by Jim Riley
“Some boys were talking about which girl in school had the biggest tit—mammary glands and which one had the best—butt. They took a vote and talked Billy into voting. Looking back on it, it wasn’t the best idea he ever had, but he voted. So did I.”
“Who did he vote for?”
Jimbo gave her a look of disdain. “Come on now. It wasn’t like he was the only one who voted. The winners got almost all the votes.”
“Who were these ‘winners’, as you so succinctly put it? Was Flavia Foster one?”
Wax winced at the name. “Flavia won the best chest and LaDonne won the best behind. It really wasn’t close in either case.”
“Did those two girls know about the vote? Did they know they were on the ballot for those categories?”
Jimbo held up his hand. “Hold on. You’re making this sound like sexual harassment or something. It wasn’t anything like that. We were only having a little fun, that’s all.”
“At the expense of the girls. I bet they failed to find the fun in your little game.”
“They didn’t know, at least not before we did it. They didn’t find out until later.”
Niki shook her head. “How much later?”
Jimbo’s exuberance faded. “The same day. That was last Wednesday.”
“What was their reaction?” Niki asked.
“How the hell would I know?” This interview was not going the way he had anticipated.
“It wasn’t that long ago that I stood on the very sidelines you now stand on. If you are like every other high school football coach in America, you have a group of players close to you and you’re close to them. They would have told you whatever the reaction was from those two girls.”
“I guess the best description is they were upset. They didn’t take it well.”
“Surprise. Surprise. Surprise.” Sarcasm dripped off Niki’s tongue. “Did anyone, including you coaches, ever think of going to them and apologizing?”
“Why?” Jimbo was amazed anyone would suggest such a preposterous idea. “They’re just—”
“Girls. Is that the word you’re trying to say? Geez. I don’t know why any big macho football player or his coach would think a mere girl is another human being with feelings?”
Jimbo rolled his eyes. “There you go again. You’re twisting my words again. We have nothing but respect for those young ladies.”
“Sounds to me like y’all respect parts of their anatomy more than you do them.”
“Can we move on to important stuff? This is getting old.”
Niki laid down her pen. “It’s obvious to me, Coach Wax, that you did not consider the impact of your actions on these two girls as worthy of your consideration, but maybe you might consider any possible consequences.”
Something clicked within the assistant coach’s mind. He leaned forward. “Are you saying these girls made all this up to get back at Billy? Oh, my God. They wouldn’t ruin a man’s life over a little fun, would they?”
“I don’t know,” Niki answered. “What you consider a little fun probably made them a target of a lot of unkind comments from other students.”
“What? They won. They should have been proud.” Jimbo said.
Niki closed her eyes for almost a minute before answering. “You don’t get it. But let’s consider your view of life. How many girls were on this ballot?”
“There was no ballot. The guys just nominated the girls they like, you know, the ones who qualified in each category.”
“So how do you think all the other girls, the losers if you will, how did they feel when they found out? Do you think they were elated?”
Jimbo leaned back. “Hadn’t really thought about it much. They weren’t supposed to know we did it. I reckon if they found out, then they musta not been real happy.”
“You think?” More sarcasm from the private investigator.
He ignored her comment. “Either way, if it was the winners or the losers, then they made up the things they are saying about Billy. He can tell the cops they’re lying.”
“It will take a lot more than a denial to get Coach Bailey off the hook. He has to overcome some incriminating evidence.”
“Like what?” Wax asked.
“I can’t you that. But I need some answers that may be of help.”
“Shoot. Anything for Billy.”
“How close were you to him after the win Friday night?”
“During the celebration?”
“Yes.”
“I was standing right next to him when the horn went off. He was the first one I congratulated. After that, we kind of drifted apart. Why?”
“Because I need to know who got close to Billy and who didn’t.”
Jimbo did not look confident. “I wish I could tell you, but I can’t. There were three or four guys taking pictures. Maybe you can get a copy of those. I know a lot of the pictures they took were focused on the coach. Plus, everybody has a cell phone these days. Gotta be a bunch of pictures on them.”
“Thanks. I thought about the photographers, but I hadn’t considered the cell phones. Those may turn up something.”
“I’m glad to finally say something that might help. I’ve got a feeling I haven’t done Billy any good so far.”
“That helps. I don’t have any idea how I will get them, but those pictures might come in handy for our side.”
“Or the other side,” Jimbo imposed. “What if they show Billy in a bad situation?”
“I don’t believe so. Sara Sue would not stay married to a man with low morals.”
Jimbo brightened at the mention of the name of Billy’s wife. “Hah. She would win both contests. That boy done himself proud, that’s for sure.”
“I’ll be sure to pass that onto her while she is trying to defend her husband of allegations of egregious acts. I’m sure she’ll be elated to know you would’ve voted for her.”
“Come on, can you get past that? Let’s figure out how to help Billy.”
“You’re the one that brought it up. Did Billy cut himself after the game, by chance?”
Jimbo looked for answers on the ceiling. “Not that I can recall. It wouldn’t have been impossible with everybody jumping on each other, and the players were still wearing their gear.”
