“…safe house?”
I catch two words as I open the bedroom door. Officers stand
at the windows on either side of the door, peering through cracks between
curtains and blinds. Rough hands rest against the grips of their guns. As I
enter the room, the officer to the right of the door whirls to face me, hand
flexing over his gun grip for a moment. The other, whose face reveals a few
more years, just flicks his eyes in my direction before resuming his survey of
the world outside.
“Is something going on?” I ask.
“No…” The younger officer pauses as if to say more.
The soft buzz of his phone fills the silence. He slowly
moves his hand from the gun to his phone, watching me with wary eyes as he
answers.
“Officer Daniels.”
He listens quietly. “Yes. That sounds good. We’ll be here.”
As he ends the call, he turns his attention back to me. “You
need to get dressed, ma’am.”
My stomach lurches. “Why?”
“Officers Polsen and Wason are on their way to pick you up.
They have some questions.”
He shrugs as I throw him a questioning look. I return to my
bedroom, throwing on baggy jeans and an even baggier hoodie. By the time I step
back into the living room, someone is rapping harshly on the door. Office
Daniels motions for me to get behind him. I disappear into his shadow as his
partner reaches for the door.
As the door swings open, Officer Polsen cheerfully asks, “What
took you so long, Neal? Daniels give you some of his years?”
The older man guffaws and claps each of the newcomers on the
shoulder. “Just taught him something they used to teach in my day—caution.”
The repartee stops there as all eyes seek my face.
“Ready to help us solve this case?” Officer Polsen breaks
the uncomfortable silence.
“Yes.” I answer more hastily than I intend.
“Let’s go then.” Wason says.
As I follow them into the parking lot, Officers Wason and
Polsen warily scan the parked cars, shielding me as much as they can without
being too obvious.
I breathe a sigh of relief as they help me into the squad
car. “Where are we going?”
“Don’t worry. You’ll recognize the place.” Officer Wason
turns enough to offer me a half smile.
I shake my head, lean back, and close my eyes.
*
My eyes pop open as the car comes to a stop. I look out the
window to see the chain link fence that surrounds the batting cages. A chill
washes over me yet fades before Officer Wason opens the door for me. He scans
one half of the empty parking lot as Officer Polsen surveys the lot closest to
the buildings.
“Why are we here?”
“To look around again. We missed something before.” Officer
Wason answers.
“And I am here because…” I peer through the chain link fence
as Officer Wason fumbles with a heavy ring of keys.
“Just look around. Maybe you’ll see what Mr. Chase saw...something
we’d miss.”
As he pulls the chain free, we all step inside as one. The
aroma of worn leather, glove oil, and wood has been infused into the dust our
feet kick up. I almost expect the crack of a bat and the whir of high velocity
spheres whizzing past me.
I shrug my shoulders. “I don’t even know what he was looking
for.”
“Mr. Chase wanted to be a journalist. Think like a
journalist.” Officer Polsen advises.
“Who? What? Why? Where? How?” I mumble.
Officer Wason nods. “Why is money. Where is here. How and
what have answers here, too.”
As he stops speaking, he steps toward one of the cages. A
worn, laminated sign reads “Cage closed.”
He pulls open the door, which squeals in protest. He reaches
into a plastic tub filled to the brim with baseballs that sits just inside the
door. His eyes narrow as he lightly tosses the ball from one hand to the other.
He selects a ball from another tub and juggles the two balls. As they finally
come to rest, one in each hand, he walks over to the ball gun. He glances over
at me and loads one of the balls into the machine. Seconds later, the ball
flies past my head and slams into the fence behind me. I jump as it bounces
back to come to rest at my feet.
“Seems to be working. Pick up that bat.” He points to a
battered length of wood half-buried in the dust.
I pick it up without thinking. I jump when another ball passes
by my head, forgetting the bat in my hands. He grabs more balls from the first barrel
and feeds them into the machine.
“Go ahead. Hit one.” Officer Wason encourages as another
ball slams into the fence.
“I’m really not much of an athlete.” My shoulders slump and
I drop the bat.
He ducks under another pitch to grab the bat. “It’s easy.
Just like this.”
As the next ball leaves the barrel of the ball gun, he lines
up his shoulders. The bat and ball connect and fine powder fills the air. The
cloud glows blue as Larry’s face smiles at me until the powder settles to the
ground.
“Now we know how and what. We just have to figure out who
the boss is.”
“Looks like this place isn’t opening any time soon.” Officer
Polsen observes as he gently guides me out of the cage and leads me toward the
car.
Officer Wason follows close on our heels after scooping a
couple more baseballs into an evidence bag. The plastic crinkles as he places
the bag into the trunk. We maintain relative silence as we pull out of the
parking lot. I don’t hear anything but the hopeful thought that as we draw
closer to solving Larry’s murder, we guarantee my safety.
~~~
I'm not sure my little notes to you have been distinguished as well as I hoped. This could be confusing, so I apologize if one of these notes looked like a really odd addition to the story. As of now, I must advise my readers that I'll have to start charging a small fee for my reading and editing services since it makes me have to take time off of my own writing projects. (To the person who sent me a piece a couple of weeks ago, I am getting to it soon. Your piece preceded my new policy.) I do feel a thrilling conclusion to this current piece coming soon, so keep reading.
