Baseball History Mystery - Chapter 1

Twenty years can change a person’s appearance to make them almost unrecognizable. History Professor Bobby O'Brien doubted his ability to find his old friend, Will Carter in an elevator much less a crowded café. Last week, Bobby checked photo files from his sports reporter days for a picture of Will. The caption still fit, “African-American baseball league expert to speak at conference.” Will demonstrated instant recall when asked about teams, players, coaches, and owners. No one could tell fascinating stori es about the leagues better than Will.

Bobby felt pleased that he secured a well -known and engaging speaker to complement the Lone Star College-CyFair Branch Library’s Pride and Passion display on African -American baseball or the Negro Baseball Leagues as they were called. He knew that anyone who attended the program and saw the display would be deeply affected by the trials and triumphs experienced by the players.

The only trial faced by Bobby at this point was being able pick out his friend from a di stance with his past-their-prime prescription glasses.

“I should have made an eye appointment several months ago,” Bobby thought to himself. “I didn’t realize how rotten these glasses are.”

As he glanced around the café, Bobby narrowed down the choice s for Will to two guys sitting alone in booths near the kitchen. He worked his way through the clutter of bodies, chairs, and tables to get a closer view of the finalists.

“I’m going with the Sporting-News -on-the-table guy,” he said to himself, pleased t o find a definitive clue to his friend’s identity.

Bobby approached the table and introduced himself, but realized as he was talking, that this guy was way too old to be Will.

“Over here, Bobby,” said someone who obviously overheard from a few tables back. “It’s Will.”

“Man, I’m relieved you’re not that guy, because he seemed positively ancient once I saw him up close.”

“How are you, Bobby? It’s good to see you again. Can I buy you lunch?”

“That’s okay, Will. I need to get back to campus for a 2 p.m. class. I’ll just have coffee.”

Will motioned to the server and ordered a cup. “Let me check my schedule for this week,” said Will as he turned the pages on his planner. “It’s going to be difficult to do everything at the conference and collectibles show downtown. I’m scheduled to be on a panel tomorrow discussing newspaper

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coverage of African-American baseball teams and then sign my latest book in the exhibit hall.”

“And there’s the 7 p.m. Thursday talk at the college listed in your planner, right?”

“Right, I need to circle that entry. I still have 3 days to look over my notes and polish the presentation.”

“Everyone at the college is looking forward to your talk, especially the library director, Mick Stafford. When he secured the grant for the Pride and Passion African-American Baseball display, he knew that he should get you to appear since you are quite the expert. He’s read quite a few of your articles and books and was quite impressed.”

“It’s good to have fans, because they make you feel that your work is important. And they expand your contacts. In fact, a fan who became a good friend recommended that I meet someone who came across some historical baseball records. This person supposedly found a box of items from a 1930s African-American baseball team. I’ve been asked to put a value on them for insurance purposes.”

“Pardon me, but how do you know these records are genuine? I’d be suspicious of anyone who said they had this stuff. These teams weren’t known for keeping statistics.”

“Yes, you’re right about teams not having accurate player stats, but these records appear to be about the business side of the team from the owner’s family. Supposedly, they have quite a collection. I’m a bit skeptical, but I said I’d take a look.”

“Would you mind if I came with you? You could mention I’m a history professor doing some research.”

“I’ll be setting a meeting time tonight, so I can ask if it would be okay. With a find such as this one, there is a desire to tell very few people to prevent theft. This type of memorabilia can be valuable.”

As the two men continued to talk, Will's cell phone began to vibrate. He checked the number. "Excuse me, Bobby. This call may be about the team records appraisal."

Will listened intently to the caller for several minutes, responding with a few “uh-huhs” and “okays” as needed. "Well, if you say that it's urgent, I suppose I could meet briefly tonight. Sure, 8 p.m. at my hotel. That's right, that's the one. I'll be in the lobby near the escalator. Yes, I'll be alone."

"Hmm, so I guess that means I won't be accompanying you to the meeting?”

"Sorry, Bobby. This woman sounded very anxious on the phone. She said she needs to get a price for the memorabilia very quickly. And as you heard, she wants to keep the meeting private."

Baseball History Mystery - Chapter 2

Will returned to his hotel to finish preparing for his talk tomorrow. As he reviewed his presentation, he heard a knock on the door.

