The Case of the Baseball Junkie

The Case of the Baseball Junkie

         Thunder pealed from the swollen clouds and rebounded like ping pong balls off of the closely set high-rise buildings. In the countryside rain brings with it the sense of renewal. Colors are brighter and cleaner and everything smells refreshed. However, in the city the rain mixes with the grime and smells of soiled concrete filling the streets and gutters with a murky runoff.

         He watched the steam rise from the hot concrete as the rain beat incessantly against his window. He checked his watch again. Cassidy had received the phone call, hurriedly grabbed her coat, saying only, “I’ve gotta go!” She left over two hours ago. Cassidy’s erratic behavior and the rain did not help his mood. At the same moment he was flashing “Where in the world is she?” through his mind, the phone rang. The shrill ring competed with the booming bass of a thunder clap.

         Annoyed, Spam reached for the phone, “Hello, Hummer here!”

         "Spam, it's Cass."

          “Cass, where in the world are you? You OK?”

         From the tone of her voice he could tell that something was wrong. Cassidy hesitated and remarked, “Oh, Spam, I was so scared.”

         Her voice broke and he detected a sob. She then continued with a very shaky voice, “If anything had happened to Jerry, I don’t know what I’d have done.” She began to cry quietly.

          “Cass, is Jerry alright? Is he safe?”

          “Yes,” Cassidy sobbed, “but it could have been worse, much worse.”

          “OK, Cass, tell me where you are right now.”

          “I’m at Jerry’s school, Spam. Jerry’s OK. Can you come and get us?”

          “Sure, Cass, just tell me where you are. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

         He placed the heavy black phone in its cradle, grabbed his trench coat, throwing it on, quickly concealing his 45 cal. cannon in the shoulder holster. He couldn’t imagine any reason he needed the gun where he was going. Jerry’s grade school wasn’t the kind of joint where you’d figure to be in any danger. But, something had happened to Cass; and, over the years he had become quite fond of the doll. There was something in her voice that signaled trouble. And, trouble to Spam usually meant danger. He flipped the lights off on his way out the door, thumbed the lock into place, and closed the door behind him.

         He parked the Fairlane on the street by the main entrance, ignoring the ‘No Parking’ signs. He could barely see the front doors because of the pelting rain.

         ”Go ahead, give me a ticket.” he thought as he stepped out of the car in the no parking zone. ”If the little-league moms could do it, then I can do it!”

         He sprinted through the rain to the entrance of the school, holding his hand to his chest, making sure his gun didn’t fall from the holster. Immediately, inside the entrance Spam saw the school office enclosed by windows that permitted easy surveillance of the hallway. The halls were virtually void of students and teachers; obviously, everyone was in their classes. Through the windows to the administration offices Spam could see Cassidy and Jerry waiting for him. They were sitting alone in the hard wooden chairs that lined the walls. He remembered those chairs; he’d sat in ones just like them a thousand times when he was in school. He knew his principal very well; it seemed as if he always had a problem with authority. Folks just couldn’t seem to learn to do things his way.

         Jerry’s eyes focused on Spam walking to the door. The nine-year-old jumped to his feet and pointed at him. Cassidy’s eyes followed the little outstretched finger and saw him coming. Relief flooded her eyes as well as the tears. She could be strong when she had to, but now that Spam was here she didn’t want to. He entered the office and Cassidy rushed to him. She threw her arms around him and buried her head on his shoulder; the tears came.

          “Oh, Spam, I’m so glad you’re here! I’m so frightened!”

         Spam liked to hold women close; however, the tears were something he never seemed to know how to handle. He put his arms around her and spoke softly into her ear.

          “It’s OK, Doll. Everything’s gonna be OK.”

         He felt Jerry pry himself between them, holding his mom, comforting her. Behind him he heard a female voice.

          “Mr. Hunter?”

         He looked around to find the person who came with the voice. Cassidy released Spam as she also turned her attention to the voice. Standing before them was a matronly looking woman of about fifty years. Her hair was streaked with gray and pulled back into a tight bun; her glasses were riding down near the tip of her nose. As she talked she tilted her head back so she could see through the glasses. It had the effect of causing her to look down her nose at her target. Her only other choice was to tilt her head down and look over the top of her glasses. Both looks had the same effect. It was very intimidating to nine and ten-year olds.

          “Mr. Hunter?” she repeated.

          “I’m not Mr. Hunter. My name is Spam, Spam Hummer.”

         The principal glanced quickly at Cassidy and then said, “Oh, I see. I expected to see the father of the child.”

