Kitabı oku: «Jimmy Kirkland and the Plot for a Pennant», sayfa 5

CHAPTER IX
Baldwin Gets into the Plot

The events that led up to the midnight conference between Barney Baldwin, Ed Edwards and Adonis Williams in the booth at the Metropolis Hotel that night would have been of vast interest to several millions of baseball enthusiasts had they known of them.

They started with the arrival of Easy Ed Edwards in the city of the Travelers. He had run down to watch the game between the Bears and the Travelers in rather a pleasant frame of mind. His plans for a huge gambling coup seemed to be working out well, and, with the Panthers holding a lead of a game and a half, with but eleven more games to be played, he was adding to his line of wagers. The double defeat of the Panthers and the easy victory of the Bears had placed a new aspect on the league race, with the Bears again favorites. Edwards had left the baseball park in the middle of the game in a frenzy of anger. It was too late now for him to attempt to lay off his bets, and he stood to lose more than $100,000 if his plans to have the Panthers win the pennant from the Bears went astray. It was in this mood that he returned to the hotel and commenced to make drastic plans. In the lobby of the hotel he encountered Barney Baldwin.

"Hello, Barney," he said, shaking hands with the broker. "What brings you down?"

"Hello, Ed," replied the big man cordially. "Let's have a drink. I've been away a month out West visiting the family. Brought my niece on East with me. Just got home and heard that things are going wrong, so I ran over here last night to see what sort of cattle have been breaking up my political fences while I've been gone. What brings you over here?"

"Baseball – ran down to see the game to-day. Rotten game."

"Didn't know you were interested in baseball," said the politician. "I'm pretty well satisfied with the situation – both my clubs up there fighting for the lead, and I'm getting it coming and going."

"Both your clubs?" ejaculated the gambler. "I knew you had some stock in some club. How much of the Bears and Panthers do you own?"

"Well, I can control both in a pinch. I don't pay much attention to them. I let the fellows I hire as presidents of the clubs do the worrying."

"If you own both these clubs you and I can do a little business," said the gambler, lowering his voice. "Come on up to my rooms and we'll have our drinks sent up there where we can talk."

"I haven't much time, Ed," protested Baldwin. "I want to meet some of the boys down here and learn how the political situation is stacking up."

They ascended to Edwards's rooms and when they were seated the gambler rang for wine, and, leaning forward, said:

"You want your man, Hoskins, to go to the Senate when the Legislature meets this winter?"

"Why – not exactly – my political plans are rather indefinite. Hoskins is an acceptable man" —

"Oh, chop it," said the gambler sharply. "There's no use for us to try to fool each other. You want to put Hoskins over and you know you're going to have a deuce of a time crowding him through."

"Admitting that to be the case, what then?"

"I think I can push it over for you," the gambler said easily. "Up home I've got four members of the Legislature where they will do what I say – and perhaps can handle two others. With those four your man would go over – if you've lined up as many members as the papers say you have."

"Rather early to count noses," Baldwin started to protest. "We may line up several others" —

"Nothing doing!" exclaimed Edwards sharply. "You've got all you can – the others are lined up either with the high brows or against you under Mullins. I can deliver four, possibly six, of Mullin's votes that he counts as sure."

"What do you want out of it?" The politician was interested at last.

"Does it make any difference to you whether the Bears or the Panthers win?" Edwards put the question as if casually.

"It don't make any difference to me," Baldwin retorted curtly. "I'm not a bit interested in baseball – except to make money out of the teams. I bought the stock as part of a political deal – to help someone out – and it turned out a good investment. What has that to do with it?"

"Baldwin," said the gambler, leaning forward again and speaking in low tones, "you see to it that the Panthers beat the Bears out in that pennant race, and I'll deliver you at least five votes for your man."

"That's easy," remarked Baldwin. "I can turn that quickly enough, but I don't see where you get off."

"You make it a sure thing and I'll tend to my own part of it," said the gambler. "I'll get mine, but I'm not so certain you can do it as easily as you think."

