This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Text copyright © 2011 by David A. Kelly
All rights reserved.
Published in the United States by Random House Children’s Books, a division of Random House, Inc., New York.
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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Kelly, David A. (David Andrew)
The pinstripe ghost / by David A. Kelly ; illustrated by Mark Meyers. — 1st ed.
p. cm. — (Ballpark mysteries ; #2)
“A Stepping Stone Book.”
Summary: While visiting New York’s Yankee Stadium with Kate’s mother, cousins Mike and Kate decide to investigate the rumor that the ghost of Babe Ruth is haunting the stadium.
eISBN: 978-0-375-89817-4
[1. Baseball—Fiction. 2. Ghosts—Fiction. 3. Cousins—Fiction. 4. Yankee Stadium (New York, N.Y. : 2009–)—Fiction. 5. Mystery and detective stories.] I. Meyers, Mark, ill. II. Title.
PZ7.K2936Pi 2011 [Fic]—dc22 2010016545
Random House Children’s Books supports the First Amendment and celebrates the right to read.
v3.1
To my wife, Alice, who started all this by letting our sons stay up way past their bedtime watching the Boston Red Sox on TV. —D.A.K.
To Mom and Dad, for all the support and for letting me be crazy!
—M.M.
“I swing big, with everything I’ve got. I hit big or I miss big.
I like to live as big as I can.” —Babe Ruth
Contents
Cover
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Chapter 1 Spooky News
Chapter 2 New York, New York
Chapter 3 Bud
Chapter 4 Cool Air and Noises
Chapter 5 Seventh-Inning Stretch
Chapter 6 The Troublemakers
Chapter 7 The Red Stain
Chapter 8 Babe Ruth’s Ghost
Dugout Notes Yankee Stadium
Spooky News
Mike Walsh had always wanted to visit Yankee Stadium. But now that he was there, he just wanted to leave.
“When do you think this will be over?” he asked his cousin, Kate Hopkins. The two were sitting in the back row of a press conference at the stadium. “I can’t wait to try out that rooftop pool at the hotel!”
“Soon. You know my mom—super sports reporter!” Kate said. She pulled her long brown ponytail through the back of a blue Cooperstown baseball cap. “She always likes to stay until the end and get in one last question.”
“Just like you,” Mike teased.
Kate’s mother was a reporter for the website American Sportz. She and the kids were at Yankee Stadium in New York City for a spring weekend series against the Seattle Mariners. They had driven down that morning from their home in upstate New York.
Mike pulled a well-worn baseball out of the front pouch of his sweatshirt. He tossed it from hand to hand. “When we get back to the hotel, let’s see who can swim underwater the farthest!” he said.
“Sure. But don’t make everything a competition,” Kate said, “unless you want to keep losing!”
Mike rolled his eyes. He was good at sports. But Kate was, too. Sports were a big deal to both of their families. Kate’s mom used to be a pro softball player, and her dad was a baseball scout. Mike’s parents owned a sporting goods store in Cooperstown.
At the front of the room, a team official was talking about the upcoming series. The first Mariners-Yankees game was the next day.
Mike drummed his fingers on the side of his chair. He liked action more than talk, and press conferences were all talk and no action. But at least it was baseball talk.
The official finished answering a question. “That’s it for today,” he said. “Except for one last thing. The famous author Mr. Robert Williams will be here all weekend near the main entrance. He’ll be signing copies of his new book, Ghosts in the Ballpark: A History of Haunted Baseball Stadiums and Supernatural Superstars.”
“What about the ghost of Babe Ruth?” Mrs. Hopkins asked. “Will he show up this weekend?”
Kate turned to Mike, her brown eyes wide. “A ghost?” she asked. “How come Mom didn’t tell us about it?”
“Aunt Laura probably wanted it to be a surprise,” Mike replied. Suddenly, he wasn’t bored at all. “Shh. I want to hear what he says.”