"Hi Will, we need to talk." said Sheila Ross, his book editor, as she breezed into the room. "Time to finalize plans for tomorrow's book signing."

"Well, I'm a bit busy right now, Sheila.”

“I only need a few minutes of your time, Will. That’s the least you can do for me since I proofread your talk for tomorrow.”

"I’d feel better if I could look at it again to make a few more improvements. And I need to meet someone soon. Can't we discuss the signing in the morning? I’ll buy you breakfast."

"Oh, okay. You're always so last minute with everything, I know. By the way, who are you meeting tonight?"

"No one you know.”

"Oh, really? I bet it's that Liz Sampson from Sports Publishers International. She's trying to lure you away from us with a better book contract, right?"

“Really Sheila, I need to focus on the talk. We’ll discuss the signing tomorrow. Let’s say 7:30 a.m. at the coffee shop in the lobby.”

“Okay big spender. Coffee and a muffin isn’t what I’d call breakfast, but if I can get your attention for 15 minutes, that’s all I need.”

Sheila left Will’s room and headed for the lobby bar. After she finished her drink, Sheila walked toward the elevators. As she turned the corner, she saw Will walking with a woman near the lobby’s main door. Wondering if a rival publisher was indeed trying to make a deal with Will and having nothing better to do, Sheila decided to follow them at a discreet distance. Will and the woman reached a surface parking lot and entered an idling sedan with deeply-tinted windows. Sheila waited across the street on a bench.

When a half hour passed without incident, Sheila decided to return to the hotel. She rose to leave and then heard the car’s engine stop and the driver’s door open. The woman exited the vehicle, retrieved a box from back seat, and walked across the street to another hotel where she hailed a taxi.

“Where is Will?” Sheila thought to herself.

As soon as she thought the cab was far enough away, Sheila crossed the street and approached the sedan. She wondered if she had missed seeing Will exit the car and was making a big deal over his “disappearance.” Then she thought she should have called the police. But what would she tell them? They’d think she was crazy if she said she followed her friend to a parked car, saw him enter it, and never saw him get out. What a truly convincing idiotic story that would be!

She reached the car and tried to peer inside but the window tinting prevented her from seeing anything or anyone. She called Will’s name instead of tapping on the window, thinking that the car might have an alarm. No one answered.

Giving up for now, Sheila decided to walk back to the hotel. She wanted to call Will’s room to see if anyone answered, but she forgot to bring her cell phone with her. As soon as she reached her room, she called Will’s room. No answer. Then she called Will’s cell phone number. No answer there either.

Baseball History Mystery - Chapter 3

Sheila stayed up most of the night worrying about Will. Where could he be? She grabbed a few hours sleep right before dawn and then decided to take a shower. After getting dressed, she went to the coffee bar hoping Will would show. Promptly at 7:30 a.m., she saw him stroll across the lobby.

“Good morning, Sheila! Whoa, you look tired. Late night, huh?”

Sheila held her temper, but his greeting infuriated her. It was his fault that she couldn’t sleep and looked awful. But she couldn’t admit that she followed him last night and thought he might be in danger.

“Yeah, well, buy me some coffee so I can perk up a bit. Little pun there - ‘perk up’ with ‘coffee’ - get it? I am so clever when I’m tired.”

“Right, so clever that you’re wearing one blue shoe and one black shoe…to make a witty fashion statement, I’m sure.”

“What?” said Sheila, looking down at her feet, realizing that he was absolutely correct. Not able to conceal her feelings anymore, Sheila unleashed her exhausted frustration on Will. “Why didn’t you answer last night when I called your cell and room phone?” “I was busy.”

“Fine. I suppose you don’t care that people worry about you if they can’t find you.”

“That’s very nice, Sheila. Thank you for caring.”

“Just forget it,” said Sheila, clearly displeased with his response to her concern.

“Did I say something wrong?”

Sheila gathered her belongings and rose from the table. “I need to go before I say something I’ll regret. Now I guess my first priority is to match my footwear. Or maybe I’ll throw caution to the wind and go barefoot today. Either way, I’ll see you at the signing table in the exhibit hall at 11 a.m. Don’t be late.”

“What about your coffee?”

“You drink it!”

