Bake Sale Murder (6 page)

“Sure, Mom. I’ve been in school with them since kindergarten.”

“Right,” admitted Lucy, taking a wooden spoon to the thick dough. “Not everybody. Take Tommy Stanton, for instance. He just moved into town. What’s he like?”

Lucy was hoping to pick up some information, either about her new neighbors or maybe even the hazing situation, but Sara wasn’t talking.

“He’s okay, I guess, but he’s on the JV team. They don’t count.”

“That’s not a nice thing to say,” said Lucy, grunting as she kneaded the dough with her hands.

“It’s just that the JV guys are immature,” said Sara. “They’re the same age as me but I’m taller than some of them.”

“Give them a chance, they’ll catch up,” advised Lucy, who wasn’t eager to see some senior take a fancy to her little freshman. “You guys can take it from here, okay? I’m going to take the garbage out and then I’m going to watch TV with Dad.”

She was stuffing the black plastic bag into a trash barrel when she noticed Tommy Stanton limping down the road. He was obviously exhausted and stumbled when he got to her driveway so she called to him.

“Hey, want some Gatorade?”

He stopped, bent over with his hands on his knees, and nodded, too exhausted to speak.

She waved and went in the house to get the bottle and when she returned he was sprawled on her porch steps. His skin was white and pasty and his eyes were unfocused, making Lucy wonder if she should call the rescue squad. “You look beat,” she said, handing him the bottle.

He didn’t answer but took the bottle and tilted it up with shaking hands and drank.

“You don’t look too good,” she said. “Should I call your mom or dad to pick you up?”

Tommy’s eyes widened and he put down the bottle. “Don’t do that, please,” he said. “I’m fine. Really.”

Lucy was doubtful. “I don’t think running after practicing all afternoon is a good idea.”

“Coach says we have to,” gasped Tommy. “Every night.”

“Every night? That’s too much on top of practice.”

Tommy shrugged. He didn’t seem in any hurry to leave so Lucy seized the opportunity to question him about the hazing. “You know, I’ve been hearing rumors about the team, about the upperclassmen hazing the freshmen. Do you know anything about that?”

He looked at her warily. “Nah,” he said, ducking his head.

“What about your haircut?” she asked, noticing the quarter-inch stubble. “Was shaving your head voluntary or did they make you do it?”

“We all did it,” he said. “Even the coach.”

“But what if you didn’t want to do it?”

He looked at her as if she were crazy and struggled to his feet. “I gotta go. Thanks for the drink.”

“Anytime,” said Lucy, watching as he limped down the driveway.

Back in the house, she’d just joined Bill on the couch in the family room when the phone rang. A minute or two later Sara brought her the cordless handset. “It’s for you.”

“Me?” Lucy was surprised. These days the phone always seemed to be for the girls.

But when she answered she learned there was no doubt the call was for her. “Lucy Stone? This is your neighbor, Fred Stanton.”

“Hi, Fred,” said Lucy. “What can I do for you?”

“I’ll tell you what you can do,” he shouted. “You can leave my son alone, that’s what.”

“I think there’s a misunderstanding here,” she said. “I just gave him something to drink.”

“Yeah, and then you started telling him his coach doesn’t know what he’s doing and asking a lot of questions. Well, listen here. I won’t have it. Mind your own business.”

“But I didn’t…” began Lucy, but she was cut off when Fred slammed the phone down. She looked at Bill with a puzzled expression.

“Forget it,” said Bill, drawing her close. “This is the good part, where Bruce Willis sets off the explosion.”

Chapter 6

L
ucy was all alone in the
Pennysaver
office the next morning when the bell on the door jangled and Sue breezed in with a covered dish in her hands.

“Hi, stranger,” Lucy said. “What brings you to these parts?”

“I brought the rest of my Better-than-Sex Brownies for Ted,” she said, pouting. “At least he appreciates them.”

“Everybody loved your brownies. I think they voted against them because they’re expensive to make. Butter’s three dollars a pound these days, and chocolate and nuts are expensive, too.”

