Hank and Mickey’s Errand
The HooseCows had beaten the Mankato Man-Pigs 7-1 earlier that evening, so the grim task Hank James and Mickey Danz had less heartbreak to it. Most of the other team members were going to enjoy Mankato’s adult entertainment, and that included every person on the short list of potential murderers Taylor Nickles had asked Hank to keep an eye on. They were no further along in that investigation then they had been when Hank and Taylor had met back in the clubhouse. Hank managed disguise how cold and clammy his encounter with the ghostly children had left him, and neither of them had found out who had been in the parking lot, stalking the teenaged girls.
It was possible part of Hank’s good mood stemmed from not having to face Alan Carpenter at all that night, and that was part of the reason why he and Mickey were out on this fool’s errand. Rumors about Alan Carpenter were spreading through the league. In just over two weeks of play, no one had even hit a foul against the relief pitcher. No one had even touched the ball with a bat, or reported seeing the ball at all.
Players were talking to each other in bars after games, and even Alan Carpenter’s teammates thought he was creepy. Nathan Johnson, a 21-year-old still enjoying the newness of legal drinking, had shared a pitcher or two with HooseCow Rick Newton the last time they were in town. Johnson had confirmed what everyone else was saying – Carpenter was unhittable. He also said Carpenter always closed his eyes for pictures and only signed autographs if he had to. Said the guy was creepy, and never spent any time with the rest of the team.
“You know he’s not connected to the kids, right?” Mickey told Hank, for at least the sixth time. Hank had finally started talking to Mickey about the ghostly kids that he, too, had seen. His confession to the erratic HooseCow pitcher came with a promise: tell anyone, especially Taylor Nickles, about these conversations would lead to the Hank causing Mickey Danz severe bodily harm.
“I know. But it just seems like there’s something here. Something not right.”
“I could’ve told you that,” Mickey laughed, “and I’ve never stepped into the batter’s box with the man.”
“Nathan Johnson told Ricky some of the guys followed Carpenter after he left the clubhouse, and that he drove his beat-up old Cutlass Sierra to Sibley Park. They didn’t follow him any further than that,” Hank said.
“Because they wimped out,” Mickey said. He leaned up in the passengers seat and turned down the volume on the radio. “Hank, you don’t just think he found some new way to cheat the game, do you?”
“I think there’s something wrong with him,” Hank said. “Something really wrong.”
They were driving to the east side of the park, away from the baseball diamonds. There was an old bat rattling around in the back of the car Hank had borrowed from Nathan Johnson. Hank had brought it with him, because he felt like they needed to take a weapon of some sort with them. He wasn’t sure he would be able to take it with him as they tromped around the woods. If they found Alan Carpenter, they weren’t planning on beating him to death. They just wanted to see what was going on with him.
“Can you keep quiet and together out there?” Hank asked Mickey. He remembered all of the confused looks he had seen on the other player’s faces when they saw he was spending time with crazy Mickey Danz. He parked the car by the side of the road.
“Yeah,” Mickey said. Then, he took a flashlight out of Hank’s hand and tossed it in the backseat. “We need to just leave that. Otherwise, he’ll see us coming a mile away.”
Hank nodded, and neither man suggested bringing the baseball bat. They got out of their car and saw the rusty Sierra they knew belonged to the Mankato team’s best relief pitcher. The two walked a little under half a mile out of their way to walk by the parked car. As they walked by, Hank noticed a pillow and blanket in the backseat, amidst a sea of fast food wrappers. He knew Carpenter wasn’t spending any time with the rest of the team, so he must be sleeping here, by the side of the road.
The world shrunk, and grew silent, as soon as they stepped into the trees. The itch weed was tall, and Hank was glad he had worn jeans. There were still some bugs out, and the air was still heavy and warm, but it was falling into a deeper, cooler portion of the night. Thick with life, the trees blocked their view of the road before they were too deep into the woods. Mickey was silent, and Hank got the feeling he wouldn’t even dream of talking. Hank wasn’t going to disturb the solemn silence.
Hank realized, before they were too far into their trip, that he had no idea of how to track down Alan Carpenter in the park. He needn’t have worried. When Hank started in a direction that would have been going the wrong way, Mickey simply tugged on his shirt and pointed in a different direction. This happened three or four times, and it wasn’t long before they were at the end of a small, dark hallow. Hank couldn’t see much in the darkness, but he could hear the sounds of something big moving around. Mickey motioned for Hank to sit, and Hank did so. He wondered how the pitcher had found his way through the woods so quickly. Could he hear something, or was Mickey Danz so far gone he could actually smell the other man like he was an animal?
Hank crouched, using his hands to steady himself, and felt some smooth, thin fabric under his hands. He lifted it up and saw it was a hair ribbon of some sort, probably lost by a young girl wandering through the woods when they were brighter. He brushed a few more sticks and pebbles out of his way, careful not to make any noise, and he settled in. The earth felt strong and dry under his hands.
They heard the sound of a man’s heavy breathing next. Hank and Mickey looked to each other, but neither said anything. Hank could not read Mickey’s facial expression. They heard the man in the hollow toss something into the thick brush on the other side of the hollow. The object landed, then rolled through leaves and rattle twigs.
“Answer me!” Alan Carpenter yelled, unaware he was being watched.
After that, nothing happened. In the darkness, Hank wanted to stand and confront the pitcher. He felt reasonably certain he could shake some sort of truth out of Alan Carpenter, even though he was a little frightened by his eagerness to confront the man. Mickey seemed calm, although Hank couldn’t see his face to know for certain if he was. In the dark, unmoving, Hank tried not to swat at all of the bugs that were finding him again. Even his own breath seemed too loud to his ears.
Finally, the reliever let out a sigh and stood. Hank nearly jumped and stood to fight when he thought the man was walking straight toward them. The man instead climbed up the side of the hollow and walked back to his car, and Hank turned from the direction of this movement to see Mickey was watching him in the darkness. The men waited until the footsteps faded into the night.
Without a word, Mickey moved into the hollow and Hank followed. They remained silent, and they walked very carefully. Hank wished they had the flashlight, but before he could say anything, Mickey whispered into his ear.
“I think I heard where it went,” he said. Mickey went into the brush and fished around, making a little more noise than Hank was comfortable with. Then, the noise stopped and Mickey walked back to him in the dark.
“Let’s get back to the light,” Mickey said. He led Hank out of the woods a different way than they came in, and when he was done he explained it was because they would come out away from where Carpenter was undoubtedly sleeping in his parked car. When they had stepped out of the woods into the streetlights, Hank felt relief. Mickey handed him the object he had retrieved from the hollow.
In his hands, Hank held another baseball. For a second, his heart skipped a beat as he remembered the baseball the ghost-child had given him on a previous night, but then he noticed there was writing on the ball. He held the ball up in the light, and he was able to make out the words. Carpenter had written “Please Let me take it back!” on the ball.
“Kinda makes you wonder who he was expecting to answer,” Mickey said.