Will left the hotel lobby and made his way to the exhibit hall at the convention center. He needed to pick up a few copies of his book for the prize drawing after his talk this morning. As he showed his credentials to security to gain entrance before public hours, Will felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned around to see fellow baseball historian, Sid Haney. Both men proceeded through the exhibit door.

“I didn’t realize I’d see you here so early,” said Sid. “What a fortunate coincidence!”

“Yeah,” said Will with as little enthusiasm as possible.

“I wanted to make sure you’re coming to the brunch I’m hosting for filmmaker, Ken Burns. Likely you recall that I was called upon to help him research his superb baseball documentary. Luckily, I discovered that he would be in town this week, so I arranged for a little party at the Hilton.”

“Uh, huh,” said Will, avoiding eye contact and scanning the exhibit map for the right booth.

“So you’ll come?”

“To what?”

“To the brunch for Ken Burns!”

“Sure,” said Will as he checked his watch.

“But I haven’t told you when it is. It’s tomorrow at 10 a.m. in suite 514.”

“What hotel did you say?”

“Hilton!” said Sid as he threw up his hands in frustration and headed for the exit.

When Will reached his publisher’s booth, he saw stacks of his latest book on a display table. He stood for a moment and admired the book’s cover. African-American baseball player and native Texan, Raleigh “Biz” Mackey proved to be an outstanding subject in the first full-length biography about him. Mackey possessed amazing power behind the bat coupled with unsurpassed defensive skills in multiple positions on the field. He also mentored players such as Roy Campanella and Monte Irvin when he served as manager or player-manager. Will felt privileged to tell Mackey’s story.

Cathy Taylor, one of his publisher’s sales representatives, walked up as he retrieved some of the books. “After your talk, be sure to mention the book signing session at 11 a.m. I want to avoid boxing up a bunch of leftovers and hauling them back home, if you know what I mean.

“Oh, yes, I’m well aware of publisher’s reps not wanting to reload book boxes.”

“Then I will speak no more about it. By the way, guess who I talked to this morning?” “Hank Aaron?”

“No, but that would be amazing. Actually, I chatted with Sid Haney, ‘The Dean of Baseball Historians’ as he calls himself. He is supposed to be unveiling his new book/MP3 package on New York baseball history in the hall tomorrow.”

“Yeah, and as an added bonus, visitors will be treated to an exceptional display of his monumental smugness.”

“So you two really don’t get along well? I thought it was just a rumor.”

“He just uses people to get what he wants. He’s a real manipulator.”

“But Sid has a lot of connections. I heard from another publisher’s rep that a production company bought film rights to his latest book.”

“Isn’t that just dandy? No wonder his ego is colossal. I guess it pays to engage in incessant schmoozing to become Mr. Big Time Deal Maker.”

“Well maybe you should do more schmoozing yourself. It wouldn’t hurt book sales.”

“Yeah, I guess so, but I’ll do it my way,” said Will looking down at his watch. “Oh, I need to go upstairs for the program. See you in two hours.” Cathy quickly pulled books from boxes to finish stocking the display before the exhibit hall opened. While picking up the last stack of books, an unexpected visitor startled her.

“Excuse me, ma’am,” said the young man. “I’m from Speed of Light Courier Service and I have this envelope for Mr. Will Carter. It’s very important that he gets it as soon as possible.”

“You just missed him. I’ll make sure it’s delivered to him.”

She bent down to set the envelope in a box under the table. “Do I need to sign a receipt?” asked Cathy. The courier had vanished by the time she stood up. “Speed of light is right,” she said to herself.

Cathy inspected the large envelope with Will’s name on it, but no return address. For a moment, she thought he might need it for this morning’s presentation. Puzzled and intrigued, Cathy made a call.

Baseball History Mystery - Chapter 4

A huge crowd attended the panel discussion on “Covering the Bases: How Newspapers Such as the Baltimore Afro-American , Chicago Defender , Pittsburgh Courier , and New York Amsterdam News Kept a Record of African-American Baseball.” Will took a moment to promote his book signing downstairs as he made closing remarks. Then he exited the conference room and headed for the exhibit hall. He had exactly ten minutes to arrive on time. He reached the escalator and then someone from behind yelled his name. Will turned to see an unfamiliar, but pretty woman with long blonde hair.

