The Daughters Of Alta Mira (Quill Gordon Mystery Book 4)

by Michael Wallace

  “When you mentioned the patrol car, I had a flashback to that morning. I remember I was coming in from the graveyard shift, and there he was, pleading for a patrol car to drive to the court hearing. And he seemed really agitated about it. I mean, I remember thinking, ‘Dude, what’s the big deal? If you have to take your own car, you get mileage, and even though your trip’s official business, you’re not patrolling and there’s no reason you need the patrol car.’ But I just wrote it off to his gung-ho-ness. On the other hand, if your theory’s right, Gordon, that would be another little thing to back it up.”

  “Bob left us a clue in the rape case,” Gordon said. “Let’s hope he left us one to his own killer, too.”

  Dinner arrived, and Gordon looked at his watch.

  “I’ll have to run as soon as we finish eating if I’m going to get to the stadium on time, but meanwhile,” he lifted his glass of 7-Up, “Here’s to us.”

  They lifted their glasses and touched them all around. When they were finished, Elizabeth spoke up.

  “If everyone else is done, can I give my news now?”

  “You have something else?” Sandy said.

  “That’s right, and it’s big.”

  They set down their forks to listen.

  “As you know, I’ve been trying to get a teaching job somewhere else. I’ve come to love Alta Mira, but it isn’t where I want to spend the rest of my life. Last summer, I was a finalist for three jobs at community colleges in the Bay Area, so I decided this afternoon to give them a call and see if there were any openings looming in the future.

  “The first two places I called, there was no answer and I left a message. Then I called the English Department chair at City College of San Francisco. He was in his office, digging out the applications from last summer. It seems a tenured instructor, a 46-year-old male, eloped with a 19-year-old student — just took off, abandoned all his classes and everything. What do you think of that?”

  There was a brief silence, before Gordon ventured a comment.

  “I think he’s old enough to know better, and I think he’ll come to regret it very much.”

  “It figures that you’d take the man’s point of view,” she said. “But he’s been suspended without pay while they start the tedious process of firing him, and they need someone to teach his classes next semester. Because there’s no time to go through the formal hiring process, and because it’s an interim appointment, the department chair has the authority to offer the position to anyone with an application on file. I think he was planning on spending the weekend with all the applications, but then I called and he saw a way out. After we talked for ten minutes, he offered it to me on the spot.”

  “Wow,” Sam said. “That’s really something. Congratulations.”

  “Elizabeth, that’s wonderful,” Sandy said. “But we’re going to miss you here so much.”

  “I’ll come back from time to time. I’ll have to for the painting, and I’ll stay in touch. I promise I will.”

  She turned to Gordon.

  “That means I’ll be moving to San Francisco next month, Gordon.” She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him on the cheek. “Isn’t it exciting?”

  “That’s wonderful,” he said calmly.

  BEFORE WE EVEN REACHED Edgar Hammond Field, I could tell there was a different vibe for this game than for the one last week. Back then — it seems like ages ago now — Alta Mira was grinding out a win against a team that was playing out the string of a losing season. As Gordon and I walked up to the stadium, our exhaled breaths preceding us on a cold autumn night, we could hear not only more noise, but more buzz. You got a sense of excitement and anticipation as you approached the gates, a feeling that the game really mattered.

  Once Gordon and I made the trek up that long flight of stairs to the press box, I had a chance to get a better look at the picture. The home bleachers were rapidly filling up, with ten minutes to go to kickoff, and some people were already taking standing-room places along the sideline. Across the way, it was different, too. Aspen Valley had sent five busloads of students to the game (you could see the buses behind the puny visitors’ bleachers) and a number of parents had driven up, as well, from the looks of things. There must have been four or five times more people on the other side than last week, and they were making noise. That inspired the Alta Mira side to respond in kind, with the cheerleaders urging them on.

  Alta Mira still had only 15 cheerleaders. Alicia was missing.

  The Eagles of Alta Mira were wearing green jerseys with gold pants and gold helmets as they warmed up. One kid, wearing Number 8, was throwing the ball to a couple of others. The throws tended to flutter, and a number of them were wide of the mark.