“Ummmm … I—I don’t know,” the man stammered. He mopped his brow and riffled through his papers. Mike thought he looked as if he was stalling for time. “Officially, there aren’t any ghosts in Yankee Stadium.”
“Some people are saying that the stadium is haunted,” Mrs. Hopkins added, “because the original Yankee Stadium where Babe Ruth played was torn down and this new one was built.”
A few of the other reporters nodded.
“I talked to some workers. They have heard strange noises,” a reporter with long blond hair put in.
“Oh, noises,” the official said. He waved a hand. “Yankee Stadium is big. You’ll always have some funny noises here and there. But those stories about a ghost are just that—stories.” He gave a nervous laugh.
“So you have no comment about Babe Ruth’s ghost?” Mrs. Hopkins asked. “Or if he’ll be here this weekend?”
“No,” the official said. “Leave the questions about supernatural superstars to Mr. Williams. He’s the expert. We’ll focus on baseball.”
Mike had never heard anything so cool. He leaned toward Kate. “Let’s try to find the ghost!” he said.
At last the press conference was over. Kate and Mike went out to the hallway to wait for Mrs. Hopkins.
Kate stayed busy by counting in Spanish. She kept track of the numbers using her fingers. “Uno, dos, tres, cuatro, cinco, seis, siete, ocho, nueve, diez …”
Kate’s father spoke Spanish and she wanted to learn. So she was teaching herself by reading books and practicing.
Five minutes went by. Kate tapped her foot. Sometimes her mom got caught up talking to other reporters. She needed Kate to remind her to move along.
“I’m going to go find my mom,” Kate said to Mike. “We’ll meet you here.”
Kate stepped back into the pressroom. Meanwhile, Mike leaned against a soda machine and tossed his baseball back and forth. The crowd of reporters thinned out.
Whoosh!
The baseball slipped past Mike’s left hand.
Clunk … clunk … clunk.
The ball bounced on the floor and rolled into the foot of a passing workman. He was wearing a blue shirt that read ACE AIR-CONDITIONING. Little white clouds and icicles circled the words. Another workman was following him.
The first workman bent down and picked up the ball. “Hey, you’d better work on your catches, Mickey Mantle!” he said. He tossed the baseball back to Mike. “You’re not going to make it to the Yankees with that kind of fielding.”
“Thanks,” Mike said. A blush spread over his freckled face. “Sorry.”
“No problem,” the workman said. Mike looked more closely at him. Curly red hair poked out from under his Yankees baseball cap. He wasn’t very old at all, probably a teenager.
“Come on, Sammy,” the other
workman said. “We have to finish fixing that air conditioner by the end of today. Tomorrow’s a game day. We won’t be allowed in the stadium.”
“Okay, Dad.” Sammy smiled at Mike and then ran to catch up with his father.
Mike went back to tossing the ball. The hallway was quiet.
“Boo!”
Mike jumped about a foot. The baseball flew out of his hands and bounced down the hall again. Kate and Mrs. Hopkins laughed as Mike scrambled after it.
“Thinking about ghosts?” asked Kate.
“No, just one ghost,” Mike said. “Babe Ruth’s ghost. If he’s really here, I want to see him.”
“I thought you’d like the ghost story,” Mrs. Hopkins said. She winked at him. “And I know something about it that no one else does!”
New York, New York
Fifteen minutes later, Mike, Kate, and Mrs. Hopkins were sitting in the back of a taxi heading to their hotel. It was still a bit chilly outside, but the bright spring sun warmed the car’s black vinyl seats.
“Okay, Aunt Laura,” Mike said. “Spill it!”
Kate’s mom laughed and shook her head. “No way. Reporters don’t have info handed to them. You have to learn how to figure it out. But I’ll give it to you if you can guess it.”
Kate settled back into the seat. This was her type of game. “Is it a person, place, or thing?” she asked.
“Place,” her mother replied.
“The locker room!” Mike shouted.