“I didn’t get the impression that anybody was concerned about cost,” said Sue, with a little sniff. “They were just sucking up to Chris. The minute she said she didn’t like them they all fell right into line. She’s really something. I never met anybody so intimidating.”

Sometimes Lucy thought Sue was a tad intimidating, too, but she bit her tongue. “I think she’s frustrated, staying at home with Pear and Apple. She used to be a big executive and now all she’s got to manage is a one-year-old and a three-year-old. Sara babysits for her and she says she’s got the kids’ days organized down to the last minute. Sara got in trouble for giving them their healthful, one-hundred-percent organic snack ten minutes early.”

“And then there’s that prissy Bonnie. I mean, ‘Better-than-Sex’ is just a name, it’s not like I’m advocating fornication or anything.” Sue examined her manicure. “Though I always wonder about those goody-two-shoes types. I suspect all sorts of weird, deviant stuff goes on in their bedrooms.”

“I doubt it. Her husband’s quite a bit older than she is.”

“That doesn’t mean a thing nowadays, what with Viagra and all. He’s probably got her swinging from the chandelier like a monkey.”

“I don’t think so,” chuckled Lucy. “Sara says they’ve got some kind of parental control on the TV so that the only channel the girls can watch is PBS and even then the nature shows are forbidden in case the twins might see penguins mating or something.”

“Listen, whose side are you on here?” demanded Sue. “I don’t see why you’re defending the enemy.”

“Since when are they enemies? I thought we were all on the same team.”

“No way. It’s us versus them and you better be very clear about which side you’re on,” said Sue. “Otherwise, you’re going to find yourself losing your old friends.”

Then she was gone, leaving nothing behind except the brownies and a trace of spicy designer perfume.

“Was Sue here?” asked Ted, sniffing the air as he came in the back way.

“She left some brownies for you.”

“Mercy,” he exclaimed, unwrapping the plate. “Whatever did I do to deserve these?”

“She says you appreciate them—unlike the Hat and Mitten committee. They voted against the brownies the other night.”

“Are they crazy?”

“Probably. It was one of those female things. One of my new neighbors, Chris Cashman, is challenging Sue’s authority.”

“Another alpha, hunh?” Ted had taken a big bite of brownie.

“You said it.”

“Well,” he continued, after swallowing. “Pam was awfully nervous that her cookies wouldn’t pass that taste test you had. You women are awfully tough on each other.”

“It was Chris Cashman’s idea to taste-test the recipes and have everyone use the best ones, sort of like Henry Ford. She says we’ll make more money this way, focusing on products with high customer appeal.” Lucy sighed. “But I don’t know if it’s worth the hurt feelings.”

Having finished his brownie, Ted was going through the mail. “Looks like another anonymous letter,” he said, slitting the envelope. He shook his head, reading the letter and passing it over to Lucy. “I wish this person would sign the letters. It would make things a lot easier for us.”

“I know. I’d love to talk to whoever’s sending them,” said Lucy. “The letters are well-written and seem quite sincere.”

“It could be a very clever troublemaker,” said Ted. “Somebody like your alpha neighbor.”

“Her kids are babies,” said Lucy. “I think the sender has a kid on the team. How else would they know about this stuff?”

“They could be making it up,” Ted reminded her.

“Blindfolding kids and making them eat strips of raw liver, telling them it’s worms? Nobody could make up stuff like this except teenage boys.” She thought of Tommy and how willing he was to do whatever it took to stay on the team. “I think the letter writer is telling the truth.”

“You may be right. Do you think there’s a story here?”

“I think there’s a story but I don’t know if I can get it,” said Lucy. “Nobody’s going to admit this stuff is happening.”

“Well, I want you to try. Get over to the school and talk to the principal, okay?”

“Sure. But I can guarantee you I won’t get anything from him.”

“I know. But we’ve got to start somewhere.”

High school principal Bob Berg was tall and weedy; he looked like the sort of skinny guy that cartoon bullies kicked sand at on the beach, but he didn’t tolerate any challenges to his authority. He’d long ago learned to cultivate an air of absolute omniscience; even when he was wrong, he was right. Lucy could have predicted his reaction when she outlined the charges in the anonymous letters. She’d once gotten a similar reaction when she’d tried to give a cat a bath.

