The trouble started in the fifth inning when Tony hit a single and tried to stretch it to a double. Ben told Tony to stay on first, but his father bellowed at him to run. Tony was fat and slow. The right fielder pegged the ball to the second baseman with plenty of time to make the tag. Tony saw that he would be out at second and would never get back to first. Out of frustration, he stopped short of second base. When the second baseman tried to tag him, Tony threw out both hands. The kid was half Tony’s size, and the blows sent him sprawling. The umpire and both coaches ran onto the field to see if the second baseman was okay. The kid was crying but was more shocked than hurt. As his coach attended to him, Ben pulled Tony Lutz aside and began bawling him out.
Two policemen had been watching the game. Ami had seen one of them urging on the pitcher for the opposing team and guessed that he was a parent. The officers moved to the edge of the infield when Barney Lutz headed for Ben. Morelli stood to one side, watching quietly.
“That was a terrible thing to do,” Ben Branton was telling Tony when Barney Lutz reached him. Ben looked over at Tony’s father.
“I can’t let Tony play anymore today, and I’m not letting him play next week.”
“Bullshit. My boy just plays aggressive baseball. The second baseman was blocking the bag.”
Ben Branton was slender, bookish, and five inches shorter than Barney Lutz, but he held his ground.
“I’m suspending Tony.”
“No, you’re not.”
“I have to, Barney. He fights all the time. That sets a very bad example for the other kids.”
“Listen, you candy ass, my boy’s got fire. If these spoiled brats played as hard as Tony we’d win some games.”
“Hey,” Morelli said, “could you tone it down? There are kids here.”
Barney glared at Morelli. “I’m not talking to you, so fuck off.”
“Barney,” Branton said, “I’ll have to suspend Tony for the rest of the year if you don’t stop this scene.”
“You’re not suspending anyone, you faggot. I’m coaching from now on. So get the fuck off the field.”
Barney turned toward Morelli. “Give me that,” he said, making a grab for the clipboard. Ben grabbed Lutz by the forearm. Lutz wrenched his arm loose and pulled his hand back to punch the coach. Branton staggered away from the threatened punch and tripped over his feet. As the coach fell to the ground, Morelli chopped down with the side of the clipboard and shattered Lutz’s wrist. Lutz went white from pain and swung his head toward Morelli, exposing his neck. Morelli drove the mechanical pencil into the bully’s throat. The huge man’s eyes went wide, his hands flew to his neck, and he crashed to the ground. Ben Branton stared in horror as Lutz gurgled and writhed in front of him.
The policemen had rushed forward as soon as they saw Lutz start to swing. The big man was tumbling to the ground when the first officer grabbed Morelli from behind. Ami saw the policeman fly through the air. Dust rose where his shoulder hit the ground. Morelli transformed his hand into a spear and aimed his fingertips at the helpless policeman’s throat. The other officer pulled his gun and fired. Morelli half-stood and turned. The officer fired again and Morelli collapsed in the dirt. All around Ami, people were gasping and screaming, but the only sounds that reached her clearly were Ryan’s cries of “Dan, Dan,” as he rushed toward his fallen hero.
Ben Branton had not moved from the time Morelli stabbed Barney Lutz until Morelli was shot by the police officer. Ryan’s screams snapped him out of his trance. The policeman heard Ryan’s footsteps and whirled around. “No!” Ben yelled when he saw the gun pointing at Ami’s son. Ryan and the policeman froze. Ben ran to Ryan and scooped him up.
The policeman with the gun looked as startled as everyone else. In the stands, terrified parents were calling 911 on their cell phones. A mother from one team and a father from the other rushed up and told the officer they were doctors. The policeman who had tried to subdue Morelli was grimacing in pain from a shattered collarbone, but he told the doctors to tend to Lutz and Morelli.
Ami took her son from Ben. Ryan was staring at Morelli. Blood had pooled around his wounds, turning the brown dust rusty-red. Ami turned Ryan so he would not see his wounded friend and started to walk off the field.
“Ma’am,” the officer with the gun said. Ami stopped. He pointed at Morelli. “Do you know this man?”
“Yes. He’s my tenant. He was helping the coach.”
“I know you want to take your son away from here, but I need you to stick around. The detectives will want to ask you some questions.”
Ami nodded and led Ryan from the field in a daze. Daniel Morelli had been living in her home for two months. She thought that he was a quiet, kind, and gentle man. She could not believe how wrong she had been.
CHAPTER FOUR
“Best giant rat story I’ve read since the Enquirer piece about the prehistoric rodent that was terrorizing that island near Borneo.”
It was almost five, and Patrick Gorman was standing over Vanessa’s desk with a grin plastered on his face. Gorman was a fat man with heavy jowls and an alcoholic complexion. He was usually fun to work for because he didn’t take himself or the paper seriously, but he could be demanding. For Gorman, UFOs and the Loch Ness monster were commodities, like sneakers for Nike. Produce, and Gorman loved you. Adversely affect his bottom line, and there was hell to pay.
“Stuff it, Pat,” Vanessa said. She glared at her boss. “You owe me.”
Gorman laughed. “You could have gone with the alien abduction.”
Vanessa averted her eyes. “That didn’t work out.”
Gorman noted her rapid change of mood but didn’t say anything. He respected his reporter and he wasn’t going to ask her what had happened if she didn’t want to tell him. Gorman knew that he was lucky to have someone as talented as Vanessa on board. Most reporters with her brains and ability fled to legitimate newspapers as soon as the chance presented itself. He knew why she couldn’t move on, but he never held that up to her. Vanessa appreciated his tact.
“I’ve got something I want you to look at,” Gorman said. “It’s all over the news. There was a brawl at a Little League game in Oregon. A coach decked a cop and another cop shot him.”
“You’re kidding.”
“That ain’t the good part. The coach who got shot, he almost killed the parent of one of the kids by ramming a pencil into his throat.”
Vanessa’s mouth dropped. “You sure this is Little League? It sounds more like pro wrestling.”
“I just caught a little of it on talk radio when I was driving in. Check it out and get back to me if you think there’s something we can run with. Everyone’s got an opinion. It’s the Little League parent thing, too much pressure on the tots to excel, parents living vicariously through their kids.”
Gorman walked away, but the phrase lingered in Vanessa’s head. Parents living vicariously through their kids. No chance of that problem with her parents, she thought angrily. Charlotte Kohler had never had a chance to see her daughter grow up. She was dead, murdered, when Vanessa was thirteen years old-although Vanessa was the only one who had dared to accuse her father of murder publicly, and much good that did her.
And her father didn’t need to live through her. He had his own plans. Her father had never shown much interest in her except when he destroyed her life. Then he had been very focused.
Vanessa shook off these bitter thoughts, knowing full well what would happen to her if she dwelled on them. She swung back to her computer and punched up the Little League story on the Internet. After reading a few accounts, she concluded that Gorman hadn’t been kidding. An overbearing parent had been stabbed in the throat with a mechanical pencil, but quick work by an EMT had saved him. One of the cops had a broken collarbone and the assistant coach was in the hospital with two gunshot wounds. Vanessa decided that if she ever had a kid who wanted to play Little League she’d talk him into joining the Marines. It sounded safer.