Mike rolled his eyes. “Well, you can’t hit home runs without striking out sometimes,” he said. “I’d still give anything to be like Babe Ruth. He set a record by hitting seven hundred fourteen home runs!” Mike looked at Flaps, who smiled. “That reminds me,” Mike said. He dug around in his pocket as Flaps took another bite of pancakes.
“If you like Babe Ruth, you’ll like this,” Mike said. He pulled the coin out of his pocket and put it on the table.
Flaps’s eyes grew wide and a smile crossed his face. “Hey, where did you get that?” he asked.
“The batter’s box!” Mike said. “I slid into home plate yesterday and found it in the dirt.”
Flaps reached into his pocket and pulled something out. He held his hand a few inches above the table and slowly opened it.
Clink! Clink! Clink! Clink! Clink! Clink!
Flaps dumped about twenty coins on the table!
Mike and Kate leaned forward and looked at the pile of gold. Mike dropped the slice of bacon he was eating.
“This must be worth a thousand dollars!” Mike said as he reached out and ran his fingers through the pile of coins.
Flaps laughed. “I’m afraid not,” he said. “These aren’t real gold. They’re only worth about a quarter each.”
Kate picked up a handful and let them slip through her fingers back to the table. “Why do you have so many?” she asked.
Flaps held up a coin in his right hand. “I give them out when someone wants my signature,” he said. “I don’t sign autographs, because it would strain my pitching hand.”
Mike pointed to his coin. “But why was this one buried in the batter’s box?” he asked.
Flaps looked over each of his shoulders and then leaned forward. “Can you keep a secret?” he asked.
Mike and Kate leaned closer. “Yes!” they both said at once. “We’re detectives—we’re good at keeping secrets.”
“I put it there!” Flaps said with a big smile.
“But why?” Kate asked.
“For good luck!” Flaps said. “I thought maybe I’d be able to strike out batters like Babe did if I put a lucky coin in the ground under the batters’ feet.”
“Too bad you can’t put a trapdoor under the batter and press a button when the count gets to three balls,” Kate said. “Once the batter dropped into the ground, you could strike him out without worrying!”
Mike and Flaps laughed. Then Flaps shook his head. “Now that’s a good idea,” he said, “but I don’t think the commissioner of baseball would allow trapdoors under the batter’s box. That reminds me of the other reason I buried the coin in the field. Have you heard about what they found under second base?”
“No! What?” Mike and Kate asked.
“Babe Ruth’s house!” Flaps said. “Babe Ruth’s father used to own a tavern right near the B&O Railroad warehouse that’s on Eutaw Street behind the outfield. His family lived above it. When they were building the Orioles ballpark, they dug up parts of the house where Babe Ruth had once lived. It was right between second base and center field.”
“Wow!” Kate said. “You sure know a lot about Babe Ruth.”
Flaps nodded as he lifted a big forkful of pancakes to his mouth. “I sure do,” he said. “I can’t wait to see Babe Ruth’s glove when they put it on display tomorrow. I’d give anything to own something like that.”
Mike, Kate, and Flaps continued to munch on pancakes and drink orange juice for the next fifteen minutes. As they ate, Flaps told other stories about Babe Ruth and the Baltimore Orioles.
Just as they finished eating, a woman in an Orioles jacket ran into the room.
“Flaps! Flaps!” the woman said. “You’ll never believe what just happened!”
Flaps looked up. “This is my friend Sandra,” he said to Mike and Kate. Flaps tipped his hat. “What are you so worked up about, Sandy?” he asked.
“There are Babe Ruth bandits in Birdland!” Sandra said. “Babe Ruth’s baseball glove has been stolen! I overheard the police talking to the gift shop manager.”
“Oh no!” Flaps said. “That’s terrible!”
Sandra nodded. “I know,” she said. “But that’s not the worst part.”
“What do you mean?” Kate asked. “What could be worse than Babe Ruth’s glove being stolen?”
