Liz showed up at my door this morning, fresh off an airplane. I was on the telephone, trying to reach the Adirondack Youth Baseball League, but there were thunderstorms back there and the lines were down.
“Any word on your mom?” she asked, pulling off a shoe to rub the bottom of her foot.
“Not yet. Supposed to meet Brewster before tonight’s game for a report.”
“You’re actually going to work?”
“Know a better distraction?
“Oh, I can think of one…”
“Please. What are you doing here, anyway? Don’t you have a killer letter to publish?”
“You haven’t been following? They stopped four days ago. No surprise, seeing what he’s been up to lately.”
I nodded. Handed her the letter I found from the summer camp. She skimmed it, arched an eyebrow.
“You went here?”
“Apparently. All those weird dreams I’ve been having? With the crickets and the driving with my dad and the ball field in the middle of the woods? Bingo.”
“So what’s this ‘incident’ he’s referring to?” A drowning? An archery accident? A midnight panty raid?”
“Ha ha. It’s a baseball camp, honey. Boys only.”
“Sorry. Didn’t mean to…”
She munched on a new thought. “Hey—why not ask that doctor?”
“The one your mom mentioned at that seafood place last month? Don something or other…Dr. Donaldson!”
“Got a phone book around here?”
* * *
“Psychoanalyzing Specialist” Dr. Jerry Donaldson was inconveniently on vacation in Hawaii, but it was no problem. After I threatened to rearrange his puny Berkeley office, the receptionist helped us peruse his file cabinet.
The folder on DRAKE, MILTON was so old it had cobwebs. My mom had taken me to see him six times in 1937. Reading the doc’s session notes was like trying to read inscriptions on Tut’s tomb, but we could at least make these out:
• post-trauma effs.
• sig. memory loss
• no contact acc. victim
Liz pointed to the last line. “Accident victim?”
“None that I remember.”
“Yeah, well…We’ve established that.”
“Better get over to Seals,” I said, checking a clock on the wall, “If we find my mother we can just put a brake on this Holmes and Watson crap.”
“Elementary, my dear Snap.”
I kissed her, just for saying that.
* * *
Antonelli was a pitching master tonight, and the game was even better. A 2-0 win on a Daddy Wags Wagner home run off Lew Burdette in the 10th inning. The Braves had suddenly dropped two and a half out of first, and we were just half a fly’s wing behind them.
We sat in the grandstand because when we arrived I didn’t feel quite ready to face my fellow ushers again—and also because Brewster never even showed up. Was he being a no-good slouch again, or was he chasing a lead on my mother?
I took it as a sign of hope.
(only games scheduled)
MIL 000 000 000 0 – 0 3 0
S.F. 000 000 000 2 – 2 10 2
W-Antonelli L-Burdette HR: Wagner GWRBI-Wagner
PIT 200 000 000 – 2 6 1
STL 000 100 12x – 4 9 2
W-Brosnan L-Witt HRS: Skinner, Boyer GWRBI-B.G. Smith
Bucs get two quick ones off Brosnan, who throws a gem the rest of the way. The Cards pick away at Witt, then pounce on Blackburn for a weird two-run rally in the 8th, highlighted by a botched Musial DP ball by none other than Bill Mazeroski that would have ended the inning.
CIN 010 000 002 – 3 9 0
L.A. 000 100 100 – 2 6 1
With the hot Cubbies idle, the Reds also pick up a bit of ground, thanks to another late-game evaporation by the Dodgers. leading 2-1 in the 9th, Klippstein gives up a leadoff double to Bailey and single to Hoak before Roger Craig walks in and falls on his face. Wild pitch, two-out error, walk and Lynch single and see ya. Believe it or else, only the Senators have lost more games at home than the Dodgers.
CHI 013 000 003 – 7 12 0
BAL 000 000 001 – 1 5 0
W-Wilson L-O’Dell HR: Smith GWRBI-Boone
The other smoldering Chicago club takes care of business in Birdland, Jim Wilson following up Wynn with his own suffocating performance. Seldom used Al Smith (double and homer) and Ray Boone (game-winning single) put the Chisox just six games behind them Yanks.
CLE 100 030 011 – 6 11 0
WAS 020 000 020 – 4 11 0
W-Bell L-Romonosky SV-Ferrarese GWRBI-Bell
For a time, with the Indians leaving everything on base except their mother-in-law’s kitchen sink, it doesn’t look like they’re going to beat Count Romonosky, but a bases-loaded double by Nixon ties it and Bell’s sac fly is the decider, and Don Ferrarese notches his first save of the year. Not quite sure how the Tribe got to five games over .500, but they are.
National League through Monday, August 25
American League through Monday, August 25