Mixed Signals Part 5

The player stripped off his helmet, then shook his head. "Not really. He just pa.s.sed out."

She questioned a few more players, but they all seemed genuinely confused and concerned about what had happened. If any of them had done something to Randy, they were doing a good job of hiding it. At one point Nancy noticed Coach Mitch.e.l.l watching her. He nodded his recognition, then turned his attention back to Randy.

As Nancy wandered toward the stands, past the players' bench, the water bottles caught her eye. They were scattered along the bench and in the gra.s.s below. Randy had been drinking from one throughout the practice, Nancy remembered.

She went over and picked up one of the bottles. The name Gonzales was printed on the plastic. One at a time she checked the bottles until she found the one labeled Simpson. An ambulance was just pulling onto the field, and Nancy ran toward it, Randy's bottle in her hand. She approached the driver and handed her Randy's water bottle.

"You may want to take this to the hospital and have it checked out." Nancy nodded toward Randy, who was being lifted onto a stretcher by two attendants. "He was drinking from this all afternoon."

"I'll take it to the lab," the uniformed woman a.s.sured Nancy, taking the bottle. A moment later Randy was inside the ambulance and the vehicle was pulling away, its emergency lights flas.h.i.+ng.

Nancy turned as Bess appeared at her side, asking, "Is Randy okay?"

"I don't know," Nancy replied truthfully. "We'll have to call the hospital later. But in the meantime-" She paused, seeing a husky figure trudging onto the field. "Oh, good. There's Dean Jarvis."

Nancy hurried over to him. "I saw the ambulance from my office and came right over," the dean of students told her. "Is it true that Randy Simpson pa.s.sed out?"

"I'm afraid so," Nancy answered. "And I suspect that it wasn't an accident. I've been investigating anonymous threats that Randy's been receiving. Now it seems as if someone's making good on those threats."

The dean nodded brusquely. "I heard that you were working on this."

Nancy quickly told him about Randy's water bottle and how the ambulance attendant had promised to have the liquid a.n.a.lyzed. "In the meantime I'd like to search for evidence of foul play. Is there any way we can search the locker room?"

"Of course," the dean agreed. "Just let me check with Coach Mitch.e.l.l."

He returned a few moments later, motioning for the girls to accompany him. Coach Mitch.e.l.l caught up with them just as they were entering the men's locker room. "Let me find the locker-room attendant. He might know something," he said, slightly breathless from running.

A few minutes later the attendant came rus.h.i.+ng in. Nancy could tell that he was fl.u.s.tered as he pointed out Randy's locker and, after checking a master list for the lock combination, opened it for the dean.

As Nancy watched carefully, Dean Jarvis sorted through the contents of Randy's locker: his clothes, towels, powder, a comb and brush, and a sports magazine. Nothing unusual.

Not that that was surprising. After all, Randy himself wasn't the one under suspicion, as far as Nancy was concerned.

"Wait a minute," she said as the attendant was turning to leave. "I know this may sound like a weird request, but could we check the lockers of all all the players?" she asked Dean Jarvis. the players?" she asked Dean Jarvis.

Coach Mitch.e.l.l's face turned bright red, and he sputtered, "If you're trying to say that any of my players would-"

"It's very unlikely, I know," Nancy put in quickly. "But don't you think we ought to be absolutely certain?"

"She has a point," Dean Jarvis told the coach. Before Coach Mitch.e.l.l could object again, the dean waved over the locker-room attendant and instructed him to open the other players' lockers.

Twenty lockers later, Nancy hadn't turned up anything more suspicious than a bunch of sports equipment and smelly towels. She heard Coach Mitch.e.l.l mutter something under his breath about wasting time, but she held her tongue.

Nancy was disappointed. She knew there had to be some shred of evidence that would lead her to the person trying to hurt Randy, but it kept eluding her. For now, she had many questions-and no real answers.

"Not bad for cafeteria food!" Bess said as she popped a spoonful of spumoni into her mouth.

It was Italian night in the dining room. Bess had moved on to dessert, but Nancy and Ned were still finis.h.i.+ng up their plates of baked lasagna.

"I wonder what happened to Jerry?" said Bess, turning her head to search the huge room.

Ned checked his watch. "He was supposed to meet us here half an hour ago." Ned checked his watch again, then scanned the crowded dining hall. "There he is now!" He stood up and waved Jerry over to the table. "You're late, buddy."

"I know." Jerry gave Bess an apologetic glance as he pulled out a chair. "Sorry. I just came from the gym. A bunch of the guys on the team were waiting to hear about Randy."

From the dark expression on Jerry's handsome face, Nancy could tell that the news wasn't good. She herself had called the hospital right after the accident but had been told he was still being revived. "Is he okay?"

