Game Change: A Nina Bannister Mystery (The Nina Bannister Mysteries Book 3) (3 page)

But Nina was satisfied with her hot dog, and her big orange drink, and the ability to filter through the crowd and overhear shreds of conversation.

“You think we got enough height this year?”

“I don’t know. We got that Bennett girl, but she’s a little on the slender side.”

“Just a freshman, too.”

“We have speed, I will say that.”

“It’s not gonna be enough when they go up against Hattiesburg.”

These comments from farmers from inland, fishermen from seaward, drillers, shopkeepers, housewives, loafers, drunks, no-accounts, and, at the bottom end of the social spectrum, artists of various kinds.

All drawn like moths, flies, and mosquitoes to the luminescent Bay St. Lucy Gymnasium where Basketball Evening Services were being celebrated and First Communion of Hot Dog and Pickle was divided among the populace.

It was all quite wonderful.

It was made more wonderful by the fact that Bay St. Lucy won the game, pulling away gradually through the third quarter, and building a double digit lead in the end, so that even the bench players were able to play a minute or so.

It seemed an inevitable thing, this outcome. Perhaps because all of the diagrams on the gym floor—which would have been complete gibberish to Nina—were not gibberish at all.

Meg was a superb coach. She simply saw what the other team was doing, and had an answer for it.

The crowd filtered out in a festive mood.

Nina, one of the last people to clamber down from the stands, placed a hand on the shoulder of Meg, who was standing by herself, and staring down the bench at a group of her celebrating players.

“Great game, Meg. You guys were wonderful.”

“We got lucky.”

“No. Your players are just good. And so is their coach.”

“Thank you, Nina. That means a lot. And—well, there’s something I wanted to tell you.”

“Oh?”
         

“It’s just, well—something that’s going to happen.”

“To you?”

“To Jennifer and me. We’re getting married.”

For a time Nina knew nothing to say.

There was nothing to say.

The only appropriate thing was an embrace.

And so she and Meg embraced.

Finally she said:

“When, Meg?”

“Towards the end of January. The State of New Mexico has just legalized gay marriage. We’re going to drive over there and do it. Finally. After so many years of being together.”

“It’s wonderful news.”

“You’ve always been one of our favorite people in Bay St. Lucy; so I wanted you to know.”

“I’m honored. I truly am. Of course, you have to have a wedding shower.”

“You know that’s not necessary.”

“Of course, it’s necessary; we’ll have it at Margot’s shop.”

Another embrace; finally Meg said:

“I guess I need to go down and tell the players congratulations. Donaldsville next week; then
 
Logansport, then the big one with Hattiesburg.”

“Give them all a high five for me.”

“I will, Nina.
 
I definitely will.”

“And the real congratulations go to you and Jennifer; the whole town will be excited for both of you!”

“Thanks, Nina!”

And, feeling the warm glow of certainty that the whole town—
this
whole town at least, this Bay St. Lucy if not every other town in the south—actually would be excited for Meg and Jennifer’s happiness, Nina left the court.

She let herself be carried along with the flow of the crowd as it made its way through the entry hall and out into the somber night, noticing that, to her and everyone else’s delight, the snow was still continuing to fall.

The film of powder on the streets had collected, at some points, to almost an inch thick.

An inch of snow!

She was just crossing the high school parking lot when she felt an arm slither snake-like between her elbow and ribcage.

Almost simultaneously, another arm did the same thing on the left side of her body.

She was pancaked. A Nina sandwich between two human buns, one of which could talk.

“Keep walking,” it whispered.

“I was going to keep walking,” she answered, wondering what condiments were to follow.

“You’re our prisoner,” came mustard from the left.

“You must go,” (mayonnaise from the right) “where we take you.”

After hearing this, she decided that she’d gone as far as she could with the food analogy and might as well address her kidnappers as Paul and Macy Cox, since that was who they in fact were.

All right; but where are the two of you taking me?”

“Into the high school building,” answered Macy, who, Nina could see from the corner of her eye, was still emanating the slightly green/gold glow of happiness that had been radiating from her body since her marriage five months earlier.

“The high school,” Nina said, “is closed.”

“I’m the principal,” Paul responded.
 
“I have a key.”

