“Are you all right?” Nancy asked breathlessly, helping Randy up to a sitting position. He still clutched the metal rod, and his face was bright red from exertion.
After taking a few gulps of air, he croaked out, “Yeah, I’m okay. If it weren’t for you, those weights would have—I was pressing a hundred pounds!”
“How did that happen?” asked Bess, her voice filled with worry.
Nancy pointed to the steel rod. “Isn’t there usually something on the ends of these things to hold the weights in place?”
Randy nodded. “There should be a bolt on each end. I guess I should have checked before I started lifting. But when I saw that the right number of weights were on, I didn’t bother checking that the bolts were in place.”
“What about those two guys who were here?” said Nancy. “Were they using this?”
“Darrell and Frank?” Randy shook his head. “No. I was here the whole time they were working out, and they stuck with the Nautilus equipment.” He gestured to the machines. “Somebody just must have forgotten to put the bolts on.”
“Unless it was rigged,” Nancy pointed out. “If your attacker knew that you’re one of the only people who works out at this time of day, he could have rigged the weights to fall.”
“That’s awful,” Bess said. “Randy could have been killed!”
Meeting Randy’s eyes, Nancy said soberly, “I think it’s time to tell Coach Mitchell what’s going on. But first I want to talk to the trainer on duty here.”
It seemed as if Randy were going to protest, but he obviously thought better of it, sighed, and said, “I guess you’re right.”
Slinging his towel around his neck, Randy got to his feet and led Nancy and Bess out to the hall. They found the trainer on duty in a small office behind the guard’s desk. In his twenties, with freckles and curly brown hair, the trainer was sitting back in the chair, resting his feet on his desk and sipping coffee.
“What’s up, Randy?” the trainer asked when he saw them. He swung his feet around and stood up.
Randy introduced Nancy and Bess to the trainer, whose name was Joey Nelson. “Nancy wanted to ask you a few questions, Joey,” Randy said.
“Sure. How can I help?” Joey turned to Nancy with a smile.
“It’s about the weight room,” Nancy began. “Did you happen to notice anyone in there tampering with the free weights?”
Joey’s reaction was skeptical. “A bunch of people were in earlier, but just the football team has had access for the past hour. I didn’t notice anything unusual.”
“Can you tell me who besides Randy was in the weight room today?” Nancy pressed.
“I couldn’t possibly,” Joey muttered, crossing his arms defensively. “I can’t keep track of everyone.”
Nancy stifled a sigh of frustration. “Did you check the free weights this morning?” When Joey didn’t answer, she asked, “Did you check any of the equipment this morning?”
Still no answer.
“What’s going on here?” Joey finally asked, staring uncomfortably at first Nancy, then Randy and Bess.
Nancy tried to keep the irritation out of her voice as she told the trainer, “What’s going on is that Randy was almost beaned by a hundred pounds of weights.”
“Someone took the bolts off but didn’t remove the weights,” Randy explained.
Joey’s face paled. “You okay, Randy?” Randy nodded. “Hey, I’m sorry,” Joey went on, turning red. “Guess I should have been sticking closer to the weight room.”
“Are you sure you didn’t see anything funny or anyone acting suspiciously this morning?” Nancy asked Joey once more. “Or maybe even last night?”
He shook his head. “Nothing.”
Nancy thanked him, then turned to Randy. “Now, where’s Coach Mitchell’s office?”
Randy was silent as he led the girls through the sports center. The coach’s office was inside the men’s locker room, Randy explained. After he made sure that the locker room was empty, he waved Nancy and Bess inside.
“I feel kind of funny going into a guys’ locker room,” Bess whispered to Nancy, giggling nervously.
Nancy shrugged, glancing at the empty wooden benches that stood between rows of shiny gray lockers. “Female reporters do it all the time,” she said. “At least no one’s here at the moment.”
Beyond the lockers, Nancy could see into an office that was half glass and half white metal paneling. She peered through the glass in the top half and recognized Coach Mitchell’s slicked-back silver hair from the pep rally. She couldn’t see his face because he was hunched over, talking into the phone. Apart from the metal desk, the office was furnished with a couple of chairs, two file cabinets, and a shelf filled with awards and trophies.