“Mr. Carter, I’m Renee Wallace from Home Run Sports Collectibles. And I hear you are the expert on African-American baseball.”

“Well, I know a fair bit, but I’m trying to get to a book signing downstairs.”

“Well I just need a moment.”

“Right now I can’t,” said Will, clearly frustrated that he couldn’t prolong the surprise encounter with someone so attractive. “But we could meet tomorrow evening for drinks at my hotel.”

“It would be better if we could meet today,” said Renee lowering her voice to a whisper. “I’m in a serious bind and I need your help.”

“What can I do?” asked Will as he kept walking.

“I may take delivery on some valuable baseball memorabilia today. I need you to estimate the value of the lot so I can sell it for the best price.”

“Well, here’s my card,” said Will, pulling one from his wallet. “You can call me to set the date, I mean, meeting.”

“I’ll give you my card, too, in case you want to call me,” she said as her hand lingered in his palm when she deposited the card there.

“Okay, that’s good, too,” said Will clearly flustered.

He left Renee at the bottom of the escalator and proceeded into the exhibit hall. As he neared his publisher’s booth, he saw a dozen people already in line, clutching his latest title.

“Wow!” said Will. “Thanks for coming, all of you.”

Cathy handled book sales next to the signing table as Sheila opened books for Will. He signed books for the first wave of people and then there was a lull. A man came forward to shake hands with Will and introduce himself.

“It’s an honor to meet you, Mr. Carter,” said the man. “I’m Reginald Foster, owner of Home Run Sports Collectibles. Here’s my card.”

It looked like the card Renee handed him. Based on what she told him, Will thought it best to keep her encounter with him quiet. But Will was interested in the connection, so he proceeded to schmooze as directed earlier, to network and get more information.

“So do you have a large operation, with several employees?” asked Will, thinking that Renee’s name might surface in the answer.

“No, not really. Why do you ask?” asked Reginald, curious about the line of questioning.

“Just interested in how sports collectibles are faring in this economy. Does your business have an exhibit at the conference?”

“Yes, in fact, we do have a booth. Some of our best deals are made at conferences such as this one. I’m actually here to discuss business with you.”

“Well, we can talk until another book needs signing.”

“I have some Biz Mackey and Newark Eagles memorabilia. And I need a baseball historian like you to say a few words about the significance of the items. Then I can use your quote in publicity to attract buyers.”

“I don’t endorse memorabilia. I’m primarily a baseball historian who does appraisals on the side.”

“Okay, then give me your appraisal. I can bring the items to your hotel tonight.”

“Well, this evening may not work out.”

“I’d make it worth your while. How about $3000 for a half hour of your time and expertise?”

“Let me think about it. I’ll call you this afternoon if I’m interested. Right now, I need to get back to signing a few more books.”

“Oh, I see,” said Reginald as he turned slightly to see people behind him. “Well, I look forward to your call.”

Will continued to write inscriptions until he realized his signature had deteriorated into two loops and a long line. As the signing session ended, Bobby approached the table with his newly purchased copy.

“I think I’ll get your signature after you’ve recovered from writer’s cramp,” said Bobby. “How did it go?”

“Fairly well, thanks to Sheila and Cathy who kept things going smoothly,” said Will. “You two did a great job!”

“Thanks, Will,” said Sheila and Cathy in chorus.

Sheila extended her hand in Bobby’s direction. “Hi, I’m Sheila Ross, Will’s book editor. You must be the famous Bobby O’Brien. It’s good to meet you.”

“Hi, I’m Cathy Taylor, senior sales representative. Yes, Will mentioned that you are quite knowledgeable about baseball history. He said that if he gave you a team and a year, you could rattle off player names and positions very quickly.”

“I was better at it a few years ago,” asked Bobby. “But I still know quite a few.”

“Hey Will, before you go to lunch, Cathy needs to give you an envelope that a courier service delivered today,” said Sheila.

“Fine,” said Will. “Bobby and I were going to grab a bite down the street. I’ll take it with me. Thanks.”

“I think you might want to open it now,” said Sheila. “Cathy has some information about it that you might find interesting. Why don’t you two go to the exhibitors’ lounge near the service elevator? You’re less likely to be disturbed there this time of day. I’ll staff the exhibit while you’re gone.”

