"Last Bite is a deliciously layered novel that mixes
humor, heart, and mystery in equal measure." —Chicago Book Review
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The
sky was blue, it was a warm late-September afternoon, and there was no better
place to be as they walked across the street from Murphy’s into the ballpark.
They had the best bleacher seats. Center field, perfect view of the field, and
an excellent place to grab a few home run balls, if the stars were aligned. As
they approached their seats, Kim stopped. “Wait a minute. Gina, do you see what
I’m seeing? It’s Peggy’s girls from the kitchen.”
Gina looked past the girls and saw something that
astonished her. There was Peggy sitting next to Ben, who stood up and waved.
“Uncle Ben, what the hell?”
“Hey, Gina, it’s a long story, but we’re all here to
have fun and forget about our troubles, right, Peggy?”
Peggy growled, “Why not, can’t work today, schools are
closed. Ben stopped by with tickets yesterday and I figured my crew needed a
break after the poisoning incident.” She sat back down, grumbled some more, and
took a sip of her beer. Gina walked over and hugged Ben and sat between him and
Peggy.
“I am so sorry about the poisoning,” Gina said. “Angie
got it all straightened out. It wasn’t us who did it. She can bring you up to
speed after the game.”
“Good to hear. Sorry I was so mean to you, but it put
me behind schedule,” Peggy said. “By the way, my niece is coming out from San
Francisco tomorrow, loves baseball. Maybe we can take her to a Cubs game. She’s
a private investigator and has a case here. I think you’d like her. She’s a lot
of fun. She bats for Kim’s team.”
“What’s her name?” Gina asked.
“Jackie Larsen, she’s one fun-loving smart cookie. Her
parents disowned her when she came out, but I told her she would always have a
place in my heart and home,” Peggy said, and then turned to watch the players
warm up. Gina went to sit with her mom, Angie, and Kim.
“That Ralph knows how to pick good seats,” Connie
said.
“Vinnie and Ralph spent many a day in the bleachers,”
Gina leaned over and remarked. “They could afford the fancier seats, but they
said this is where the real fans were.”
Angie bought popcorn, peanuts, and beer for the crew,
toasting, “Here’s to family and the Cubs.” They all raised their beers,
toasted, and yelled, “Go, Cubs!”
The Cardinals took an early lead with two home runs in
the top of the second, and the Cubs answered in the bottom of the fifth and
tied the score. Baseball time was different for Angie. She had learned from
Vinnie to put all her cares away and soak it all in, one pitch at a time, one
hit at a time, one inning at a time. Today, of all days, she was doing just
that, glancing at the field and then over at her family, including Thad and
Daisy, knowing they would always get through anything as long as they were together.
She laughed out loud when one of the lunch gals yelled at the ump, “That was a
strike! Get some glasses!”
What a motley crew, Angie thought. At the top of the
sixth, one of the ushers came over to where she was sitting. “Is there an Angie
Sortino here?”
They all looked up. “Who wants to know?” Angie asked.
“We have a very special surprise for Angie. Are you
Angie?”
“Depends. You’re not from the mayor’s office, are
you?” Angie asked.
“No, I work for the Cubs.”
“Okay then, I’m Angie. What exactly is the surprise?”
“Not at liberty to say, but if you’d please follow me,
you’ll know soon enough. All I can say is it must be your lucky day.” He
gestured for Angie to follow him.
“Bring her back in one piece,” Connie called after.
“No worries, she’ll be safe and sound. Enjoy the rest
of the game. Go, Cubs.”
Angie followed him through the park, her mind reeling.
Where is he taking me? They navigated through all the fans, kids in tow,
lines of people waiting for beer and dogs.
He took her on an elevator up several floors, and she
noticed a sign pointing to the press boxes. They walked past them.
“Would you please take a seat, Angie?” said the
escort. “I’ll be back to get you at the start of the seventh inning.” He
pointed to a small area with a live TV monitor displaying the game and several
chairs. “Would you like something to drink?”
“Why not? I’ll take a beer, please.”
The young man returned with a draft beer and a bag of
peanuts. “Enjoy.”
Angie sipped her beer, cracked open peanuts, and
watched the rest of the sixth inning. The game was tied. Fans were yelling as
the Cubs took the field at the top of the seventh. She was deeply engaged in
the game when the usher interrupted her.
“How
are you doing?”
“Great, but I’d like to get back to my family. Time
for the seventh-inning stretch.”
“You’ll be enjoying that in just a few minutes. A
friend of yours has arranged something for you. I hope you brought your best
singing voice.”
Singing voice? Angie thought, as the usher led her
to a door marked “Announcer” and gently knocked. What the hell?
“Come in,” came a voice from within.
The usher opened the door and Pat Hughes, the
announcer for the Cubs, glanced over. “Angie, you’re going to be singing “Take
Me Out to the Ball Game” with our guest celebrity.”
“What! Are you kidding me? Oh my God! This is a
dream come true!”
“Come on in. We’re on in a few minutes.”
Angie stepped in and froze. There in front of her was
Bill Murray—the Bill Murray, wearing his 2016 World Series T-shirt and
hat, holding a microphone. “Hey, Angie. Nice to meet you. I was a friend of
Vinnie’s—so sorry he’s gone.” He reached over
and
gave her a warm embrace, saying, “He was a hell of a man, and there was no
better Cubs fan.”
Angie was having an out-of-body experience, thoughts
flooding through her mind. Is this real? How did this happen? I’m with Bill
Murray.
Bill brought her right up front—where you could see
the entire field—and handed her a microphone. “I know you know the words,” he
said, smiling.
The Cubs announcer broke in, “And today we have our
very own Bill Murray with a special guest, Angie Sortino, singing “Take Me Out
to the Ball Game.”
Bill jumped in, “A one—A two.” He glanced over at
Angie and they both started singing.
“Take me out to the ball game. Take me out with the
crowd. Buy me some peanuts and Cracker Jack. I don’t care if I never get back!”
Angie gave it all she had, joy erupting from within
her. She caught sight of her and Bill on the Jumbotron. As the camera scanned
the crowd, everyone got up and sang, arm in arm. “So it’s root, root, root for
the Cubbies . . .” The song ended, the crowd went wild, and Angie hugged Bill,
smiling ear to ear.
“This was truly a dream come true.” She pointed at him
with both of her index fingers. “Bill Murray. I sang with Bill Murray!”
Bill gave her a departing hug. “Take care, Angie. So
nice to meet you after hearing about you from Vinnie for so many years.That man
sure loved you.”
Amy S Peele was born and raised in the Chicago area and now
lives in Marin County in California. Having spent thirty-five years working in
the field of organ transplantation, she brings a fresh, knowledgeable, and
humorous new voice into the world of mystery novels.
In addition to killing people in her murder mysteries, she
enjoys meditating, teaching yoga, swimming, and pursuing her spirituality by
studying the teachings of Deepak Chopra. Amy invites you to her website
www.amyspeele.com to learn more about her.
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Karen A. Phillips lives in Northern California and writes humorous, fun, action-packed mysteries. Her characters are engaging and fearless. She has several short stories published in various anthologies. The Rocky Nelson Boxing Mysteries combine her love of boxing and the mystery genre. Sign up for her newsletter at: KarenAPhillips.com.
