Third Time's a Crime

by Diana Orgain

  Dr. Arch frowned. “We weren’t on the third floor. We only came up when we heard you screaming.” He turned to Jose. “Can you take her blood pressure, please? If she’s stable, I’ll do the stitches now.”

  Jose took hold of my left arm and wrapped the blood pressure cuff around it.

  “You and Father Gabriel were on the third floor,” I insisted. “I heard you both arguing.”

  Scott shook his head. “No, G. The men were sent over into the west wing for hair and makeup, not the third floor.”

  “Blood pressure is stable,” Jose said.

  “Can you feel this?” Dr. Arch asked.

  He was pressing my leg with something but I couldn’t tell what. I tried to prop myself up to take a look, but with Jose holding one arm and Scott the other, it seemed impossible.

  “Not really,” I said. “But I hope it won’t hurt like the disinfectant.”

  Dr. Arch nodded. “You feel something? Pressure?”

  “Yes,” I said.

  “Not hot or cold?” he asked.

  “No.”

  “All right,” he said. “Just relax a moment.”

  I closed my eyes and tried not to think about my leg. Something was curious about the whole situation. Why had Kyle sent me up there? Had he intended for me to get injured or worse? We’d always had our little catty differences. But certainly Kyle wouldn’t try to kill me, would he?

  And what had Dr. Arch and Father Gabriel been doing up there? More important—why deny they’d been there?

  “You’re lying. I know you’re up to something,” I whispered.

  Dr. Arch said, “Hold tight, Georgia. I’m almost done now.”

  Jose let out a whistle. “Doc, you’re good. Those look great.”

  Scott patted my arm. “You okay?”

  I sighed. “I’m okay.”

  I was more bothered about Dr. Arch lying than about the cut on my leg. I’d had plenty of scrapes and bruises in my life.

  Suddenly, the woman from the historical society, Gertrude, rushed into the room. She had an angry expression on her face and Cheryl raced over to intercept her. They had a heated exchange, the woman’s curly bouffant bouncing as she spoke in rapid-fire words with Cheryl.

  Then the woman dismissed Cheryl and rushed over to me. “What were you doing on the third floor? That’s off limits. We’re going to have a masquerade fundraising ball after the show is over, and we can’t have the place destroyed,” she yelled at me. “The board won’t have it. As soon as I tell them that you’ve ruined the castle, they’re going to vote the show off the premises,” she screamed.

  Cheryl held up her hand. “Now, now, Gertrude, let’s not get carried away. The show can repair the damages on the third floor.”

  “It’s absolutely impossible,” the woman screamed. “You can’t get enough equipment to go up there. You can’t even find anybody to do the work up there. We’ve been trying to renovate the castle forever. I told you those floors were unsafe.”

  “I understand,” Cheryl said. “There was a mix-up. One of our makeup crew.” She looked around the room for Kyle. “Where is he?” She turned to one of the sound engineers, who seemed like he was deliberately trying to keep out of her way. “What are you doing standing around, Murphy? Go get Kyle right now. Tell him I need to see him.” The sound engineer careened out of the room, not wanting to fan Cheryl’s anger any further.

  “I’m going to call an emergency board meeting,” Gertrude said. “I hope you’re satisfied. You came here under certain conditions, and you haven’t upheld your end of the bargain.” She jutted out a finger at Cheryl. “I want you, and your crew, and your cast out of here in the morning.”

  Cheryl made a face. “Now, now. I’m sure we can straighten this out. It’s all a big misunderstanding,” she said. She attempted to put a conciliatory arm out toward Gertrude, but the woman only stepped back, her face red and angry.

  “Morning time. In fact, I shouldn’t even give you until morning. You should pack your things up right now,” she said. “After all, what happened with poor Walter, it’s . . .” The woman’s hand fluttered to her collarbone, and she plucked the gold necklace she wore. “I knew this was bad luck having you here. First the birds, and then Walter. Now the third floor? Don’t you see what’s happening?” she asked.

  Good Lord. Was the woman about to tell us that we were cursed?