“That’s ridiculous,” he sputtered, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. “We simply don’t tolerate hazing here at Tinker’s Cove High School in any form whatsoever and whoever is making these accusations is behaving irresponsibly. This is absolutely outrageous.”

Something in his tone brought out the devil in Lucy. “It doesn’t seem that outrageous to me,” she said. “These things happen and it’s entirely possible that it’s happening here. I think any responsible administrator would want to investigate before making an outright denial.”

“I don’t need to investigate. I know there is no hazing of any kind going on at Tinker’s Cove High School.”

“Well, then, you won’t mind if I talk to some of the players,” said Lucy.

“Oh, I can’t allow that. There are confidentiality issues, privacy issues. We don’t allow the press access to our students.”

“That’s not actually true,” said Lucy, as politely as possible. “Students are routinely interviewed for stories about sports and community projects. Why, just last spring I interviewed several students who were working on a Habitat house.”

Faced with indisputable evidence to the contrary, the principal caved. “All right. You can talk to the players but I want to be present.”

“At practice this afternoon?”

“No. Right now. As it happens, several varsity players are working out in the weight room.”

“Without supervision?” asked Lucy.

“These are all honors students,” said Mr. Berg. “They’ve earned the right to use the weight room whenever they wish.”

Lucy felt a bit uncomfortable as she followed him down the long, echoing hallway. She didn’t like barging in on a bunch of teenage boys when they were exercising, and she doubted she’d get much information from them with Mr. Berg listening to every word. On the other hand, this was probably the only chance she was going to get to talk to the players.

They were crossing the empty gym and had almost reached the weight room when Mr. Berg suddenly grabbed his cell phone and checked his messages. “Oh, dear, I’ve got to go,” he said. “Let me just introduce you to our athletes.”

He pulled the door open, revealing a rather scruffy, unventilated room that smelled to high heaven of sweat. This was nothing like the well-equipped gyms with Nautilus machines that Lucy saw advertised on TV. It was simply an empty storage closet with a few weight benches and a set of free weights. The three team members who were working out dropped their weights and stared at the intruders.

“Boys, this is Mrs. Stone, from the paper. She’s here to interview you about the team and I want you to cooperate,” said Mr. Berg. “I have to go see to a problem with the septic system.”

Then he was gone and Lucy was left alone with the three boys. She gave them a little smile. “Like he said, I’m Lucy Stone. And you guys are…?”

The tallest, a muscular kid with a fuzz of black hair who was well over six feet, was the first to speak. “I’m Matt Engelhardt,” he said, resuming his bicep curls. The weight which he seemed to be raising and lowering so effortlessly looked enormous to Lucy. It had to be at least twenty pounds.

Following his lead, the other two players resumed their workouts, too. “I’m Justin Crane,” said a shorter, stockier fellow, who was grunting with the effort of lifting an enormous dumbbell.

“And I’m Will Worthington,” said the last, a tall, freckled kid. He was lying on his stomach on the bench, lifting weights with his legs.

“I guess you’re all seniors?” asked Lucy, producing her notebook.

There was a round of grunts which she took to mean yes.

“Well, the reason I’m doing this story is that there have been some allegations of hazing on the football team. In particular, the rumor goes, the varsity players have been humiliating the JV players and physically abusing them.”

There was an uncomfortable silence in the small room, as the boys continued to work out.

“Do you have anything to say, Will?” asked Lucy, sensing he might be the weak link.

He wasn’t. “No,” he said, glaring at her.

“Does hazing take place, Justin?”

“Not that I know of.”

“What about you, Matt? Have you seen any hazing? Say, making the new players line up and throwing soccer balls at them?”

“We’re
football
players,” said Matt, getting a laugh from the other guys.

Lucy, who was standing next to the water cooler, was obliged to get out of his way as he strode over to get a drink. She found herself boxed in a corner, between the cooler and the wall, while he stood in front of her, downing one cupful after another.