Mrs. Hopkins smiled. “No, Mike, it’s not the locker room. You need to ask more general questions until you’ve narrowed it down. Here’s a hint. It’s someplace you would like, perhaps around lunchtime.”
“Mom, that’s giving it away,” Kate said with a frown. She didn’t like it when puzzles were too simple. She liked figuring things out. “It’s either got to be something to do with baseball or food. Is it a food stand?”
“Yes, it is,” Mrs. Hopkins said. “Mike?”
“Babe Ruth was famous for eating a lot of hot dogs,” Mike said. “So I bet it’s a hot dog stand!”
“You got it!” Mrs. Hopkins said. “One of the janitors told me about it. Half an hour before every game, the ghost—or whatever it is—can be heard by Bud’s hot dog stand.”
“Well, I know where I’m eating breakfast tomorrow!” Mike said.
“Hold on, Mike,” Kate’s mom said. “We don’t need to be at the stadium until four o’clock. Tomorrow we’ll sightsee a little. Then we can go to the game early.”
“Perfect. There’s something I want to show you by Grand Central Station, too,” Mike said to Kate.
Back at the hotel, Mike and Kate spent an hour racing each other in the pool. They had contests to see who could hold their breath the longest. Just before dinner, they borrowed Mrs. Hopkins’s computer to do research on ghosts. Sitting on the hotel towels in their wet bathing suits, they scrolled through the pages.
“There’s not a lot on baseball ghosts,” Kate said. “But there’s lots of information on regular, everyday ghosts.”
She ran a search on the most common signs of ghosts. Usually people heard the sound of footsteps, felt cold air, or smelled strange smells. Sometimes doors or windows opened or closed by themselves. Sometimes objects moved around on their own.
“That’s pretty spooky. At least we know what to look for tomorrow,” Mike said. “But now I’m hungry! Winning all those swimming races really tired me out.”
“You mean watching me win all those races, don’t you?” Kate said. “Race you to dinner!”
Mike and Kate woke up the next morning when they heard the hotel room door close. Mrs. Hopkins had just come in with a brown paper bag.
“You should read the article in today’s paper,” Mrs. Hopkins said. “It’s about ghosts.” She emptied the bag onto the small round table near the window. Kate’s mom had bought a newspaper, some bagels, and orange juice from a nearby store.
Kate opened the newspaper. The first story in the sports section was all about Mr. Robert Williams, his book, and the ghost of Yankee Stadium. Next to the story was a picture of Mr. Williams. He was tall and had a bushy black mustache.
Mike poured a glass of orange juice and read the first few paragraphs of the newspaper story. “See?” he said. “Mr. Williams says that the ghost is real. I’ll bet he’s hoping the Yankees will hire him to look into it.”
Kate helped herself to a bagel. She spread it with butter. “Maybe we should ask him about the ghost,” she said.
“Don’t be so sure he’ll help you,” Mrs. Hopkins said. “Mr. Williams is a good writer. But he sometimes tells tall tales to help sell his books.”
After breakfast, Kate, Mike, and Mrs. Hopkins took a three-hour double-decker bus tour of New York City. Mike and Kate scrambled up to the open-air seats on the top of the bus. They saw the Empire State Building, Rockefeller Center, and Central Park.
Mike was amazed at how big the city was. Tall buildings threw long shadows on the busy streets. Every time the bus turned a corner, Mike leaned over the top railing to look down. The bus was long, and the turns were tight. It always seemed as if the back end would run over a newsstand or trash can.
“I’m glad I’m not a bus driver here,” Mike said to Kate. “I’d be worried about smashing into something!”
At the end of the tour, they got off the bus near Grand Central.
“Okay, Mike,” Mrs. Hopkins said. She squinted against the afternoon sun. “We’re finally at Grand Central. What did you want to show us?”
A steady crowd of workers hustled by them on their way to lunch. Mike studied the nearby buildings. Behind them was a big stone and steel archway to the train station. Right next door were a bank with shiny windows and a few clothing stores.
“It’s here somewhere,” Mike said. He walked a few feet along the sidewalk toward the bank.