          “Jerry’s father deserted us before he was born, Mrs. Priddle. Spam is my boss.” Cassidy extended her hand at her side and grasped Spam’s hand. “He’s also my friend.”

          “Well, that is certainly no concern of mine. However, the safety of this child is. We are very concerned about what happened here today. This sort of thing mustn’t happen again.”

          “Well, why don’t someone tell me what is going on here? What happened here today?”

          “Mr. Hummer, someone tried to take Jerry from this school. Sometime during recess a man walked into the playground and took Jerry by the hand. He was almost out of the playground when Miss. March, his teacher, called out to the man. Mr. Henson, our custodian, was also on the playground near Jerry. He rushed in and grabbed the man. Although Mr. Henson is a very sturdy man, he could not restrain the younger man. He was shoved to the ground. Jerry ran to Miss. March and the stranger ran off.”

          “I see,” Spam said, “I suppose you can describe the man?”

          “We will give our descriptions to the authorities. The police have been called and will be here shortly.”

          “You do that, Mrs. Piddle,” Spam began but was interrupted by the principal.

          “That’s Priddle, Mr. Hummer. I would appreciate you getting the name correct.”

          “Sure, Mrs. Priddle, but, I want you to know this will not happen to Jerry again. I’m not gonna let it. You go ahead and give your descriptions to the cops. Make sure Lieutenant Dave Frisco gets it. If you need Cass here or Jerry, you can find them at home.”

          “But, Mr. Hummer, she can’t leave yet; the authorities will want to talk to them.”

          “Well, they should have been here sooner. Tell them to call Cass at her house. She’ll talk to them there. And when they get here, tell them not to run in the halls.”

         Spam turned and led Cassidy and Jerry out of the office.

          “You and Jerry are going home with me Cass. We’ll get your car later. I’ll call Dave when we get to my place and tell him where you are.”

          “Sure, Spam. We are with you.”

         He stopped off at Cassidy’s where she gathered clothes and other necessary items. He then made his way in the rain to his apartment. Spam lived in the adjoining apartment of his landlady, Wilma Knight. He smiled to himself as he thought of Wilma. ”Jerry’s in for a pleasant surprise.” Spam chuckled softly to himself.

         They were all drenched by the time they unlocked the front door and rushed into the apartment. This was the first time Cassidy had been in the place. She let her eyes roam around the room, taking inventory. She smiled.

          “Why, Spam, this is lovely. And I’m so proud of you. It’s so neat and clean. It’s nothing like your desk at the office.” Suspiciously, she asked, “How do you do it? You’ve got help, don’t you?”

         He shrugged, “I suppose Wilma helps a little. In fact, I can’t keep her out of here.”

          “Wilma? Who is Wilma?”

          “Oh, you’ll meet Wilma. She’s about sixty years old, doesn’t take no for an answer, and has a secret weapon. She’s also my landlady who lives next door.”

          “Oh, I see.” Cassidy widened her smile. “Seems as if it takes more than one lady to take care of you Mr. Hummer. And, what is this secret weapon?”

          “Yeah, I’m covered up with dolls. And as for the secret weapon? I can’t tell you. It’s a secret. But, you’ll find out soon enough.”

          “Mr. Hummer?”

         Spam tuned his attention to the nine-year-old. “Yeah, Jerry, whatcha need?”

          “Mr. Hummer, have you got any kids here? Are there any other kids to play with?”

         Spam crouched down so he would be on the same level of the child. “First of all Jerry, you need to call me Spam. Friends call each other by their first name. And, I think we are gonna be friends. No Jerry, I haven’t seen any other kids around here. There’s mostly retired people living on this street. It’s kinda quiet-like. But I’ve got something just as good.”

         He left the nine-year-old and walked to his hall closet. Opening the door he reached up on the top shelf and pulled down two old well used shoe boxes. He walked back to Jerry and set the shoe boxes on the coffee table, taking the lid off of one box. Inside the box, stacked neatly, were hundreds of cards.

          “Jerry, these are my baseball cards I collected when I was a kid. I’ve got two boxes of them. I think you’ll find some pretty cool cards in there.”

          “Geeze, Mom look at all these cards! I’ve never seen so many cards!” Immediately he began pulling the cards and examining them, stacking them neatly on the coffee table.

         Cassidy smiled at Spam. “Baseball cards? That’s perfect Spam. He loves baseball. He’ll pore over those cards for hours. You’re a smart man Mr. Hummer…an’ a softie too.”

          “Yeah, well, keep it a secret Cass. Folks don’t hire softie P.I.s.”