  “They’re all unrelated incidences,” Scott said, standing up and squaring his shoulders to her. “The black birds were just migrating, and what happened to the poor groundskeeper has nothing to do with the third floor. Georgia was misinformed. She went up there thinking . . .”

  Gertrude put him off. “I don’t need to hear from you, young man,” she said, snarling.

  I made an attempt to prop myself up, but pain shot through my leg. I yelped and Jose put a restraining hand back on my shoulder. “You need to rest,” he said. “Don’t move.”

  I groaned, settling my head down on the sleeping bag.

  Gertrude and Cheryl continued to argue, as Cheryl skillfully ushered her out of the room.

  “I want you out of here,” Gertrude repeated. “All of you, out, out, out!”

  Cheryl whispered something I couldn’t hear in a hushed urgent tone. I wanted to be part of it. I wanted to know what was going on.

  Could it be true that our show would be cleared out of the castle?

  Next, Kyle floated into the room. He rushed over to me, screaming, “Georgia! I just heard! I’m so sorry!” Then spotted the blood that stained the sleeping bag under my leg and turned away repulsed. “Ah! Blood!”

  Dr. Arch chuckled and left the room.

  Kyle made a big show of covering his eyes. “Georgia. I didn’t mean to cause you any trouble. I swear!” he said.

  “Why did you tell me to go to the third floor?” I asked.

  He looked sheepish. “I got a text. Somebody said they were moving the women up to the third floor because they wanted the north wing for the shoot, and I was to tell you to go up there.”

  “Well, what about the other women?” I asked. “Did you tell them?”

  He shrugged. “No. I’m only assigned to you. Clarissa has the others. Anyway, I was running late. I had to rush out to pack up my makeup bag. I thought Clarissa would notify everyone else. Where is she, by the way? I swear that woman is always on a perpetual coffee break!”

  “Can I see your phone?” I asked.

  He handed me his phone. “Yeah, have a look, but it’s gone.”

  “Gone?” I said. We scrolled through his text log.

  “I don’t know what happened to it. It was right there, but I can’t remember the number. I think it was a local area code,” he said.

  “Well, who has your number?” I asked.

  He shrugged. “Everyone. It’s posted on the front board.”

  I got the sickening feeling I’d just been set up, but by whom?

  More important, why?

  Eight

  As the burning in my leg went from a roar to a dull ache, the fatigue seemed to weigh heavily on my eyelids. I felt myself drifting off, when suddenly a young woman I hadn’t seen before floated into the room. She didn’t have any piercings or tattoos, which made it unlikely that she was part of the crew.

  And yet . . . something about her was so familiar.

  There was a kindness to her and she seemed to radiate a white light. She came closer to me, concern in her face.

  Was she a nurse?

  “Will you help me, Georgia?” she asked.

  I struggled to sit up. “Help you? Help you how? Who are you?”

  The young woman smiled. “I’m Jane. I need justice. I want you to help me get justice.”

  I searched around the room for the cameras. Was this a setup? Where was Cheryl? Were they filming this with some small camera conc
ealed in the woman’s clothing?

  “Sure,” I said cautiously. “I can help you. Why don’t you tell me what happened? Who killed you?”

  A sad and forlorn expression crossed Jane’s face. “I wish I knew!” she said. “It happened so fast. I heard voices, and then an awful fear overtook me. As if my body knew what was about to happen before my mind did. That moment . . . when your heart races and you know . . . I was turning around. It couldn’t have taken that long for me to turn around . . . and yet I never did get to see who it was. That moment, though, it’s suspended. It’s suspended into all eternity.”

  Her voice warbled and she seemed to fade a bit, like someone turning down a light.

  What kind of illusion is this?

  I looked around the room again. Was she an image? A projection of sorts?

  “The hit was so hard,” Jane said, rubbing at the back of her head. “I blacked out and that’s all I remember.”

  “Where were you when they killed you?” I asked.

  “My room. On the third floor. I’d just finished writing a letter to mother. I so wanted to go home. I knew something awful would happen. The boys here at the home were so terrible. I knew it was a matter of time. And then after I saw . . . well, I wasn’t supposed to see it . . .”

