“Is this enough evidence to convict Pat?”
“I’m afraid not, Dan. In the first place, being convinced of a thing is a lot different than being able to prove it. We didn’t see Pat carve these initials, nor those on the church pew.”
Dan lost interest in the wall markings. “What’s the use then?” he asked hopelessly. “We’ll never be able to prove anything.”
“Oh, I don’t know. I have a hunch Pat will over-play his hand. He’s so cocky and sure of himself. Given time he may trip himself up.”
“Maybe, but I doubt it. You know as well as I do, that he and his bunch swiped our ice cream, but will we ever be able to prove that either?”
“We may. It takes time, Dan. You’re too impatient.”
“I just hope things turn out the way you predict, Brad. Somehow I’ve got an uneasy feeling about that game Friday night. You sure we shouldn’t cancel it?”
“With at least a hundred tickets sold?”
“I guess not,” Dan admitted. He sighed and started with the wagon and the ice cream freezers on down the deserted alley.
The scheduled basketball game between the two teams had attracted an unusual amount of interest in Webster City. Not only had the parents and friends of the Cubs bought tickets at twenty-five cents each, but a surprising number had been sold to strangers and friends of Pat Oswald and his group.