"Why not – don't both clubs belong to me?"

"Sure they do," said the gambler, "but baseball is a hard thing to monkey with. You've got to handle it carefully, for if the fact came out we'd be in such hot water we'd both scald."

"Nonsense," said Baldwin testily. "I'll call the presidents in, explain what I want and let them do it."

"Keep off that stuff," warned the gambler. "You don't seem to know much about this game. If you tried to tell Clancy to lose this pennant he'd run straight to some reporter, and the whole country would be up in arms. I shouldn't wonder if they'd lynch you."

"Then how do you propose having it done?" asked the political boss, for once willing to listen to advice. He had no qualms of conscience. To him baseball meant a game, and the fact that hundreds of thousands of persons in all parts of the country were vitally interested either in the Bears or the Panthers did not count with him. He only sought the easiest and safest way to accomplish his ends without arousing suspicion.

"I have one of the Bears fixed," said Edwards. "But I'm afraid of him. He is crooked and willing to deliver, but he is yellow – lacks courage – and he is likely to fail to deliver just when I need him most. The first thing I want you to do is to help stiffen this fellow's backbone. After that we'll try to get at someone else. If you say it's all right and promise to protect them we will find it easier."

"This must be a big thing for you, Edwards," suggested Baldwin as another drink was served and the waiter departed.

"I don't mind telling you that if the Bears win I'll almost be smashed," replied the gambler angrily. "I was fool enough to play the game myself. I picked the Panthers to win and made a lot of scattering bets all summer. Then Carson, the Bears' third baseman, broke a leg. They tried to keep it quiet as long as possible. I had a friend in the club who tipped off to me an hour after it happened that Carson's leg was smashed in two places. I jumped right in and plunged, thinking that without Carson the Bears hadn't a chance. Then along comes this blanked red-head and turns it all upside down."

"What red-head?"

"McCarthy – that kid third baseman. He's been winning games right along that they ought to have lost, and it looks as if the Bears will win out anyhow – unless you can stop them."

"McCarthy, eh?" Baldwin smiled patronizingly for the first time. "My boy, don't worry. You may know baseball better than I do – but you've hit something I know about. I think I can handle this McCarthy. I believe you can get ready to deliver those votes. I must be going now."

"I'm going to send for that pitcher I've got fixed, to-night," said Edwards.

"Have him down about ten, or a little later," suggested Baldwin genially as he arose to leave.

It was the arrival of Baldwin in the barroom to attend the meeting with Adonis Williams and Easy Ed Edwards that Silent Swanson and Kohinoor McCarthy saw – and it was well for McCarthy's peace of mind that he did not hear what transpired at that meeting.

CHAPTER X
Williams Caught in the Net

Baldwin, by nature, was pompous and patronizing. In his capacity as political boss, representing certain more or less questionable financial interests, he distributed political patronage with an air of one bestowing great favors personally.

Baldwin's rise to riches and to a certain degree of power had been a strange one. He had been a bartender, and had by a certain selfish economy and "touching the till" acquired sufficient money to purchase the saloon in which he was employed from the honest German who had trusted him almost to the verge of bankruptcy. Certain wealthy men and some others interested in public utilities had seen in Baldwin a proper catspaw, and, in a small way, had used him in politics. From that he had developed quickly into an official collector of graft money from disorderly houses, saloons, and gamblers.

Baldwin had become more and more independent financially and more powerful politically as he learned the game. He was shrewd and quick to learn. His share of the collections became larger and larger until in time he was admitted to the higher circle of graft, and, having served his apprenticeship, he had others to collect for him and take the greater risk of going to prison. Eventually, by cunning catering to big interests, he became the political boss of his city, stockholder in several public utilities, and head of a brokerage firm, which he maintained more to account for his possession of wealth than to do business, although favored in many instances in bond deals. His purchase of stock in baseball clubs had been incidental. He knew little of the game and cared less. He was satisfied with the large returns on the stock and avoided publicity in advertising himself as owner of either team through fear of causing an increase in the demand, "Where did you get it?"