"He was released from the hospital, if that's what you mean," Jerry answered, still frowning.

"Thank goodness!" exclaimed Bess. "After seeing him fall flat, I didn't know what to think."

If the news was good, Nancy thought, then why was Jerry acting upset? "Will he be playing in Sunday's game?" she asked him.

"It looks that way, but the rest of the team is pretty shaken up." Jerry paused, pus.h.i.+ng a lock of brown hair off his forehead. "The hospital's lab tests revealed that Randy's water bottle was laced with sleeping pills."

"Drugs!" Bess gasped. "That's horrible."

Nancy nodded. She'd suspected as much when she turned in Randy's water bottle.

"The doctors said he'll be able to play on Sunday," Jerry continued, "but the team's all torn apart. Some of the guys think Randy is crumbling under the stress and that he took the pills to quiet his nerves. Others are saying that he was poisoned." Jerry let out a low whistle. "Can you imagine that?"

Nancy could, but before she could respond, she saw Coach Mitch.e.l.l pa.s.sing by with a tray of food in his hands.

"Coach," she called. When she caught his eye, he paused beside their table. "We just heard about Randy. You must be relieved that he's okay."

The coach shook his head. "I understand about stress, but there's no excuse for using drugs," he said with disgust. "The Wildcats will never make it with a quarterback who's cracking up."

Cracking up? Nancy frowned. It wasn't fair for the coach to a.s.sume that Randy had knowingly taken the drugs. Didn't the coach have any faith in him?

"As far as I'm concerned," Coach Mitch.e.l.l added, "Randy Simpson's football career is in serious trouble."

Chapter Nine.

"HOW CAN YOU be sure that Randy willingly took those sleeping pills?" Nancy asked the coach. "Has anyone spoken to him about it?"

"The doctors questioned him." Coach Mitch.e.l.l frowned and rested his dinner tray on their table. "He denied it, of course. I suppose he's pretty embarra.s.sed about pa.s.sing out during practice."

"But if Randy wanted to take pills to ease his nerves, wouldn't he have taken the proper dosage?" Nancy asked, tuning out the noise of the busy room. "And why would he have dissolved the pills in his water bottle?"

"I don't know the answer to that, but if it were up to me, he'd be suspended from the team," the coach said. "But Dean Jarvis has decided that he deserves another chance." He lifted his tray and stepped back. "Now if you'll excuse me, I'm meeting my son for dinner."

As the coach disappeared into the crowd, Bess took another spoonful of her spumoni and said, "Coach Mitch.e.l.l's being awfully hard on Randy."

Nancy nodded her agreement. "It's as if he doesn't want Randy to play on Sunday."

"Well, he is a college coach," Ned pointed out. "He can hardly condone a player using drugs."

"And to be fair," Jerry added, "Coach Mitch.e.l.l is tough on all of us, even his son. The guy's a slavedriver, but that's his job-to whip us into shape."

Ned and Jerry had a point, Nancy realized. "Maybe the coach is just doing his job, but one thing about this case is becoming very clear. Someone really is trying to play 'kill the quarterback.'"

Confusion showed in Jerry's green eyes. "What do you mean, Nancy? I didn't know you were working on a case."

An awkward silence fell as Nancy stared first at Bess and then at Ned. "Nancy didn't want to say anything about it before-" Ned began to explain.

"I promised Randy that I'd keep things under wraps," Nancy added quickly. "But now that I'm officially working on the case, we could use your help. Someone has been threatening Randy. He's been told to throw Sunday's game-or else."

"You are kidding, right?" Jerry's mouth dropped open in astonishment as Nancy told him about the phone calls, the note, and the suspicious incidents. "Do the other football players know about this?" he asked.

"Not to my knowledge. That's why I need your help. I've been checking out possible suspects, but I haven't gotten an inside line on any of the Wildcats. Have you noticed anything strange going on among your teammates?"

Jerry hesitated for a moment, and Nancy could tell it troubled him to think of his teammates as possible suspects. "Not really," he answered at last. "I don't know anyone who openly has a gripe against him. Simpson's never going to make it to the pros, but he gives it his best shot. The guys admire him for that."

"I can't help thinking that I missed something in the locker room," Nancy murmured, twisting a strand of her reddish blond hair around a finger. "I was with the coach and Dean Jarvis when they searched the lockers, but there must be some sort of equipment closet or something."

"There sure is," said Jerry.

Nancy stood up abruptly. "Well, I'd better check on it. Anyone care to come along?"

"Count me out," Jerry said apologetically. "I have to get in some study time. But I'll see you all at our party."

"Party?" Bess sat up straighter in her chair. "Did I miss something?"

