= The Whistleblower
  A Teagan LaRue/Fox Stint Puzzle Mystery
  by Tim Kissman

Detective Teagan LaRue walked through the practice gym at Michigan State College's athletic facility. Her partner, Detective Fox Stint, kept with her stride for stride. They passed under a banner that read "Welcome to MSC's Coaches' Clinic 2001" amid a flurry of whistles.

"So tell me what you have," Teagan instructed. "And don't tell me Coach H is dead. Anyone but Coach H."

"Then cover your ears." Fox flipped through his notes. 

"Hey, you're not a fan. You don't know how great Coach H is."

"Jeez, sorry I said anything." He found the page he was looking for and began his report. "Approximately one hour ago, several coaches reported hearing several short high-pitched whistle bursts from inside the weightroom. Which wouldn't be that unusual during a coach's clinic except every coach was required to be in here at the time. 

"When the noise was investigated they found Coach H, legal name Tom Hassennfrothisnki...."

Teagan groaned.

"... dead on the floor. He was strangled."

"Any suspects?" Teagan asked.

Fox flipped to another page in his notebook. "Three coaches were by the body when it was found, and they were still here when the first officer arrived minutes later. They all have reason to hate the guy enough to do the deed. He was a real jerk to his subordinates and players and loathed by opposing coaches."

Teagan opened the door to the weight room. "What are the names of the coaches we have detained?"

"I have a Stan Snyder, the deceased's top assistant; Mitch McClellan, the coach at the College of Michigan, the team's arch-rival, from what I understand, and Bradley Simmons, the coach at Iowa Tech. Tech was eliminated by MSC in the tournament last year."

"Interesting lot." Teagan walked over to the body of the coach. Dressed in his trademark green and white polo shirt, Coach H lay next to the barbell free weights rack. There were bloody rope burns around his neck. 

"Look at this, Fox." Teagan pointed at the body. "No whistle. He never carried one--everyone knew that. I bet the killer blew a whistle to cover the coach's cries for help. There's a guilty high-pitched whistle out there and we need to find it."

"That shouldn't be a problem," Fox said sarcastically. He held up the clinic's registration list. "There are only 200 coaches registered and each one of them was issued an official whistle, lanyard and coaching shirt. The gear was required to be worn at all times." 

"Let's hear what these coaches' whistles sound like first. Whistles can sound different, you know." Teagan faced the suspects. "Start with Stan Snyder."

A tall, skinny man with balding hair and glasses shuffled forward. His coaching shirt matched the dead coach's. 

"Coach, would you blow your whistle for me?"

"I didn't murder Coach H." Stan looked upset. "I was headed to the equipment room to get another rack of basketballs. He always had me running around, but I showed up late. That's when I heard the whistles."

"Just blow your whistle." 

The coach reached into his pocket and pulled out his shiny metal whistle. He held it by its empty loop and blew. The sound filled the room.

Teagan covered her ears. "Wow, that's loud. Who's next?"

"I am," the deep voice of Mitch McClellan spoke up. The heavy black man, wearing the official polo shirt over shorts, strode confidently forward. "But I didn't kill him. I was headed to the bathroom. Too many tacos at lunch, you know."

"Your whistle, please."

"Sure, sure." The coach fumbled with his lanyard and had to pull on it three times to get the whistle out from under his shirt before he blew into it. 

"How did you get that scratch on your neck, coach?" 

Mitch rubbed his neck and chuckled. "Oh, this? A no-call in the coaches' basketball game."

"That would be my handiwork," Bradley Simmons volunteered, grinning and twirling his whistle around in his hand. He was dressed in jeans and the coach's polo shirt with an upturned collar. "A little payback for a wild elbow."

"And your whistle, coach?"

"Sure thing." He blew into it. "I didn't murder Coach H. I was trying to find some ice from the training room next door. I heard the whistles and came in to see what was going on."

Fox stepped forward and shuffled a report that a uniformed officer handed to him. "I don't know what that accomplished. The whistles all sounded the same, Teagan."

"To be honest, I wasn't even listening," Teagan said. "But I do know which one is the killer and what he used to do it."

Who does Teagan suspect is the killer?

TIM KISSMAN is a children's book author and syndicated columnist who loves mysteries. His first book, Shuck-Shuck and the Princess of Namssik is set for a 2002 release date. He enjoys playing basketball, chess and is hopelessly addicted to golf. His short stories have appeared on other Internet sites as The Writer's Hood and The Murder Hole. Tim lives in Lansing, Michigan and maintains a website at www.timkissman.itgo.com.

Copyright (c) 2001 Tim Kissman