rooms …”
“We’re not really breaking … just entering. Now shut up and look.”
They went to work. Susan Carol took the bedside table and Stevie put his soda down on the corner of the desk and began going through a pile of papers. There were statistics sheets and media guides for Minnesota State and St. Joe’s. There was a notebook and a room service menu. Beneath the room service menu was a stack of papers, including one that said “MSU Itinerary for Final Four Weekend” on it. Stevie looked through it quickly and noticed that the Purple Tide was scheduled to fly home Tuesday morning and arrive in time for a “national championship victory celebration—12 noon—Heavenly Coffee Field House.” He remembered reading a story about many MSU alumni being upset that the name of C. W. Whitaker, the first president of the school, had been taken off the field house when the coffee company offered $3 million a year to get its name on the building.
He snorted at the planned victory celebration and was starting to move on to the next piece of paper on the pile when there was a knock on the door. Stevie froze. It couldn’t be Jerry, could it? Susan Carol put a finger to her lips to indicate that he shouldn’t say anything. There was another knock. “Go away, go away,” Stevie hissed under his breath.
They heard a key go into the slot. Stevie felt himself panicking. What should they do? Hide? Where? He made a dive for behind the bed, knocking a sheaf of paper onto the floor. Then he heard a voice from outside say, “Housekeeping.”
Susan Carol bolted toward the door. “Sorry,” she said as a maid poked her head inside the room. “We didn’t hear you knock, I guess. We’ll be out of here in just a few minutes.”
Stevie couldn’t really see the maid’s face, but he heard her say, “Oh, okay. Sorry. I’ll come back.”
She pulled the door shut and Susan Carol bolted it. Stevie sat down on the bed. He was pouring sweat all of a sudden.
“That was terrifying,” he said.
She sat down next to him. He noticed her face was drained of color. “I know,” she said. She put her hand on his hand, which made him feel good but also made him sweat even more. “Let’s find this thing and get out of here.”
They started to pick up the papers he’d knocked to the floor, and there it was: “Rooming List, Minnesota State Purple Tide, April 1–5.”
“Got it!” he said. He put a finger at the top and workedhis way down to the G’s. “Here it is,” he said, “Graber, Alan Jr.—room 4101.”
“All the way at the top,” she said. “Figures. See who he’s rooming with.”
Stevie continued down the page. There wasn’t another 4101. He went through the list again to be sure. As he did, something caught his eye. Tom Richards, another of the seniors, was in 4103, and he couldn’t find anyone else in there. He checked on the other two seniors—Marlin Bennett and Tammu Abate—and saw they had single rooms, too.
“All the seniors are in singles,” he said. “And they’re all at that end of the hall.”
She nodded. “Okay, let’s get out of here before the maid comes back.”
Stevie quickly tried to rearrange the desk to approximate the way he had found it. He wasn’t sure where the rooming list had been, but it had been near the bottom of the pile, so he put it back there.
“Don’t forget your soda,” Susan Carol said. Then, poking their heads out the door to make sure no one was around, they headed back down the hallway.
“What now?” he asked.
“First we get a duplicate key. Then we give this one back to Jerry and
then
we go try to find Chip.”
“We’ll have to tell Jerry why we aren’t going to hang around to hear the show.”
“I know,” she said. “I’ll think of an excuse before we get there.”
They took the elevator back down to the first floor, making several interminable stops for MSU fans. Stevie was beginning to think the people in purple and white were like
“We’re not really breaking … just entering. Now shut up and look.”
They went to work. Susan Carol took the bedside table and Stevie put his soda down on the corner of the desk and began going through a pile of papers. There were statistics sheets and media guides for Minnesota State and St. Joe’s. There was a notebook and a room service menu. Beneath the room service menu was a stack of papers, including one that said “MSU Itinerary for Final Four Weekend” on it. Stevie looked through it quickly and noticed that the Purple Tide was scheduled to fly home Tuesday morning and arrive in time for a “national championship victory celebration—12 noon—Heavenly Coffee Field House.” He remembered reading a story about many MSU alumni being upset that the name of C. W. Whitaker, the first president of the school, had been taken off the field house when the coffee company offered $3 million a year to get its name on the building.
He snorted at the planned victory celebration and was starting to move on to the next piece of paper on the pile when there was a knock on the door. Stevie froze. It couldn’t be Jerry, could it? Susan Carol put a finger to her lips to indicate that he shouldn’t say anything. There was another knock. “Go away, go away,” Stevie hissed under his breath.
They heard a key go into the slot. Stevie felt himself panicking. What should they do? Hide? Where? He made a dive for behind the bed, knocking a sheaf of paper onto the floor. Then he heard a voice from outside say, “Housekeeping.”
Susan Carol bolted toward the door. “Sorry,” she said as a maid poked her head inside the room. “We didn’t hear you knock, I guess. We’ll be out of here in just a few minutes.”
Stevie couldn’t really see the maid’s face, but he heard her say, “Oh, okay. Sorry. I’ll come back.”
She pulled the door shut and Susan Carol bolted it. Stevie sat down on the bed. He was pouring sweat all of a sudden.
“That was terrifying,” he said.
She sat down next to him. He noticed her face was drained of color. “I know,” she said. She put her hand on his hand, which made him feel good but also made him sweat even more. “Let’s find this thing and get out of here.”
They started to pick up the papers he’d knocked to the floor, and there it was: “Rooming List, Minnesota State Purple Tide, April 1–5.”
“Got it!” he said. He put a finger at the top and workedhis way down to the G’s. “Here it is,” he said, “Graber, Alan Jr.—room 4101.”
“All the way at the top,” she said. “Figures. See who he’s rooming with.”
Stevie continued down the page. There wasn’t another 4101. He went through the list again to be sure. As he did, something caught his eye. Tom Richards, another of the seniors, was in 4103, and he couldn’t find anyone else in there. He checked on the other two seniors—Marlin Bennett and Tammu Abate—and saw they had single rooms, too.
“All the seniors are in singles,” he said. “And they’re all at that end of the hall.”
She nodded. “Okay, let’s get out of here before the maid comes back.”
Stevie quickly tried to rearrange the desk to approximate the way he had found it. He wasn’t sure where the rooming list had been, but it had been near the bottom of the pile, so he put it back there.
“Don’t forget your soda,” Susan Carol said. Then, poking their heads out the door to make sure no one was around, they headed back down the hallway.
“What now?” he asked.
“First we get a duplicate key. Then we give this one back to Jerry and
then
we go try to find Chip.”
“We’ll have to tell Jerry why we aren’t going to hang around to hear the show.”
“I know,” she said. “I’ll think of an excuse before we get there.”
They took the elevator back down to the first floor, making several interminable stops for MSU fans. Stevie was beginning to think the people in purple and white were like
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