Squeeze Play

  Chapter

  One

  ISN’T IT EXCITING, Nancy!” Bess Marvin practically sang the words, her long blond hair streaming back in the breeze. Even though it was a hot late-summer afternoon, the girls had turned the air conditioning off so the ride wouldn’t feel claustrophobic. They were on their way to a baseball game a few miles away. “Three hours from now we’ll be eating pizza with the next great catcher of the major leagues.”

  From the driver’s seat of her blue Mustang, Nancy Drew grinned but kept her eyes on the road. “Luke Darlington has a way to go before he makes it into the Baseball Hall of Fame,” Nancy said. “I bet he’s still the same redheaded, freckle-faced kid we knew in school.”

  “He is, and he isn’t,” Bess’s cousin, George Fayne, said from the backseat. “His freckles are still there, and his hair’s still red, but he’s different somehow.”

  Nancy caught a glimpse of George’s face in the rearview mirror. Her dark eyes were focused someplace in the distance. Tall and athletic, she was much less flirtatious than Bess, which was why Nancy always paid close attention when George showed interest in a guy.

  Luke Darlington had graduated from River Heights High two years before Nancy, George, and Bess. He had been playing baseball in the minor leagues since then and had been traded to River Heights’s AAA team just a month earlier. Nancy and George had been in Japan at the time, solving a mystery. When they’d arrived home, they’d been delighted to learn that Luke was now playing with the River Heights Falcons.

  “Tell me again about running into him and getting the tickets,” Bess begged, throwing one arm over the back of her seat as she spoke to George. “Were there any other players with him? Like Sean Reeves? He is so awesome! I’d die to meet him.”

  Nancy was surprised that Bess even knew the name of the famous relief pitcher Sean Reeves. But then, she remembered, Bess had started working at the concession stand at the Falcons’ stadium the night before. Obviously Bess would have picked up the name of one of the best-looking players in baseball.

  “As I already told you, I ran into Luke at the mall,” George replied. “We talked for a while about his moving back here. He said he could get tickets for us—and, no, Sean Reeves wasn’t with him.”

  “I hope Reeves plays today,” Nancy said, brushing back her shoulder-length, reddish blonde hair. “He’s supposed to have the best knuckleball in baseball.”

  “And the best relief record in the majors,” Bess said, showing off her new knowledge.

  A relief pitcher had the job of finishing a ball game when the starting pitcher tired or began pitching badly.

  “Do you think it’s true Sean was dropped down to the minors so the Falcons could win the AAA championship?” Bess asked over her shoulder.

  “I don’t really think so,” George said. “The last two games he pitched in the majors were really bad. I think they sent him down for a tune-up. The owners probably hope to get him playing better before the major league playoffs this fall.”

  “Well, he was in tune last night,” Bess said with a smile. Bess had told Nancy and George how Sean had come into the game in the seventh inning the night before. His pitching had helped the Falcons come from behind to beat the Mill City Rangers in the first game of their five-game series that would decide the league championship.

  “Watch out for that—” George’s words were drowned out by the sound of squealing tires as a concrete-mixing truck skidded into the intersection just ahead of them.

  Nancy had already spotted the truck and swerved quickly to the right to avoid a collision, then eased the wheel back to the left to avoid skidding.

  “Where did that guy get his license?” Bess said, shaking her head.

  When Nancy arrived at the stadium, which was known as “the Roost,” the lot was still mostly empty. She found a spot close to the entrance.

  Next to her, Bess was nervously checking her watch. “I’ve got five minutes to get there,” she said, adjusting the clasp that held her ponytail. “I’m supposed to be at the concession stand at one-fifteen sharp.” Bess jumped out of the car and led her more athletic friends to the entrance. Though Bess was on the verge of being late, Nancy and George were early for the two o’clock game.

  Bess showed her employee’s pass as Nancy and George presented tickets stamped complimentary.

  “Friends of a player?” the ticket taker asked.

  “Yes, Luke Darlington,” George said, her dark eyes sparkling.

