Prairie Hardball

by Alison Gordon

  He folded the letter, picked up the phone, and punched in three numbers.

  “Got a minute? In my office,” he said, then hung up.

  A moment later, there was a knock on the door, immediately followed by the entrance of a compact, clean-shaven man, probably in his mid-thirties, with a dark brown buzz cut and friendly brown eyes. He was also in uniform, but without a jacket or tie. After introducing Staff Sergeant Michael Morris, Digby gave him the letter and explained the circumstances under which it arrived.

  “So who got these letters?” Morris asked. “All the women?”

  “Apparently not,” Andy said. “It seems to have been sent to women who played together on one particular team, the Racine Belles.”

  The phone on Digby’s desk buzzed. He picked it up, listened for a moment, then punched the hold button.

  “I’ll let you take it from here, Mickey,” he said, then held out his hand to each of the visitors in turn. “Thank you for bringing this to our attention.”

  “That’s it?” Jack interjected. “Isn’t there something we should be doing to protect these women?”

  “There will be representatives of the force in attendance this evening, both in a ceremonial and a personal capacity,” Digby said. “Including my wife and myself. The induction dinner is one of the high points of our year in the Battlefords. I’ll keep my eyes open, as will the other officers there.”

  Morris led the other two to the door.

  “By the way, Mickey,” Digby said, “please extend Inspector Munro every professional courtesy. He is with the Metropolitan Toronto Police Department.”

  Andy couldn’t tell if he was making fun of him or not, but decided to let it pass. From his years with me, he knew that mocking big-city airs ranks right up there with hockey, CFL football, and curling as favourite provincial pastimes.

  Morris seemed friendly enough, though. He took them through the story again, then led the two into another office.

  “This is Sergeant Deutsch,” he said, of an altogether hipper-looking cop sitting with his cowboy boots up on his cluttered desk. He was throwing darts at a picture of the actor Paul Gross, dressed in the red serge he wears as the straight-arrow Mountie on Due South.

  Despite his rather disreputable appearance, Deutsch turned out to be the head of the plainclothes General Investigation Section, which handled all major crimes in the area.

  “Threats don’t normally fall under Donny’s jurisdiction,” Morris explained, “but he’s blessed with a mind that’s halfway between an encyclopedia and a fully loaded computer.”

  He handed the letter to Deutsch, who still hadn’t taken his feet off the desk.

  “What do you make of this?”

  The sergeant glanced at it and shrugged.

  “Typical crank,” he said. “Who got it?”

  Jack explained about his mother, the Hall of Fame, and the other women who had received the same kind of thing.

  “Thought you might have a possible perp in your mental files,” Morris said.

  “Not offhand. You say they were sent from here?”

  “Look at the postmark.”

  He did.

  “Could be some nutbar out at the mental hospital,” he said, handing the letter to Morris. “I wouldn’t worry about it.”

  “Den’s right,” Morris said. “Ninety-nine times out of a hundred, these kinds of letters are nothing to worry about. But, like the inspector said, we’ll keep our eyes open tonight. My wife and I are going, too. My uncle from Kindersley was inducted in there five years ago, and we always go to the dinner. It’s a nice event, and Dave Shury, who organizes the deal, is a popular man in town. So, if there’s any trouble at all, we’ll be on the scene.”

  “So the women shouldn’t be worried, then?” Jack asked.

  “I don’t think so, but you were right to let us know,” Morris said.

  “Thanks for your time,” Andy said. “We can find our way out.”

  “No trouble. I’ll see you tonight then.”

  Going back through the central office area, Andy was struck by the laid-back atmosphere of the small-town cop-shop. There was none of the tension and energy he was used to in Toronto. It felt downright good-natured. A week here, he thought, would drive him nuts.

  Outside, the rain had stopped, and the puddles were steaming in the afternoon sunshine.

  “They didn’t seem too concerned,” Jack said.

  “No. I didn’t think they would be.”

  “We’ve done our duty, though, and it will reassure the women.”

  “Duty done, it’s probably time for a beer,” Andy said.

  “Lead the way. I’ve been thirsty for a Canadian brew since I got here.”

  Chapter 8

  While Andy and Jack Wilton were with the RCMP, I put in some family time by the hotel pool with my mother and sister. My father had gone to their room to lie down. The girls were having a grand time on the slides. Amy, who is at the awkward age between childhood and adolescence, had opted for the former for the afternoon, and her giggles and shrieks outdid even Claire’s.

  “It’s good to see them,” I said to Sheila. “They’re growing up too fast.”

  “I know. Sometimes I wish I could just freeze them at the age they are now. The next phase is going to be hell. Amy’s going to be a teenager, and Claire’s going to feel left behind.”

  “It happened with us,” I agreed.

  “But it worked out in the end,” my mother said. “And the girls will be fine, too.”

  “Things are different now, Mum,” Sheila said. “We grew up in innocent times. The temptations are more dangerous now. The stakes are higher.”

  “You’ll survive it, Sheila dear,” our mother said. “After all, I did.”

  My sister and I exchanged a look, and laughed.

  “But you didn’t know half of what we were up to,” I said. “And what you did know about, you disapproved of.”