“There it is!” he cried. He pointed at a large skyscraper. “The Grand Hyatt hotel.”
Above them, the glass windows of the hotel towered out of sight.
“Oh,” Kate said with a yawn. “A big hotel. Like we haven’t seen any others today.”
“It’s not just another hotel, Kate,” Mike told her. “It’s the hotel for baseball. A lot of major-league teams stay here when they come to play. Baseball teams have been staying at this hotel even before it was the Hyatt. People hang around for autographs. They sometimes catch the players getting on or off the bus before or after games.”
Kate looked at the hotel with more interest. “Why didn’t you say so?” she asked. “That’s kinda cool. Think we’ll see anyone?”
“Not if we’re going to make it to the game on time ourselves,” Mrs. Hopkins said. She checked her watch. “Anyway, the team has probably already left. Now that we’ve seen the hotel, let’s get a snack and find a taxi to the stadium.”
“Food! That’s a great idea,” Mike said. “There’s a pretzel cart on the corner.”
Mike hurried down the street toward a shiny silver pretzel cart with a bright red umbrella. He was halfway down the block before Kate could reply. “Hey, Mike—wait,” she called out.
As she did, there was a loud, rumbling WHOOSH! Scraps of paper fluttered up from the sidewalk. Mike’s hair blew wildly. He tried to shout something back to Kate, but loud metallic screeching drowned out his voice.
Then the noise was gone.
The papers dropped to the ground.
“What was that?” Mike yelled.
“I’d say it was a New York City ghost,” Kate said, laughing. “Loud noises, bad smells, papers moving without any reason … Did some cool air blow all over you?”
“No, it was hot air. But seriously, Kate, what was that?” Mike asked again.
“Well, it might have been a ghost. But I think it was just a subway train,” Mrs. Hopkins said. “They run right under this street. The screeches were the train’s brakes.”
“What about all that wind?” Mike asked.
“Look at the sidewalk,” Kate said.
Mike looked down. Under his bright red sneakers was a large metal grate. It looked like a big tic-tac-toe board with holes.
“Whenever a subway train comes by, it forces the air in front of it out of the tunnel. The air comes up through those vents,” Mrs. Hopkins said. “They’re all over the sidewalks here.”
“I’m just glad it’s not a ghost,” Mike said.
At the cart, Mike and Kate got a pretzel to split. “I’m saving room for a hot dog at Bud’s,” Mike said.
Meanwhile, Mrs. Hopkins hailed a taxi for the ballpark.
“The game starts at four,” Mrs. Hopkins said when they reached Yankee Stadium. “It’s two o’clock now. You two can check out Bud’s hot dog stand if you want. But stay in touch with me so I know where you are.”
“No problem, Mom,” Kate said. “There aren’t any subway grates in Yankee Stadium, so Mike won’t get scared.”
Mike and Kate waved goodbye to Mrs. Hopkins. They walked along the main corridor. Employees were just opening up food and souvenir stands. They passed a store with rows of dark blue Yankees shirts and hats hanging in front.
“Hey, can we stop at one of these stores?” Kate asked. “I want to get a Yankees shirt before the weekend is over.”
“Okay, but let’s look for the ghost first,” Mike said. “We don’t want to miss it.”
They passed the food court area. “Remember what we read last night?” Kate asked. They were close to the hot dog stand her mother had told them about. “We’re looking for objects that move on their own. And doors and windows opening or closing.” She ticked the things off on her fingers. “There might be strange temperatures, funny sounds or smells, or gusts of cool air.”
Ahead on their left was the hot dog stand.
For a moment, a white hooded figure poked its head around the side of the stand. Then it vanished.
Mike stopped short. “Did you see that?” he whispered.
“See what?” Kate said. She looked around, confused.
“I don’t know.” Mike shook his head. He pointed to the hot dog stand. “I thought I saw something over there. It looked like a ghost!”
The Pinstripe Ghost Page 1
