Touchdown Tony Crowne and the Mystery of the Missing Cheerleader

by Peter Guy George

  He had exited out the ticket gate by the time she caught up with him and tapped him on the shoulder.

  Out of breath, Maria put her hands on her hips, took a couple of deep breaths and gasped, “Anthony just called me...pant...found a pom-pom...pant...near the school...could be Ash’s...pant, pant.” She took her football program and fanned her faced a few times and breathed a “Woo!” Caught her breath and continued, “Anthony said Miss Dingledine lives practically next door so she’s going to unlock the school and let the patrolman and him search inside.”

  “Good, I have my doubts that Miss Richardson is at the school, but if she is, I hope they find her. Maria, have you ever wanted to be a detective?”

  “What? Well, it looks like fun on the telly, but I don’t know—”

  Bouguereau peered over Maria’s shoulder for a second and said, “Ah, those three took the bait. Oh, look, so did she. The game is afoot!” He grinned and turned his attention back to Maria. “I need you to play detective for a little while. Would you be so kind as to accommodate me?”

  “Oh, J.B., I’d do anything to help find Ash. Are you going to swear me in?” Maria asked with a knowing grin.

  “Hmm, there’s not much time, but here goes. Raise your right hand. Do you, Maria Crowne, swear to uphold the law?”

  “That’s it? Seven little words?”

  “Maria! Mon amie, we must hurry!”

  “Okay, okay, I do solemnly swear! What’s my assignment, Chief?” Maria clicked her heels and saluted.

  Bouguereau grabbed her shoulders, turned her around and whispered into her ear, “Do you see those three little girls coming out of the gate?”

  “Yes, I see them. That’s Felicity, Mel and I think the third one’s name is Josie.” Maria whispered back.

  “Your assignment is to follow them and see where they go. They might know who you are, so do not let them see you under any circumstances. You have to be sneaky, very sneaky. It is possible they know where Miss Richardson is located—”

  “You mean those little girls could be involved in Ash’s disappearance? Oh, what is this world coming to?”

  “You have my number, call me if anything turns up. Now go, before you lose them!” He gave her shoulders a slight nudge and off she went. Bouguereau stuffed his hat in a side pocket, removed his glasses and ditched his cigar in a nearby trash can. Satisfied he is looking reasonably different than he did a few moments ago, he felt that familiar surge of adrenaline course through his body as he ducked behind an elm tree and waited to tail his suspect.

  Chapter 20- The Second One

  Judd, covered by two defenders, juked to the inside at the two-yard line then turned to the outside and cradled Tony’s low pass before hitting the ground for a two-point conversion.

  Coach Chuck ran halfway onto the field, waving his arms in front of him and yelling, “He trapped the ball! He trapped the ball, Ref!”

  The referee blew his whistle and shouted back, “Get back to your sideline, Coach! I clearly saw the receiver with two arms underneath the ball!”

  “The two-point conversion is good on a pass from Crowne to Judson. The Lions lead 21 to 8,” Smilin’ Bob announced as his voice became more energetic.

  The Bobcats’ fans threw their arms into the air in jubilation and started chanting the new cheer with renewed gusto, “We ain’t giving up! No! We ain’t giving up! No!”

  With the kickoff team surrounding him on the sideline, Coach Tiny barked out his instructions, “Okay, everybody listen up! We’re kicking it deep. No reason for any funny business just yet. That number 25, Bishop, he’s a good returner, so when you tackle him, make sure—make sure you wrap your arms around him! Don’t just hit him and think he’s going down! Wrap him up! One other thing, Coach Chuck is probably gonna double or triple team Judd, so that is gonna leave a couple of you guys without blockers. That should make it easier for you guys to make the tackle, right? Let’s go get’em!” Coach Tiny waved them onto the field and with a renewed enthusiasm all the players sprinted out to their positions.

  Tim Crossman teed the ball up at the forty-yard line, stepped backward three steps, then two steps sideways, lifted his arm and waited for the referee’s whistle to kick.

  Tony, lined up on the outside wing, noticed Coach Chuck yelling to two of the front-line blockers from the sideline and shouted, “Hey, Judd! You got two comin’ at ya!” Judd nodded okay and got into his kickoff stance.

