impatiently.
“Hang on, walk into the tunnel,” she said, nodding her head in the direction of the exit.
They walked up the ramp, turned the corner, and found a quiet spot. The place was now almost empty, with the last practice of the day about to end and all the press conferences complete. “I know which guy it is,” she said. “Where’s that MSU media guide? I can pick him out now. It was the one sitting closer to midcourt.”
“I don’t have the guide; we must have left it. You couldn’t get a name off his credential?”
She shook her head. “No. He had it kind of stuffed in his pocket. He was wearing one of those pins they give the people with the teams, so he didn’t need to have it out. We can’t go back in there. I guess we’ll have to get another media guide in the press room.”
“What did you say to get them to talk?”
“I told them that I’d left my notebook sitting on a stool in their locker room and asked if someone could either get me in there to look or look for me. Our guy said a couple of their managers would still be in there and could help.”
“Are you
sure
that he’s our guy?”
She nodded. “Absolutely. The other guy had a much higher voice than the blackmailer. There was no mistaking it, really.”
Stevie remembered that, even speaking in a hushed tone, Graber’s blackmailer had a deep baritone voice.
“Nice going, Scarlett,” he said as they headed for the press room.
“Oh, shut up, you wise-guy Yankee,” she said, smiling in spite of herself.
The press room was alive with activity, since almosteveryone was writing now. Stevie could hear a number of radio guys doing reports, which he figured had to be very distracting for those trying to concentrate on writing. There was a table in the middle of the room piled high with media guides and postseason guides for the four teams. They grabbed one off the MSU pile and found an empty spot. They began paging through the book, but it didn’t take long for Susan Carol to stab a picture and semi-shriek, “That’s him!”
They were at the very front of the media guide, page 7 of a book that stretched on for 286 pages. Up front was a two-page bio of MSU president Earl A. Koheen. Then came Provost Hall Yantos and another man who no doubt had played a key role in the Purple Tide’s success: Blake Arbutus, the chairman of the school’s board of trustees. And next was Thomas R. Whiting, MSU’s athletic department faculty representative … and resident blackmailer.
Stevie looked closely at the picture. She was right, Whiting was definitely the guy sitting on the bench nearer midcourt. A further search through the guide revealed that the man sitting next to him was team doctor Philip Katz. They looked closely at Whiting’s biography: “Now in his twelfth year as MSU’s faculty representative, Professor Thomas R. Whiting has worked closely during his tenure with administrators, coaches, and student-athletes to ensure that they are given the best possible opportunity to compete while enjoying both their athletic and academic experiences at MSU. Prior to his arrival at the Rochester campus, Professor Whiting taught at the University of Florida, theUniversity of Delaware, and his alma mater, Providence College, where one of his students was current MSU president Earl A. Koheen.” The rest was just as boring, citing awards Whiting had received and committees he had served on, including, it said, the prestigious and important “NCAA subcommittee on gambling.”
Stevie almost laughed out loud when he saw that. But Susan Carol was a step ahead of him. “Read the last line,” she said. “Tell me if it doesn’t make you sick.”
Stevie scanned down to the last line: “Professor Whiting has been at MSU for the past eighteen years as a tenured professor in the political science department. He is best known for the senior seminar he teaches each fall: Ethics and Morals in American Society Today.”
7: PLANNING AND
“Hang on, walk into the tunnel,” she said, nodding her head in the direction of the exit.
They walked up the ramp, turned the corner, and found a quiet spot. The place was now almost empty, with the last practice of the day about to end and all the press conferences complete. “I know which guy it is,” she said. “Where’s that MSU media guide? I can pick him out now. It was the one sitting closer to midcourt.”
“I don’t have the guide; we must have left it. You couldn’t get a name off his credential?”
She shook her head. “No. He had it kind of stuffed in his pocket. He was wearing one of those pins they give the people with the teams, so he didn’t need to have it out. We can’t go back in there. I guess we’ll have to get another media guide in the press room.”
“What did you say to get them to talk?”
“I told them that I’d left my notebook sitting on a stool in their locker room and asked if someone could either get me in there to look or look for me. Our guy said a couple of their managers would still be in there and could help.”
“Are you
sure
that he’s our guy?”
She nodded. “Absolutely. The other guy had a much higher voice than the blackmailer. There was no mistaking it, really.”
Stevie remembered that, even speaking in a hushed tone, Graber’s blackmailer had a deep baritone voice.
“Nice going, Scarlett,” he said as they headed for the press room.
“Oh, shut up, you wise-guy Yankee,” she said, smiling in spite of herself.
The press room was alive with activity, since almosteveryone was writing now. Stevie could hear a number of radio guys doing reports, which he figured had to be very distracting for those trying to concentrate on writing. There was a table in the middle of the room piled high with media guides and postseason guides for the four teams. They grabbed one off the MSU pile and found an empty spot. They began paging through the book, but it didn’t take long for Susan Carol to stab a picture and semi-shriek, “That’s him!”
They were at the very front of the media guide, page 7 of a book that stretched on for 286 pages. Up front was a two-page bio of MSU president Earl A. Koheen. Then came Provost Hall Yantos and another man who no doubt had played a key role in the Purple Tide’s success: Blake Arbutus, the chairman of the school’s board of trustees. And next was Thomas R. Whiting, MSU’s athletic department faculty representative … and resident blackmailer.
Stevie looked closely at the picture. She was right, Whiting was definitely the guy sitting on the bench nearer midcourt. A further search through the guide revealed that the man sitting next to him was team doctor Philip Katz. They looked closely at Whiting’s biography: “Now in his twelfth year as MSU’s faculty representative, Professor Thomas R. Whiting has worked closely during his tenure with administrators, coaches, and student-athletes to ensure that they are given the best possible opportunity to compete while enjoying both their athletic and academic experiences at MSU. Prior to his arrival at the Rochester campus, Professor Whiting taught at the University of Florida, theUniversity of Delaware, and his alma mater, Providence College, where one of his students was current MSU president Earl A. Koheen.” The rest was just as boring, citing awards Whiting had received and committees he had served on, including, it said, the prestigious and important “NCAA subcommittee on gambling.”
Stevie almost laughed out loud when he saw that. But Susan Carol was a step ahead of him. “Read the last line,” she said. “Tell me if it doesn’t make you sick.”
Stevie scanned down to the last line: “Professor Whiting has been at MSU for the past eighteen years as a tenured professor in the political science department. He is best known for the senior seminar he teaches each fall: Ethics and Morals in American Society Today.”
7: PLANNING AND
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