Free Rebel Glory by Sigmund Brouwer Page A

the owner. Lucas Turner, thegeneral manager. Kurt Doyle, the promotions manager. Coach Blair. Assistant Coach Kimball. Teddy, the trainer. The stickboys. All the press guys I could remember. I even put down the zamboni driver because he worked maintenance and had a key to all the rooms in the Centrium.
    “Hmm,” she said as she reread the list. “Hmm.”
    “Hmm?”
    “I had a chance to speak to Robbie Patterson today,” she told me. She was whispering, and I had to lean closer to hear. Her perfume smelled nice.
    “Robbie? Our goalie?”
    “Yes,” she said, “he’s in my biology class. I asked him to tell me as much as he could about the dressing room after the second period of the last game.”
    “Because if someone did something to his glove, it would have been then, right? His glove broke in the third period.”
    “Right,” she said.
    I was glad I wasn’t so nervous around her anymore. It gave me the chance to think.
    “Let me guess,” I said. “You asked him who, besides players, were in the dressing room.”
    “Exactly.” She looked at the paper. “That means you can cross everyone off the list except for Kurt Doyle, Coach Blair, Assistant Coach Kimball, Teddy the trainer, and the stickboys.”
    “Kurt Doyle’s photo is in the program. Same with Coach Blair and Kimball. So you won’t need to take their photos.”
    “Stickboys and trainer,” she said. “Can you point them out from here?”
    I could. I looked across the ice and described what Teddy was wearing. Then I told her what the stickboys were wearing.
    “Good,” she answered. She patted her purse. “I’ve got my camera in here. I’ll wander over to the other side sometime during the game and take all the photos I need.”
    “Why?” I asked. It had been hard to hold on to that question as long as I had. “What good will their photos do?”
    “Cockroaches,” she answered. “If we can find out where the cockroaches came from, we might have our man.”
    “I don’t understand.”
    “You will tomorrow when you go to Calgary.”
    “What? Calgary?”
    She patted my knee. “Just relax and watch the game. I’ll worry about getting the photos. In the meantime, maybe you can explain some of the rules to me.”
    I did my best.
    The game opened with the Rebels scoring two goals in the first two minutes. By the end of the first period we were ahead by five goals. By the end of the second we were only ahead by three goals. At the end of the game, we won by a single goal in a 10–9 battle that was not very defensive, and I had winced every time a defensive mistake in our end cost us a goal.
    Still, it could have been worse. We could have lost. Now we had to win ten games with thirteen to go. And I was hoping I could get back on the ice before it was too late.

chapter seventeen
    After the game, Cheryl and I went to the Dairy Queen downtown. A milkshake for me. Diet cola for her.
    “All right,” I said as soon as we sat down, “how about finally telling me what the pictures are all about.”
    “Find the person who put cockroaches in Jason’s equipment,” she said, “and you’ll find the person behind all of thestrange things happening to the team.”
    “Sure,” I agreed, “but how do we do that?”
    “Go to Biology Supply Importers in Calgary. It’s the only company in the entire province of Alberta that sells cockroaches.”
    Sells cockroaches?
    She laughed at the look on my face. “Yes, they sell cockroaches. Alberta has cold winters—it isn’t like Mexico where you can find cockroaches anywhere. If you want cockroaches, you’ll have a much easier time buying them than trying to capture them. Lucky for us there’s only one place that sells them.”
    “But why would anyone sell cockroaches?”
    She dug into her purse and pulled out a small brochure.
    “I hope this doesn’t spoil your appetite,” she said.
    I moved my straw so that it wouldn’t get caught in my false mustache. I was worried some of the guys might stop