  The referee blew his whistle and Tim kicked a high, but not very deep, ball down the field. As the football sailed into the air, Judd dashed down the middle of the field, shedding the first blocker with a swipe of his left arm and doing the same with the second blocker but using his right arm to knock him out of his way.

  Matt Bishop, the Lions’ kick returner, juggled the ball, tucked it into the crook of his right arm, ran to his right, saw Judd on that side and zigged back to the left. The first tackler drew a bead on Matt, but committed the mistake of lowering his head and Matt easily stiff-armed him into the ground. Tony found himself unblocked because of the double-team on Judd and raced down the sideline making sure he stayed in his coverage lane this time.

  Seeing Matt Bishop veer away from him, Judd changed his direction to get a better angle on him, but his path was blocked by other players and he had to dart around them. Knowing his window of opportunity was closing fast, Judd dove into the air in a full-body stretch. Matt, seeing Judd diving out of the corner of his eye, planted his right foot into the turf and pushed off toward the sideline. Judd, realizing in mid-air that he wasn’t going to be able to tackle Matt, used both hands to make a downward swat at the football in Matt’s arm.

  The football hit the ground at the Lions’ forty-one-yard line and bounced away from Judd’s grasp as he slid by on the grass. Both benches and some of the players on the field yelled, “Ball! Ball!” A Lion raced to the football, but in an attempt to pick it up he accidentally kicked it away from his hands and to the Lions’ sideline. The football spun crazily in a circle, petered out and came to a rest one foot from the sideline.

  Tony, because he remained in his coverage lane, was the only player on that side of the field. He slowed downed, dipped his body and scooped the football up at the forty-five-yard line. He made a clean snatch of the football off the ground, but his feet got tangled and he struggled to maintain his balance and to stay inbounds. Lurching ahead, Tony placed his left hand on the grass, kept his legs churning and regained his balance.

  “Go, go, go, little feller!” Judd cheered as he sat up on the grass and watched Tony run toward the end zone. “Uh-oh!” Judd’s high spirits took a sudden downturn when he saw Matt Bishop gaining too much ground on Tony. “Faster, Tony, faster!”

  Hearing the footsteps and heavy breathing, Tony glanced quickly behind him and knew he was going to be caught. Tony never could run fast and this time it was going to betray him. At the fifteen-yard-line he could tell he was going to be jumped on, so he put both hands on the football to protect it.

  THWACK!

  At the ten-yard-line, Tony heard the impact, but didn’t feel it. Puzzled, he looked back and saw Matt Bishop and Nick Miller sprawled out on the field behind him. Not seeing a penalty flag for clipping, he figured Nick had laid a good old-fashioned block on Matt. Grinning, he ran into the end zone for his second touchdown of the day, handed the football to the referee and celebrated with the rest of the Bobcats in the end zone.

  Smilin’ Bob flicked the switch on his microphone and announced, “A forty-five-yard fumble return for a touchdown by Tony Crowne! The Lakeside Lions lead the Dersee Bobcats, 21 to 14.” Flicking the switch off, Smilin’ Bob looked at Dunwoody and sneered in a Halloween-type voice, “They’re getting closer!”

  Spitting his soggy toothpick from his mouth, Hunter Dunwoody paid no attention to Smilin’ Bob’s wisecrack and said, “You know, I gotta do an article on that Judson kid. That was a real heads-up play. How many kids run through two blocks, leap like a super hero and force a fumble. Man,
oh, man, I can’t wait for this kid to play for the high school team!”

  “Go for two! Go for two!” Coach Tiny hollered to Tony. He sent Jay Evans onto the field with the play.

  After Jay whispered the play into Tony’s ear, Tony knelt on the grass and explained the play to the team. “Listen up! Coach wants to run another 22 dive, but I’m gonna fake the hand-off to Nick and pass to Judd in the end zone. Nick, Coach says you gotta sell the fake hard, so jump the line of scrimmage like you did before. Judd, you line up on the left side next to the tackle as a tight end, hold your block for a second then release and run a little button hook into the end zone and I’ll get the ball to ya. Got it? Hike on two, hike on two, break!”

  “Ready! Set! Hut! Hut!”

  Tony reverse pivoted, stuck the ball into Nick’s midsection, pulled the ball back out, held it behind his right leg as he dropped back and watched Nick leap over line. Judd blocked his man so hard that he whacked him backwards into the safety’s legs and knocked both of those Lions to the ground.