***********************

         It was a blueberry jelly donut. All the cream-filled ones had been picked out. That’s what happens when you get there last. Spam sat across from Dave Frisco’s desk. He had a jelly donut, a cup of strong coffee, and a cop for a friend. Life was generally good for the private investigator. But, he also had a problem. Somebody was trying to take Cassidy’s kid. That was wrong. Especially wrong because Cassidy had become a very special person in his life in the few short years she served as his girl-Friday. It was also wrong because he was becoming very attached to the blond-headed nine-year-old; and someone was messing with the closest thing he had to family.

         Dave tossed the file across his desk to Spam.

          “Take a look for yourself, Spam. We don’t have much on the guy. He’s about thirtyish, dark hair, black stubbly beard, average height, average weight, average looks. Most of the guys in the city fit that description.”

          “What else have you got?”

          “Not much, someone thinks he drove off in a busted up white Corvair. That should narrow it down a bit if we get close. But, we can’t go chasing down every busted Corvair in the city? Does Cass have any idea who this guy might be?”

          “Nothing, Dave. But she’s terrified he will come back. That kid is her whole life. An’ I can see why; he’s a good kid. Knows his baseball. He latched right on to my 1957 Gil Hodges. Knew the stats. How many folks knew Gil had a .299 batting average with twenty-seven home runs that year? That kid did.”

         Dave smiled at is old friend. “Looks to me that you’re sorta strong on the kid, Spam. He’s got a dish for a mom too. I think you’ve stumbled into something you need to hold on to, old friend.”

         Spam responded unconvincingly, “She just works for me, Dave. That’s all.”

          “Sure, Spam, but in the fifteen years you’ve been a ‘gum-shoe’ only one dame has stuck with you more than a month. Cass has been with you for five years now. You and I both know she’s there because of you, not the money you pay her. An’ we both know you’d be lost without her. You better snag this one, Spam—before she cottons to some other guy.”

          “Yeah, well you need to keep more cream filled donuts, too. Now, what are you going to do about helping me find this guy?”

          “Can’t do much cause we don’t know much. However, I’m having the uniforms spend more time around the school. We’re watchin' the place pretty good. If he comes back, I figure it’ll be in the next couple of weeks. Not much else we can do.”

          “Yeah, I know, Dave. It’s just frustratin’ to not know who this guy is. In the meantime, I’ll keep Cass and Jerry with me.”

         Dave smiled and jabbed at his old friend, “It’s a tough job, Spam, but I suppose someone’s got to do it.”

          “Just keep me posted if anything turns up. I’ll either be at the office, Jocko’s, or home. You got all the numbers.”

          “Sure, Spam, we’ll get this guy.”

****************

         The rain had stopped, leaving clearing skies and standing water in the low spots along the curb. Spam stepped into the only one on his side of the street as he left his car to enter his apartment. It was Saturday afternoon; Jerry and Cassidy were waiting inside for him. He promised Jerry a trip to the park later in the afternoon. He hoped he wouldn’t have to run. He hated running. Cassidy was sitting in the sofa next to the big chair in the living room when he came in. He hadn’t mentioned anything but she perceived that the big chair was Spam’s alone. Cassidy trekked into the adjoining kitchen when he entered. He greeted her and walked directly to the chair, tossed his trench coat on the back of the chair, and flopped into it. Cassidy handed him a cold beer.

         "That’s a nice touch!” Spam thought as he took a long sip of the beer.

          “Cass, are you sure you don’t have any idea who would want to snatch Jerry?”

          “Spam, I’ve thought about that till my head hurts. No, I don’t have a clue who would do such a thing.”

          “Let me ask you something, Cass? Is there a chance Jerry’s dad would do this?”

          “Why, Spam, I never even gave it a thought. Derrick knew nothing of Jerry. As far as I know, he never cared. I haven’t a clue as to where he would be now. That day he left was the last I ever saw or heard of Derrick.”

          “Cass, the perp was average build, average height, dark haired, and needed a shave.”

          “Spam, that describes Derrick pretty well, but it also describes dozens of men I know, even you.”

          “Yeah, that’s the problem. The guy’s just too average. Tell me about Jerry’s dad, Cass.”

          “Not much to tell, Spam. I was a junior in college at Wake Forest. His name was Derrick Roberts. He was an athlete on the baseball team. They won the national championship that year; it was 1955. I was infatuated with him. I saw a little too much of him and became pregnant with Jerry. Derrick could be abusive; he had a temper. He only struck me once; and, that was the night he left. We argued that night and he backhanded me. I still carry the scar under my chin where his championship ring cut my face. I suppose it’s a reminder to a foolish young girl. That’s all there is, Spam. He left my heart, my life, and our son on that night before Jerry was ever born.”

