The Pinstripe Ghost Page 2

  Kate squinted. All she saw were shadows. “There’s nothing there now,” she said.

  SLAM! A metallic bang echoed through the hallway. Bright light flooded the area. A blast of hot air rushed by. Then it was quiet again. Mike and Kate looked up.

  The ghost was right in front of them!

  Bud

  “Did I scare you?” the ghost asked from behind the counter of the hot dog stand.

  “Uh, no,” fibbed Kate. “Not really.”

  “Sorry about that,” the ghost said. “The spring on that security grill makes it snap open. I’ve been asking them to fix that for weeks now. It can be a little surprising if you’re not ready for it.” He pushed the white hood back over his head. The “ghost” was just a slightly balding older man.

  “Name’s Bud,” he said. “I didn’t mean to spook you. Usually there aren’t a lot of people around when I open up.”

  “That was a pretty loud bang,” Mike said.

  “I know. Sometimes that security grill even scares me.” Bud laughed. “How about a free drink to make up for it?”

  Mike looked at the row of sodas, juices, and sports drinks on the shelf behind Bud. Blue, red, green, yellow. But he knew what he wanted.

  “Thanks!” Mike said. “I’ll take a PowerPunch.” PowerPunch was his favorite drink.

  “Root beer, please,” Kate said.

  “What brings you two down here so early before a game?” Bud asked as he gave them their drinks.

  “Well …” Kate paused. He seemed like a nice guy, but she wasn’t sure whether they could trust him. She decided to take a chance. Hopefully, he wouldn’t laugh at them. “We heard there was a ghost around here and wanted to find it.”

  Bud smiled. “Ah, the ghost,” he said. “You’ve come to the right place.”

  Mike elbowed Kate in the ribs.

  Bud leaned over the counter. “Of course, I’ve never seen the ghost.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “But I’ve heard it. Some of the other employees say they’ve seen Babe Ruth’s ghost walking around the stadium. But I think they’re just telling stories. The real ghost is here.”

  Kate’s heart beat faster. This was exactly what she was hoping for. She and Mike leaned closer to catch every word. “When?” Kate asked. “What does it sound like?”

  “It’s always before a game. I hear Babe Ruth walking by. It’s as if he’s right here,” Bud said as he patted the counter. “And usually, before I hear the ghost, it gets cold in here.”

  “Is that why you have the heater?” Kate asked. She pointed to a small heater on the counter.

  “Yes,” Bud said. “I keep this handy to warm up after the cool breeze.”

  “How do you know it’s a ghost?” asked Mike. “Maybe it’s just other noises in the stadium.”

  “It’s got to be a ghost. There’s always a quick rush of cool air. Then I hear strange noises. It’s like someone walking or scuffling along,” Bud said. “I think it’s Babe Ruth. He’s looking for his locker, but he can’t find it in the new stadium.”

  Mike nodded knowingly. “Strange noises and cold air. Sounds like a ghost to me,” he said.

  “Is it okay if we look around?” Kate asked.

  Bud rubbed a hand across his balding head and glanced at his watch. “Sure,” he said. “Make sure you stop back about half an hour before the game. That’s when the ghost usually comes.”

  “Thanks, we will,” Kate said.

  Mike slipped the half-full bottle of red PowerPunch into his sweatshirt pocket. He nodded at a dark hallway just to the right of the hot dog stand. “What’s down there?” he asked.

  “That’s a service area,” Bud said. “Nothing but a couple of storage closets and some trash carts.”

  Mike and Kate said goodbye and stepped away from the stand. On the left of Bud’s was an ice cream counter. On the right was the service hallway. A few early fans walked by. They seemed to be headed toward the end of the main corridor. Kate could see a smaller passage there.

  “I wonder where they’re going,” she said. Kate and Mike followed the small group of fans into the narrow passageway. Above them were shiny silver pipes snaking back and forth across the ceiling.

  Mike dragged his fingers along the white ceramic tile of the wall. The smooth surface felt cool. “Where do you think this goes?” he asked Kate. “It feels like we’re in some underground tunnel.”

  “Probably just around to the first-base side of the stadium,” Kate replied. She thought for a minute. “Bud’s hot dog stand is near third base. We must be under the seats in center field.”