  “Billy Simmons, Number 8, is going to be the quarterback tonight,” Howard said to Gordon. “He hasn’t played but a dozen snaps all season, and those were in games where we were winning big at the end.”

  “What’s his completion percentage,” Gordon asked.

  “He’s never had to throw a pass in a game. When he went in, his job was to hand the ball off until the clock ran out.”

  “Who’s replacing Jarrett?”

  “Dalton Brown. Only a sophomore, but he caught a few this year.”

  Gordon grunted.

  Over where Bob had been sitting last week was a middle-aged, bald man, wearing glasses with heavy, dark frames. I guessed he was Jud Diamond, owner of the radio station, and I thought of introducing myself to him, but he was deeply immersed in reading a commercial for a local bookkeeper, so I held back. When he finished it, he heaved a sigh, took a wool cap from his parka pocket, and placed it over his bald head. Considering the direction in which the weather seemed to be going, it seemed like a wise move.

  Finally, the teams lined up for the opening kickoff. Aspen Valley was dressed in red pants and white jerseys with red lettering, and white helmets with a red stripe down the center. Their cheerleaders, I noticed, were wearing red skirts and white sweaters.

  “Raul Tavarez to kick off for Alta Mira,” Howard said, and leaned toward Gordon. “Josh Gardner and Frank Trump deep to receive for Aspen Valley … and the kick is up!”

  A roar went through the crowd on both sides. The ball sailed through the air end over end, and I realized I could see moisture on the grass from the showers that had fallen intermittently before the game. Things could get sloppy.

  “Trump takes the kickoff on the 15, runs right,” Howard announced. “A wall of blockers forming on that side … Look out!” An Alta Mira player knifed between the blockers and hit Trump, who was running sideways, full force, knocking him backward and to the ground. The home side roared. “Great special teams play by Harry Hooper, number 24, breaking the wedge to make the tackle.”

  It was a pretty good play, and it was about the only excitement in the first quarter. In the cold and slop, neither team was able to do much offensively. Both teams would get the ball, make at best a first down or two, and punt. The Aspen Valley quarterback threw two passes that hit nothing but turf. Simmons, starting his first game for Alta Mira, didn’t throw a pass, but rather handed off to Hooper, and occasionally another back, Rick Garcia.

  It was still a scoreless game halfway through the second quarter, when Alta Mira got a break. Punting into the wind. Tavarez got off a high kick that only went about 25 yards. The Aspen Valley returner called for a fair catch, but a gust of wind caught the ball on the way down, blowing it away from him. He moved forward to catch it, but it was farther in front of him than he thought, and it skidded off his fingertips. Brown, the receiver filling in for Jarrett, fell on it at the Aspen Valley 32.

  It was the first time either team had the ball in opposition territory, and the Alta Mira bleachers got louder and more vocal. Simmons handed the ball to Hooper, who went off tackle and gained five yards, falling forward with two defenders on top of him. Garcia took the ball on a sweep to the right and gained three more yards, bringing up third-and-two on the Aspen Valley 24.

  T
he Eagles lined up with Simmons under center. He took the snap, turned and handed the ball to Hooper, who glided to the right, as if looking for an opening.

  Suddenly, he stopped, spun around, and lateraled back to Simmons, who caught the ball, and in a continuous motion, heaved a wounded duck toward the right corner of the end zone.

  No one was there but Brown. Aspen Valley had been completely faked out.

  The entire stadium was on its feet screaming, as the wobbling ball descended through the air toward Brown. It had started raining again, but no one noticed. The ball hit Brown square on the chest and squirted upward. He snagged it with his right hand, drew it back against his chest, covered it with his left hand, and fell backwards on the end zone turf, never losing control of the ball.

  It wasn’t pretty, but it was a touchdown. The Alta Mira players mobbed Brown, and it took a minute or two to get them off the field for the extra point attempt, which was good. Nothing much happened the rest of the half, and Alta Mira went into the locker room with a 7-0 lead.