         He wanted to take her in his arms, hold her, and tell her everything would be OK. Instead he asked, “Where’s Jerry?”

         Cassidy grinned, “It seems as if we have found Wilma’s secret weapon. Jerry’s over at Wilma’s with your baseball cards and a huge dish of chocolate chip cookies. I think she’s spoiling him.”

          “The woman can make a mean cookie, alright,” Spam confirmed with a smile of his own.

          “I need to go get him before he spoils his supper.” Cassidy got up and started for the door.

          “No, I’ll get him, Cass. And if he hasn’t eaten all those cookies, I might get one or two of those also.” Spam was already headed for the door and Wilma’s cookies.

         He knocked on Wilma’s door and was soon greeted by Jerry opening the door.

          “Hi, Spam! Come on in. Wilma’s got a couple of cookies left. I’ve been showing her your baseball cards. She knows some of these guys.”

         He followed Jerry through the parlor to the kitchen where Wilma was waiting with an extra glass of milk and a saucer stacked with cookies.

         Wilma smiled at him and said, “Sit down, Spam, and eat your cookies. Jerry’s got a head start on you.”

          “Can’t wait, Wilma. Just don’t tell Cass. She says cookies ruin our dinner.” Spam gave his landlady a quick hug. “Wilma, you went to Wake Forest; didn’t you?”

          “Oh my, I most certainly did. But more than that, I worked for the chancellor for twelve years before I retired.”

          “You wouldn’t have any of the annuals, would you?”

          “My, my, Spam, it is your lucky day. I have the full twelve years between 1948 and 1960. In fact you passed by them in the parlor. Why do you ask, Spam?”

          “Actually, I’m interested in only one year, 1955. I don’t suppose I could see it, could I.”

          “Oh lands sake! 1955 was a great year. That was the year Wake Forest won the National Championship in baseball. We were all so excited. Now, you stay right there and eat your cookies and I’ll get that annual for you.”

         Wilma left the two boys to work on their cookies. Spam dunked a cookie in his milk and watched Jerry follow suit. Both ate their cookie and sighed. Wilma returned with the annual and handed it to Spam.

          “Now, be careful not to get anything on it. Cassidy has told me how careless you are with food at times.”

         Wilma handed Spam the 1955 Wake Forest annual. He leafed through the annual to the athletics section. A group picture of the entire baseball team, showing young and virile smiling faces, heralded them as National Champs. On the following pages were individual photographs of each team member. He ran his finger down the page to Derrick Wayne Roberts. The youthful face fit the description. He imagined it ten years older and unshaven.

          “Wilma, if I promise to take care of this, would you let me borrow it for a couple of days?”

          “I suppose so, Spam. Just keep it away from those jelly donuts.”

          “I promise, Wilma. And, now, I’m afraid Jerry and I have to get back. Keep those cookies handy, You never know when we will need one.”

         Spam motioned to Jerry and beckoned, “Come on, Jerry, your mom's waiting for us.”

         Spam ushered the boy out the door after the appropriate goodbyes to Wilma. As Jerry headed for Spam’s apartment, Spam walked to his car, placed the annual in the front seat, and locked the car. Only then did he enter his apartment.

***************

         Early the next morning Spam was waiting at Dave’s desk as he arrived.

          “You’re late, Dave,” Spam remarked as the cop entered his office and stared at Spam with his feet up on his desk.

          “It’s Sunday, Spam. I sleep late on Sundays. And get your feet off my desk.”

          “Sure, Dave—hey, I’ve got something I want you to look at.” Spam opened the annual to Derricks photograph. “I think this is the guy that we’re looking for. His name is Derrick Wayne Roberts. He’s Jerry’s dad. Cass and Jerry don’t know he’s in town. I’d like to keep it that way, Dave.”

         Dave studied the photograph. “Sure looks like the guy, Spam. I’ll run a sheet on him and see what we get. I’ll get it working. It shouldn’t take long to find out something. Maybe I can have a cup of coffee and a donut while they’re looking it up.”

         Dave jotted the information down on a blank sheet and dropped it at a clerk’s desk on his way to the coffee pot. Afterward, he and Spam worked on the donuts and visited about a dozen mundane things. After a little while, the clerk opened the door to Dave’s office and dropped off several sheets of paper.

          “Well, Spam, looks like this is our man. He has current warrants out for him for assault and battery, two counts of burglary, and a stolen vehicle. Guess what make the stolen car is?”