  They passed a large white door marked STADIUM OPERATIONS STORAGE ROOM. Just after it on the right side was a small set of stairs leading to a landing.

  “Let’s check it out,” Mike said. He was always up for adventure. He bounded down the stairs and disappeared through a doorway. Half a minute later, he was back, waving to Kate. “Kate—you have to come see this!”

  Kate scurried down the stairs and stepped out into bright sunshine. The white walls of the hallway had changed into black granite. A cement sidewalk curved around a small black wall and some large slabs of red rock.

  “Wow! What is this place?” Kate asked.

  “It’s Monument Park!” Mike said. “I had forgotten all about it. It’s a bunch of monuments to important people from the Yankees. Those three big stones in the center are for Lou Gehrig, Babe Ruth, and a Yankees manager named Miller Huggins.”

  Kate turned and looked out at the stadium. Rows of seats extended around the ballpark from both sides of Monument Park. Beyond the outfield wall was the red dirt warning track and the green grass outfield. Far across the field was home plate.

  “What if they hit a ball here?” she asked. “Is it still a home run?”

  “Yup,” Mike said. “Since it’s over the outfield fence, it’s a home run. But it didn’t used to be.”

  “What do you mean?” Kate asked.

  “A long time ago, in the original Yankee Stadium, these monuments were in the outfield,” Mike said. “Players actually had to chase balls around them.”

  “It’s a good thing they moved them,” Kate said. “I’d hate to smash into one of these if I was chasing down a fly ball.”

  Kate walked along the curvy path while Mike stayed to read Babe Ruth’s monument. She stopped in front of a row of large white circles mounted on the granite wall. Each one had a black number and pinstripes.

  “Hey, Mike, these must be the Yankees retired numbers,” Kate said. “There’s Babe Ruth’s number three and Lou Gehrig’s number four. This is so cool! You know, back then, players were given a number based on their spot in the batting order.”

  Mike was about to catch up to Kate when something behind the monuments caught his eye. It was an older man in a Yankees uniform, white with black pinstripes. At first Mike thought it was one of the Yankees players stopping by before the game. But then he noticed how old and worn the uniform looked.

  The man stared right past Mike, to the Yankees dugout. Without a word, he tipped his baseball hat toward the field. Then he moved past the monuments and disappeared up the stairs.

  Mike shook his head and hurried over to Kate. “Did you see that?” he asked her.

  “See what?” Kate asked. She was standing in front of the big brass plaque dedicated to Lou Gehrig. “Did you know Lou Gehrig was one of the best Yankees hitters of all time?”

  “Yes, but I’m talking about the guy who was just here,” Mike said. “He was wearing an old-fashioned Yankees uniform.”

  “It was probably just a fan,” Kate said. She flipped her ponytail. “Or maybe someone who works at one of the stores.”

  “I don’t know,” Mike said. “There was something strange about him. We should be on the lookout for him.”

  “Monument Park will be closing shortly,” a security guard near the doorway called out. “We close forty-five minutes before every game. Please feel free to come back before the next game.”

  “Hey, th
at means we have to go listen for the ghost soon!” Kate said.

  “Race you there,” Mike said. He took off running. Kate bounded up the stairs and followed him.

  Just before Bud’s, Mike turned right down the service hallway. When Kate turned the corner, he was gone.

  The only thing Kate saw in the long hallway was a large black trash cart at the far end.

  “Mike?” she called.

  At the end of the hallway were two steel doors. They must be the storage closets that Bud mentioned, Kate thought.

  She walked to the hallway’s end and tried to decide which door to open. Mike could be hiding in either one. She picked the door on the left.

  Kate took a breath and reached for the handle.

  But before she touched it, the handle turned and the door swung open all by itself.

  Cool Air and Noises

  “Umph!” Kate said as she ran into a large brown box. She looked up. She had actually hit a man carrying a large brown box.

  “Whoa!” The man steadied himself and stepped back. “I’m sorry. I didn’t expect anyone to be here. Are you okay?”

  “Yes, thanks. I’m fine,” Kate said. The man was tall and had a black mustache. The large cardboard box in his hands was labeled BOOKS. “Hey, you’re Mr. Williams!”