  ALMOST EVERYONE CLEARED OUT of the press box at halftime, leaving Gordon and Howard alone. The principal was on the sidelines with a mic, calling the halftime show, and the press box felt strangely calm and quiet.

  Howard set his microphone down on the counter and put his face in his hands for a minute. Finally, he turned to Gordon.

  “So you want to be a detective, eh?”

  “Nothing I ever aspired to. It just seems to happen.”

  “You may have a flair for it, Gordon. That was a good hunch about Wheaties, and I sure as hell wouldn’t have known a radio expert to ask about it.”

  “I’ve known Bob for a long time.”

  “So have I, and I see him more often than you do. Maybe that’s why I missed the obvious thing about his name games. That, or I’m getting too old to do the job anymore.”

  “Do you mind if I ask a question?”

  “If it’s whether I’m running for sheriff next June, the answer is yes. What the hell? I should have gotten it after Wild Bill died, so let the voters decide now.”

  “You should have an advantage. You’ve been here longer than Chris. You know everybody in the county.”

  Howard laughed. “That cuts both ways. I’ve pissed some people off, too. But we’ll see. You know, I have nothing to lose. If I win, I’ll cap my career by being sheriff for a term or two, and I wouldn’t mind that at all. If not — well, I qualify for full retirement already, so I’ll probably take it. Just another old law-enforcement dinosaur, waiting for that meteor to hit, so we’ll all be extinct.”

  “You sell yourself short.”

  “Not really. The dinosaurs ruled in their time. I don’t doubt that I could rule awhile longer. But Chris, difficult as she is to get along with, is the wave of the future. I don’t like her personally, but I respect her professionalism. I just wish she had a little more respect for my understanding of small-town law enforcement.”

  “You think you’re going to win?”

  “I hope so. We’ll all know the answer in seven months.”

  The halftime show was winding down, and the players were running back on the field.

  “Back to work,” Howard said. “We’re giving them a better game than I thought we would without Burnett and Jarrett. But I think we’re going to have to make that touchdown stand up if we’re going to win.”

  “I think you’re right,” Gordon said. “If Alta Mira’s going to win, they’ll have to do it on heart.”

  THE THIRD QUARTER started out following the pattern of the first two. Alta Mira received the kickoff, returned it to the 30, made a first down, and punted. Aspen Valley racked up two first downs to get near midfield, then punted, pinning Alta Mira back on its own 20. For the first time all night, the Eagles went three-and-out and had to punt from their own 27-yard-line.

  It began to rain as they lined up for the punt, and the wet ball rolled off Tavarez’ foot, angling for the sideline as it sailed downfield. The official said it went out of bounds at the Alta Mira 48, giving Aspen Valley the ball in Alta Mira territory for the first time in the game.

  On the first play, Aspen Valley’s quarterback handed the ball to one of the running backs for what looked like a sweep to the left side. But the running back made a quick lateral to Bennett, a fleet receiver, coming behind him. Alta Mira’s defense had committed to following the running back and was caught flat-footed by the reverse. Bennett curled around the right side and streaked to the end zone untouched. The home side of the stadium went deathly silent, while the visitor side went wild.

  On the extra point attempt, the Aspen Valley kicker drilled the ball into the gluteus maximus of the right guard, and the score stood 7-6 in favor of Alta Mira. The scoreboard clock showed 5:48 remaining in the third quarter.

  As the teams prepared for the ensuing kickoff, one of the Alta Mira players jumped up and began exhorting his teammates, waving his arms and shouting at them. It was Hooper, and 20 seconds later, the kickoff return team ran onto the field full speed.

  The kickoff was returned to the 28-yard-line, and Alta Mira began its longest drive of the night. Aspen Valley was treated to a steady diet of Hooper carrying the ball, with Garcia getting a chance every few plays. Simmons still had thrown only one pass in the game, the trick-play touchdown in the second quarter. The Eagles ground out three first downs and were at the Aspen Valley 37-yard-line when the quarter ended.

  Three plays later, on a sweep to the right, Hooper dragged an Aspen Valley defender over the 30-yard-line and fell forward for a first down at the 27. Three grinding runs later, it was fourth-and-five at the 22-yard-line. A field goal was out of the kicker’s range, and the offense was too close to the end zone for a punt, so the coach called a timeout to settle on a play.