“What are we going to do in the high school at ten o’clock on a Friday night?”

“Vandalism.”

“Well. That sounds like fun.”

“I would be willing to bet,” said Macy, tightening her grip on Nina’s bicep, “that you’ve never committed an act of vandalism in your life.”

“Not true. I have a dark side that the two of you know nothing about. I broke an ashtray once. And that’s only the tip of the iceberg.”

“Don’t go any further,” said Paul, reaching into his pocket as the building loomed before them, “or we’ll have to turn you in.”

“I don’t mind. Prison doesn’t scare me. So what’s going on, really?”

“We have,” whispered Macy, “something to tell you, and something to give you.”

“And you have to do these things in a deserted high school building? You can’t tell me something and give me something at, say, Sergio’s or McGee’s Landing or any other place where they have martinis?”

The whispering continued:

“It wouldn’t be as appropriate.”

“I’ve never known an inappropriate martini.”

“Your dark side speaking again?”

“Don’t toy with me, I’m warning you.”

“We wouldn’t think of it,” said Paul, slipping his key into the lock and swinging open the ponderous door.

“Voila.”

“Well, this is certainly exciting. Bay St. Lucy High, only two short hours before the witching hour.”

“Come on.
 
Let’s go inside.”

“If the police see us––”

“The police are directing traffic.”

“You’ve got it all figured out, don’t you?”

“You have to trust us.”

“The last time I heard that, Paul, someone was murdered.”

“That was months ago. Surely you don’t still remember it.”

“Only because I solved it.”

“That’s true, but still—you need to think happy thoughts.”

“There’s no place for happy thoughts here; this is a school.”

And, she mused upon entering the great glass and tile mausoleum, it certainly was. The main hall loomed before them, fluorescent ceiling lights darkened now, the glass on the trophy cases illuminated only by emergency red generator lights glowing and hissing quietly in ceiling panels.

She could see in her mind’s eye the ghostly images of students stampeding like drunken cattle down the corridor before them, letter jackets in place of brands and pony tails for horns.

“Come on.
 
Into my office.”

He produced yet another key and opened the door to the main office.

Nina entered just behind him, Macy coming third to cover their getaway.

She wondered where the spray paint was.

“Now. A little light.”

He flipped the switch and gestured toward chairs.

In a matter of seconds, they were all seated––Paul behind his mahogany desk, Nina and Macy in the places reserved for truant teenagers.

She fought back an urge to say, ‘I didn’t do it!’ realizing, somewhat to her shame, that she had in fact never done it, whatever the ‘it’ might have been, and that she’d been disgustingly good all of her life, and that she had no dark side whatsoever.

If one thought about it, she had no sides at all.

She was just Nina, plain and true.

How boring.

“So,” she said, wistfully, “what crime are we plotting?”

Macy smiled:

“Give it to her, Paul.”

“Give it to me?” she responded. “Am I being assassinated?”

Paul was smiling too now, as he handed her a small package, wrapped in gold paper, that he’d taken from his desk drawer.

“Maybe worse. You should open it.”

She took it from him. It was a foot or so long, and heavy, as though made of metal.

“What is this? Three sticks of dynamite?”

“Worse. This is the thing we have to give you.
 
There’s the other thing first, though—the thing we have to tell you.”

“What is it?”

Macy stood, took two steps, and wound up behind Paul.

“There’s a good chance,” she said, her fingers massaging his shoulders, “that we’ll be leaving Bay St. Lucy.”

Nina sat forward in her chair, looking for further smiles, then realizing the joke was over.

“You’re what?”

“Leaving Bay St. Lucy,” Paul said, quietly.

“Oh, no! But this is awful! You can’t go!”

“Well. It’s not certain. It depends on you.”

“On me? How? What’s going on, Coxes? Paul, you’re the best principal we’ve ever had, and, Macy, you’re unquestionably the best English teacher. We can’t lose you!”

“I don’t know about the English teacher thing,” said Macy. “But as for the principal—well, we can deal with that part.”

“How? And—and—why are you leaving.”

“I’ve had a job offer,” said Paul.

“What kind of a job offer?”

Macy stepped forward, her smile infectious.

“They want him to go to Jackson, Nina. He’s been offered a job as special educational assistant to the Governor of Mississippi.”