  “Saw what? What did you see?” I asked.

  A voice came into the room from down the hall. Jane seemed to flicker.

  “Wait! Wait! What did you see?” I struggled to grab ahold of her, but my hand went through the air.

  She was gone.

  Someone was shaking my shoulder. My eyes fluttered and I was surprised to look up into Scott’s face.

  “Georgia! Are you okay?” he asked. “It seemed like you were having a bad dream.” His brow furrowed and a look of concern crossed his face. He leaned into me, his face close to mine. “You’re trembling. Does your leg hurt? Do you need me to ask for some painkillers for you?”

  I rubbed at my eyes. It had been a dream. Just a dream.

  It didn’t mean a thing.

  INT. LIBRARY DAY

  Martha and Father Gabriel are seated in matching high-back chairs. They are looking into the camera. Martha’s chestnut-colored hair has been styled so that it’s pulled back away from her face, clearly emphasizing the look of concern she is wearing. Her legs are crossed. She jiggles her foot nervously as she speaks, her black-and-white polka-dotted skirt fluttering around her ankles. Father Gabriel, in contrast, looks relaxed and confident. He is dressed in a traditional black cassock; around his neck is a wooden cross dangling on a rough rope as worn by priests in his order.

  MARTHA

  (smiles) Hello, my name is Martha. I decided to come on Cold Case in the Castle because I thought my vast background as a historian would aid in solving the murder of Jane Reiner. You see, Jane was murdered in 1968. That was a turbulent time in the United States. (She glances at Father Gabriel.) And having lived through that time, I think you and I understand it better than the other contestants.

  FATHER GABRIEL

  (laughing) Now, dear, didn’t we say we wouldn’t use their youth and inexperience against them?

  MARTHA

  Right. You’re right, Gabriel. Everyone has to start somewhere. I suppose what I meant to say is that for a woman Jane’s age, attempting to make a new life for herself as a librarian, here in this castle . . . well, the challenges were very steep indeed. And while it was unusual for a young woman to be employed in the state reform jurisdiction, Jane was. She must have been very brave indeed.

  FATHER GABRIEL

  (clearing his throat) In fact, in 1968 there were only a handful of women in the castle at all.

  MARTHA

  That’s right. There was the cook and only two teachers.

  FATHER GABRIEL

  That’s not to say, no women visiting the castle. Plenty of women came on visiting day. Mothers, sisters, even girlfriends. But no other young women lived here.

  MARTHA

  (nodding enthusiastically) Exactly! You understand my point. Between the two of us, we are uniquely positioned to solve this murder.

  FATHER GABRIEL

  (turning to the camera) But you must vote for us, dear viewer!

  MARTHA

  (frowns suddenly) What number do we tell them to call?

  CAMERAMAN (O.S.)

  We’ll scroll a number at the bottom of the screen.

  MARTHA AND FATHER GABRIEL

  (smiling widely) Just call the number at the bottom of the screen!

  Cheryl flew into the room. “Georgia! How’s the leg? Can you walk? I’ve stalled as much as I can, but with the audience live voting I can only delay so long.”

  Scott helped me to my feet and I tested some weight on my leg by gently bouncing up and down on it. “Uh . . . I think I’m okay.”

  The truth was my leg still hurt something awful, but I was antsy to get going as well. I certainly didn’t want to stay put and risk another screwy nightmare.

  Cheryl nodded and patted my arm. “Atta girl. I must say our hidden cameras caught it all. We have an amazing shot of you dangling between floors. It looks downright spooky. It’ll play great on the promos. Should yield us some great dividends!”

  “You know what would yield some great dividends, at least in terms of goodwill, is if you pretended you cared about Georgia for just a minute,” Scott fumed.

  Cheryl scoffed. “Don’t be so melodramatic. I care about her.” She pinched my arm, getting me to yelp in agreement.

  But my mind was elsewhere. “Hidden cameras?” I asked.

