Late Friday afternoon we had a new bus. It was great. All the windows could be pushed outward and were large enough for an adult to crawl through. There was a working washroom in the back. The seats were plush. The new driver wore a uniform and the logo of a nationally identifiable company.
Three of the people who had been on the bus were still in the hospital. Another twelve of the guys had broken bones and other less serious injuries but were returning with us.
Before we left, all the members of the team had been interviewed by the cops. Everyone claimed they knew nothing.
Knecht rode on the bus with us. His limousine would follow behind. Campbell had once again saved me a place, but Knecht waved me over from his seat immediately behind the driver. Trader Smith sat across the aisle from us and leaned over so he could take part in the conversation.
Knecht said, “Are you okay?”
“Pretty much,” I said. “Did the police tell you anything?”
“They confirmed again that it was sabotage. What the hell am I going to do?”
Smith said, “You could shut down the team.”
“I won’t. I just won’t.”
Smith said, “People are starting to die. People are hurt.”
Knecht said, “I’m not going to let my enemies win.”
I asked, “If anyone is even still willing to play for your team, how many people are you willing to sacrifice against your enemies?”
“I haven’t sacrificed anybody.”
“But it could begin to look like that or perhaps look like you care more about cash than people.”
This gave Knecht pause for several seconds then he asked, “People would say that?”
I nodded. “All of us could have died. If the brakes had failed while we were on the bridge going over the Mississippi, it could have been catastrophic. Whoever’s behind all this did an awful lot of elaborate planning.”
Smith said, “Sometimes you have to back off a little bit so you can organize your own campaign against the bullies.”
“No,” Knecht said. “I won’t. This can’t happen in America.”
“It can and has. Far worse.”
Smith said, “This is what terror feels like.”
Knecht said, “I won’t be stopped. I’m hiring twenty-four-hour-a-day guards. There will always be someone watching the bus. There will be a platoon of security guards at the stadium. None of these teenagers. Real guards. I’ve already called several places. They’ll be in place before the first game next week. We’ve got to know who is doing this.”
“Will you have guards at all the stadiums around the league,” Smith asked, “and at all the motels?”
“That’s impossible,” Knecht said.
“Will other teams even want to come to Butterfield to play?” Smith asked. “Have you heard from them?”
“I talked to the people in Bismarck, of course, because the games there are cancelled. None of the other teams have called. You’d think they’d want to rally around not run in fear.” He pointed at me. “I want you to investigate this new horror as well as everything else that has gone on.”
I said, “I’m going to find out who did this. I’ve still got people to talk to in town.”
Knecht said, “I knew most of them growing up. They wouldn’t go this far.”
“Then it’s somebody on the team,” I said, “or at least connected to the team.”
Knecht said, “If they’re on the team, they could have died. Does a killer have that kind of nerve?”
“Some do,” I said. “This one might.”
“Do something,” Knecht said. “I’m paying you. This has got to stop. You have to find out who’s doing this. Do something!” Knecht was on his way from a rant to hysteria.
“He almost killed me,” I said. “Motivation is not the problem.”
That stopped Knecht’s rant.
I asked, “Did the Minnesota State Police talk to Rotella back in Butterfield?”
“Yes. They said it didn’t accomplish anything.”
We talked for a while but no one had any insight that might lead to a killer.
I told them I’d talk to each of the players as well. I said, “My role as private eye is now going to be in the open.”
Knecht said, “Just do something! This has to stop!”
When we were done talking, Knecht stood up, faced the group, and using the driver’s intercom said, “I want to thank all of you for sticking with this, but if anybody wants to leave, I’ll pay full transportation back to your hometowns or anywhere else you want to go. I don’t blame anybody for being unwilling to play. I want to assure you, we’re taking every precaution.”
No one asked to go home.
Knecht said, “I also want to officially announce that we have a private investigator with us. Many of you know Mike King. I hired him before this to work undercover. Now it has to be out in the open. Please cooperate with him in any way you can.”
A voice called from the back, “We already talked to the cops.”
Knecht snapped, “And you’ll talk to him, or you’ll be cut.”
I’d rather not be talking to people who are under a threat because of me. I stood up, “If I’m going to find who tried to kill us all, I’ll need your help. I’m not saying somebody held back information from the cops. Lots of times we remember things later. I’m going to be asking if you remember anything out of place at all this entire season, not just the past few days. I’d like to try and establish a pattern to all that’s gone on. I’ll intrude as little as possible.”
Dowley said, “I think you should intrude as much as you like. Somebody tried to kill us.” Heads nodded.
I went back to sit with Donny. As soon as I sat down, Brandon Saldovi put his head over our seat. He asked, “Are you a real private investigator?”
As opposed to a fake one? I let the sarcasm go and just said, “Yeah.”
“Cool. Like on television?”
Campbell said, “No, like real life.”
“What’s going to happen to us?” Saldovi asked.
I said, “I’m going to figure out who tried to kill us.”
“Can I help?”
“Do you remember anybody hanging around the bus?”
“The cops asked that. Nah. I got on the bus, and I fell asleep before we were even moving. Do you have a gun?”
“Yeah.”
“So, what does a private investigator do?”
“I talk to people. I ask questions.”
“That’s it?”
“What did you want me to do?”
“Well, I don’t know. Shoot people? Or at least hit them?” He looked genuinely puzzled. “I’m not sure.” He crossed his arms on the seat edge and leaned forward so his head was almost on his arms. He spoke so that only Campbell and I could hear him. “Are you guys boyfriends?”
“What?” Campbell asked.
“I saw the maid go past your room as we were walking to the bus. Only one of the beds was mussed up.”
“How did you know it was our room?” Campbell asked.
Saldovi said, “We all went to our rooms about the same time. Hey, don’t worry, I’m not going to tell anyone. I’ve got a sister who’s a lesbian. Everybody knows somebody who’s gay these days.”
Saldovi turned to me and said, “And you were an athlete in college, and you’re gay?”
I just looked at him.
Saldovi blushed slightly and said, “Who’s trying to kill us?”
Excellent question.