“Bobby, you want to come with us?” asked Will.

“Sure, I don’t have any classes today, so I planned to be at the conference until this evening,” answered Bobby.

“Is it okay with you if Bobby comes with us, Cathy?” asked Will.

“Fine with me, but it make take a few minutes to explain what I discovered about this envelope,” said Cathy. “It’s very odd.”

“How so?” asked Will.

“Well, I’m afraid this envelope could be an amazing discovery for a baseball historian or a monumental scam designed to ruin your reputation,” answered Cathy.

Baseball History Mystery - Chapter 5

Upon entering the exhibitors’ lounge, Cathy told Will and Bobby the circumstances surrounding the receipt of the envelope.

“I need to explain something before you start looking at the contents,” said Cathy. “Since the courier said the envelope needed to be delivered ASAP, I wasn’t sure if it was necessary for your talk this morning. So I called Sheila to see if she thought I should open it.”

“Yes, okay, good thinking, Cathy,” said Will.

“She said she’d take responsibility so I wouldn’t get in trouble with you,” said Cathy.

“What you did was fine, Cathy. I’m not upset with you,” said Will. “Now may I have the envelope, please?”

“One more thing,” said Cathy. “Based on what I found in the envelope, Sheila said that you could wait to see the contents until now. Here’s where the odd part of the story comes.”

“What do you mean?” asked Will.

“I searched the Internet on my phone,” said Cathy. “And I didn’t find a web site or phone number for the courier service that the delivery guy mentioned.”

“It’s a bit odd, but maybe the service has a cell phone number that wouldn’t be listed in an online directory,” said Bobby.

“I appreciate your research on the courier service, Cathy,” said Will. “But let’s see what we have here. He emptied the contents carefully on a table. “It seems to be photocopied Newark Eagles team scouting reports, photos, and programs. Wait a second. What do we have here? It’s the copy of the cover of Effa Manley’s book, the 1976 edition of Negro Baseball . . . Before Integration . Bobby, take a look.”

“Wasn’t she one of the owners of the Newark Eagles?” said Bobby.

“Yes, and so far the only woman inducted into the Hall of Fame in Cooperstown,” answered Will. “She wrote the book with Leon Herbert Hardwick and this first edition is rare.”

“How much would it be worth?” asked Cathy.

“A signed one went for $3500 in 2007, if I recall correctly,” answered Will. “But highly-prized and scarce items associated with Effa Manley could reach $10,000 or more.”

“Do you think the actual items pictured in this envelope would add up $100,000?” asked Cathy.

Will stared at the photocopy in his hand. “With this item shown here, I’d say it would be much easier getting to six figures,” said Will. “It appears to be Sol White’s Official Base Ball Guide , 1907 edition. I’ve seen an original copy and this one matches. It’s considered to be the first book ever published about African-American baseball. Only a few copies are known to exist. It’s very rare and should bring over $15,000 in an auction.”

“Very impressive,” said Bobby.

“Since Biz Mackey played and managed for the Eagles, do you recall seeing any of the photocopied items when you researched your book?” asked Cathy.

“I likely saw similar material,” said Will, “but I would need to check my notes at home. I found most of the owners’ records for the Eagles at the Newark Public Library.”

“Hey there’s a handwritten note in the envelope,” said Bobby. “And a key is taped to it with the address and the unit number of a self-storage place here in town.”

“Now I’m supposed to think that the actual collection of pictured memorabilia is in the self-storage unit?” asked Will.

“I’m no detective, but I smell a set up,” said Cathy. “Why would someone look for Newark baseball history at a storage place in Houston? And why deliver this package to you anonymously? Have these items been stolen and now they’re stashed for safekeeping until they can be sold? How hard would it be to sell stolen baseball memorabilia?”

“Good questions, Cathy, and so many of them,” said Will. “I think some of them could be answered by checking out the storage unit. It could hold genuine historical items, bogus or stolen memorabilia, or nothing at all. By the way, the Newark Eagles were sold and moved to Houston in 1948. Some of the team records could have been transferred here accidentally.”

“What if someone is setting a trap at the storage unit?” asked Cathy.

“For what reason would they want to trap Will?” asked Bobby. “He has a bit of notoriety now because of the new book and the conference talk, but he’s not really well known or rich.”

