Not that that was surprising. After all, Randy himself wasn’t the one under suspicion, as far as Nancy was concerned.
“Wait a minute,” she said as the attendant was turning to leave. “I know this may sound like a weird request, but could we check the lockers of all the players?” she asked Dean Jarvis.
Coach Mitchell’s face turned bright red, and he sputtered, “If you’re trying to say that any of my players would—”
“It’s very unlikely, I know,” Nancy put in quickly. “But don’t you think we ought to be absolutely certain?”
“She has a point,” Dean Jarvis told the coach. Before Coach Mitchell could object again, the dean waved over the locker-room attendant and instructed him to open the other players’ lockers.
Twenty lockers later, Nancy hadn’t turned up anything more suspicious than a bunch of sports equipment and smelly towels. She heard Coach Mitchell mutter something under his breath about wasting time, but she held her tongue.
Nancy was disappointed. She knew there had to be some shred of evidence that would lead her to the person trying to hurt Randy, but it kept eluding her. For now, she had many questions—and no real answers.
“Not bad for cafeteria food!” Bess said as she popped a spoonful of spumoni into her mouth.
It was Italian night in the dining room. Bess had moved on to dessert, but Nancy and Ned were still finishing up their plates of baked lasagna.
“I wonder what happened to Jerry?” said Bess, turning her head to search the huge room.
Ned checked his watch. “He was supposed to meet us here half an hour ago.” Ned checked his watch again, then scanned the crowded dining hall. “There he is now!” He stood up and waved Jerry over to the table. “You’re late, buddy.”
“I know.” Jerry gave Bess an apologetic glance as he pulled out a chair. “Sorry. I just came from the gym. A bunch of the guys on the team were waiting to hear about Randy.”
From the dark expression on Jerry’s handsome face, Nancy could tell that the news wasn’t good. She herself had called the hospital right after the accident but had been told he was still being revived. “Is he okay?”
“He was released from the hospital, if that’s what you mean,” Jerry answered, still frowning.
“Thank goodness!” exclaimed Bess. “After seeing him fall flat, I didn’t know what to think.”
If the news was good, Nancy thought, then why was Jerry acting upset? “Will he be playing in Sunday’s game?” she asked him.
“It looks that way, but the rest of the team is pretty shaken up.” Jerry paused, pushing a lock of brown hair off his forehead. “The hospital’s lab tests revealed that Randy’s water bottle was laced with sleeping pills.”
“Drugs!” Bess gasped. “That’s horrible.”
Nancy nodded. She’d suspected as much when she turned in Randy’s water bottle.
“The doctors said he’ll be able to play on Sunday,” Jerry continued, “but the team’s all torn apart. Some of the guys think Randy is crumbling under the stress and that he took the pills to quiet his nerves. Others are saying that he was poisoned.” Jerry let out a low whistle. “Can you imagine that?”
Nancy could, but before she could respond, she saw Coach Mitchell passing by with a tray of food in his hands.
“Coach,” she called. When she caught his eye, he paused beside their table. “We just heard about Randy. You must be relieved that he’s okay.”
The coach shook his head. “I understand about stress, but there’s no excuse for using drugs,” he said with disgust. “The Wildcats will never make it with a quarterback who’s cracking up.”
Cracking up? Nancy frowned. It wasn’t fair for the coach to assume that Randy had knowingly taken the drugs. Didn’t the coach have any faith in him?
“As far as I’m concerned,” Coach Mitchell added, “Randy Simpson’s football career is in serious trouble.”
Chapter Nine
“How can you be sure that Randy willingly took those sleeping pills?” Nancy asked the coach. “Has anyone spoken to him about it?”
“The doctors questioned him.” Coach Mitchell frowned and rested his dinner tray on their table. “He denied it, of course. I suppose he’s pretty embarrassed about passing out during practice.”