Sandra turned to Mike and Kate. “The police think Flaps stole it!”
“Me?” Flaps said. “Why would I steal it?”
Sandra walked over to the table. “People know how much you love Babe Ruth,” she said. “I guess you’re a natural suspect.”
Flaps pointed at Mike. “But everyone loves Babe Ruth,” he said. “Even Mike here is a huge Babe Ruth fan. I don’t know why they’d suspect me.”
Sandra leaned over and picked up one of Flaps’s Babe Ruth coins. It clinked as she dropped it back into the pile. “Maybe because when they were investigating, they found one of these inside the safe where the glove was,” she said.
“What?” Flaps said. “How can that be?”
Sandra nodded. “And no glove!” she added. “You’d better go talk with the security team before the game. They’re over at the stockroom in the gift shop. The manager was storing Babe’s glove in the safe there.”
Flaps pushed his chair back and stood up. He shook his head as he started to walk to the door. “I don’t have much time! I have to pitch soon!” he said. “If we lose this game, we won’t be in first place and may not make the playoffs!”
Sandra followed Flaps out.
Mike glanced at Kate, and then nodded at the huge stacks of pancakes on the table. “Well, I’ve lost my appetite,” he said.
“Me too, at least for pancakes,” she said. “But not for catching the Babe Ruth bandit! We need to find that glove!”
Mike ran his fingers through the gold coins that Flaps had left on the table, and then put his coin back in his pocket. “It’s worth lots of money,” he said. “But I can’t believe that Flaps would have taken it.”
“I can’t, either,” Kate said. “He seems awfully nice.” She stood. “I think we need to investigate. Let’s go check the gift shop.”
Mike jumped up from the table. He and Kate ran through the stadium, past fans finding their seats and long lines of people at food stands. In the background, an announcer’s voice boomed over the loudspeakers.
A few minutes later, Mike and Kate were on the other side of the stadium. They were standing in front of the long brick warehouse that was once used by the B&O Railroad. To their left was the Orioles’ gift shop. On their right was a fancy restaurant. In between was a small area with a sign overhead labeled BABE RUTH AND BALTIMORE.
“Sandra said the glove was stolen from the gift shop’s stockroom,” Kate said. “Let’s see if we can find it.”
Kate and Mike entered the gift shop. They pretended to look at all the different hats, T-shirts, jerseys, and Oriole-themed gifts while searching for the stockroom door.
“There it is,” Mike said. He pointed to the back corner. “Just keep browsing and we’ll head that way.”
Right next to the stockroom door was a large counter of Orioles jackets. The door was open slightly, and as they passed, Mike and Kate peeked in and spotted Flaps talking to two security guards. Mike tugged Kate’s shirt and ducked behind the counter to listen.
“How could you think I took the glove?” Flaps asked.
“We’re not saying you did it,” one security guard said. “It’s just that the police found one of your gold coins inside the safe where the glove had been. They had to list you as a suspect.”
“But I was eating pancakes!” Flaps said. “When was the glove stolen?”
“We put the glove in that safe this morning at ten o’clock,” the second security guard said. “The museum director was coming by around lunch today to install it in the Babe Ruth and Baltimore exhi
bit next door. But when she opened the safe at noon, the glove was gone.”
“What were you doing this morning between ten o’clock and twelve o’clock?” the first guard asked Flaps.
“I was running errands,” Flaps said.
“Was anyone with you?” the second guard asked.
“Um, no,” Flaps said. “I was alone.”
“Well, we can check into that later,” the first guard said. “The police just left. They dusted for fingerprints and took pictures of the crime scene. We’ll let you know if we hear anything from them or have further questions for you.”
“But I didn’t take it!” Flaps said. “Didn’t you find any other clues in here? I can’t be the only suspect!”
“No, we didn’t find any other clues,” the second guard said. “As far as we know, the only people who have access to this room are people who work here, or people who are in the stadium. At this point, I’m afraid everyone is a suspect, including you.”