Easy Ed Edwards, while waiting in the booth of the Metropolis Café, had told Adonis Williams the name of the man for whom they were waiting.

"Now get wise, Adonis," he advised, in friendly tones. "I'll tip you to something no one outside a few is on to. Baldwin owns this club you're pitching for, and he owns the Panthers. I had it from him to-night that he wants the Panthers to win the pennant this season. You toss off a game or two to help him and you'll be strong with him for life. You know he holds this State in his vest pocket."

"Ain't I trying my best?" said Williams. "Clancy won't let me work often now. He was working me to death until a couple of weeks ago and now he's always saving me for some other team. I asked him to get in to-morrow. Maybe I'll work. If I do I'll make good and lose it."

"Here he comes now," said Edwards in a low tone as Baldwin came pompously into the barroom in search of them. "I'll talk and let you hear what he wants."

"Ah, here we are," said Baldwin pompously, as he discovered them. "Order a bottle of wine, Ed, and introduce me to your friend."

He already was well warmed with drink and looser and less cautious in his conversation than customary.

"Glad to meet you, Williams," he said as Edwards went through the formalities of introduction. "I've seen you pitch. Had a good season?"

"Fair," said Williams, striving to appear modest. "I've won twenty-six and lost eleven – some of them tough ones, especially lately."

"Sorry to spoil your record, my boy," said Baldwin patronizingly, "but you must lose a few more for the interests of all concerned."

"Not so loud, Baldwin," warned Edwards.

"All right, all right," assented Baldwin unvexed. "Let's have another bottle.

"Now, young fellow," he continued in a low tone when the drink was served, "you know who I am. I don't forget my friends. That's my motto. Anyone who does anything that helps me, or helps a friend of mine" —

He paused to wave his hand indicating that Edwards was the friend.

The man was half drunk and too loose with his talk to please the more cautious gambler.

"Adonis here is all right," said the gambler suavely. "I don't blame him for being a little bit cautious. You see, Barney, Adonis wasn't sure the big men behind the game wanted it to go that way and I don't blame him. I wanted him to understand how the owners feel."

"I'm wise, I guess," said Williams, warming with the wine. "All I need is the chance, and I'll make the Panthers win it."

"You understand," Baldwin said pompously, "it won't do at all for owners to have anything to do with the games; that's the reason I don't care to have my name mentioned in connection with the Bears or the Panthers, but in this case it is to all our interests to have the Panthers win. My boy, I'll take care of you well, if you deliver the goods."

"You may count on me. We have ten more games to play, and I ought to work three, maybe four. I can lose two or three and make it a cinch."

"That's the talk," said Baldwin genially. "You know which side your bread is buttered on."

"Yes," remarked Edwards, "he does – but he wants it on both sides. He's had chances already to end this race, and won instead of losing."

"I couldn't help it," retorted Williams. "You know, Ed, I tried to lose, but that red-headed four-flush was lucky enough to keep me from it. You know I don't dare to make it too raw. Clancy might get suspicious."

"This McCarthy seems to be the trouble maker all 'round," suggested Baldwin. "With him eliminated it ought to be easy, hadn't it?"

"Him a good ball player!" ejaculated Williams angrily. "Say, he's a bum. He's just lucky."

"I don't want any more such luck," sneered Edwards. "The next time you're in there you lose the game right – you hear? Let them get a big bunch of runs right quick so no one can save the game."

"Maybe Clancy won't let me pitch," objected the star whiningly. "I can't make him let me pitch."

"I'll see to that," said Baldwin casually. "I'll see the president in the morning and have him tell this Clancy to let you pitch. Then he'll put you in."

"Don't be too certain of that," said Edwards. "Clancy usually runs the team to suit himself – and he plays to win."

"You leave that to me," replied Baldwin complacently. "I usually get what I want. Meantime, I think I can fix this young fellow Mac. I'll have a little talk with him in the morning."

"Don't let him find out that you know either of us," warned Edwards. "He's a pretty cagey young fellow from what I hear."