“Thanks for that big boost to my self esteem, Bobby,” said Will.

“You know what I meant, Will,” said Bobby. “What would anyone have to gain by trapping you?”

“You could be accused of dealing in stolen or fake memorabilia!” said Cathy. “Say goodbye to your career if the media got word of it.”

“Maybe we should call the police,” said Bobby.

“And tell them what exactly?” asked Will. “That we have a suspicious envelope of photocopies?”

“Well, maybe it would be a good idea to see if there is anything important in the storage unit,” said Bobby. “Based on the address and zip code listed with the key, this place should be near the college. I can help you find it.”

“Wait a second,” said Cathy. “Before you go, just think about this situation for one more moment. Remember Mr. Foster who talked to you at the book signing? He says he has Newark Eagles and Biz Mackey memorabilia, too. How much Eagles-related collectibles can there be?”

“It’s true that there can’t be an unlimited supply of team memorabilia,” answered Will. “Maybe Mr. Foster doesn’t have genuine collectibles.”

“Why would he offer $3000 to appraise his collection if he wasn’t sure it’s the real thing?” asked Cathy.

“I don’t know,” said Will. “Most sports memorabilia doesn’t fetch a huge price for individual items, so $3000 is rather high to pay for an appraisal unless he has some scarce or high demand memorabilia. He may have a buyer willing to pay top dollar for some reason.”

“We’d better go, Will, if we want to beat the freeway traffic to get to the self-storage place,” said Bobby. “We can grab some lunch on the way there.”

“Thanks again for your help, Cathy,” said Will. “Don’t worry.”

“You guys are playing right into their hands,” said Cathy. “I bet you’ll be on the local news tonight. Noted baseball historian arrested at local storage unit filled with stolen sports memorabilia. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Baseball History Mystery - Chapter 6

Will and Bobby reached the self-storage place at 2 p.m. and entered the office, where a man sat behind the counter watching television.

“Hello. Can you direct us to storage unit 254?” asked Will.

“Didn’t anyone tell you where it was when you rented it?” asked the man.

“I forgot,” answered Will. “So if you can just give me a map and a code to get in the gate, I’ll be on my way.”

“Can’t do that,” said the man.

“Why not?” asked Will.

“Gotta see if your name is on the authorized list since you don’t have the gate code,” said the man. “You got a photo ID?”

Will and Bobby handed him their identification. “Say, who made this list and how many names are listed?” asked Will.

“Can’t tell you anything about the list, except if you’re on it,” said the man. “Don’t see O’Brien okayed for unit 254. Looks like there is a Carter here, but I can’t make out the first name. The printing got smudged. Dang greasy cheeseburger dripped on it. Ah well, I guess you must be the Carter they mean.”

“So are you gonna authorize this O’Brien fella to go with you, Mr. Carter?” asked the man. “Gotta fill out some paperwork if you’re gonna do that.”

“All right. What do I need to do?” asked Will.

The storage unit employee handed Will the papers. After Will completed and returned them, the man gave him the gate code and a location map for the unit.

Will and Bobby drove to unit 254 and tried the key on the padlock. Luckily, it opened. They entered the air-conditioned unit and closed the roll-up door. Two white boxes marked “baseball” in large red lettering sat near the back wall.

“Looking through here, I see photos, programs, pennants, and scouting reports,” said Will. “They do appear to be some of the items we saw in the photocopies. And they look to be originals and not modern reproductions. Ah, here it is.”

“What?” asked Bobby.

Will held a small book in his hand. “It’s the Sol White 1907 book. I can’t believe it!” He picked up another book from the box. “Sure enough, the 1976 Effa Manley title is here, too.”

With a bang, the roll-up door opened quickly. Two persons in dark clothing, faces hidden by ski masks appeared in the doorway and one pointed what appeared to be a gun inside a pocket.

“Shove those boxes over here,” said one of the intruders with a female voice. “And hurry up.”

“Okay, that’s it,” said the other one with a male voice. “If you call the police, you’ll regret it.”

They didn’t seem to notice the two books in Will’s hand. The intruders took the boxes and closed the door. Will and Bobby heard what sounded like someone fastening the lock. Bobby tried the door, but it wouldn’t budge.

“See, that was a set up,” said Bobby calmly. “And now we’re locked in. I guess Cathy was right.”