Randy went over and tapped on the glass window before opening the office door. The coach’s gravelly voice floated out to them.
“That’s what I said, Kyle, it’s all on Sunday’s game. Six to ten—” Coach Mitchell broke off abruptly as he turned around to find Randy, Nancy, and Bess in the doorway. He cupped his hand over the receiver and opened his mouth to say something, but then he seemed to think better of it. Putting the phone back to his ear, he said, “I’ve got to go, Kyle.”
A moment later the coach hung up the phone, turned back to them, and got to his feet. “Come on in, Randy—ladies.” He was about six feet tall, Nancy guessed, with a beefy build and the beginnings of a pot belly.
They sat down in the chairs the coach indicated, and Randy introduced Nancy and Bess. “Nancy’s a detective, and—”
“Oh, really?” Coach Mitchell interrupted, amusement crossing his face. “A real private eye, huh?”
This wasn’t the first time Nancy had come across someone who didn’t take her seriously. She decided to ignore the comment.
“Nancy’s a modern private eye,” Bess put in. “She’s solved tons of cases.”
“And I’ve asked her to help me,” Randy said. Leaning forward, Randy told the coach about the threatening phone calls, the note, and the incident in the weight room.
“I know that everyone thought the fire was an accident,” Nancy concluded, “but I’m not sure it was. Someone’s trying to talk Randy into throwing the game. And since he won’t agree to it, they’re willing to injure him to keep him out of the lineup.”
“Very interesting.” The coach sat back down in his chair and folded his arms. His silver hair glimmered under the fluorescent lights as he nodded thoughtfully. “I can see why you’re alarmed,” he told Randy. “Those threats sound pretty nasty.”
Nancy was relieved. At least the coach hadn’t laughed them out of the office.
“But I still want to play in Sunday’s game,” Randy said with force and determination.
“Have any of the other football players received warnings about Sunday’s game?” Nancy asked the coach.
Coach Mitchell shook his head. “Not that I know of.”
“What about Josh?” asked Bess. “He was quarterback for the first few games of the season, wasn’t he?”
The coach waved away the suggestion. “No, that’s one thing I know for certain. If anyone had crossed my son, he would have told me, just as Randy has.” He shuffled some papers on his desk. “You leave this thing to me. In fact, I’m going to call Dean Jarvis right away. This could be just a prank—but we can’t be too careful.”
“In the meantime,” Randy said, “Nancy has agreed to do some investigating.” He seemed relieved that the coach hadn’t said anything about pulling him from the game.
“If that’s okay with you,” Nancy added quickly. It would be a lot easier for her to investigate if she had his permission.
“Of course.” The coach winked at her. “It can’t hurt to have a lady detective on our side, right?”
His attitude grated on Nancy’s nerves, but she didn’t indicate how she felt. She just smiled pleasantly at him. Whether or not any coach believed in her detective abilities, she was going to crack this case.
“This will take only a few minutes,” Ned told Nancy and Bess. “The homecoming king and queen will have their real moment of glory when they lead the parade tomorrow.”
“All hail the king and queen,” Jerry joked, pausing to make a courtly bow.
It was early afternoon, and the foursome had just polished off a pizza and sodas for lunch at the student center. Now they were on their way to the oval to wait for the announcement of the homecoming king and queen.
As they climbed the small rise leading up to the oval, Nancy saw several dozen students milling around in front of the stone steps of Ivy Hall, a majestic old brick building on the oval-shaped drive. A guy with a clipboard stood talking to a small cluster of students at the top of the steps.
“Are those the contestants?” Bess asked, pointing to the group on the steps. “Boy, do they look nervous!”
“Happens every year. I think the homecoming committee puts something in their food to make them act that way,” Jerry cracked.
“How are the winners chosen?” Nancy asked Ned.
“They’re nominated by petition. If you can get two hundred signatures, you’re a finalist. The final selection is made by ballot. Each student can cast a vote.”