  The man smiled. His bushy black mustache pulled up high on the sides. It made his face look extra wide.

  “The one and only. Pleased to meet you,” Mr. Williams said. With a grunt, he placed the box of books on the floor.

  “I’m Kate Hopkins,” she said. “We just read about you in the newspaper this morning. You’re an expert on ghosts in ballparks!”

  “We?” Mr. Williams said.

  “Me and Kate,” Mike said. He stepped forward from somewhere behind Kate. “I’m Mike, Kate’s cousin.”

  Kate looked suspiciously at Mike. A quick glance showed her that the hallway was still empty except for the large trash cart. That was probably where he had been hiding.

  “We heard there’s a ghost around here,” Mike went on.

  Mr. Williams shifted his weight from one leg to the other. He smoothed his mustache with his thumb and first finger. “Well, yes, I’ve heard that, too,” he said after a minute. “Maybe you two would like to stop by later and buy a copy of my book on baseball ghosts. I’ll be signing them near gate four.”

  “Oh, maybe,” Mike said. “Do you think this ghost is real? We know someone who’s heard it.”

  “It’s the ghost of Babe Ruth,” added Kate. “He’s making strange noises.”

  “It might be. But even if it is, I’m afraid it’s not something for children to poke their noses into,” Mr. Williams said. “Real ghosts can be scary. You never know what’s going to happen. It’s probably best to stay away and just enjoy today’s game.”

  Mr. Williams’s cell phone beeped. He pulled it out of his pocket and looked at the screen.

  “I’m sorry. I’m late for a meeting,” Mr. Williams said. He slipped the phone back into his pocket and bent down to pick up the box of books. “Please, buy my book if you’re interested in ghosts. But don’t go looking for them. You might end up in trouble.”

  Mr. Williams walked away into the rush of people in the main corridor. It was close to game time, and the stadium was filling up with fans.

  “I’ll bet he doesn’t want us looking around because there is no ghost. It’s just Mr. Williams spreading rumors. It’s all to help sell his books,” Mike said. “Like your mom said.”

  “I don’t think that’s it. Remember, Bud told us that he’s heard the ghost himself a bunch of times,” Kate said. “He wouldn’t say that unless he did hear it, or unless Mr. Williams is paying him to say it. But Bud seems like too nice a guy to lie like that.”

  “We should get back to Bud’s,” Mike said. He pulled Kate toward the hot dog stand. “The ghost usually comes about now.”

  “So where were you going when I was chasing you?” Kate asked as they walked along.

  “I wanted to get back at you for sneaking up on me yesterday after the press conference,” Mike said. “I was going to jump out and scare you. But Williams got you first!”

  In the main corridor, fans were streaming by, trying to reach their seats in time. Mike and Kate stopped in front of Bud’s.

  “Hey, it’s the ghost detectives,” Bud said, taking a break from filling popcorn buckets. “If you’re so smart, maybe you can answer a question. What do ghosts serve for dessert?”

  “Wait—I know this one,” Kate said. “Boo-berries?”

  Bud smiled. “Nope, but nice try,” he said. “How about you, Mike?”

  “I don’t know,” Mike said. “What do ghosts serve for dessert?”

  “Ice scream!” Bud slapped the counter and laughed. “So, what can I get you two?”

  They bought two hot dogs each. Kate put mustard and relish on hers. Mike loaded his up with ketchup and pulled the bottle of red PowerPunch from his sweatshirt pocket.

  Mike bit into his hot dog and took a gulp of PowerPunch. In between bites, he stopped and listened for the ghost. But all he could hear was the rustle of the crowd. In the background, the ballpark announcer called out the starting lineup.

  “It’s getting near game time. Maybe the ghost isn’t coming tonight,” Mike said to Kate. “Let’s go to our seats. We can wait for it tomorrow instead.”

  “Just hang on a minute more,” Kate begged.

  They watched a customer order popcorn and a soda.

  “Some nights it’s popcorn. Some nights it’s hot dogs,” Bud said as the woman walked away. “You never can tell.” He mopped his brow.

  There was a rush of cool air. Kate and Mike felt the hair on their arms tingle.

