Рита Браун - Murder On The Prowl

"So someone could have tampered with your pile?" Roscoe persisted.

"Yes, but I don't know how they could do it without being seen. There are always people at the paper. Not many at that hour." He thought. "I guess it could be done."

"Could someone have followed after you on your route, pulled the paper out of the tube and put in the insert?" Sandy liked Roger but he didn't believe him. "One of your friends, perhaps?"

"Yes. It would be a lot of work."

"Who knows your paper route?" Roscoe glanced at the Queen Anne clock.

"Everyone. I mean, all my friends."

"Okay, Roger. You can go." Roscoe waved him away.

Sandy opened the door for the tall young man. "I really hope you didn't do this, Roger."

"Mr. Brashiers, I didn't."

Sandy closed the door, turning to Roscoe. "Well?"

"I don't know." Roscoe held up his hands. "He's an unlikely candidate, although circumstances certainly point to him."

"Damn kids," Sandy muttered, then spoke louder. "Have you investigated the Jody Miller incident further?"

"I spoke to Coach Hallvard. She said no fight occurred at practice. I'm going to see Kendrick Miller later today. I wish I knew what I was going to say."

16

Rumbling along toward St. Elizabeth's, Harry felt her heart sink lower and lower. The truck repairs cost $289.16, which demolished her budget. Paying over time helped, but $289 was $289. She wanted to cry but felt that it wasn't right to cry over money. She sniffled instead.

"There's got to be a way to make more money," Mrs. Murphy whispered.

"Catnip," Pewter replied authoritatively. "She could grow acres of catnip, dry it, and sell it."

"Not such a bad idea—could you keep out of the crop?"

"Could you?" Pewter challenged.

They pulled into the school parking lot peppered with Mercedes Benzes, BMWs, Volvos, a few Porsches, and one Ford Falcon.

The game was just starting with the captains in the center of the field, Karen Jensen for St. Elizabeth's and Darcy Kelly for St. Anne's Belfield from Charlottesville.

Roscoe had pride of place on the sidelines. Naomi squeezed next to him. April Shively sat on Roscoe's left side. She took notes as he spoke, which drove Naomi wild. She struggled to contain her irritation. Susan and Miranda waved to Harry as she climbed up to them. Little Mim sat directly behind Roscoe. Maury, flirtatious, amused her with Hollywood stories about star antics. He told her she was naturally prettier than those women who had the help of plastic surgery, two-hundred-dollar haircuts, and fabulous lighting. Little Mim began to brighten.

Pretty Coach Renee Hallvard, her shiny blond pageboy swinging with each stride, paced the sidelines. St. Anne's won the toss. While Karen Jensen trotted to midfield, the other midfielder, Jody Miller, twirled her stick in anticipation.

Irene and Kendrick Miller sat high in the stands for a better view. Kendrick had requested that he and Roscoe get together after the game. His attendance was noted since he rarely turned up at school functions, claiming work kept him pinned down.

People commented on the fact that Sean Hallahan and Roger Davis weren't at the game. Everyone had an opinion on that.

St. Anne's, a powerhouse in field hockey and lacrosse, worked the ball downfield, but Karen Jensen, strong and fast, stole the ball from the attacker in a display of finesse that brought the Redhawk supporters to their feet.

Brooks, an attacker, sped along the side, then cut in, a basic pattern, but Brooks, slight and swift, dusted her defender to pick up Karen's pinpoint pass. She fired a shot at the goalie, one of the best in the state, who gave St. Anne's enormous confidence.

The first quarter, speedy, resulted in no score.

"Brooks has a lot of poise under pressure." Harry was proud of the young woman.

"She's going to need it," Susan predicted.

"Quite a game." Miranda, face flushed, was remembering her days of field hockey for Crozet High in 1950.

The second quarter the girls played even faster and harder. Darcy Kelly drew first blood for St. Anne's. Karen Jensen, jogging back to the center, breathed a few words to her team. They struck back immediately with three razor-sharp passes resulting in a goal off the stick of Elizabeth Davis, Roger's older sister.

At halftime both coaches huddled with their girls. The trainers exhausted themselves putting the teams back together. The body checks, brutal, were taking their toll.

Sandy Brashiers, arriving late, sat on the corner of the bleachers.

"Jody's playing a good game." Roscoe leaned down to talk low to Sandy. "Maybe this will be easier than I thought."

"Hope so," Sandy said.

"Roscoe," Maury McKinchie teased him, "what kind of headmaster are you when a kid puts your obituary in the paper?"

"Looks who's talking. Maury, the walking dead," Roscoe bellowed.

"Only in Hollywood," Maury said, making fun of himself. "Oh, well, I've made a lot of mistakes on all fronts."

Father Michael, sitting next to Maury, said, "To err is human, to forgive divine."

"To err is human, to forgive is extraordinary." Roscoe chuckled.

They both shut up when Mrs. Florence Rubicon, the aptly, or perhaps prophetically, named Latin teacher, waved a red-and-gold Redhawks pennant and shouted, "Carpe diem—"

Sandy shouted back, finishing the sentence, "Quam minimum credula postero ." Meaning "Don't trust in tomorrow."

Those who remembered their Latin laughed.

A chill made Harry shiver.

"Cold?" Miranda asked.

"No—just"—she shrugged—"a notion."

The game was turning into a great one. Both sides cheered themselves hoarse, and at the very end Teresa Pietro scored a blazing goal for St. Anne's. The Redhawks, crestfallen, dragged off the field, hurt so badly by the defeat that they couldn't rejoice in how spectacularly they had played. It would take time for them to realize they'd participated in one of the legendary field hockey games.

Jody Miller, utterly wretched because Teresa Pietro had streaked by her, was stomping off the field, her head down. Her mother ran out to console her; her father stayed in the stands to talk to people and to wait for Roscoe, besieged, as always.

When Maury McKinchie walked over to soothe her, she hit him in the gut with her stick. He keeled over.

Irene, horrified, grabbed the stick from her daughter's hand. She looked toward Kendrick, who had missed the incident.

Coach Hallvard quickly ran over. Brooks, Karen, Elizabeth, and Jody's other teammates stared in disbelief.

"Jody, go to the lockers—NOW," the coach ordered.

"I think she'd better come home with me," Irene said tightly.

"Mrs. Miller, I'll send her straight home. In fact, I'll drive her home, but I need to talk to her first. Her behavior affects the entire team."

Jody, white-lipped, glared at everyone, then suddenly laughed. "I'm sorry, Mr. McKinchie. If only I'd done that to Teresa Pietro."

Maury, gasping for breath, smiled gamely. "I don't look anything like Teresa Pietro."

"Are you all right?" Coach Hallvard asked him.

"Yes, it's the only time I've been grateful for my spare tire."

Coach Hallvard put her hand under Jody's elbow, propelling her toward the lockers.

Roscoe turned around to look up to Kendrick, who was being filled in on the incident. He whispered to his wife, "Go see what you can do for Maury." Then he said to April, hovering nearby, "I think you'd better go to the locker room with Coach Hallvard and the team, right?"

"Right." April trotted across the field, catching up with Naomi, who pretended she was happy for the company.

Father Michael felt a pang for not pursuing Jody the morning she came to see him. He was realizing how much she had needed him then.

Brooks, confused like the rest of her teammates, obediently walked back to the locker room while the St. Anne's team piled on the bus.