The crowd grew quiet as a trumpet began to play. Looking toward Ivy Hall, Nancy saw that the trumpeter, dressed as a royal page, was standing in the center of the steps. When he finished the piece, he announced: “Hear ye! Hear ye! Make way for Emerson College’s new king and queen!”
Nancy clapped as a guy on the homecoming committee took the microphone and introduced all the finalists. Tamara Carlson was the only person Nancy recognized.
“And the winners are—” The student read off two names that Nancy didn’t recognize, but she applauded enthusiastically, spurred on by the spirit of the crowd.
On the steps, the king and queen joined hands and took a bow. Then the finalists gathered around to congratulate the winners.
“That concludes the royal ceremony,” said the announcer. “See you tomorrow at the float parade!”
“Isn’t it romantic?” Bess said as the crowd began to disperse. “Queen for the year—”
“Yeah,” Jerry agreed, “but it has its drawbacks. The king has to wear funny purple tights for the parade.”
Nancy joined in the laughter. Peering over Bess’s shoulder, she could see the finalists descend the steps, and she watched as Tamara Carlson cut through the crowd, joining a guy and girl who stood only a few feet from Nancy and her friends. The attractive guy wore a red-and-white Russell U jacket. When the other girl turned, Nancy saw Tamara’s sister, Susannah.
Tamara’s pretty, dark-skinned face was scrunched up with disappointment, Nancy saw. She seemed to be on the verge of tears. Susannah reached out and took her sister by the arm.
“Don’t feel bad, Tamara,” she said sympathetically. “The other students are crazy not to have voted for you. I told you this school is lousy.”
The cute guy nodded grimly. “Emerson stinks!” he said in disgust. “And they’re going to lose the homecoming game on Sunday. I guarantee it!”
Chapter Seven
NANCY’S MOUTH DROPPED OPEN. “Who’s that guy in the Russell jacket?” she asked Ned.
“That’s Zip Williams, Russell’s starting quarterback,” Ned said, following Nancy’s gaze. “I’ve never met him personally, but everyone on campus knows who he is. Zip is practically a legend in his own time. They don’t call him Zip for nothing. He’s all over the field when he plays, and he’s tough to stop.”
“He also has a motive for hurting Randy,” Nancy murmured. “I was hoping to find out a few things from him, like whether he was at last night’s rally. He’s just saved me a trip to Russell.” Giving Ned’s arm a quick squeeze, she said, “I’m going over to introduce myself.”
Ned nodded, checking his watch. “Okay, but I’ve got to run. My English class is on the other side of campus.”
“And I’ve got practice,” Jerry said apologetically. He turned to Bess. “See you there? I’ll look for you in the bleachers.”
“Sure,” Bess agreed, blushing. “I wouldn’t miss it for anything.”
As the guys left, Nancy and Bess went over to Susannah, Tamara, and Zip. “Hi, Susannah,” Nancy said. “Did you get settled in?”
“Yes, thanks to you and your friends,” Susannah replied with a smile. Turning to her sister, she said, “These are the people I was telling you about. Nancy and Bess, isn’t it? This is my sister, Tamara, and her boyfriend, Zip Williams.”
“Sorry you didn’t win,” Bess told Tamara, “but it must have been exciting to be a finalist.”
Tamara shrugged. “It was okay.”
“I’ve been hearing about you ever since I arrived on campus,” Nancy told Zip. “People are pretty psyched up about Sunday’s game.”
A cocky grin spread across Zip’s face as he said, “I hate to disappoint all the Wildcats fans, but Emerson doesn’t have a chance of winning on Sunday.”
“That’s a little premature, isn’t it?” Nancy asked, raising her eyebrows. “After all, anything can happen.”
“That’s true.” Zip shoved his hands into the pockets of his Russell jacket. “Let me rephrase that. Randy Simpson doesn’t stand a chance on Sunday. He’s a rookie. Our linebackers will chew him up and spit him out.”
When it came to competition, Nancy could see that Zip Williams didn’t mince words. Winning obviously meant a lot to him.
“Ooh! Sounds scary,” Bess put in. “I can see why they call you a shark on the field.”