  “Pass! Pass! Pass!” Coach Chuck’s neck veins were popping and his face red as he shouted to his team what he could see from the sideline, but they could not.

  When Nick leapt over the line of scrimmage and into the end zone, the referee almost blew his whistle to end the play until he saw Tony cock the football and throw a soft pass to a wide-open Judd. He easily caught the ball, immediately ran over to the referee and handed him the football.

  “Tell your quarterback he ran a good fake. I had to swallow my whistle on that one,” the referee confessed to Judd.

  “Haw, har! I’ll let him know, sir! Haw, har!”

  “Two-point conversion is good for the Bobcats on a throw from Crowne to Judson. The score at the end of the third quarter is the Lakeside Lions 21 and the Dersee Bobcats 16.”

  Chapter 21- The Chase

  Hiding behind an elm tree, Detective Bouguereau watched her walk swiftly through the football field’s ticket gate and wend her way around the cars in the parking lot. Occasionally, she would glance behind her and that was enough to keep him farther behind her than he wanted to be. He had a hunch she was going to lead him to Ash and he didn’t want to do anything to jeopardize Ash’s safety.

  What is your destination, mademoiselle? Bouguereau thought to himself as he struggled to stay hidden behind the parked cars. Ah, she’s turning right onto Byerman Boulevard and heading toward Main Street.

  “Hey! How ya’ doin', J.B.?” Sam “the Bam” Baumgartner hollered as he stuck his hand out and grabbed Bouguereau by the arm. “When ya’ll coming down to look at my inventory? You said you needed a new car! Now’s the right time! The new models are in and we’re a wheelin’ and we’re a dealin’!” Sam owned Dersee Motors and he was one of those people who never met a stranger. He considered everyone a friend as well as a potential customer and when he spoke, he always spoke loud and today it seemed like he was extra loud. “Funny running into you out here! Watching the game? Boy, those bleachers are rough on the old backside! I had to walk out here to get the circulation going again! Ha, ha! Next time I’ll bring my own pillow! Hey! That’s an exciting game, ain’t it!”

  Bouguereau put his finger up to his lips to try to quiet Sam down, but that only excited Sam more.

  “Hey! We’re out in the middle of a parking lot, not in a library! You’re a funny fellow, J.B.! So, when can I expect you? Monday morning? I’ll have the coffee brewing and the engines revving! Ha, ha!”

  “Yes, yes, I shall come on Monday. Now, I must go—”

  BAM!

  “All right! We’ve got a deal!” Sam bellowed as he slammed his hand on the car hood in front of him and shook Bouguereau’s hand excitedly. That’s how Sam got his nickname, when he makes an appointment or sells a car, he loves to make a loud noise.

  “Ah! I am sorry, mon ami. I must go!” Bouguereau could no longer see her, so he thrust Sam out of his way and hurried through the parking lot.

  “You gotta learn to slow down, now, J.B.” Sam called after him. “Learn to smell the roses!” A cheer went up from the stands, Sam suddenly remembered the game was still being played and he walked as fast as he could back to his seat in the bleachers.

  Bouguereau stopped as he reached the sidewalk, peered down Byerman Boulevard to the west and saw only a man walking his dog in the opposite direction. He stood there and counted two side streets as well as two alleys that she could have turned down. Ah! If she’s going where I think she’s going, she must have gone down Lake Street, he thought. Bouguereau crossed over to the other side of Byerman Boulevard and warily looked down Lake Street and saw...nothing. What? Where did she go? He jogged to the alley way. No one. He jogged then walked to Carol Street, reaching the corner and out of breath, he hunched over his cane for a moment or two, craned his head and saw...no one.

  Ah! This makes no sense at all, he thought. She must have turned toward the lake, there is no logical reason she would have gone the other way. Bouguereau shook his head, sighed and started jogging again toward the lake. I am getting too old for this!

