsider yourself. You and your husband only moved here six months ago.”

  Mrs. Percy made a big show of checking her watch. “I really have better things to do than chitchat with you.” She left the grandstand in a huff.

  “Pssst!” came a voice.

  Out of the corner of her eye, Violet caught a motion underneath the bleacher to the side. She looked down between the weathered boards.

  It was Eric, the player who had quit the Eagles! But when he saw Mrs. Percy striding in front of the grandstand, he scrambled away before Violet could call out to him.

  “That boy was here,” she told the others. “Under the seats.”

  “What boy?” asked Jessie.

  “Eric, the one I replaced on the team,” replied Violet. “See, there he goes. He’s running away.”

  Sure enough, the sandy-haired boy was sprinting out of the park.

  “What was he doing under the bleachers?” asked Emily. “Why didn’t he come sit with us?”

  “I think he’s trying to tell me something,” Violet guessed. “But he seems afraid.”

  Emily was still puzzled. “Why? Of what?”

  Violet shook her head. “I don’t know.”

  If only she could speak to him!

  The kids practiced throwing and catching with Emily until lunchtime. They had the ballpark to themselves; no Eagles were around. Then Emily stuck her mitt and ball in her backpack.

  “Can’t you store your things in the clubhouse?” Jessie asked. She had been wanting to get in there ever since the first day, when she had seen Coach Jenkins switch the bat Emily had chosen for another.

  “I can, but then I don’t have them with me later if I want to play catch with Gramps. The clubhouse is always locked,” Emily told them.

  “Your grandfather has a lot of keys,” Benny said.

  “Not to the clubhouse,” said Emily. “Only the two coaches have keys. I need to go home and fix Gramps’s lunch,” she said. “See you guys tomorrow for the game.” She held up crossed fingers.

  “Don’t worry,” Henry told her. “We still have time to work on saving the ballpark and catch the cheaters.”

  “I’m not worried,” Emily said with a grin. “I believe you guys are good luck.”

  They watched her leave, backpack slung over her shoulder.

  “I hope she’s right,” said Jessie.

  The children walked back to the Half Moon Inn. Grandfather was in a luncheon meeting, but Bud Towers handed Jessie a huge wicker hamper.

  “I fixed you kids a picnic,” the innkeeper said. “If you go down Bolton Street, you will come to a park along the river. There are tables under the trees. It’s very nice.”

  “Great idea,” said Jessie, hefting the basket. “Thanks.”

  Bolton Street wasn’t far from the inn. From there, it was a short hike to the park. Old oak trees sheltered wooden picnic tables. Well-tended flower beds bordered the pebbled pathways. Just beyond, the Hudson River flowed in a broad silvery ribbon.

  “This is cool,” said Benny. “Let’s eat over there. It’s closest to the water.” He ran and claimed the large table.

  Jessie began unpacking the wicker hamper. “Mr. Towers thought of everything. Even a tablecloth.”

  She gave Henry the old quilt tucked around the food. Henry spread the quilt on the table. Violet passed around plates and napkin-bundled flatware.

  Soon the table was spread with plastic containers of fried chicken, rolls still warm from the oven, potato salad, baked beans, fresh fruit, and gingersnaps. A thermos held lemonade.

  The children ate heartily.

  “Yum,” Violet commented.

  Benny reached for another drumstick. “I’m always hungrier when I’m outside.”

  “You’re pretty hungry indoors, too,” Henry teased. “But I know what you mean. Eating in the fresh air is more fun.”

  Jessie was snapping the lid back on the chicken when she noticed two men. They had just sat down at a distant picnic table.

  “There’s Mike Percy,” she said. “Isn’t that Coach Jenkins with him?”

  The others turned to look.

  “That’s them, all right,” said Henry. “On the ballpark they act like they can’t stand each other. I wonder why they seem so buddy-buddy now.”

  The coaches were talking intently. Coach Jenkins glanced around every so often, as if he were afraid of being overheard.

  “They’re acting weird,” rem
arked Violet. “Like they’ve got a big secret or something.”

  Just then, Coach Jenkins noticed the Aldens. He got up and hurried away. Mike Percy followed a moment later.

  “Well, that was strange,” Jessie said. “So far we’ve run into a lot of suspicious characters on this case, like Coach Jenkins and the Percys, and maybe even Danny. Now they’re getting together!”