“What about enemies? Who would like to see Billy in difficulty?”
“How much ink you got in that pen?”
Now it was Niki’s turn to be confused.
“I thought he is well–liked. He’s been successful in turning the football team around. That used to be all that matters.”
“You don’t know some of the players or their parents. Some guys think they’re a lot better than they really are. Their dads figure a donation to the Wildcat Athletics Fund should guarantee little Johnny a starting position. That’s the way it was before Billy got here and started playing the best athletes.”
“Any of them stand out in your mind?”
“Maybe the Kings. Steve King is the backup quarterback. He started last year as a junior, but a sophomore replaced him this year. Carl King is his dad. He played for Central back in the day.”
“Is he a contributor to the fund?”
Jimbo nodded. “One of the biggest. More than fifty thousand last year. Now he’s threatening to sue to get his money back.”
“Has Billy talked with Carl?” Niki asked.
Wax chortled. “More like Carl talked to him. Told Billy he didn’t know how things really work around here, that he would see to it that Coach wouldn’t make the end of the season.”
Niki put a star by King’s name. “That moves him to the top of the list.”
“There are a couple more,” Jimbo cautioned.
“All right, tell me.”.
“L. J. Wild. I’m not sure what the L or the J stand for. His boy got cut from the team. He’s a good kid, but he couldn’t tackle a rag doll.
Niki jotted Wild’s name on her pad.
“Any friction between him and the coach?”
He paused. “Only if you consider getting knocked on your ass as friction. I guess his ass got a bunch of friction when it hit the ground.”
“Wild or Billy?”
“Come on. Billy is an athlete. Wild is a sissy boy. Fights like a girl,” he paused. “Didn’t mean that. He fights like a sissy. Write that down instead. Anyway, he came to practice one day and mouthed off. Before you know it, he took a swing at the coach. Not his best decision of the day. Coach pummeled him. Hit him so hard, he dang near broke his own hand. I bet L.J. is still feeling that one.”
“The players see the altercation?”
“Hah. The whole world saw it. And the ones that weren’t there saw it on Huddle later.”
“Huddle?”
“That’s an outfit we pay to film our practices and games. Good outfit. Crystal clear picture. No more of that grainy crap where we can’t see which player is which.”
“Are you sure they filmed the fight?”
“Yep. Me and Billy watched it after practice. Then we told them to edit it out before they posted the practice on the net.”
“So they post all the games and the practice films on the same site?”
“Yep. They edit out the down time. You know, time out, huddling, halftime, etc. That way the players and us coaches only watch the plays. That’s what is important to us.”
Niki grinned, her interest expanded. “How would I get access to the footage?”
“Sign on with them. It’s thirty dollars a month or you use somebody else’s logon ID. Everybody does it.”
“Okay, anybody else?”
“You mean parents?” Wax asked.
“For now.”
“Paul Nicklaus. His boy, Jimmy, got hurt in practices. He blamed the coaches.”
“Why?”
“We run a drill we call ‘wildcat’. One player gets in the middle of a circle of players. Any other players that we point to tries to tackle the guy in the middle.”
“And Jimmy got hurt when another player blindsided him? Correct?” Niki asked.
“Yeah. Our all-state linebacker laid a good one on him. Broke two ribs. One of them almost punctured a lung. Out for the year.”
“How does this wildcat drill prepare the team for a game? I’m confused.”
“It prepares them for life. The kids will get hit from a lot of unexpected directions during their lifetime. They need to know how to bounce back,” Wax explained.
“Unless they get two broken ribs. Hard to bounce up from that, isn’t it?”
Wax shrugged. “He’ll be okay. It’s hard for a girl to understand.”
“Evidently, it was hard for Jimmy’s dad to understand. Did you call him a girl, too?”
Wax shook his head. “He is the kind of guy to get revenge this way, though. He’s too much of a wimp to confront Billy directly. This is more his style.”
“Anyone else?”
“I probably shouldn’t say this, but there is one coach who feels like he got the short end of the stick from Billy.”
Niki said nothing, just waited.
“Ricky Delrie, our freshman coach. He believes that he’s done well enough with the young guys to get promoted to coaching the varsity. Billy is new here and doesn’t know Ricky that well. He told Ricky that he would have to wait and see how he did this year.”
“That didn’t go over well with Coach Ricky?”
Wax laughed. “Like the proverbial turd in the punch bowl. He thinks he’s going to be the next Nick Saban or Urban Meyer.”
“Would he try to ruin Billy’s career?”
Wax sighed. “In my humble opinion, Ricky wouldn’t piss on Coach Bailey if Coach was on fire. He would probably take pictures for his scrapbook instead.”
“I’ll mark him down as a ‘maybe’. Anyone else?”
“I’m sure there is, but I don’t know of anyone right offhand.”
“This list will keep me busy for a while. By the way, who will coach the team this Friday?”
Jimbo hesitated. “I guess I will. I’m the assistant head coach.”
“And first in line for promotion if Coach Bailey doesn’t come back.”