"Trust me for that," said the big man. "I've handled wise fish before now, and landed them without using a net."

"You know anything about him?" inquired Williams.

"Yes – and no. Anyhow I am pretty close to someone – a woman – who knows him and knows all about him."

"I wish I did," snarled Williams, now growling mean from the effects of drink. "Who's the woman?"

"She's someone whose name won't appear in this matter," replied the politician reprovingly. "She's a relative of mine. I think he is in love with her and she turned him down cold. Let's have another bottle and break up the party."

"He was in love with her?" asked Williams eagerly, as a plan for revenge flashed through his mind.

"I believe so," said Baldwin carelessly. "Family affair. Never heard the details. Of course she couldn't marry a fellow of that class."

The three men emerged from the booth, Williams and Baldwin flushed and unsteady from the drink, Edwards cold and revealing not a trace of the wine.

"Williams, you'd better go out the front door," he said quietly. "It wouldn't do for you to be seen around the lobby with us at this hour."

Fifteen minutes later Swanson and McCarthy, in their beds, heard Williams enter the adjoining room unsteadily and hastily prepare for bed.

CHAPTER XI
McCarthy in Disgrace

Events crowded upon each other rapidly the following day. The first was a telephone call soon after breakfast that summoned Manager Clancy to the Metropolis Café.

"Hello, Mac," said Clancy gladly. "How you hittin' em? Haven't seen you in an age. How's tricks?"

"Pretty good, Bill. You're looking fine," replied McMahon, manager of the café, who in his youth had played ball on the team with the now famous Clancy. "I was worried about something I heard this morning and thought I'd send for you. I couldn't come up."

"What is it? Let's have a drink – make mine grape juice."

"When I came down this morning Johnny, the night man, told me one of your players was in here until after midnight last night," said the old ball player.

"Which one?" demanded the manager angrily.

"He didn't know him, except that he was a ball player. He was a sandy-haired fellow, rather slender and wiry looking."

"McCarthy – maybe," said the manager thoughtfully and worried. "I didn't think that bird would do it. Something funny."

He had leaped at the identification.

"That isn't the worst of it, Bill," continued McMahon, "that fellow was with Easy Ed Edwards and a big fat guy in a dress suit."

"What?" demanded Clancy, starting indignantly. "Sure of that?"

"Johnny knows Ed Edwards. They sat in the booth over there and had four quarts of wine, and the player was pretty well lighted up when they got out."

"Thanks, Mac," said Clancy worriedly. "This is tough news at this stage of the game. I'll have to take a look into it."

Clancy, his weather-beaten face furrowed with a heavy frown, walked slowly back to the hotel.

President Bannard, of the Bears, was waiting for him in the lobby.

"Good morning, Bill," he said. "You're out early. I wanted to see you."

"Had some business downtown and went out an hour or so ago," replied the manager. "What's the woe?"

"Who's going to pitch to-day?" asked the president.

"I don't know. I never decide in advance," responded the manager carelessly. "Guess it will be either Wilcox or Williams – whichever one looks best warming up."

"If it's all the same to you," said the president diplomatically, "I wish you'd let Williams work."

"Why?" demanded Clancy, on the defensive in an instant.

"It's this way, Bill," explained the president. "You know I don't own this club. I've got most of my money in it, but another fellow has control of the stock. He is going to the game and he asked me to let Williams pitch, as he never has seen him work."

"Williams hasn't been very steady in his last three games," remarked the manager thoughtfully. "I don't want to risk this pennant to please anyone, no matter if he owns the whole league."

"Well, you said yourself that your choice was between Williams and Wilcox, so I can't see it makes any difference."

"You know I don't like to announce pitchers ahead of time," said the manager.

"It seems to me the owner ought to have a right" —

"Now look here, Bannard," said Clancy sharply, "when I signed this contract it was with the agreement that I was to run the business on the ball field and let your end of it alone. I'm perfectly willing to oblige a stockholder, but I'm going to win this pennant, and I'll do what I please with the playing end of the game. If Adonis looks good warming up he'll go in, if he don't I'll send someone else to the slab – and that goes."