  “Oh, one of the new guys,” the man replied, handing back their ticket stubs.

  Within minutes the girls had reached the concession stand Bess was to work. It was tucked under the seats on the visiting team’s side of the field. Nancy and George stayed long enough to buy the first hot dogs off the grill and to compliment Bess on her blue Falcon shirt and green apron. Then they agreed to meet by the Falcons’ locker room after the game.

  Nancy and George headed down the wide concrete passageway lined with concession stands. When they came to a stand that sold Ranger and Falcon souvenirs, Nancy stopped. “I’ll have a Falcon button,” she told the clerk. “One with the feathers.” She handed the girl two dollars and took a pin with a picture of the Falcons’ comical mascot on the front and a half circle of fluffy blue feathers around the top edge.

  “A program and a button for me, too,” George said, taking out her wallet. “It’s the least I can do to show Luke I’m a fan.”

  “Tell me the truth about you and Luke,” Nancy said, watching George’s dark eyes.

  “Now, Nancy”—George shook her finger playfully—“don’t start questioning me like one of your suspects.” George had helped Nancy solve many mysteries and knew better than to let herself be grilled by the ace teen detective.

  “But you are a suspect,” Nancy said, trying to sound mysterious. “You show all the signs of being interested in a certain Falcon catcher.”

  “We’re just friends,” George said, moving up the ramp that led outside to the seats. “There we are,” she said, pointing.

  “Wow, he must really like you,” Nancy said. “These are in the front row!”

  George was smiling as the girls sat down.

  Nancy wished that her boyfriend, Ned Nickerson, was with them. He had been gone for three weeks, working as a volunteer at a youth basketball camp sponsored by his college athletics department. Nancy missed him, but considering how often he had to be understanding of her work, she knew she had to be understanding of his.

  On the field the Falcons and Rangers were warming up, and Nancy used her binoculars to focus on Luke Darlington’s face. He was number 12 on the Falcon team.

  “There’s Reeves,” George said, pointing to the Falcons’ pitcher. “He is handsome.”

  “And a millionaire, from what I hear,” Nancy added. “His last contract with the Captains, his major league team, was for $2.2 million for two years.”

  “I can understand the Rangers’ owner being mad when the Captains moved a major league player down to their top farm team just in time for the championships. Even playing badly, he could be a real threat in the minor leagues,” George said.

  “Are an AAA team, a farm team, and a minor league team all the same?” Nancy asked.

  “Pretty much,” George answered. “Triple A ball is the best, and every major league is affiliated with a Triple A team. Most major league players spend some time on a farm team before moving up. Also, guys are sent back down to the minors when they’re in slumps to work out their problems.”

  Nancy watched as the teams cleared the field for the start of the game. Unlike their opponents, the Falcons had never won a league championship, and no one expected them to beat the Rangers—until Sean had arrived.

  “The Falcons’ll be heroes in River Heights if the
y win the championship,” Nancy said. As she spoke, the Falcon players were introduced one at a time, and the River Heights side of the stadium erupted in cheers.

  “I know you’re right,” George said, surveying the crowd. “And Stormy Tarver would be green with envy.”

  George pointed toward a box across the stadium. Stormy Tarver, the Rangers’ owner, was arriving just in time for the national anthem. Her short bleached-blond hair and large-boned frame made her easy to spot. Nancy saw her stop on the walkway beside her box, holding a cushion and thermos. She stood at attention until the anthem was over. Then Stormy tossed her things over the railing into the reserved box and turned to lead the Ranger fans in a cheer.

  “She’s really something,” Nancy said, adjusting the focus on her binoculars. “Once in Mill City she went out on the field to argue with an umpire.”

  “Nobody likes to win as much as Stormy,” George commented. “I wonder why she was late. She usually arrives half an hour before the game starts to fire up the fans.”

  “Maybe she was checking out the city’s water mains,” Nancy said, her blue eyes sparkling.