“We need to get out of here,” said Will. “They might realize they don’t have the really valuable items and return for them. But we don’t have the phone number to call the guy in the office to open the door. It wasn’t on the piece of paper with the key.”

“I’m not sure he’d get us out of here anyway. It seemed like he was suspicious of us. He’d probably be pleased we were stuck in here.”

“Okay, we can’t call the police either, so we’re doomed. Soon we’ll be on the local news like Cathy predicted when the thieves return to get the books and finish us off.”

“Stay calm, Will. Let me think. Who might be in their office at the college right now? Hey, I’ll call Mick. He’s good at looking up information quickly, so he should be able to find the storage place phone number.”

“Can’t we just call directory assistance on one of our cell phones?”

“Yeah, but it costs extra and Mick can probably find the number faster anyway.”

“Bobby, I don’t think you should be worrying about saving money when our lives are on the line.”

Bobby found Mick’s number on his cell contacts list and placed the call. “Hey Mick, this is Bobby O’Brien and I need some help. Will Carter and I are locked in a self-storage unit and need you to look up the number for the office.”

“Really? Okay, sure,” said Mick. “Give me the name of the business and at least some of the address if you have it.”

“Store and Stow at 8416 West Point Drive,” said Bobby.

“Okay, just a sec. Do you want me send it in text message, so you’ll have a record of it?” asked Mick.

“Sure, that would be helpful,” answered Bobby.

“Anything else you need?” asked Mick.

“Not right now, thanks,” answered Bobby.

Bobby called the storage unit office on his cell phone, but no one answered. He called several times.

“This is bad,” said Will. “How long can we survive without water?”

“Longer than an hour, which is how long it’s been since lunch,” answered Bobby. “Get a grip Will. It’s not time for the worst case scenario.”

“Hey, Bobby, can you get Mick back on the phone?”

“Sure, but why?”

“So he can find a locksmith to get us out of here.”

“No locksmith is likely to open this door for us. We have no documentation that says this storage unit is rented to either of us. The guy in the storage place office can’t vouch for us because we can’t find him. And don’t think he’d be inclined to help us out anyway.”

“But the locksmith won’t know that’s the story until he removes the lock, opens the door, and frees us. He’ll figure that we got in here with a key and someone accidentally locked us in.”

Bobby pushed the redial button on his cell phone. “Sorry to bother you again, Mick. It seems we need a locksmith, so can you find one that’s willing to come to the location I just gave you and open unit 254?”

“Sure Bobby, but wouldn’t it be easier to get a storage place employee to open the unit?” asked Mick.

“Can’t get them on the phone,” answered Bobby. “We’ve been trying for a while. And I forgot to mention that the thieves that locked us in may return. We want to get out of here as soon as possible.”

“Okay, Bobby,” said Mick. “I’ll do my best to find a locksmith, but maybe I can do something to help now. I remember seeing a sign for that Store and Stow on West Point Drive near the college.”

“Yeah, it’s north of the campus,” said Bobby.

“I’ve finished all my meetings for today,” said Mick. “So I can come over there to find the missing employee.”

“I owe you,” said Bobby.

“I’m on my way,” said Mick.

Baseball History Mystery - Chapter 7

When he arrived at the self-storage place, Mick spotted an employee getting out of an electric cart. Mick explained the problem at unit 254 and they went to see what could be done. They found that the latch was indeed locked, but a key remained inside the lock. The employee turned the key, unfastened the lock from the latch, and opened the door.

“Thanks for rescuing us, Mick!” said Bobby. “Let’s get out of here!”

Will and Bobby got in the rental car and headed for Bobby’s house several blocks from the storage place. Bobby asked Mick to follow them. The three men met to discuss how to handle the two valuable books.

“We should contact the sheriff’s office and give them the books,” said Mick. “Based on what you told me, the owner of these items has yet to be identified. The longer they stay in your possession, the more likely someone will come after you to get them or accuse you of stealing them.”

“But the sheriff’s office probably doesn’t know how to handle historical material,” said Will. “They’re likely to damage the books which will affect their value.”

“Do you know for certain that they are genuine?” asked Bobby.

“I’m well acquainted with the original editions of both these books and I do believe these items are the real deal,” answered Will. “I can take better care of them myself than property room deputies.”

