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ten—” Coach Mitchell broke off abruptly as he turned around to find Randy, Nancy, and Bess in the doorway. He cupped his hand over the receiver and opened his mouth to say something, but then he seemed to think better of it. Putting the phone back to his ear, he said, “I’ve got to go, Kyle.”
    A moment later the coach hung up the phone, turned back to them, and got to his feet. “Come on in, Randy—ladies.” He was about six feet tall, Nancy guessed, with a beefy build and the beginnings of a pot belly.
    They sat down in the chairs the coach indicated, and Randy introduced Nancy and Bess. “Nancy’s a detective, and—”
    “Oh, really?” Coach Mitchell interrupted, amusement crossing his face. “A real private eye, huh?”
    This wasn’t the first time Nancy had come across someone who didn’t take her seriously. She decided to ignore the comment.
    “Nancy’s a modern private eye,” Bess put in. “She’s solved tons of cases.”
    “And I’ve asked her to help me,” Randy said. Leaning forward, Randy told the coach about the threatening phone calls, the note, and the incident in the weight room.
    “I know that everyone thought the fire was an accident,” Nancy concluded, “but I’m not sure it was. Someone’s trying to talk Randy into throwing the game. And since he won’t agree to it, they’re willing to injure him to keep him out of the lineup.”
    “Very interesting.” The coach sat back down in his chair and folded his arms. His silver hair glimmered under the fluorescent lights as he nodded thoughtfully. “I can see why you’re alarmed,” he told Randy. “Those threats sound pretty nasty.”
    Nancy was relieved. At least the coach hadn’t laughed them out of the office.
    “But I still want to play in Sunday’s game,” Randy said with force and determination.
    “Have any of the other football players received warnings about Sunday’s game?” Nancy asked the coach.
    Coach Mitchell shook his head. “Not that I know of.”
    “What about Josh?” asked Bess. “He was quarterback for the first few games of the season, wasn’t he?”
    The coach waved away the suggestion. “No, that’s one thing I know for certain. If anyone had crossed my son, he would have told me, just as Randy has.” He shuffled some papers on his desk. “You leave this thing to me. In fact, I’m going to call Dean Jarvis right away. This could be just a prank—but we can’t be too careful.”
    “In the meantime,” Randy said, “Nancy has agreed to do some investigating.” He seemed relieved that the coach hadn’t said anything about pulling him from the game.
    “If that’s okay with you,” Nancy added quickly. It would be a lot easier for her to investigate if she had his permission.
    “Of course.” The coach winked at her. “It can’t hurt to have a lady detective on our side, right?”
    His attitude grated on Nancy’s nerves, but she didn’t indicate how she felt. She just smiled pleasantly at him. Whether or not any coach believed in her detective abilities, she was going to crack this case.
     
    “This will take only a few minutes,” Ned told Nancy and Bess. “The homecoming king and queen will have their real moment of glory when they lead the parade tomorrow.”
    “All hail the king and queen,” Jerry joked, pausing to make a courtly bow.
    It was early afternoon, and the foursome had just polished off a pizza and sodas for lunch at the student center. Now they were on their way to the oval to wait for the announcement of the homecoming king and queen.
    As they climbed the small rise leading up to the oval, Nancy saw several dozen students milling around in front of the stone steps of Ivy Hall, a majestic old brick building on the oval-shaped drive. A guy with a clipboard stood talking to a small cluster of students at the top of the steps.
    “Are those the contestants?” Bess asked, pointing to the group on the steps. “Boy, do they look nervous!”
    “Happens every year. I