"Well – have it your own way"; the president had surrendered entirely to the aggressive manager. "Put him in if you can, and if you can't I'll explain that he wasn't right – twisted himself or something."

Clancy went to his room puzzled and annoyed and, as usual, he sought advice and enlightenment by consulting Mrs. Clancy, whose abundant good nature and portliness formed a striking contrast with his seriousness and slenderness.

"Willie," she said, laying down her sewing after Clancy had stood at the window, whistling and gazing out for ten minutes without saying a word. "Well, Willie – who has broken a leg or sprung a Charlie horse now?"

"Nothing much, mother," said the big manager quietly. "Nothing much – just worrying a little over the way things are going."

"Bill Clancy," she ejaculated indignantly. "Do you think you can fool anyone with that talk? Do you think I could live with you eighteen years, come next Martinmas, and not know when you're in trouble? Tell your old lady what it is."

"Sure, mother," he said fondly, coming to put his arm around her waist. "Haven't you enough troubles of your own?"

"Me have troubles?" She was indignant. "Nothing troubles me but worrying over those pesky boys of yours. What's wrong now, Willie?"

"One of the boys out skylarking last night – and drinking."

"Saints forgive him," she said piously, but with a note of relief. "Sure you'll not be fining the poor boy? Perhaps he needed a drink or two to keep up his courage."

"Nothing like that, mother," he replied seriously. "This was one of the young fellows out with some gamblers drinking wine till past midnight. It looks serious."

"Now, Bill Clancy, you just send for that boy to come right up here and talk it over. Tell him he must behave and explain what it means to all the boys. Then you'll shame him and he'll be a good boy. They're all good boys," she protested earnestly, "only they do try a poor woman."

"I guess that's the best plan, mother," he said. "You trot over into the other room and I'll have him up."

"Which one is it this time, Willie?"

"McCarthy!"

"McCarthy – why, Willie, he wouldn't – there's some mistake. That poor boy wouldn't do such a thing. And him grieving his heart out because Betty Tabor won't treat him well any more. That's what's the trouble, Willie."

"We'll see what it is," said the manager, checking her flow of defense curtly. "I'll have him up. You run into the other room with the sewing and – don't listen."

His telephone call found McCarthy in his room, and the young third baseman promptly ascended to the manager's apartment and entered innocently.

"Good morning, Boss," he said, following the burlesque style of greeting used by the Bears to their manager.

"Good morning," said Clancy curtly, as he scrutinized the face of the player for signs of a debauch and found the blue eyes clear and fresh.

"You wanted to see me?" inquired McCarthy, thrown a little off his easy bearing.

"Yes – where were you last night?"

"I – in my room" – he suddenly remembered the excursion with Swanson. "I was out for a while," he concluded lamely.

"Were you in the café of the Metropolis Hotel late?"

"Yes," confessed McCarthy, bridling at the tone employed by the manager. "I was in there."

"Drinking?"

"Yes – lemonade."

"Nothing stronger?"

"No."

"No wine?"

"No – I'm not in the wine class."

"Who were you with?"

"You're the manager," said McCarthy quietly, although he was rebellious inwardly. "You may ask me anything you want to about myself or my actions – but you surely don't expect me to tell on anyone else?"

"I don't want you to tell on any ball player – but who were you with?"

"I'm not at liberty to tell."

"You needn't tell me – I know," said the manager angrily. "You got up out of bed to go there to meet Easy Ed Edwards – and you were with him while three of you drank four quarts of wine."

For an instant McCarthy clenched his hands until the nails bit into the palms, and a flood of angry color flashed into his face. With an effort he controlled himself.

"You've got everything backwards," he said at last, gazing straight at the angry manager. "I can't explain just now – but you'll find out some day – and apologize."

He turned without another word and left the room. Clancy, who had expected angry denials, threats, perhaps a personal encounter, sat gazing at the closed door, and then to himself he said:

"It looks bad, but hanged if I don't believe him. No fellow could lie and look like that."