Flaps sighed. “I can’t believe this is happening,” he said. “I’ve got a game to win. You can find me afterward if you have more questions, okay?”
“Yes,” the first security guard said. “We’ll be in touch.”
Flaps’s cleats clattered as he headed for the door of the gift shop.
Mike and Kate pushed themselves in between the jackets as Flaps hurried by. A few moments later, one of the security guards’ walkie-talkies crackled with a call from the main office. The guard spoke with her supervisor and then slipped the radio onto a holder on her belt.
“The game’s starting. We should head back to the office,” she said to the other guard. “We’ve got to wait to hear from the police before we do anything else.”
“Give me a minute to finish my notes,” the other guard said.
When the guards left the stockroom, Mike popped his head up to watch them make their way out of the gift shop. Then he pulled the gold coin out of his pocket and showed it to Kate.
“Come on,” he said. “I’ve got an idea!”
They stepped out of the rack of jackets. Mike walked over to the stockroom door. He flipped the coin in the air a few times and then let it drop. It clinked on the floor and rolled away.
“Oops!” he said to Kate with a smile. “My coin just rolled into the stockroom. Can you come help me find it?”
They quietly opened the door and slipped through it. On the way in, Mike picked his coin up. Inside the room, metal shelves with cardboard boxes of goods lined the walls. In the far corner stood an empty wooden table. In another corner, on the floor, was a metal safe. Its door was open.
Mike and Kate crossed the room and knelt in front of the safe, but there wasn’t much to see. It was empty.
“Whoever broke in must have known how to open the safe,” Kate said. “Let’s check the rest of the room.”
They studied the brown cardboard boxes on the metal shelves and looked under the empty wooden table. But they didn’t find anything helpful.
After a few minutes of searching for clues, Kate turned to Mike. “I don’t see anything,” she said.
“I don’t, either,” Mike said.
Mike knelt to look at the safe one more time. It was still empty. He studied its edge to see if anyone had forced it open, but there were no pry marks on it. He was just about to get up when a glint of color caught his eye from the dark, narrow space beneath the safe.
Mike dropped down on his stomach. “Hang on!” he said.
Mike poked his fingers under the safe and wiggled them around. A moment later, he grabbed hold of an object and sprang up from the floor. Something green shimmered in his hand.
“Look,” he said. “I found a clue!”
“A feather!” Kate said. She took it from Mike to get a closer look. It was bright green and about the length of Mike’s hand. “The Birdman!”
“That’s what I was thinking!” Mike said. “This must be one of Edgar’s feathers! The glove was taken this morning before lunch. And we know that the Birdman was here today. He could have come over with Edgar and stolen the glove.”
“Let’s go find the Birdman,” Kate said. She slipped the feather into her pocket and headed for the door.
Mike quietly closed the stockroom door behind them, and they crept out of the gift shop.
By this time, the stadium was filled with people rooting for the Orioles. As Mike and Kate passed the patio overlooking the outfield, they heard a big cheer from the crowd.
“Hang on!” Mike said. “I want to see how Flaps is doing.” Kate followed him over to the Flag Court patio. It was a large open deck filled with flags from all the other American League teams.
Flaps wasn’t doing well. Even though the score was still 0–0, the Orioles were in trouble. It was only the first inning, and Flaps had loaded the bases!
“Oh no!” Kate said. “He’s struggling!”
Mike and Kate watched as Flaps pitched. The first two pitches were high and outside. The third pitch bounced in the dirt. The catcher had to work hard to stop it. Three balls! The batter didn’t swing at any.
With the count at three balls and no strikes, Flaps threw another pitch. This one was right over the plate. The batter swung with all his might, making contact with a loud CRACK. The ball flew high over the shortstop’s head.
“Yikes!” Mike cried.
The Seattle Mariners runners took off. The man on third base crossed home plate. Then the player from second base scored! Finally, the Orioles centerfielder threw the ball to the cutoff man, who threw it to the catcher. The runners stopped. Flaps had let up a double. The score was now 2–0, Seattle.