  “Here it comes,” Bud said. “The ghost of Babe Ruth is in the house!”

  KRRRRTT. SWWWWSSSSH. KRRRRTT.

  Above them—or somewhere behind the stand—they heard muffled scraping and rustling sounds. For a minute or two, the sounds got louder, and then they got softer.

  “That didn’t sound like Babe Ruth walking by,” Mike said. “It sounded more like Babe Ruth with a broken leg dragging his bat and a duffel bag across the roof of a car.”

  Bud nodded. “Well, it sounds a little bit different each time. But that’s the ghost.”

  “Let’s go see if we can find it,” Kate said. She tossed her napkin in the trash. “Thanks for the help, Bud!”

  “No problem,” Bud said. “Good luck. If you find Babe, get me an autograph!”

  By the edge of the hot dog stand, Mike and Kate peered around the corner into the low light of the service hallway.

  “It sounded like that noise came from down there!” Kate said. Her forehead wrinkled. “I don’t see anything except those storage closets at the end of the hallway.”

  “We never got a good look inside them,” Mike pointed out. “Maybe we can find a clue to the ghost if we check them out.”

  Kate nodded, and they tiptoed down the hallway to the end.

  Mike pulled open the large metal door on the right. Inside stood a broom, a dustpan, and a mop.

  “It’s just a closet. No ghost,” Mike said. “Try the other one.”

  Kate was about to turn the handle when they heard voices on the other side of the door. With a small creak, it cracked open an inch.

  Kate took a quick step back. There was no time for them to hide!

  A second later, the door swept open. The bottom edge missed hitting Kate’s foot by inches.

  Three people popped out of the room. The door slammed shut.

  Kate and Mike stood still. Maybe in the darkness, the people wouldn’t see them. The three figures started walking down the hallway.

  Mike relaxed. He leaned against the wall. As he did, his baseball slid out of the front pocket of his sweatshirt. It dropped to the ground.

  CLUNK!

  Mike froze. Shocked, Kate stared at the baseball lying on the floor. They were busted!

  The three figures stopped. They spun aroun
d.

  “Hey, it’s Mickey Mantle,” said the first person. “What are you doing here? This area is for employees only.”

  Mike knew the voice right away. It was Sammy, the redheaded teenager he had met the day before. Sammy still had his Yankees cap on. But instead of the blue ACE AIR-CONDITIONING shirt, he was wearing a pin-striped Yankees replica jersey. In his left hand, he carried a small flashlight.

  “Uh, we were just looking around,” Kate said from over Mike’s shoulder.

  “Well, there’s nothing here except storerooms,” Sammy said. He looked at Kate suspiciously. “We were putting some stuff away for my father’s air-conditioning company.”

  Sammy’s two friends shrugged and continued down the hall. “We’re going to find seats, Sammy,” the shorter boy said. “Meet us in the usual place—section two-twenty-six.”

  “You two probably shouldn’t be here,” Sammy said to Kate and Mike. “You might get in trouble.”

  “Uh, okay, thanks,” Mike said. He picked up the baseball and tucked it back into his pocket. Then he gave Kate’s arm a tug. “Come on.”

  Sammy watched them leave.

  Mike and Kate turned the corner.

  “Who was that? How do you know him?” Kate asked. “And why did he call you Mickey Mantle?”

  “That’s Sammy. I saw him yesterday after the press conference, when you were getting Aunt Laura,” Mike said. “I dropped my baseball. He picked it up and threw it back to me. He was calling me Mickey Mantle just to give me a hard time.”

  “What’s he doing here?” Kate asked. “Do you think he has something to do with Mr. Williams?”

  “I don’t know,” Mike said. He looked over his shoulder to see if Sammy was around. There was no sign of him or his friends. “It’s probably not safe to go in there now, in case he comes back. But I really want to see what’s in that room. I have a feeling it’s the key to Babe Ruth’s ghost!”

  Seventh-Inning Stretch

  By now, it was getting dark outside. But the stadium’s bright lights lit up the field as if it were noon. It was a perfect, cool spring night for a baseball game, but not for the Seattle Mariners. After three innings, the Yankees were ahead by two runs. And after six innings, they were beating the Mariners by five.