Wax stuttered. Niki left the office before he formulated a reply.
9
Central High School
The investigator stepped out of the dim reception area of the athletic building into the bright sunlight. She took three steps before a young man approached.
“Are you trying to get that sick coach off? Is that what you’re doing here?”
The young man appeared to be one of the students. The calculus booked under his arm confirmed Niki’s suspicions.
“I am investigating the case, but I’m afraid I can’t discuss it,” she replied.
“You’re going to discuss it. You aren’t going to like the conversation much, but you’re going to talk.”
The kid dropped his book, and took off his jacket.
“Son, you don’t want to do this. You have no idea what you’re about to do.”
“I ain’t your son. I’m going to kick your ass so hard, you won’t be able to take a crap for week. You ain’t coming back here again.”
Niki smiled.
“And just who am I going to get this whipping from?”
“My name is Steve King. If you like, I’ll brand it on your ass after I get through kicking it.”
“Let’s see.” Niki recalled the conversation with the Wax. “You’re the young man that is no longer the starting quarterback. Is that correct?”
“I’ll be the starter now that insane idiot is gone. Everybody knows I should be starting.”
“Everybody except Coach Bailey,” Niki reminded him.
“Like I said, he’s an idiot. But that won’t matter unless you stick your nose into it.”
“Steve, trust me. I’m looking for the truth. Nothing more. Nothing less. I plan to continue to look until I find it.”
“You’re done looking.”
The football player charged, swinging wildly with both aarms. The detective easily deflected the attempts. When the young athlete swung a roundhouse right, she took a quick step back. An elbow to the back of the quarterback’s shoulder, as the blow sailed past her head, aided his momentum. He fell face first in the gravel lane leading to the office.
“I don’t want any trouble, Steve. Quit this nonsense before you get hurt.”
Steve King raked pebbles from his face, which was now crimson red.
“You got lucky. It won’t happen again.”
The youngster jumped to his feet and charged at the investigator. Like a linebacker avoiding a blocker, Niki deftly sidestepped the clumsy attack, and tripped Steve on his way by. He again ended up with his face in the gravel.
The student scrambled to his feet. Doubt now clouded his face. But when he looked around, other kids were watching. There was no way he could let them laugh at him because a weak woman was making him look like he played the tuba instead of football. He clenched his fist, getting prepared for another charge.
A firm hand clasped his shoulder. Niki saw a well-built young man maybe a couple years younger than herself holding Steve King back.
“Thank you,” she nodded at the adult. “I didn’t want to hurt him.”
She started to walk away, but the athletic man stepped in her way. “You may like beating up kids, Miss Dupre,” he snarled, “but how about trying on a man for size?”
Niki sighed. “Look. I don’t want any trouble with any of the students or you, whoever you are.”
“I’m Ricky Delrie, and I’m about to teach you a lesson about messing with one of my boys.”
“Coach Ricky, trust me. You are in no position to teach me anything. I only want to walk peacefully to my car. Do you understand?”
The freshman coach sneered.
“What I understand is that you’re not walking anywhere until I show my boys how a man takes care of business.”
“Can we discuss this like adults? We—”
Rick
y’s swung while Niki was in mid-sentence. She saw his taut muscles tense as the coach prepared for the swing. Like a lot of amateurs, he wound up, lowering his hand behind his back to get more power in the punch.
Niki’s instincts took over her body. Before Ricky could unwind, her foot caught him right under his rib cage. To her surprise, the kick did little damage to the rock hard body, but it caused him to miss with the punch.
Instead of connecting solidly, the blow grazed the top of Niki’s head. Even with the glancing hit, the powerful punch caused her to stumble backward.
“See, Miss Dupre. It’s a little different with a real man instead of a boy. You’re about to find out the difference.”
Confident now, Ricky bored in. He was a quick learner. Instead of winding up his punches, he threw short hooks and jabs at her head and body. Even when she deflected them, his fists hurt. It was evident the young man pumped a lot of iron instead of wolfing down double cheeseburgers in his spare time.
The primary weakness in his plan of attack was the position of his hands. He held both by his waist, almost creating an uppercut with each punch. This left his upper body and face exposed.
Niki’s first effective blow was a straight jab to Ricky’s throat. It caught the young man by surprise, causing him to gag. Two quick jabs, one to each eye, made him raise his arms in a defensive posture.
Niki whirled, landing her right foot squarely in Ricky’s groin. She spun in the other direction, but stopped. The fight was over. Ricky crumpled over, groaning and moaning.
The private investigator inspected her bruised arms, red welts already apparent from deflecting the blows. But she was satisfied knowing that the young coach would now have to explain his two black eyes to his boys at the hand of a lady.
“You might want to get in your car now.”
The voice came from the open doorway behind her. She turned to see Jimbo Wax watching, and the growing crowd of students. She had no idea how long he had been overseeing the event.
She nodded. “Thanks for your help.”
“Anytime,” he answered, before shutting the door.
Niki walked over to the freshman coach, who still could not stand erect. She grabbed him around the shoulders and helped him to a nearby bench.
