By David Ferrell
Could the curse of the Bambino be over? For eighty-four, count 'em, eighty-four miserable seasons, the Boston Red Sox have endured nothing but defeat and heartbreak. Finally, there is hope. From the hinterlands of Texas comes the sensational Ron Kane, a strapping rookie pitcher whose fastball scorches the radar gun at an ungodly 110 miles per hour. He can also handle the bat. And play the outfield. With Kane dazzling sellout crowds, the Red Sox are suddenly a juggernaut. The only fly in the ointment -- a big, ugly horsefly -- is the fact that murder seems to be stalking the club. Chicago . . . Detroit . . . Kansas City . . . wherever the Sox play, a killer strikes, marking his victims with strange ritualistic symbols.