  “But we have no clues,” Henry pronounced solemnly. “And no leads.”

  That evening, the children took their usual after-dinner stroll to the ballpark. In the fading twilight, the factory looked spookier than ever.

  Suddenly two lights flickered in a lower window.

  Benny gasped. “The ghost!”

  “There are no ghosts,” Jessie told him. But the wavery lights were scary. If it wasn’t a ghost, then what was it?

  “Look,” said Henry.

  Two figures flitted across the windows.

  “The ghost has returned,” Henry observed. “And he brought a friend.”

  “People are in there,” Violet said. “Maybe it’s Carl and Emily.”

  But at that moment Carl and Emily Soper came up the walk.

  When he saw the children’s faces, Carl said, “What’s the matter?”

  “Some people are in the factory,” Benny said. “At least, we think they’re people.”

  But the lights had vanished. Once more the factory was cloaked in darkness.

  “We’d better check it out,” said Carl. He produced his key ring and headed for the front door.

  Unlocking it, Carl switched on the flashlight he always wore on his belt. With Carl and Henry leading the way, they crept inside.

  Carl’s beam swept from side to side.

  “The coast is clear,” Henry announced. “Whoever was here is gone.”

  “They didn’t leave by the front door,” said Carl. “It was locked. So how did these people get in and out without us seeing them?”

  Benny didn’t want to think about the answer to that question.

  They clattered down the empty corridor. The doors were closed, as Carl had left them.

  All but one.

  This room contained old wooden file cabinets. The drawers of the cabinets stood open. Yellowed papers were scattered all over the floor.

  “This is the file room,” Carl said. “Old records were kept here. Papers that nobody is interested in anymore.”

  Two people were interested, thought Henry. The “ghosts” were clearly hunting for something.

  Jessie sniffed. A sickening sweet smell hung in the stale air. She knew that perfume.

  It was Purple Passion.

  CHAPTER 7

  Henry’s Discovery

  “Take me out to the ball game!” Benny sang as he skipped along with his brother and sisters to the ballpark.

  It was Friday, the day of the championship game. Mockingbirds sang from the old oaks that grew in the vacant lot next to the ballpark.

  “It seems a shame to tear this down,” Jessie said. “All they need to do is mow the grass and paint the bleachers. It’s right in the middle of town and most kids can walk to it.”

  “It’s up to the town council,” Henry pointed out. “They’ll vote this afternoon. From the way Grandfather talked at breakfast, it looks as if they will vote to turn it into a parking lot. Nobody has found any reason to make it a historical landmark. Quite the opposite. They want to forget its history.”

  “I bet the factory ‘ghosts’ know something,” said Jessie. “We didn’t see the Percys last night, but we know they were there. That was definitely Mrs. Percy’s perfume.”

  Benny nodded. “Don’t forget about Coach Jenkins. He’s friends with Mr. Percy.”

  “He may not be,” Henry sighed. “They were just talking yesterday.”

  “We have to find out if the Eagles are cheating first,” Violet reminded them. “We’ll have to think about mystery number two later.”

  “Right,” said Jessie. “You and I will stay on the Eagles’ team.”

  “And Benny and I will watch from the sidelines,” said Henry.

  “Like hawks!” Benny added.

  Violet glanced around the empty street. “I hope Eric comes back today. Maybe I can talk to him and find out what he knows.”

  “We don’t know where he lives,” Jessie said. “So we can’t go ask him.”

  Henry led the way into the ballpark, where the players were pulling on gear or practicing. “We can’t count on Eric showing up. It’s up to us to find out if the Eagles are cheating.”

  On the field, Violet and Jessie joined the Eagles team in their dugout. Benny wished them luck, then found Emily’s grandfather sitting in his usual place. He looked to see if any Eagles were watching, then he waved and Carl Soper waved back.

  The coaches were huddled with their teams. Benny could feel tension in the air. This wasn’t just another game.

  Then the umpire called, “Play ball!” and the action started.

  Emily’s team was batting first again. Danny, the Eagles’ pitcher, rolled his shoulders and smacked the ball into his well-worn glove.

  Brandon was up at bat. Danny threw the pitch. Brandon hit the ball into right field. The Eagles right fielder was the girl who missed a lot of balls. She fumbled this one. Brandon raced to first and was safe.

