shot.
“I take it that was brother Cranford.” Cole rose from the frayed carpet. He sprinted across the room, took a quick preliminary look, and then dived out into the night.
“What the hell,” repeated the fraternity president, bringing his head up above desk level. “I saw him get shot.”
“Bulletproof vest,” explained Nellie. She followed Cole out the window.
“What an unusual couple,” said Plaut.
Cole was wearing the special celluglass vest used only by members of the Justice, Inc. team. It had kept the slug from doing him any serious harm. The force of the bullet’s impact, though, left his side sore.
A fact he was especially aware of now as he ran down hill after Cranford.
Someone must have mentioned to the young man that Cole and Nellie were asking about him and he’d decided on a rather forceful way to discourage them.
The wide-shouldered boy was a good runner. Cole had all he could do keeping the distance between them from growing. He hadn’t been able to shorten it.
Cranford went skidding around a corner.
Cole tried to pick up his pace.
Up on a balcony of a sorority house a girl in a silk bathrobe was listening to a Tommy Dorsey record on a windup phonograph.
The houses ended at the bottom of the hill. When Cole got around the corner there were trees and then a stretch of parking lot.
The lot was empty.
He waited at the edge of the stand of trees. Rubbing at the sore spot on his side, he surveyed the misty parking area. “The case of the vanishing collegian,” he said to himself.
Across the parking lot rose the football stadium. Dark, locked up.
“Did brother Cranford venture into the stadium?” Cole, getting his pistol out, started across the gravel.
Alert, ready to flatten out if anybody took a shot at him, he walked swiftly across to the nearest entrance gate.
The gate was of heavy wire, nearly ten feet high, padlocked and chained.
“Think you can make it over?” asked Nellie behind him.
“Ah, princess, I didn’t hear your elfin tread.”
“Is he inside there?”
“That’s my first choice for his probable location.”
“Okay, so let’s have a look.” She jumped, caught hold of the wire some six feet up, and began to climb.
Cole followed suit.
A moment later they were inside the stadium grounds. An arched entryway was a few feet away.
“Yon portal should lead out to the seats and the field,” said Cole.
“Hold on a minute,” said the girl. “Cranford was wearing some kind of athlete’s sweater, didn’t you say?”
“Yes, that is a fact.”
“What sport did he earn his letter in?”
“Football.”
“So maybe he’s not hiding out among the bleachers,” she suggested. “He might be holed up in a locker room or someplace like that.”
“An excellent thought, pixie.” Cole pointed to their left. “There’s a sign indicating how one might reach the bowels of the stadium and the locker rooms in question.”
Side by side they walked to the archway and went down a wide dark flight of stone steps.
Cole fished out his pocket flashlight, clicked it on, and sheltered the glow with his cupped palm.
They descended in silence. They arrived at another level, then went down another deep row of stone stairs. At last they were under the stadium.
“I get the feeling I’m going to be fed to the lions,” said Cole in a low voice. “In fact, it smells something like a lion pit down here.”
Down the end of a tile corridor was a metal door with the words Home Team stenciled across it. The door was a few inches open.
Somewhere beyond that door water was dripping slowly onto a stone floor.
Cole and Nellie stopped close to the open door.
“Wait here a minute,” he said next to her ear. He passed the flashlight to her, entered the locker room.
A thick blackness that smelled of perspiration and soap surrounded him. Cole took short careful steps. Then he stood perfectly still, breath held, and listened.
A very faint rattle to his right.
“Shower
“I take it that was brother Cranford.” Cole rose from the frayed carpet. He sprinted across the room, took a quick preliminary look, and then dived out into the night.
“What the hell,” repeated the fraternity president, bringing his head up above desk level. “I saw him get shot.”
“Bulletproof vest,” explained Nellie. She followed Cole out the window.
“What an unusual couple,” said Plaut.
Cole was wearing the special celluglass vest used only by members of the Justice, Inc. team. It had kept the slug from doing him any serious harm. The force of the bullet’s impact, though, left his side sore.
A fact he was especially aware of now as he ran down hill after Cranford.
Someone must have mentioned to the young man that Cole and Nellie were asking about him and he’d decided on a rather forceful way to discourage them.
The wide-shouldered boy was a good runner. Cole had all he could do keeping the distance between them from growing. He hadn’t been able to shorten it.
Cranford went skidding around a corner.
Cole tried to pick up his pace.
Up on a balcony of a sorority house a girl in a silk bathrobe was listening to a Tommy Dorsey record on a windup phonograph.
The houses ended at the bottom of the hill. When Cole got around the corner there were trees and then a stretch of parking lot.
The lot was empty.
He waited at the edge of the stand of trees. Rubbing at the sore spot on his side, he surveyed the misty parking area. “The case of the vanishing collegian,” he said to himself.
Across the parking lot rose the football stadium. Dark, locked up.
“Did brother Cranford venture into the stadium?” Cole, getting his pistol out, started across the gravel.
Alert, ready to flatten out if anybody took a shot at him, he walked swiftly across to the nearest entrance gate.
The gate was of heavy wire, nearly ten feet high, padlocked and chained.
“Think you can make it over?” asked Nellie behind him.
“Ah, princess, I didn’t hear your elfin tread.”
“Is he inside there?”
“That’s my first choice for his probable location.”
“Okay, so let’s have a look.” She jumped, caught hold of the wire some six feet up, and began to climb.
Cole followed suit.
A moment later they were inside the stadium grounds. An arched entryway was a few feet away.
“Yon portal should lead out to the seats and the field,” said Cole.
“Hold on a minute,” said the girl. “Cranford was wearing some kind of athlete’s sweater, didn’t you say?”
“Yes, that is a fact.”
“What sport did he earn his letter in?”
“Football.”
“So maybe he’s not hiding out among the bleachers,” she suggested. “He might be holed up in a locker room or someplace like that.”
“An excellent thought, pixie.” Cole pointed to their left. “There’s a sign indicating how one might reach the bowels of the stadium and the locker rooms in question.”
Side by side they walked to the archway and went down a wide dark flight of stone steps.
Cole fished out his pocket flashlight, clicked it on, and sheltered the glow with his cupped palm.
They descended in silence. They arrived at another level, then went down another deep row of stone stairs. At last they were under the stadium.
“I get the feeling I’m going to be fed to the lions,” said Cole in a low voice. “In fact, it smells something like a lion pit down here.”
Down the end of a tile corridor was a metal door with the words Home Team stenciled across it. The door was a few inches open.
Somewhere beyond that door water was dripping slowly onto a stone floor.
Cole and Nellie stopped close to the open door.
“Wait here a minute,” he said next to her ear. He passed the flashlight to her, entered the locker room.
A thick blackness that smelled of perspiration and soap surrounded him. Cole took short careful steps. Then he stood perfectly still, breath held, and listened.
A very faint rattle to his right.
“Shower
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