clubhouse, while Pete set the radio presets and adjusted the graphic equalizer.
“Six speakers,” he said, trying to impress Jupe.
“Five more than the House of Representatives,” said Jupe, not very impressed. “Try to find where to put the key. Here comes our man.”
Michael Anthony walked down from the clubhouse still holding hands with the young woman. But they got into separate cars.
“Follow her?” asked Pete.
“Follow him,” said Jupe.
They drove south past Rocky Beach, past Santa Monica and El Porto Beach. Then Anthony got off the main roads and took several smaller ones that ended at a stone wall with an iron arch. The large brass plaque on the stone wall said Costa Verde college.
Jupe’s mind spun with ideas. It was as if after days of wandering around without water, he had suddenly come upon an ocean.
“Costa Verde — Shoremont’s number-one rival!”
Jupe said, thinking out loud as Pete slowly followed the black car up ahead. “Here’s an interesting possibility: Michael Anthony is working for Costa Verde College — maybe for Coach Bernie Mehl. Knowing that Duggan’s reputation is already suspect, they’re paying off Shoremont players to start a scandal.”
“That’s what Coach Duggan thinks. He practically said so in a TV interview after the game last night,” Pete said.
“Really?” Jupe said. “I didn’t see it. What did he say exactly?”
“He said something like ‘Bernie Mehl’s trying to start a scandal and ruin me.’ ”
“Hmmm.” Jupe was silent for a moment. “Perhaps the bribery scheme is bigger than just one school. Michael Anthony may be the messenger at a number of schools.”
Pete’s face fell.
“These are just possibilities, Pete.”
“Yeah, but if it’s
“Come on,” Jupe said as Pete pulled into a parking place. “This is a start.”
They had to follow Anthony on foot now. He seemed to know exactly where he was heading as he strode along the sidewalks of the small college. Pete and Jupe jogged behind, trying to keep him in sight and dodge the students walking by.
“Hey, you fat, featherbrained weasel!”
The voice was so angry that Jupe stopped in surprise to see what was going on. He saw four guys standing under a nearby tree. Instantly he recognized two of them.
“Uh — oh,” said Pete. “Looks like numbers 32 and 52 — the basketball players who roughed you up last night. No sweat. We can handle them again.”
The four Costa Verde jocks dropped their books under the tree and started coming at Jupe.
“Hey, guys. I think Polly here wants a mouthful of broken teeth!”
“Pete,” Jupe said, “I don’t think we can handle four of them. My advice is run!” Jupe took off.
Pete followed, catching up with Jupe quickly. The four jocks were pounding the sidewalk behind them, gaining fast.
“They’re going to pulverize me!” Jupe yelled, puffing as he ran.
“I’ll split off and try to draw some of them away,” Pete called.
Jupe ran as fast as he could, but he didn’t know which way to turn to find the Porsche or the parking lot. So he just bolted toward a large lawn. Almost instantly he developed a pain in his side from running. He looked back and saw that only one of the basketball players had followed Pete. That left three enormous guys breathing down Jupe’s neck.
Jupe reached a street and dashed in front of an oncoming car, then cut through an alley between two classroom buildings. But as he rounded the corner, hoping to duck out of sight, he ran smack into a group of Costa Verde students.
“Kenny! Grab that piece of dog meat!” a voice behind Jupe yelled. Jupe felt hands grabbing at him. It must have been Kenny, a guy in the crowd he had rammed into.
Jupe twisted away, but the collision had slowed him down enough so that now the three jocks were almost even with him. A moment later he felt hands grab him again. It was number 52, wearing a green Costa Verde T- shirt. He held on to Jupe and yanked him around. Then before Jupe knew what was happening, all three jocks were pushing him, punching him, and roughing him up.
Jupe struggled and squirmed, but it was no use. With three monstrous guys holding his arms and legs his judo kicks went nowhere. All of a sudden Jupe felt himself being lifted up and carried away. Where were they taking him? A moment later he found out. His attackers put him down hard, stuffing him into a wire trash basket at the corner of the street.
“That’s where you belong, Polly!” number 52 said, kicking at Jupe inside the basket.
“Yeah—stay in your cage, parrot. And try not to mess up the newspaper in the bottom of it!”
All three guys laughed, then turned around and started to walk away.
Jupe was furious, humiliated, bruised, sore — and sticky from something in the bottom of the trash basket. But before he could decide what to do, Pete pulled up in the Porsche.
“Hop in,” Pete called, lowering the electric window nearest the curb. Slowly Jupe climbed out of the trash basket, got into the Porsche, and locked the door. He sat there silently for a moment, breathing heavily and dripping sweat. Then he noticed that Pete had a cut lip and a swollen eye.
“That fourth guy gave you trouble, I see.”
Pete gave a small nod.
“Well, at least we got away,” Jupe said.
“We’re not the only ones,” Pete answered, frowning. “When I got to the parking lot, the black Thunderbird was gone. Michael Anthony gave us the slip!”
“Michael Anthony said he would call you today. So we’ve got to be here for the phone call,” Jupe said. He was busy hooking up a tape recorder to the cordless phone in Pete’s kitchen.
“But Jupe, give me a break. It’s Saturday morning,” Pete said. “I can’t wait here all day.” He looked longingly out the window at the blue sports car in his driveway. “That car’s not safe out there.”
Jupe raised one eyebrow. “What?”
“Guys were calling me all last night begging to drive it — I didn’t even know who half of them were.” Pete was obviously getting agitated because he poured orange juice in his cereal instead of milk. “I told my parents the car’s part of a case we’re working on. You know what they said?”
“What?” asked Bob.
“They asked me if
“Yeah, I’ll be happy to take it for a spin while you hang around here,” Bob offered.
Pete rolled his eyes. “That car is probably the only reason you’re here today and not working at the talent agency.”
“That reminds me,” Bob said. “Sax wants to drive it, too.”
Pete was about to fling a spoonful of cereal at Bob when the phone rang.
“I told you he’d call,” Jupe said. He jumped to turn on the tape recorder. “Keep him talking as long as you can, Pete. He’s our only lead.”
Pete switched on the speaker phone so they could all listen. But it was Kelly calling from Lake Tahoe.
“The skiing is great, but I miss you, Pete,” she said. “Miss me?”
“Uh, sure,” Pete said. “But give me a break, Kel. I’ve got you on the speaker phone.”