  “I don’t think that’s fair,” she said.

  “Well, you didn’t disapprove of Sheila, that’s true,” I jibed. “She was Miss Perfect.”

  “I had to be, with you misbehaving all over the place,” she said. “It was such a burden.”

  “Burden? What about my burden?” I said. “I had to follow in your footsteps all through school. All the teachers thought I was going to be just like you, and I disappointed every one of them.”

  “That’s true,” Sheila said, smugly. We both laughed.

  “Stop it, the two of you,” our mother said. “I am proud of both of you, in different ways. Even if you did try me sorely from time to time.”

  Claire’s arrival put an end to our ritual spat. She was shivering and blue-lipped. Sheila wrapped a towel around her.

  “It’s the funnest, Mum,” she said. “You should try it. The slide. You too, Kate.”

  “I’ll pass,” I said. I hadn’t changed into my bathing suit. I prefer to do my swimming in fresh lakes, out of doors.

  “Besides, I think you’ve had enough,” Sheila said. “I want you both to have a rest. You’ve got a late night coming up, and I don’t want you to be cranky.”

  “Get serious,” Claire said. “I’m not taking any nap.”

  “I didn’t say you had to nap. I just want you to have some quiet time,” Sheila said.

  “Just ten more slides, please?” Claire bargained.

  “Five.”

  “Seven and a half?” Claire countered.

  “If you can do half a slide, I want to be there to see it,” Sheila laughed. “Go ahead, but tell Amy it’s almost time to pack it in.”

  As Claire ran off, calling to her sister, Edna Summers rolled up with her walker.

  “Is this a private family session, or can I join you?”

  “Of course,” my mother said. “Sheila, get Edna a chair.”


  Ever obedient, Sheila was up before she finished asking.

  “I got bored in my room, so I thought I’d see what trouble I could find down here,” Edna said. “I was watching the ball game, but the Titans were already up six runs in the second inning.”

  I looked at my watch. It was only three, but with the time difference, the four o’clock game was already an hour old.

  “Do you think I could get a cup of tea?” Edna asked.

  I beat Sheila to it this time.

  “I’ll go see what I can do,” I said, jumping up. On my way into the restaurant, I ran into Andy and Jack.

  “Hey, Kate,” Jack said. “Want to join us for a beer?”

  “I’d love to, but tea is the order of the day by the pool. What did the Mounties have to say?”

  “They said not to worry about it,” Andy said. “For what it’s worth.”

  “Good. See what you can do to reassure Mum and the others. I’ll get the beers.”

  I found a waitress and placed our orders, then went back to the table. My mother and Edna had been joined by another couple. The wife was large and sturdy-looking, with her hair cut into a short, no-nonsense style. Her husband was tall and lanky, with the look, and tan, of a farmer, the skin on his forehead paler than the rest of his weathered face.

  “Kate, this is Margaret Deneka and her husband, Peter,” my mother said. “We used to call her Meg the Peg when she played third base for the Belles.”

  “Because of her great arm,” Edna explained.

  Mrs. Deneka grinned and made a quick, graceful throwing movement with her right arm. Her husband smiled fondly at her, but his look was also faintly worried.

  “Please sit down and join us,” my mother said.

  “Shall we, Peter?”

  “I think you should rest,” he said. “You have a big night tonight. You know, the banquet.”

  “He takes good care of me,” she said. “My mind isn’t what it used to be, you know, sometimes I forget things. It’s so nice to see all the girls, I feel like I’m twenty-five again. But I’ll just follow orders.”

  “Before you go, Mrs. Deneka,” Jack said, “I wanted to ask you if you got any strange letters lately. About this induction.”

  A frown crossed her face.

  “I don’t think so,” she said, then peered up at her husband. “Dear? Did I get any letters?”

  “No, nothing like that,” he said, then threw Jack a quick glance and a small nod. “We’d better be going now. Have that little nap.”

  “All right,” she said. “We’ll be toddling along now. We’ll have plenty of chances to chat later. Lovely to see you, Edna. And you too, Helen. Is Carl with you?”

  “Carl? Oh, you mean my husband, Douglas? Yes, he’s just resting now.”

  “Oh, yes, Douglas. What was I thinking of?”

  She tapped her forehead. “Just this pesky brain of mine,” she said. “Time to give it a rest.”

  She took her husband’s arm and gave us a little finger flutter of a wave.

  “See you later. Toodle-oo.”

  We waited until she left.

  “She got a letter, all right,” Jack said. “The old dear just forgot it.”

  “More likely her husband kept it from her,” I said. “I’ll ask him about it later.”

  “It’s all very well for you young people,” my mother said, with surprising anger. “Making fun of someone because she’s old. She used to be smarter than any of you. When you’re old, I hope you remember this moment and feel badly.”

  She got up and left the table. Sheila and I looked at each other in astonishment.

  “I don’t know what got into her,” I said to Jack. “This isn’t like her.”

  “She’s right, you know,” Edna said. “You could have put it a bit more diplomatically.”

  “But still,” I said. “She’s not usually so, well, blunt.”

  “Blunt? She was downright rude,” Sheila said.