  From her position in center field, Jessie was glad the game was starting well for the Half Moons.

  They scored two runs in the first inning. But in the second inning, the scoreboard changed dramatically when the Eagles batted. Just like in the final inning of the last game, the Eagles batted home run after home run.

  “It’s like they have a magic bat,” Benny said to Henry from behind the batting cage. He’d been thinking about magic lately, since he had heard the story of Rip Van Winkle.

  Henry stared at him. “Benny! I think you’ve hit the ball out of the park!”

  “Me?” Benny was confused. “I’m not even playing!”

  “It’s an expression. You gave me an idea!” Henry clung to the wire of the cage, staring intently at each of the Eagles players. “See that girl coming up now? She plays right field. She’s not a very strong hitter.”

  But the girl whacked the ball high. It didn’t hit the fence but came so close that the Half Moons outfielders couldn’t run over and throw it in fast enough. Another home run.

  “That was good,” commented Benny.

  “Too good,” Henry said suspiciously. He thought he’d figured out the answer to this mystery. Now he needed proof.

  “Everybody is hitting a home run,” Benny observed. “Except Jessie and Violet.”

  “You’re right,” said Henry. “We need to talk to them.”

  Henry waited until the inning was over and the glum Half Moons team was switching places with the Eagles.

  Henry and Benny ran along the foul line, beckoning to their sisters.

  Jessie and Violet came over.

  “What is it?” asked Jessie. “We only have a second.”

  “The bat you’re using,” Henry asked. “Is there something funny about it?”

  Jessie shrugged. “It seems okay.”

  “You guys aren’t hitting home runs,” Henry said. “But the others are.”

  “Henry’s right,” Violet said to Jessie.

  “Are they using the same bat as you are?” Henry asked.

  “Jessie and Violet!” Danny called from the pitcher’s mound. “Places!”

  “I think the other players are handed a different bat,” said Jessie. “But I don’t know for sure. We’ve got to go.”

  When the girls were back in the outfield, Henry said to Benny, “Let’s go over to the clubhouse. I have a hunch.”

  The game was well under way again. They walked quickly to the old clubhouse. Nobody paid attention to them.

  “We’re in luck,” Henry said. “The door is open! Let’s hope there are two of them.”

  “Two of what?” Benny asked.

  Henry poked his head in the door
. He drew in a quick breath when he saw a lone bat leaning against the wall. It was within his reach.

  He stretched his hand out and took the bat.

  Benny watched his brother bounce the end of the bat in his hand. “What are you doing?” he wanted to know.

  “Feel this.” Henry handed the bat to Benny.

  Benny nearly dropped it. “It’s so light!”

  “This is the Eagles’ secret weapon,” Henry declared. “They use corked bats.”

  “What?” asked Benny.

  “Remember when Grandfather said you could eat a lot because you have a hollow leg?” Henry said.

  “Yeah.”

  “Well, the Eagles win because they use hollow bats.” Henry examined the end of the bat. “See this?”

  Benny looked carefully. “There’s a lighter circle on the end.”

  “That’s where the bat was cored,” Henry said. “Someone drilled into the end, removed the wood, and put in something lighter, like cork. Then they covered it with a plug of wood.”

  Benny touched the tip of the bat. “How would this make people hit home runs?”

  “A lighter bat is a faster bat,” Henry explained. “You can swing it easier. That makes the fat part of the bat — the part that hits the ball — move through the strike zone faster. And the cork makes the ball really bounce off the bat.”

  Now Benny understood. “So even if you weren’t a very good hitter, you could hit homers with this bat.”

  “It’s against the rules,” Henry said. “We have to let the umpire and Coach Percy know as soon as possible. There’s probably another bat just like this and that’s what the Eagles are using today. This is the spare.”

  “Coach Jenkins will have to confess,” said Benny. “I bet the whole thing was his idea.”

  “Let’s go,” Henry said.

  As Benny leaned into the clubhouse to pull the door shut, he saw an old glass-fronted cabinet filled with old tarnished trophies, its glass doors cracked and dusty. He slid one open and peered inside. Photographs of baseball players in old-timey uniforms, faded pennants, and posters announcing games were pasted on the inside back wall. He stepped into the clubhouse to get a closer look.