  Cheryl frowned. “Don’t worry about them. It’s best when you all don’t act silly and preen around.”

  “I’m not going to preen around,” I said, trying not to be offended. “I mean to ask, what else did the cameras show? Were you able to get Dr. Arch and Father Gabriel on film on the third floor?”

  Cheryl shook her head. “No. We don’t have any film of anyone on the third floor except for you.”

  How could that be?

  “What about at the pool? Did the cameras catch anything on the groundskeeper—”

  Cheryl waved an impatient hand around. “Okay, if you’re well enough to poke your nose into that investigation, you’re well enough to get on with filming.” She stalked off without answering my question to corral the cast and crew.

  Soon it was showtime again. We’d been assembled in the library. Kyle rushed over to me and primped my hair.

  “Girl!” Kyle said. “You really need a full do-over. I don’t know what Cheryl thinks I can do in ten minutes, but you are a mess.”

  “Thanks,” I muttered.

  He put an end to my protests by applying lip lacquer—and as every woman knows it’s impossible to talk while someone is telling you to stretch your lips.

  “This color brightens you up. You’re so pale right now you look like you saw a ghost.”

  The image of Jane in my dream came to mind, but before I could reply Scott said, “Maybe she’s lost too much blood?”

  Dr. Arch glanced over. “No, no. She only needed a few stitches. She’s fine. Right, Georgia?”

  “Still, she should probably eat or something, right?” Scott asked, his brow furrowing as he evaluated me.

  One of the crew members blew into the room and thrust a package into my hand. “This is what you were supposed to find at the bottom of the pool,” he said.

  I took the package from him and looked inside. “What is it?” I asked.

  Scott peeked over my shoulder. “Hopefully a couple of PowerBars.”

  I wrinkled my nose. “I’m not that hungry.”

  He wrinkled his nose back at me, then leaned forward so his forehead pressed against mine. “You really don’t know what’s good for you, do you?”

  I smiled, seizing the moment to look into his dark eyes and relish his closeness.
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  “With any luck they gave you a laptop,” he said, pointing at the package. “I found a network card.”

  Kyle pushed Scott aside. “Excuse moi, I wasn’t finished here!” He spritzed something cold on my face and mumbled to himself.

  Then Harris entered the room and made a big show of taking center stage. Kyle abandoned me and flocked over to him. He waved a stiff clothes brush over Harris’s shoulder, flicking away imaginary debris. Harris came to life under the attention.

  The rest of the cast streamed into the room, flashing me looks of concern and murmuring good wishes. I noted that most everyone held a black leather sack, much like what I held. I realized that I’d been so concerned with finding the groundskeeper and then my subsequent accident that I hadn’t really bothered to figure out what everyone had found on the treasure hunt.

  Jack and Bert inched closer to me.

  “Are you all right?” Bert asked. “I had a terrible headache earlier and feared you might be in danger.”

  I sighed. “What good is being psychic if you only get the warning after the fact,” I fired at him.

  He looked hurt. “I’m sorry,” he said. “Sometimes I wonder the same thing myself.”

  Jack dismissed the admonition and asked, “What did you find?”

  I pulled out a device from the sack. It was black with a red dial and something resembling a prong hanging from it. Definitely not a laptop. “I have no idea.”

  Jack’s eyes widened. “Oh, good! A voltmeter! We need one of those.”

  I wondered who exactly was the “we” he was referring to when Cheryl called out, “Places everyone.” She put on a headset and scrambled to the back of the room saying, “Ready in five, four, three, two, one.”

  Harris stood in front of us, his arms held in a dramatic pose. “Well, ladies and gentlemen, you’ve all completed your first successful treasure hunt. It’s unclear whether the item you have retrieved will be useful in solving the mystery or not, but one thing is clear: Each item can only go so far. Some of you were lucky enough to find a laptop.” With that, he glanced at the FBI profiler, Karen Kenley, and smiled. “However, a laptop is no good without a battery.” He quirked an eyebrow in Father Gabriel’s direction. “You all will find that the key to solving this mystery will be to work together.”