“Mick, the thieves told us not to contact the authorities,” said Bobby. “But I agree with you about giving them to the sheriff’s office. We could be accused of felony theft for removing these items from the storage unit. Or we could be charged with receipt of stolen property if the items had already been stolen from the original owner.”

“I’m still trying to figure out why some anonymous person would want me to access these items in the storage unit,” said Will. “Maybe the person who stored this memorabilia was in dire straits financially and couldn’t find a buyer. Maybe they hoped I would buy them?”

“No, I don’t think that’s the reason you were contacted,” said Bobby. “Someone decided to entice you to the storage unit by giving you photocopies of what was inside. They knew you’d be interested in seeing the actual items. So you were put on some sort of ‘list’ to gain entrance to the gate. Then, you were followed to the storage unit and once there, someone sent ‘Bonnie and Clyde’ to steal the memorabilia with you as a witness. Then the theft could be reported to the insurance company for a big payoff.”

“Wouldn’t the owner get a bigger payoff by putting the items in an auction?” asked Mick. “I mean the Sol White book alone could get some substantial bids.”

“Can you think of anyone with a grudge against you?” asked Bobby.

“No, not really,” answered Will. “Sheila is a bit upset with me now, but her job depends somewhat on my career succeeding. So I don’t think she’d try to ruin my reputation by getting me involved with criminal activity.”

“No one else?” asked Mick. “What about people who might be displeased with your appraisal of their baseball collectibles? They would be the most likely suspects to set up a collection for you to review and then devise a nefarious plot to associate you with stolen or bogus memorabilia.”

“Yes, you’re absolutely right!” said Will. “Maybe one of those people from Home Run Sports Collectibles is trying to discredit me because I wouldn’t commit to looking at their items today.”

“They would devise a scheme that quickly to derail your career?” asked Bobby. “I don’t think so.”

“But there were two different people from that same business who wanted me to look at their collections today,” said Will. “And they seemed very determined to secure my services as quickly as possible.”

“Okay, they could be suspects, but I doubt it,” said Bobby. “What about that other woman that you met on Monday? You said she was anxious about getting you to price her items. Do you think she was displeased with the appraisal you gave her?”

“Maybe, but probably not,” said Will. “Annie Phillips was her name, and she expressed surprise at the high value I gave to some of her items. But she had a specific target price in mind for the complete set. And the figure I gave her was a bit less than what she expected. But she didn’t seem angry about it.”

“So she wasn’t upset at all?” asked Mick.

“Not really,” answered Will. “She acted a bit disappointed, but not terribly so. In fact, she let me stay in her car for a few minutes to get Sheila off my back.”

“What does Sheila have to do with Annie?” asked Bobby.

“I saw that Sheila followed us to Annie’s car where she left her collection,” answered Will. “Actually, it was me that was angry that day because I didn’t appreciate Sheila trying to keep tabs on me. So I asked Annie if I could stay in her darkly-tinted car a few minutes until I figured Sheila had left the area. Then, I could keep my business private and Sheila could learn not to follow people.”

“Okay, anyone we’re leaving out as a possible suspect?” asked Mick.

“I don’t think so,” answered Will.

“Excuse me Bobby, but I really need to get going,” said Mick. “Call me on my cell phone if you need anything else.”

“Sure, thanks again for getting us out of the storage unit,” said Bobby.

“Yes, you were a life saver,” said Will.

“I’m glad I could help,” said Mick. “See you both at the college for the 7 p.m. talk on Thursday.”

After Mick left, Will and Bobby devised a plan. “Okay, Will,” said Bobby. “I need to get my car at the convention center, so on the way back, we’ll stop by the sheriff’s substation on Clay Road to turn in the books and explain what happened. Agreed?”

“Right,” answered Will. “I’d like to get back to normal or something close to it. All this drama is too much for a mild-mannered baseball historian.”

As they were heading for the back door, the front doorbell rang. Bobby approached the door and heard someone knock and identify himself. “Sheriff’s deputy,” said the visitor on the opposite site of the door.

Look for Chapters 8 & 9 on Tuesday, August 10, 2010 at http://www.lonestar.edu/library/mystery.htm after the Baseball History Mystery Revealed Party at 12:00 p.m. in library meeting room 131.