  “She’s probably more nervous about the letters than she’s saying,” Andy said.

  “And about the big night in the spotlight,” I added.

  “We’re all a little nervous,” Edna agreed.

  We were interrupted by a great shriek from the girls in the pool. We looked over in time to see Virna Wilton, in a bright pink suit and a flowered bathing cap, spiralling down the biggest slide to land with a great splash.

  “And then, there’s my mother,” Jack said, shaking his head.

  Chapter 9

  The forty-ounce poodle was Andy’s undoing. The grand prize in the raffle for the Baseball Hall of Fame, it sat on a table, its little pink crochet head tilted to one side, its little pink crochet front paws raised. The crochet body cunningly concealed a bottle of rye, and Andy lost control the moment he set eyes upon it. He stood in the middle of the Battleford Community Recreation Centre fighting off the giggles, with tears of laughter filling his eyes. I socked him on the arm.

  “Stop it,” I whispered, trying not to lose control myself. “Someone will notice.”

  “I have to get a ticket. I’ve got to win the poodle.”

  “Not until you stop laughing. That nice woman selling them probably made it herself. She’ll think you’re laughing at her.”

  He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand.

  “I’m not laughing at her,” he said, back under control. “I’m laughing at the concept.”

  “No you’re not. You’re laughing at Saskatchewan, and as far as I’m concerned, that means you’re laughing at me. And I don’t like being laughed at, mister.”

  He put his hand on my shoulder and gave me his most sincere look, laughter still in his eyes.

  “I’m not laughing at you or the province that made you the wonderful woman you are today. I promise.”

  “Apology accepted, even if it wasn’t, technically, offered.”

  “Good,” he said, taking my hand to shake it. “We’re friends again. Now can we buy a ticket? I’ve got to have that poodle.”

  The tickets themselves nearly set him off one more time. They were playing cards. When we had each selected one, the woman selling them tore them in half and gave one piece to us and put the other into a goldfish bowl. Andy got the nine of clubs from the Grey Cup commemorative deck; I got the joker from the deck with the bunnies. He stuck them in his pocket and we went to find the bar.

  Amy and Claire found us first, Claire skittering through the crowd like a running back looking for daylight, Amy following at a more sedate, grown-up, pace.

  “We got tickets, and Mum said we could have pop!” Claire said. “Can you come with us to get it?”

  “Walk this way,” I said, bending my knees and pointing my feet in opposite directions. Claire, giggling, waddled after me. Amy and Andy looked at each other and rolled their eyes.

  There was a crowd at the bar, a service counter between the tiny galley kitchen and the main hall.

  “I’ve got the elbows for this job,” Andy said. “What do want?”

  Cokes for the girls. Vodka and tonic for me. He was back in a few minutes with four glasses, two of them empty.

  “Pop’s free, so I got us doubles. Mix is over on a table in the corner, he said.”

  As it turned out, there was no tonic, just Coke and Sprite in two-litre bottles, a bucket of ice, a pitcher of water, and another with orange stuff I recognized from lunch.

  I put some ice in my plastic glass, then raised it to Andy.

  “I’ll pretend it’s a Martini,” I said. “Very dry. What have you got?”

  “Rye,” he said, reaching for the Sprite. “What else.”

  Jack Wilton came up behind us, with Edna Summers holding his arm with one hand and a sturdy, four-footed cane with the other. Edna was a round cloud of pink ruffles, and Jack was handsome and sort of country-club Ameri
can in a blue blazer and chinos.

  “Hello, all,” Edna said. “Isn’t this exciting?”

  “Hi, Mrs. Summers,” Claire said. “You look pretty.”

  “Thank you, dear, so do you. You, too, Amy.”

  “What about me?” Andy joked.

  “You look lovely, too.”

  “Where is your mother?” I asked Jack. “I hope the water slide didn’t do her in.”

  “Not a chance,” he smiled. “I have to go back and pick her up. She wasn’t quite ready, and Edna didn’t want to wait.”

  “I need a little more time with this darned stick,” she said. “But I was for sure not going to roll into the Hall of Fame on a walker. Besides, Virna’s never been on time for anything in her life. We always used to call her ‘the late Virna Wilton.’ Besides, she just wants to make a big entrance.”

  “Edna, you promised not to give anything away,” Jack said.

  The former catcher smiled and winked at Claire, then locked her lips with an imaginary key.

  “Now, Jack, maybe you could turn this ticket they gave me at the door into a rye and Seven.”

  “Are you all right for a minute on your own?”

  “Don’t be silly,” she said. “I’m fine. It’s just the knees. If I need to sit down, Kate will get me to a chair.”

  “We’ll be over by the display area,” I said to Jack, pointing across the room where my parents and some of the other players were gathered.

  “What table are you at?” Edna asked, as we made our way.

  “Table thirteen,” Amy said. “That’s the Belles table, so we’re all there.”

  “Not me or your Gram,” Edna said. “Or Jack’s mum either. We’re sitting up there at the head table. That’s because tonight we’re the most important people in the room. What do you think about that?”

  “Cool,” Claire said.

  “Cool as a cucumber,” Edna agreed. Claire giggled. Amy rolled her eyes again.