The Orioles fans went quiet. It didn’t look like a good day for Flaps or the Orioles.
Kate tugged on Mike’s T-shirt. “Come on,” she said. “We’ve got to find that glove!”
Mike and Kate dodged fans as they ran for the Kids’ Corner, near right field. As they left the Flag Court patio, Mike pointed to a food stand and sniffed the air. “Mmm…,” he said. “Barbecue! Let’s come back after we find the glove!”
“Okay!” Kate agreed.
They continued on and passed a giant black-and-orange statue of an oriole with a bat. Around the corner was a large space filled with activities for kids.
“Oh, cool!” Mike said. “A bouncy house, Skee-Ball, and a climbing structure with slides! And the baseball game behind us! We’ve got everything we need right here.”
“But all we really need is the Birdman,” Kate said. “And there he is!”
Kate pointed to the far corner of the space. The Birdman was standing in front of a large picture of the Orioles’ stadium. Edgar the parrot sat on the shoulder of a little girl next to him. Mike and Kate watched as the Birdman took pictures of the girl with Edgar.
When the girl finished, Mike and Kate walked over. “Keep an eye out for the stolen glove,” Mike whispered. “Or anything big enough to be a hiding place for the glove.”
“Oh, hello again!” the Birdman said when he noticed Mike and Kate. “Did you want to have your photo taken with Edgar? Or were you going to let me help you with that gold coin?”
“Real gold! Real gold!” Edgar squawked. His head bobbed back and forth as he looked from Mike to Kate.
“Turns out the coin wasn’t real gold after all,” Mike said. He shrugged. “But it’s still neat.”
“Oh, that’s too bad,” the Birdman said.
“Yes,” Kate said. “But we would love to get a picture with Edgar. And we have a couple of questions for you, too.”
“Sure,” the Birdman said. “Stand here.” He motioned for Mike and Kate to come over in front of the ballpark background. He placed Edgar on Kate’s shoulder.
“Play ball! Play ball!” Edgar screeched. Then he started whistling “Take Me Out to the Ball Game” again.
Mike nodded his head in time to Edgar’s
whistling. “Buy me some peanuts and Cracker Jack, I don’t care if I never get back!” Mike sang. “Good job, Edgar! How did you know I was hungry?”
“Because you’re always hungry, Mike!” Kate said.
The Birdman laughed. “Edgar just picked up that song today,” he said. “I don’t know where he learned it, but I can’t believe that I never thought of teaching it to him before! It’s perfect!”
Kate giggled as Edgar danced back and forth on her shoulder. “Come on, let’s take a picture!” she said. Kate leaned forward slowly and handed the Birdman her phone. He stood back and snapped some photos. In between shots, Mike and Kate scanned the Birdman’s area for the glove or something big enough to put the glove in. But they didn’t see anything. The Birdman moved Edgar to Mike’s shoulder and took a few more shots.
“I think that’s good,” the Birdman said. He walked over and took Edgar back from Mike’s shoulder. “Now, what did you need to ask me?”
“It’s about Flaps,” Mike said.
“Oh yes, I know,” the Birdman said. “He’s not doing well today!”
“No, that’s the thing,” Kate said. “We think he has other things on his mind. Like the Babe Ruth glove they unveiled yesterday. It was stolen!”
Just then, Edgar started whistling again. At first it sounded like a police whistle. But it was “Take Me Out to the Ball Game” again.
“Edgar! Shhh! I’m having a conversation,” the Birdman said. “Yes, I heard about that. It’s too bad. I hope they find that glove!”
“We do, too,” Mike said. “That’s why we’re here.”
“What do you mean?” the Birdman asked.
“Because,” Kate said, “we think you stole Babe Ruth’s glove!”
“What?” the Birdman asked. “Is this a joke?”
“No,” Kate said. “And it’s no joke that the police think that Flaps stole the glove.”
Ballpark Mysteries #15 Page 2