  George laughed. The day before the championship was to start, a water main had broken and flooded the Rangers’ stadium in Mill City, turning the infield into a muddy mess. The story had been reported complete with pictures of Stormy in big rubber boots wading through several inches of water where home plate was supposed to be.

  “She didn’t look very happy in the paper,” Nancy said, still watching Stormy across the stadium.

  “No, but the water break was good luck for us,” George said. “She had to agree to play all five games of the series here in River Heights. Her field won’t be ready to use for weeks.”

  The first five innings of the game turned out to be a slug fest, with the Falcons and Rangers each scoring four runs apiece.

  The Falcons’ starting pitcher was Rod Sanders, a long-time River Heights favorite.

  “I think Sanders needs a rest,” George said as a Ranger batter connected with one of Sanders’s pitches to score another run.

  Nancy sighed as the runner crossed home plate. “That puts the Rangers up one. If the Falcons are going to win this series, they’re going to have to do better than this.”

  As Nancy spoke, a low chant started in the Falcons’ front section and got louder as it spread back. Soon the stadium resounded with cries of “Bring on the Show! Bring on the Show!” and the sound of stomping feet.

  Nancy and George looked at each other. It was hard not to get caught up in the cheer, but Nancy felt bad for the pitcher who was struggling on the mound.

  “Rod used to be the most popular pitcher in River Heights,” George said. “Now everybody wants Showboat Sean Reeves.”

  The fans got their wish in the seventh inning, when Showboat Sean strode out to the pitcher’s mound.

  “He saved the game yesterday,” Nancy said. “Maybe he can do it again.”

  Sean held the Rangers scoreless in the seventh inning, and the Falcons made two more runs to go ahead 6-5. Victory fever swept through the crowd.

  “Showboat! Showboat!” The calls rose joyously from the Falcon stands as the tall, handsome Sean Reeves jogged toward the (mound to warm up for the eighth inning.

  “Look out, here comes Freddy,” Nancy said, pointing down to the field. The Falcon mascot was prancing onto the grass, the fluffy blue and green feathers on his costume ruffling lightly in the soft breeze.

  “I wonder what he’s going to do,” George said. “The last time I saw Freddy, he stole the umpire’s hat and wouldn’t give it back.”

  Freddy was now trotting comically toward the mound, lifting his clumsy bird feet high to keep from tripping. He had both hands in the air and his head tipped back as though running a victory lap after a race.

  “It looks like he’s after Showboat,” Nancy said when the Falcon mascot stopped at the edge of the pitcher’s mound. She grabbed her binoculars and focused on the mascot.

  Freddy wrapped his feathery arms around the pitcher.

  “He gave him something,” Nancy said. The mascot released Sean and began to stride toward the sidelines. “A slip of yellow paper. I can see it in Sean’s hand.”

  George strained to make out the paper, but without the aid of binoculars, she could only see the comical mascot hop away from the pitcher.

  “Oh, no!” Nancy cried, gripping the binoculars tighter. She saw the anger in Sean’s eyes and then saw him dash off the mound to tackle Freddy.

  Blue and green feathers flew as the pitcher grabbed the mascot by the throat and the two of them rolled on the grass in front of nearly eight thousand spectators.

  Chapter

  Two

  NANCY JUMPED to her feet as laughter rose from the crowd. Luke had tossed his catcher’s mitt to the ground and run to where Sean and Freddy the Falcon were still rolling on the ground.

  “It looks like Freddy got a little carried away,” Nancy said as Luke pulled the pitcher off the mascot. “Sean is either very angry, or he’s an awfully good actor.”

  “He is nicknamed Showboat,” George said, smiling and standing beside Nancy.

  The crowd continued to laugh as Freddy brushed himself off, thumbed his nose at Sean, and gleefully danced away. Sean was still struggling to break away from Luke. The pitcher’s face was red with anger and his fists were clenched so hard his knuckles were white.

  Nancy sank back into her seat, wondering if the whole show could have been planned.

  When Freddy was finally off the field, Sean pulled free from his teammate and slowly took the mound again.

