Good Year For Murder by A.E. Eddenden Page A

Trutt humorously put it. Henry wore a chest protector and mask borrowed from a city-sponsored bantam team.
    Because of the numerical advantage of the civic employees and the age difference between the two teams, the politicians were allowed to field their whole group of ten. Mayor Trutt, leader in the Council and leader on the field, (his own slogan), pitched to Joseph Pennylegion who affected a loud, talk-it-up style of catching. F. McKnight Wakeley, in his summer drill uniform, played first base, Bartholomew Gum second, Emmett O’Dell shortstop with MacCulla rounding out the infield at third base. He had taken off his tie.
    From where Tretheway sat behind the third base line, he couldhear Morgan Morgan in left field within conversation distance of Taz in centre field. They both carried hip flasks. Ammerman in right field chatted with Gertrude Valentini, who had been officially designated outfield rover.
    â€œOne thing, Jake,” Tretheway said. “It makes our job easier.”
    â€œHm?” Jake said.
    â€œThe baseball game. Gets them all together. We can keep our eye on Mac. And all the other officers can watch their charges.” Tretheway waved his hand across the field of players. “Our city fathers. All together in one bundle. One convenient bunch. Every …” He stopped short.
    â€œWhat’s the matter?” Jake asked.
    Tretheway stared at the inept group of politicians as though he had just seen them for the first time.
    â€œWhat is it?” Jake persisted.
    â€œIf you were the killer,” Tretheway proposed, “and, just for fun, had decided to do away with the whole City Council He lit a cigar.
    â€œGo on,” Jake encouraged.
    â€œYou’ve carried out a few pranks. You’ve eliminated Father Cosentino. Then Miss Tommerup. Both successfully. Your confidence is growing. Now here’s an opportunity where they’re all together. In one spot. I mean, this game was no secret. What would you do?”
    â€œAh … I don’t know.” Jake craned his neck and checked the parking lot, the pavilion and even the distant woodlots. He saw plenty of people but they were all doing what they were supposed to do. “But, all of a sudden, I feel nervous.”
    â€œWhy?” Tretheway asked.
    â€œBecause of what you just said.”
    â€œOh hell, Jake. That’s all conjecture. Top of my head. Nothing’ll happen right now.”
    â€œHow can you tell?”
    â€œIt’s just not his style.” Tretheway brushed ashes from his front. “Doesn’t fit the pattern. And there’s no joke about it. Stop worrying.”
    â€œAll the same.” Jake checked the crowd again.
    â€œFor one thing,” Tretheway suggested, “how do you know the killer isn’t out there right now?”
    â€œOut where?”
    â€œPlaying baseball?”
    Jake stared Tretheway full in the face. “You mean … that … you’re saying …”
    â€œJake, Jake.” Tretheway leaned over and squeezed both Jake’s knees together with one hand as a young boy might squeeze the straws in his rival’s soda. “I’m not saying anything. Just thinking out loud. Watch the game. And keep your eye on Mac. I’m going for a beer.” He stepped off in the direction of their picnic table, puffing smoke. Jake rubbed the feeling back into his knees and turned his attention to the game.
    There were no real surprises in the baseball game this year either. It went just about the way everyone expected, even with the new rules. One of them allowed the City Council pitcher six balls instead of the customary four, but Mayor Trutt still managed to load the base on balls twice in the first inning.
    By the time the politicians came to bat, the score was 17 to 0 and they had lost one of their players. Ammerman had collided with a friendly English sheep dog in mid-field chasing a fly ball that Lucifer Taz had subsequently caught