  He called the team’s second pass play of the night, but Simmons threw the ball over the head of a covered receiver, and Aspen Valley took over on downs.

  Howard switched off his microphone and shook his head. “We had a man open on the other side,” he said. “Burnett would have made that play.”

  Aspen Valley ran two running plays that gained 12 yards for a first down, then had to punt on fourth-and-four. Alta Mira got the ball on its 23-yard-line with 5:09 left in the game.

  “I’m guessing we’ll see a lot of Hooper,” Gordon said.

  “I’m guessing you’re right,” Howard said.

  That turned out to be the case. Hooper carried the ball three times for 12 yards, took a breather while Garcia got three on a sweep, then ran twice more for eight yards, giving Alta Mira a first down on its 47-yard-line with 1:48 remaining. After Hooper ran for three on first down, Aspen Valley called a timeout. A carry by Garcia got two yards, and Hooper gained two more. It was fourth-and-three at the Aspen Valley 47 when the visitors took their final timeout with 57 seconds left in the game.

  The punt team began forming on the sideline to get directions from the assistant coach. Gordon shook his head sharply.

  “No, no. Don’t punt,” he said.

  “What do you mean?” Howard asked. “It’s fourth down. You’ve got to punt.”

  “Not now. You have to think of the situation. Aspen Valley has less than a minute left, no timeouts, a quarterback who hasn’t completed a pass, and a kicker who can’t even make an extra point. And that’s if we don’t make it. I don’t think Hooper can be stopped. Look at him. He’s yelling at the coach. I’ll bet he’s saying, ‘Give me the ball!’ ”

  “That’s what every player says. But every point you make is even more valid if Aspen Valley’s 30 yards farther away after a punt.”

  “Too much can go wrong with a punt — especially at this level,” Gordon said. “They should go for it. But it looks like the coach agrees with you.”

  The punt team ran onto the field. It had started raining again, and the temperature was probably in the high thirties.

  “Tavarez back to punt for Alta Mira,” Howard announced.

  “They’ve got Bennett back to return,�
� Gordon said. “He hasn’t done that before.”

  “Bennett deep to receive for Aspen Valley,” Howard said into the mic.

  The snap to Tavarez was perfect, but he bobbled the rain-slickened ball for a second and rushed his kick. It was a low line drive that shot downfield ahead of the punt coverage, bounced once, and came straight to Bennett, who caught it cleanly at the 14-yard-line in the middle of the field. He ran upfield, tacking to the right sideline, as the blockers and the coverage team converged on that side of the field.

  Suddenly, at the 30-yard-line, he planted his right foot, spun left, and began sweeping around his blockers and the Alta Mira defenders. He turned the corner ahead of them and had a clear path to the end zone. Garcia and Brown pursued him, but lacked the angle or the speed to keep it from being an 86-yard touchdown return.

  On the extra point attempt, the kicker managed to clear the offensive line this time, but hooked the ball off the left upright. The score was 12-7, and a minute later, that was how the game ended.

  After the final gun, Howard wrapped up and thanked the crowd for turning out, before silencing his mic. He turned to Gordon.

  “Well,” he said, “we played our hearts out. That’s all you can ask.”

  “Actually, it isn’t,” Gordon said. “You can ask for a win.”

  IT WAS RAINING HARDER as Gordon drove up the driveway to Elizabeth’s place. The light was on inside (the main ranch house was dark), and it looked like a beacon in the storm. He parked in front, turned off the engine, and went over what he wanted to say, one more time.

  Elizabeth opened the door as he got out of the car, and he kissed her in the doorway before going inside. They sat down on the couch.

  “I heard the game on the radio,” she said. “It was a good game, but all I could think of was how Bob would have called it.”

  “Yeah.”

  “It must have been freezing there.”

  “It was pretty cold.”

  “Need something to warm you up? I have brandy, or I can make hot chocolate.”

  “The chocolate sounds good, if it’s not too much trouble.”