Free The L.A. Dodger by David A. Kelly Page B

opened up his jacket again. He checked the small notebook in his shirt pocket. He seemed lost in thought for a moment.
    “No, it’s not here,” Kate said. “I definitely had it just before we got our suitcases, because I showed it to Mike.”
    Mike snapped his fingers. “That’s it!” he said. “Suitcases! I’ll bet you left it by the baggage claim. Remember when your backpack slipped off? You put your backpack and notebook down. Maybe you didn’t pick it up again.”
    Kate unbuckled her seat belt, opened the door, and hopped out. “We’ll be right back, Dad,” she said.
    Mike and Kate ran inside the airport to the luggage area. It had emptied out. Only a few unclaimed bags were left. Kate stopped at the spot where she had pulled her suitcase off the carousel. There was no sign of the missing notebook.
    Kate searched the area. She even peeked under the edge of the carousel. Mike checked the seats and nearby hallways.
    “I asked the janitor about it,” Mike saidwhen he returned to Kate. “He just cleaned here. If the notebook were here, he would have found it. That means someone must have taken it!”

    Kate frowned. “Drat. I knew I should have put it away! Well, at least there wasn’t anything special in there. Just the list of things I wanted to see in L.A. Okay, let’s go back to the car.”
    The ride to Mr. Hopkins’s apartment was pretty quick. He lived in a tall building on Ocean Avenue. It was across the street from Pacific Palisades Park and the ocean. After unpacking, Mike, Kate, and Kate’s dad walked a few blocks to a Chinese restaurant on Wilshire Boulevard. The restaurant wasn’t crowded. They sat at a round booth in the corner.
    “So, Mike, I know you’re a baseball expert,” Mr. Hopkins said after they had ordered. “Can you tell me what’s unusual about Dodger Stadium?”
    “Um … let’s see.” Mike leaned back in his seat and thought hard. “Oh, I know!” he said, snapping his fingers. “Dodger Dogs!”
    Mr. Hopkins chuckled. “Good guess. I know that most fans think the Dodgers’ hot dogs are special, but I was thinking of somethingelse. Something about the park itself.”
    Mike thought some more. Finally, he shrugged. “I give up. What?” he asked.
    “The dugouts!” Mr. Hopkins said. He took a pen from his shirt pocket and drew the outline of a ballpark on a white paper napkin. “Usually the home team’s dugout is along the first-base line. But in Dodger Stadium, the visiting team sits on the first-base side. The home team is on the third-base side. Any idea why?”
    “So the Dodgers can get to the hot dog stand faster?” Mike asked.
    “No, not even close.” Mr. Hopkins laughed. “Think about something big and bright and hot.”
    “The sun!” Kate blurted out.
    “Exactly,” Mr. Hopkins said. “The team put the home dugout there so that the sun wouldn’t shine directly into the players’ eyesduring afternoon games. Instead, the visiting team sits in the sun, while the Dodgers stay cool in the shade.”
    “That’s mean,” Kate said. “You’re supposed to treat your guests nicely.”
    “Not in baseball,” Mr. Hopkins said with a smile. “The visiting team often gets a smaller locker room or older showers. Some clubs even cut the grass to different heights to throw the other team off. It’s fair to do anything within the rules to give your team an advantage.”
    Mr. Hopkins slid the pen back into his shirt pocket. As he did, the smile left his face. He seemed deep in thought again as he checked for the small black notebook. Then he glanced nervously around the restaurant.
    “Dad? You okay?” Kate asked. “You’ve been acting weird since you picked us up.”
    “I’m sorry,” he said. “Work has been a little tough lately. But I’m trying not to think about it.”
    “Is something wrong?” Kate asked.
    Her dad sighed. “Over the past month, strange things have been happening to me and other Dodger employees. Someone stole a few of my old