“What’s the matter? You can’t make an egg?”
“Hey bud, you’re in my place now. And I already told you I’m no Donna Reed.”
So began our Wednesday morning. I was still grumpy from being tossed in the bay, and Liz was dealing with her red wine and shopping hangovers. She was at Ransohoff’s all day yesterday and came home with three dresses, two skirts, and a lamp. But who was I to complain? She was putting me up rent-free for the time being and all we’d done so far was neck. Her obsession with this murder case had a lot to do with that.
“So what’s our next move?” she asked, dumping sugar into her black coffee.
“I don’t know, but mine is to make myself some eggs. Interested?”
“I eat light for breakfast.”
“Ha. I’d call a peach and two spoonfuls of cottage cheese barely eating.”
“You want to sleep on the porch tonight?”
“I just want to sleep. You got a sawmill going in that mouth of yours.”
She simmered while I fried up two eggs, home fries and some bacon. Then we got back to the murder business. We agreed that until the killer left another note or victim, we were kind of helpless. And if there’s one thing I don’t like, it’s being helpless.
So we took the day off. I called Pence Murphy and Lt. Malarkey, cried stomach flu. His stakeout goons were asleep at their wheel again, and we passed up an exciting Pirates win in the finale for a picnic lunch and walk in Golden Gate Park. The air was crisp. Spring flowers bloomed. Liz and I had sandwiches and cold pops on the grass by the De Young Museum.
“You know the way you called me ‘Miss Doomis’ the first night you met me?”
“Well…Doomis is my real name. Not Dumas. Thought I’d lose a piece of my midwest corn pone when I got to L.A.”
“Then I imagine you’ll want your French name again this weekend with the Dodgers back in town. Lots of Herald Examiner pals in the press box to keep impressing.”
“Aw, heck with them. I have a better chance becoming Nancy Drew than making their dumb crime beat.”
We strolled through the botanical garden, then over to the Spreckels Temple of Music. Everyone basked in the sunshine. There was improvised theater, clown acts for kids, even a trio of mimes juggling frozen fish sticks.
There was also a protest of some sort that was drawing a small crowd.
“Candlestick Point already has a point!” yelled a thin, beatnik-type. He had a beret, goatee and earring and stood on a stool. “And that point is to exist the way it always has! As a sanctuary for seabirds and marsh grass! PROTECT THE POINT!!”
Liz chortled to herself. “Sure, go ahead. Disturb the peace here for everybody.”
“No, wait. Maybe we’re on to something here.”
“On to what?”
“Paulie Suggs said something the other day when I had that hook to his neck that stuck with me. ‘Why would I do ANYTHING to you?’ “
“Well, maybe we have to start with this killer’s real motive. There has to be one, right?”
I pointed at the protestor. “Why not these ‘Save the Point’ fools? They have a damn good one.”
“I’m not following.”
“Reggie had just gotten a construction job out there, remember? This new stadium has lots of enemies. Maybe one of these guys knows somebody who’s a little more extreme about it.“
“I don’t know, Snap. Sounds a bit—”
“Far-fetched? Definitely. But it’s better than the nothing we got right now. And I know a Haight-Ashbury couple who I can bet is in with this bunch.”
“Think we can find them?”
“We can sure as hell try. Met them at O’Douls one night. One’s named Chrissie and the other Chris.”
“That’s easy enough.”
“Sure. And If you can figure out what sex they are you’re smarter than me.”
PIT 000 000 114 – 6 9 0
S.F 020 000 010 – 3 7 1
W-Gross L-Jones SV-Face HRS: Thomas, Cepeda GWRBI-Thomas
Antonelli throws his first good game, but tires in the 7th. Gordon Jones and Paul Giel then go out and ruin the day for him, as Thomas clubs a 3-run homer in the 9th for the late winner and a 3-out-of-5 series win.
PHL 000 020 000 0 – 2 6 0
L.A. 000 001 010 1 – 3 9 2
W-Craig L-Farrell HRS: Bowman, Neal GWRBI-Fairly
Filling in for the injured Gray with Gilliam moving to third, Ron Fairly bangs a two-out single in the 10th to salvage the final game of a 5-game series with Philly. The pesky Phils now head back east for a weekend in Pittsburgh.
CIN 100 011 020 100 0 – 6 13 0
CHI 020 100 200 100 1 – 7 9 2
W-Anderson L-Jeffcoat HRS: Moryn, Long, Neeman, Banks GWRBI-Banks
Deja vu all over again at Wrigley, as Ernie B. wins the second straight game with a solo shot in the 13th inning. In a losing effort, Jerry Lynch collects six hits in seven at bats.
MIL 000 000 013 – 4 12 0
STL 001 000 002 – 3 6 2
W-Spahn L-Jackson SV-Robinson HR: Covington GWRBI-Covington
A very winnable game lost by the Cards. After Cunningham doubles in Smith in the 3rd, Spahn shuts them down until Musial and Boyer can make horrific 8th inning errors to allow the Braves to tie. Schoendienst leads the 9th with a double off Jackson and Spahn singles him to third. In comes Phil Paine. Out goes the baseball, via Air Covington.
CHX 010 004 210 – 8 11 2
BOS 000 012 013 – 7 6 0
W-Pierce L-Brewer SV-Staley HRS: Lollar, Renna, Daley, Williams GWRBI-Lollar
It’s Tom Brewer’s turn to stink up Fenway, and this only ends up as a 1-run game because Teddy Ballgame is coaxed off the bench in the 9th to sock a pinch 3-run homer. For the record, Williams has a .509/.609/.927 slash line. And I don’t even know what that is yet.
CLE 000 020 001 – 3 14 2
NYY 000 000 13x – 4 8 2
W-Trucks L-Bell SV-Duren HR: Mantle GWRBI-Mantle
Looks like the great Tribe Revival has slowed down. They waste nearly all of their hits while the Yanks capitalize with most of theirs. The formerly undefeated Gary Bell goes into the 8th with a 2-1 lead when Slaughter singles and Mantle homers to decide the game.
K.C. 000 000 031 – 4 7 1
BAL 000 000 002 -2 8 0
W-Grim L-Harshman SV-Gorman HRS: Lopez, Held, Cerv GWRBI-Lopez
The A’s are one out away from a third straight shutout when Dick Williams singles in two. With the loss, the O’s see the Yanks leapfrog over them into first.
DET 070 001 000 – 8 10 2
WAS 002 701 11x – 12 16 2
W-Stobbs L-Lary SV-Romonowsky HR: Maxwell GWRBI-Aspromonte
Bizarro game of the day. Lary and Pascual, both teams’ aces, take turns giving up 7-run nightmare innings, and the “bullpen” of Chuck Stobbs and John Romonowsky hold the leaky Senator fort, giving up only a Charlie Maxwell homer in the next seven innings.
National League through Wednesday, May 7
American League through Wednesday, May 7