“They’ve gotta turn it around,” he said, as the teams lined up for the kickoff. “Go, Warriors, go!” he roared.
The Warriors’ cheerleaders were doing their best, leading the crowd through the familiar litany of cheers. It seemed to work; the Warriors played a lot better in the second half and got two more touchdowns, thanks largely to the heroic efforts of Brian Masiaszyk.
By the fourth quarter, the Warriors were obviously tired and getting sloppy. The Giants started putting pressure on the Warriors quarterback, Zeke Kirwan. In a desperation move, he threw a long pass that missed and the Giants got possession of the ball. They didn’t go for any flashy maneuvers. They just drove down the field like a machine to score a touchdown. When the Warriors got the ball back they couldn’t make a first down and the Giants had the ball once again. The Warriors had lost their lead. The game was tied at nineteen to nineteen, and there were two minutes left to play when the hometeam finally got the ball back.
Nevertheless, hopes were high on the Tinker’s Cove side of the field. Fans stood and cheered, hoping for a miracle as the teams lined up on the thirty-yard line. Maybe Masiaszyk could score again? Maybe it was time for Kirwan to try another Hail Mary pass?
The stands fell silent as the players crouched down, waiting for the referee to signal the snap. All eyes were on the field, practically everyone was holding their breath in the tension of the moment. Raising his arm, the referee seemed to move in slow motion. He had the whistle in his hand and was bringing it to his lips when, suddenly, a woman’s high-pitched scream ripped through the stadium.
It was one of the cheerleaders, Megan Williams. She was standing on the sidelines, shaking and sobbing. An EMT approached her and she pointed behind the concession stand; then she collapsed in his arms as he wrapped a blanket around her. He stood holding her as a couple of police officers ran up to them. There was an exchange of words and one of the officers signaled that the game should resume.
Once again the players took their positions, but Lucy knew Ted would expect her to find out what was going on.
‘’I’ll meet you at the car,” she told Bill and made her way down from the bleachers. Once she was on firm ground she ran over to the refreshment stand, oblivious to the struggle that was taking place on the field.
Several more officers had arrived when she joined the small group of curious onlookers. Spotting her friend, Officer Barney Culpepper, she elbowed her way through and went up to him.
“What’s going on?” she asked.
Barney considered for a minute, glancing left and right as he removed his cap. Then he brushed his hand through his crew cut and carefully replaced it.
“We’ve got a homicide.”
Lucy gasped in shock. “Who?”
“Curt Nolan.”
For an instant, Lucy didn’t register the name. Then it hit her. Her hand flew to her mouth. “Oh, no.”
“You know him?”
“A little.”
Lucy tried to remember when she’d seen Curt last. Of course, it had been yesterday at the pie sale. She could practically see him raising a fork loaded with blueberry pie to his lips, a glint of mischief in his eyes.
“You’re sure he’s dead?” asked Lucy, unwilling to believe the bad news.
Barney nodded. “Brain’s bashed in.”
Lucy grimaced but Barney wasn’t through. “Murder weapon was right there beside him. Some sort of Indian club.”
The roar of the crowd rang in her ears and she was jostled aside as the police cleared the area. For a second, she got a glimpse of Nolan lying on his back, his face to the sky.
That’s where he’s gone, she thought. Up above the clouds into the bright sunshine beyond.
CHAPTER 11
“I can’t believe it,” moaned Bill as they were driving home.
“Neither can I,” agreed Lucy, whose face was white with shock.
“Absolutely no defense,” continued Bill.
“I wouldn’t say he was defenseless,” said Lucy. “I would’ve thought he could take care of himself.”
Bill gave her a sideways glance.
“Are we talking about the same thing? I’m talking about the game.”
“Me, too,” lied Lucy.
Bill stared at her. “No, you weren’t. You were talking about Curt Nolan.”
“Well, I am going to have to report on it for the paper.”
“Reporting is one thing. Getting involved and trying to figure out who did it is another. You’d better leave that part to the police.”
Mindful of the two girls in the backseat, Lucy didn’t want to argue.
“Absolutely,” she said, thinking it was time to change the subject. “So how did the game end? Did we win?”
In the back seat, Sara and Elizabth laughed. In the front, Bill snorted.
“The Giants intercepted the ball. Some guy ran seventy yards for a touchdown. I tell you, there’s no excuse for that. Where was the defense?”
“No excuse,” echoed Lucy. “No defense.”
* * *
An hour later, alone in the Subaru as she went to fetch Miss Tilley, Lucy’s thoughts returned to Curt Nolan.
No two ways about it, she admitted to herself, he was confrontational. He loved an argument and was never one to go along just to get along. A man like that made enemies, no doubt about that. There were plenty of people in town who had their problems with him, but that didn’t mean they would actually kill him. This was New England, after all. The more ornery and cantankerous a person was, the more likely his neighbors were to grant him a grudging respect.
Lucy felt tears sting her eyes and blinked. She was surprised at herself. She wouldn’t have thought she cared that much about Curt Nolan.
She remembered the day at the turkey farm, when the kids had been so frightened and he’d come to their rescue by distracting TomTom Turkey. She thought of him at the dog hearing, where he’d defended his pet.
By now the tears were