Tamara’s expression lightened a little as she tapped her boyfriend playfully on the head. “Zip may be a shark when he’s playing football, but he’s a marshmallow when he’s with me.”
“Don’t tell them that!” Zip exclaimed, an expression of mock horror on his face. “You’ll ruin my rep.”
Despite Zip’s arrogance, he had a certain charm. Nancy could see why Tamara liked him. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t responsible for the threats to Randy.
“Well, after seeing the pep rally here the other night, I think the Wildcats are ready for you,” Nancy commented.
“Ha!” Zip scoffed. “Randy practically went up in flames, and that’s just what’s going to happen to him on Sunday.”
Nancy blinked. Zip was talking as if he’d been at the rally himself! “Did you actually see the accident?” she asked him.
Zip shifted uncomfortably, then said, “Yeah. I came to see Tamara cheer.” Turning to Tamara and Susannah, he said brusquely, “Don’t we have to be someplace?” With a quick goodbye, the threesome walked away.
Turning to Bess, Nancy said in a low voice, “Did you see how weirdly he behaved when I asked him about the pep rally?”
Bess nodded. “And he sure acts as if he would go pretty far to ensure a win for the Pirates—to guarantee it, as he said himself.” She and Nancy headed toward the football field, on the far side of the sports complex. “Do you think he set that fire?”
“I don’t know, but I think I have to find out more about him.” Nancy plucked at her ivory-colored sweater as another thought occurred to her. “We’d better keep an eye on Susannah and Tamara, too,” she said. “Susannah’s certainly got a grudge against Emerson.”
“And Tamara is Zip’s girl,” Bess said, finishing Nancy’s thought.
Nancy nodded. “They could be working with him. I have to consider the other guys on the Russell team, and I still haven’t checked out any of the Wildcats.”
Bess said, “The only Wildcat I’m interested in checking out is Jerry McEntee. I’ll leave the rest of them to you, Nan.”
The girls passed through the gate at the far side of the sports center that led directly to the football field. Nancy could see the Emerson team down at one end of the field, dressed in their scrimmage uniforms.
“There’s the drill team,” Bess said, pointing to a grassy expanse beyond the playing field, where rows of girls were marching. She climbed halfway up the bleach
ers and took a seat. Resting her elbows on her knees, she stared intently at the players. “I don’t see Jerry.”
Nancy scanned the group of players as she sat down next to Bess. “Isn’t he number thirty-four?” she said, pointing to a tall guy. Jerry’s slender, angular frame stood out among the huskier players. “That’s him at the end of the line.”
Bess jumped up and waved. “Yes, you’re right.”
Cupping her chin in her hands, Nancy studied the players closely. Randy had said none of the players had a grudge against him, but she knew he couldn’t really be objective about his teammates.
Still, as she watched, Nancy didn’t notice any sign of anger or unnecessary roughness toward Randy. Judging by the friendly nudges and pats he received, Randy had a good rapport with his teammates. He played most of the scrimmage, except for defensive plays, when he sat with other players on the bench, wiped his face with a towel, and grabbed drinks from his water bottle.
“Looks like practice is over for the drill team,” Bess said, dragging Nancy from her thoughts. “Hey, there’s Kristin.” She waved at the pretty blond majorette, who was passing in front of the bleachers.
“How’s the float going?” Bess called.
Kristin glanced up and waved. “It’s almost finished,” she called back. Tucking her baton under her arm, she jogged up into the stands and sat down next to Bess. “The rose pattern you guys came up with looks terrific.”
As Bess chatted with Kristin, Nancy glanced around the stadium. Members of the drill team were now filing out of the stadium, she noticed, while girls in cheerleading uniforms were streaming in. Danielle Graves and Tamara Carlson were among the cheerleaders. Susannah, dressed in jeans and a striped sweater, was with Tamara. The sisters paused near the players’ bench to watch a play. Then Tamara dashed off to join the other cheerleaders, leaving Susannah at the edge of the field.
“Rats!” A muffled voice at the foot of the bleachers caught Nancy’s attention. The team mascot was struggling furiously with the wildcat costume, twisting at its head.