  “Do you think they’ll let him keep pitching after that?” Nancy asked.

  “If it was just an act, they will,” George said. “Besides, I don’t even see the manager on the field.”

  George was right. Bill Barrows, the Falcons’ manager, was the only person who could pull the pitcher from the game and he was nowhere to be seen.

  “That’s odd,” George said. “Usually any manager is in the middle of everything.”

  Nancy watched the field, but Barrows didn’t show up. On Luke’s signal, Sean threw two more warm-up pitches and then shook his head when the umpire bellowed, “Play ball.”

  Nancy held her breath, hoping that Sean could get his concentration back, as the Ranger batter stepped up to the plate. Sean’s first pitch was a fastball with no heat. The batter hit a line drive for a double and, on the next pitch, stole third.

  The inning lasted for a good ten minutes. The Falcons managed to get two outs on grounders before another double brought in the tying run for the Rangers. George groaned.

  The Falcons scored one more run in the bottom of the eighth to take the lead again, and Nancy noted that Bill Barrows came out to give the scoring runner a high five as he crossed home plate. She wondered if the manager had been in the dugout the whole time.

  “Does Barrows ever smile?” Nancy asked, noting his scowl as he turned back to the dugout.

  “He’s supposed to be incredibly serious about the game,” George reported. “The sportswriters call him Mr. Baseball because he eats, breathes, and lives the sport. Nothing else seems to matter to him.”

  “I’d feel better if they put in a different pitcher,” Nancy said as she watched Sean walk to the mound at the top of the ninth. The Falcons were just three outs from victory.

  “I know what you mean,” George agreed. “But maybe Sean will do better this inning.”

  Sean quickly walked two players. Two more flied out. The runners advanced, and now they were on second and third. The Falcons needed one more out. It should have been easy. Sean was facing the worst batter in the Rangers’ lineup. The short, bulky player swung at the first two pitches and missed.

  “One more strike and we win,” George whispered. “And I bet it’s going to be another fastball. This guy can’t hit fastballs.”

  Instead, Sean threw a knuckleball. The pitch went wide, bouncing in the dirt and skittering into the wire mesh beh
ind the batter’s box. In a flurry of action Luke threw off his mask and dashed after the ball. George was instantly on her feet, and Nancy was beside her.

  “Stop him! Stop him!” George yelled as the Ranger runner on third sprinted for home.

  George’s words were drowned out by cheers from the Ranger side of the field. The runner crossed the plate before Luke even got his hand on the ball. When the next batter hit a double, the Rangers scored again and took the lead.

  From there on, things only got worse. When the Falcons finally came to bat in the bottom half of the ninth, they made two outs in a row. The next batter hit a high fly ball straight to the center fielder. When it was all over, the Rangers had won eight to seven.

  Stormy Tarver screamed triumphantly and dashed up and down the stands shaking hands with her fans.

  “I don’t understand why Barrows didn’t pull Sean out when he started pitching so badly,” Nancy said.

  “He may not have been able to,” George explained. “Remember that Sean is here for a tune-up. Barrows might be under orders to play him a certain number of innings no matter what.”

  “Well, the day won’t be a total loss,” Nancy said, gathering up her things to leave. “We still get to have pizza with Luke.”

  “I just hope he’s not in a bad mood,” George replied as they headed down the ramp. They asked an usher how to get to the Falcon locker room. Following the man’s directions, they walked down the hallway until they spotted a door marked No Entry. Nudging it open, Nancy saw that it led to a short set of steps ending at another door.

  Once through the second doorway the girls found themselves in a long corridor. Nancy guessed that it provided access from the dugout to a parking lot exit for players and staff. She noticed several doors leading off the corridor, among them one labeled Locker Room.

  The girls had come to a stop just outside it when a player charged out, nearly running Nancy over.

  “Watch out!” George yelled as Nancy scrambled back against the wall. She did manage to get a look at the player’s number as he flashed by. It was 52—Sean Reeves.