Lucy tried to ignore her discomfort and continued with her questions. “I understand you guys all go away to summer training camp for a week or so. Did any hazing take place at the camp? Like playing Twister?”

Justin had joined Matt at the cooler, increasing Lucy’s sense of confinement. She was beginning to think the boys were not simply inconsiderate but were purposely harassing her.

“Twister? That’s a game for kids,” said Justin.

“Not the way you guys play it, at least that’s what I’ve heard,” said Lucy, trying to make a joke.

It didn’t go over well. Now Will had joined the others at the cooler. They seemed to be moving closer, pressing her against the wall.

“Uh, fellas,” she said, protesting. “This is a pretty small room but I don’t think we all need to stand so close.”

“What, don’t you know about huddles?” Matt punched Justin in the arm, and he lurched towards her, knocking the pad from her hand.

Lucy felt herself growing angry. She was in a ridiculous situation and she couldn’t see a way out of it. Her instinct was to tell them off, to assert her authority as an adult, but she sensed they would just laugh at her. Physically, she was much smaller than they were and she had a feeling that this was a situation in which size mattered. “Come on, guys,” she said, keeping her tone light. “This is enough. You say there’s no hazing, there’s no hazing. Now I’ve got other things to do.”

She might as well have been talking to the wall. Justin had now raised one hand in a defensive posture and was pummeling Matt with the other. Will was jumping up and down, encouraging him. Lucy was shrinking back into her corner, trying to avoid their fists. She was so absorbed in trying to protect herself that she didn’t notice the door had opened until the boys stopped boxing and moved away from her.

“What’s going on here?” demanded Coach Buck.

“Uh, nothing, sir,” said Matt.

“It didn’t look like nothing to me,” said the coach, turning to Lucy. “Are you all right?”

“Fine,” said Lucy, simultaneously relieved to be rescued and embarrassed that it was necessary. “The boys were just horsing around.”

“Well, I think they owe you an apology,” he said, glaring at them.

“Sorry,” muttered Matt, followed by the others.

“No problem,” said Lucy, taking a deep breath and stepping away from the wall.

“He gave the boys a warning glance and ushered her out into the gym. “What was that all about?”

“I was interviewing them for a story and when Mr. Berg was called away, they got a little rowdy. That’s all.”

His eyes met hers. “What sort of story?”

“The hazing rumors. They all denied it, but their behavior in there makes me wonder,” said Lucy, as they walked together toward the exit.

“Why didn’t you come to me?” asked Coach, an edge to his voice. “Why did you go behind my back?”

Lucy didn’t like being put on the defensive. “I already asked you about it and I didn’t get anywhere. Meanwhile, we’re still getting letters at the paper about naked Twister, forced alcohol, beatings with soccer balls.”

Coach Buck’s expression was a mixture of shock and incredulity. “That’s ridiculous. Where do people get these ideas? Believe me, I would not tolerate anything like that. No way.” He paused and shrugged. “Boys will be boys, I guess. I’m sorry they behaved so rudely. You can be sure they’ll be doing some extra wind sprints today.”

“Well, I’m glad to hear it,” said Lucy.

They were standing by the front door, and Coach Buck extended his hand. Lucy took it, finding his grasp warm and strong. He smiled and Lucy found herself gazing into his eyes, eyes that convinced her he had nothing to hide. Reassured that the players were in good hands, she said good-bye and headed for her car. It wasn’t until she was back at the paper and got a call from Willie Westwood that her doubts began to grow again.

“Lucy, I just thought I ought to let you know that Sara seemed edgy today when I picked her up to take her to practice. In fact, I had to stop the car so she could throw up.”

“Maybe it’s the flu,” said Lucy. “Did you take her home?”

“I tried, but she insisted on going to practice. I’m sorry to bother you at work but I thought you should know.”

“Not at all. Thanks for calling.”

After the call Lucy tried to concentrate on the task at hand, the list of mortgage rates offered by local banks that ran every week, but found her mind drifting back to the uncomfortable few minutes she’d spent in the weight room. She was beginning to wish that Sara had gone out for girls’ soccer or volleyball instead of cheerleading.