Grinning at Bess, Jerry said, "Not yet, but if you don't come I'll never forgive you. Our fraternity is throwing a bash tonight."

"Great," Bess told him, blus.h.i.+ng. "We'll be there."

"In the meantime maybe I should go with you two to the locker room," Ned volunteered. "I don't want any of the guys on the team to freak out if they see you there."

Ten minutes later they were back in the sports complex. With Ned and Bess keeping watch at the locker room door, Nancy combed through the closet where the team equipment was stored. One by one, she examined the water bottles stacked on a tray. Although they were a little smudged and worn with use, nothing seemed amiss.

Next, Nancy sifted through the contents of the first-aid case. It was filled with ointments and bandages, but she noted that the only drug it contained was aspirin. Otherwise, the closet held only extra equipment, towels, stopwatches, and the like. No typewriter and no sleeping pills.

When she was finished, Nancy leaned against a row of lockers. "Hey, you guys," she called to Ned and Bess. "I need to talk through this case out loud." Sometimes simply bouncing ideas off other people helped her to unearth important clues.

Ned and Bess came into the locker room and sat on a bench opposite Nancy. "If all these events are related-and that's still an if if," she began, "then someone had to be close enough to drop drugs in Randy's water bottle, pour kerosene on the wooden platform, and rig that barbell in the weight room."

"So the culprit is probably someone who can move about freely on campus," Bess surmised.

"Right," said Nancy. "Someone like Danielle Graves. Or Tamara Carlson. Both girls had access to the platform and to the weight room."

"But what about the drugs?" Bess pointed out. "Do you think any of those girls could talk her way into the guys' locker room?"

"That would be tough," Ned said.

"Maybe they didn't have to," Nancy suggested. "They were on the field this afternoon, at cheerleading practice. Susannah was there, too. If Tamara or Susannah is working with Zip, that gives them motive and and opportunity. opportunity.

"There are two team members we should keep in mind, too," Nancy added. "Josh and his father."

"Coach?" Ned's expression was extremely skeptical. "I don't know about that, Nan."

"He and Josh have a reason to want Randy off the roster," Nancy pointed out. She told Ned and Bess about the conversation she'd overheard between Coach Mitch.e.l.l and Dean Jarvis. "If Randy's out of the running, the coach has a shot at getting his son in as quarterback in Sunday's game."

"But he and Josh are one of the most sought-after athletic combos in college football," Ned protested.

Bess turned to Ned and asked, "Where were they before they came to Emerson?"

"Last year they were at Baldwin State," he answered. "Their team made it to the state finals. And Jerry says the Wildcats have a good chance of making it to the finals this year. At least, they did before Josh was put on probation."

Bess had been counting on her fingers as Nancy spoke. Now holding up her hand, she said, "Nan, that makes six suspects!"

"And we have very little time to figure out who is guilty," Nancy added soberly. "The homecoming game is the day after tomorrow."

Just then Josh Mitch.e.l.l jogged in and grabbed a towel from his locker. Covered in sweat and breathing hard, he had obviously been working out. He said h.e.l.lo to Ned, then froze as his gaze lit on Nancy and Bess.

"Girls!" Josh made a point of looking around. "Hey, did I walk into the wrong locker room?" he teased.

"We were, uh, just on our way out," Nancy said cautiously. She didn't want them to draw attention to her investigation.

"Nancy Drew and Bess, right?" Josh said, smiling. "Don't leave because of me. I'm going right back to the weight room. I just came in to grab a towel." Looking at Nancy, he added, "Dad told me about your investigation. He said-"

Josh was interrupted by a loud rumbling from the wall near the shower room. For a moment the entire room seemed to shake. Then, just as suddenly, the rumbling subsided.

"What was that?" Bess inquired.

"Believe it or not, that was the boiler kicking on," Josh explained, wiping his forehead with his towel. "My father has been trying to get that thing fixed for months. They say it's safe, but it sounds awful."

Bess giggled nervously. "I thought we were having an earthquake."

Josh slung the towel around his neck and faced Nancy. "As I was saying, Dad told me about Randy's close call in the weight room. We're all upset about him pa.s.sing out this afternoon, too. I just wanted to let you know that I'll help you in any way I can. If you need a hand, just yell."

"Thanks for the offer," Nancy told him. "At the moment there's only one question I'd like you to answer. Did anyone ever threaten you before you went on academic probation?"

"Nope." Josh shook his head. "Never."

Hmm, thought Nancy. Apparently, the attacker was only interested in having Emerson lose the homecoming game. And whoever it was was willing to take drastic steps to make sure the Wildcats didn't win.

Nancy checked her watch. "Oops! We'd better get back to our room and change, Bess. It's already seven-thirty."

"And our party starts at eight," said Ned. "I'd better go, too."