  As Bouguereau approached the downtown area of Dersee via Gayle Street, he could smell the aroma of barbeque ribs and chicken wafting in the air from Coach Tiny’s restaurant as well as hear the clattering of dishes and noisy conversations of the crowd. Tiny’s Restaurant sits on the bustling downtown corner of Market Avenue and Gayle Street and today was extremely busy with the football fans, the farmer’s market shoppers and the late-season vacationers all in need of good food. He stopped to catch his breath. Leaning on his cane, he took his handkerchief from his coat pocket and wiped the perspiration from his forehead. Gazing at the crowd sitting and eating on the back patio of Tiny’s Restaurant, he unconsciously licked his lips and muttered, “Ah, I am reserving space within my tummy for a slab of ribs after this case is closed. I think I deserve it after all this exercise. Que oui! You betcha!”

  Snapping out of his reverie, Bouguereau stiffly walked up to the front entrance of the restaurant, leaned his shoulder against the wall and looked up and down the street for any sign of his suspect. He saw nothing. A large party of ten elderly women ambled to the restaurant’s door and Bouguereau courteously held the door open for them. Many in the group were appreciative of his gesture and thanked him. He returned their thank you’s with a soft, “Bon appétit”, a smile and a nod of his head.

  The last woman had a little difficulty with the first step so Bouguereau grasped her elbow and helped her up into the restaurant. As she turned to thank him, a person rushing to the exit with a carry-out order knocked into her and she fell into his arms. “Oh, my! That was certainly not called for,” she complained.

  When Bouguereau caught the woman, he got a good look at the person and was more than surprised. He quickly turned to the elderly woman and said, “Madame, are you injured?”

  “No, no I’m all right. If it wasn’t for you, I’d be flat on the floor. These rude people today…why I just don’t know what has happened to manners. Don’t you agree?”

  “Oh yes, I most whole heartedly agree. Well, bon appétit, Madame. I must be off.” Bouguereau rushed to the door, opened it, stuck his head out slowly, peered down the street and grinning broadly said, “Ah! It is you! The chase is on again!”

  Noticing that she was not looking behind her anymore, Bouguereau kept a much closer distance. With a renewed vigor to his step, he was almost certain where she was heading. Dodging the other pedestrians on the sidewalk and keeping her within his view, he muttered, “That’s it, mademoiselle, that’s it. Now, are you going to turn right at the next street?” When he saw her turn down Lake Street, he was giddy with excitement. He raised both arms over his head and whispered to himself, “Voilà!”

  With Lake Haerr getting closer with every step, Bouguereau slowed his pace and crossed to the other side of the street in case she should turn around for one more look. As she walked down the driveway, she did, indeed, turn and quickly check to see if anyone was following her. Instead of h
eading into the lakefront house, she followed the brick pathway around it and down to the boathouse. Craning his head around the side of the house, he watched as she climbed the exterior stairs to the front door, felt around the top of the carved-wood sign which read, “Welcome to Whittaker’s Wigwam,” found the front door key, unlocked it and went inside.

  As soon as she shut the door, Bouguereau moved stealthily down to the boathouse using the trees and bushes in the backyard as cover. When he reached the boathouse, he went to the boat-level door and finding it locked, felt the top of the door for a key and muttered to himself, “Come on, come on. If you leave a key at the other door, surely you will leave a key at this door, hmm? Aha! Found you!” Gently unlocking the door and slowly opening it to prevent any noisy creaks, Bouguereau entered the boat slip area. Natural daylight filtered through the windows and under the boat door providing him with enough light to move around without knocking anything over.

  With their boat in storage for the fall and winter, the waves lazily lapped the empty slip area creating an echo that was soothing to Bouguereau, but made it difficult for him to hear what was going on upstairs. He stood at the bottom of the interior staircase and listened for a few moments. Hearing faint voices, he gingerly climbed up the stairs to listen better.

  Now at the top of the stairs, Bouguereau lightly tried turning the doorknob, but found it locked. He thought: Ah! Shall the third door also have a key nearby? Running his hand along the ledge, he found the key and whispered, "Que oui! You betcha!"

  Little by little, Bouguereau slid the door open without making a sound and eased into the kitchen area. He could no longer hear any voices nor any movement whatsoever within the boathouse. He noticed the food from Tiny’s restaurant was sitting on the counter and not yet unpacked. His stomach did little flip-flops of hunger when he smelled the aroma of two barbeque rib dinners wafting from the carry out bag. Sniffing the air once more, not only could he smell the rib dinners, but he could also clearly distinguish another distinctive aroma: perfume.