          “A wild guess would be a 1960 Corvair.”

          “You got it. We’ve got enough on this guy to send him up without the attempted kidnapping charges.”

         Dave continued to read the sheet. Then he shook his head and smiled, “You’re not going to believe this. He got stopped for a routine traffic ticket yesterday. Can you believe it? He left a home address. Seems as if our boy here is staying at the Starview Motel.”

          “What do you say we pay him a visit, Dave?”

          “Great idea. We’ll take my car and make it official.”

******************

         The Starview Motel had seen better days. The paint was peeling, and the units were in an obvious state of disrepair. It was a good thing it was daylight because only half the lights in the sign were working. They checked with the desk clerk for a master key; then the men gathered at the door of an upstairs unit. Two uniform units had joined them. The uniforms covered the back stairs.

         Dave knocked on the door and stood to the side as he yelled, “Police! Open up!’

         There was no answer. Spam leaned over and tried the master room key supplied by the desk. He unlocked the door and shoved it open. Both men stood to the side of the opening with guns drawn.

          “Police! Get on the floor! Now!”

         There was no movement from the room. Spam could see a body lying on the bed. He moved in as Dave covered him. Still the body on the bed did not move.

         Dave entered, examined the body, and then remarked, “This guy’s stoned out of his head.”

         Spam grabbed his arm and turned it over. The tracks from the injections led up and down the veins of his arm.

          “This guy’s a heavy drug addict, Dave.”

         Dave slapped the man’s face to get his attention. Derrick opened his eyes and tried to focus on the two men. He mumbled, “Hey man! What’s up?”

         Dave informed the junkie, “You’re under arrest, Roberts. You’ve got outstanding warrants on you and you tried to kidnap that kid. Looks like you’re gonna dry out Roberts.”

         Trying to focus, Derrick mumbled, “You can’t do this. I didn’t try to steal that kid. That’s my kid. I’ve been lookin for the kid. I’ve been watchin’ the school. That’s my kid. You can’t do anything to me for stealing my own kid.”

          “You’re wrong, Roberts,” Spam interjected. “You’ve got no right to that kid. He ain’t yours.”

         Dave pulled the junkie to his feet and placed the handcuffs on his wrists. Roberts persisted, “A guy needs to know his kid. I was gonna take him away. As soon as I got straight, we were gonna go to a ball game. Hey! I was once a pretty good ball player. They gave me this ring!” Derrick held up his right hand and showed the large championship ring on his finger. “We were gonna go away—maybe visit all the parks.”

         Spam shook his head and asked, “What about Cass, Roberts? What about the boy’s mom?”

         Derrick shrugged and replied, “Aw, she never liked baseball much. She wasn’t invited. Besides, she’s had her turn with the boy.”

         Spam looked at Dave and remarked, “Dave, you better book this guy before I lose control.”

          “Yeah, well somebody better hold me back.” Dave and the uniforms led the handcuffed man down to the car and back to the police station.

*******************

         It felt good to have Cass back at the office. She smiled at him as he walked through the doors, shedding his trench coat. She got up to get him a fresh cup of coffee, which he gladly accepted.

          “Sit down a minute, Doll. I’ve got something to tell you.” He motioned to the leather chair in front of his desk--the one his clients usually take.

         Cassidy held her smile as she sat in the leather chair. “What it is Spam? What’s wrong?”

          “Nothing’s wrong, Cass. In fact it’s actually good news for a change.” He smiled at her alleviating her concerns. “Cass, Dave has the guy. Nobody will be bothering Jerry again.”

          “Oh, thank God!” Cassidy burst out. Tears welled in her eyes. She had been so worried and now the relief brought her emotions to the surface. “Are you sure, Spam?”

          “No question about it, Cass. He admitted it. The guy was a junkie who thought he wanted a kid. He can’t have yours, Cass. In fact, he’ll never get the chance to bother any kid again. They don’t have kids in prison; and, that’s where he’ll be spending the next twenty-five years.”

          “Spam, thanks for doing all that you have. I mean, taking me and Jerry into your home like you did. That was awfully sweet of you.”

         Spam shrugged; he wasn’t used to being sweet. “I guess you two can go back to your own place now?”

          “Yeah, I suppose we can.”

          “You know, Cass, it was kinda nice having you and Jerry around my place.”

          “Yes, it was, Spam—real nice.”

         There was a pregnant pause in the conversation. Neither person spoke until Spam awkwardly said, “Yeah, it was real nice. Hey, we’ve got a lot of work to do. We better get at it.”

         Cassidy smiled, “Sure, Spam, let’s work.”