by Diana Orgain
Who would want to harm Father Gabriel?
I knew Jessica and Ashley had been in the library with Scott, so they were out. Jack and Martha had left, so they seemed to be cleared of suspicion, too. Although Father Gabriel and Bert had both been released from the show and had stuck around, could the same be true for Martha?
Did she have any reason to want to hurt her own brother?
But then, what about the groundskeeper? What possible motive could anyone have had to hurt him?
And what about the fact that both Father Gabriel and the groundskeeper had attended the school as boys? Obviously, they were connected, but no one else in the cast and crew, besides Martha, was the right age to have attended or worked at the school.
I thought about Jessica; she was the grand-niece of Jane. Certainly, then, it was possible others were connected to the school even if they hadn’t personally attended.
The groundskeeper had been drowned and then his body moved to the pool. How had he been moved? Could Jessica have lifted him? No, it didn’t seem possible.
I racked my brain to think of the ground around the pool the day I’d found the groundskeeper dead. It hadn’t appeared obvious that anyone had dragged a body across the dirt.
But he hadn’t gotten there out of thin air . . . How then?
My brain hurt, and my eyes stung.
I was getting nowhere with my investigation . . .
I must have drifted off, because suddenly there was a rapping at the door.
I jumped up and ran to the door, pounding on it myself. “Help! Help!” I cried.
Then I heard Becca’s voice. “Georgia! Are you in there?”
I pressed both my palms and an ear against the door. “Becca?”
“We have to find a key, hold tight,” she said. “Okay?” She rapped on the door twice for confirmation.
“Okay,” I said, rapping back.
Relief filled me. I’d been found! Soon I’d be out of the small box of a room and breathing fresh air!
After what seemed an eternity, Becca finally returned, only they must not have found a key because a loud splintering, hammering sound shook the door.
An ax!
“Stand back,” a loud male voice that I didn’t recognize said.
Finally, the door shattered, and a big burly fireman burst through. “Are you all right?” he asked.
Behind him stood Becca, Bert, Cheryl, and Scott. Everyone poured into the room. It was close quarters, but I was so elated to see them that I didn’t care.
Scott embraced me, smooching my face. “My God, we were so frightened, we didn’t know where you had gone off to.”
“How did you find me?” I asked.
Becca said, “Well, that was thanks to Bert.”
I looked at Bert and he said, “I got one of my headaches. I knew there was something wrong and we started to look for you, and finally the pain led me here.”
I couldn’t help the doubt that crept into my stomach. Was he telling the truth? How could he have sensed that I was here?
An awful feeling landed in my gut.
Could it have been Bert who locked me in here in the first place?
Maybe trying to scare me off or something?
We left the room and walked into the basement. All of a sudden the space seemed vast, and I felt more lost than ever.
“I need air,” I said to Scott. “Can we go outside?”
“Yes, of course,” he said, lacing his fingers through mine. Together we all walked into the courtyard.
Outside, the night was still pitch black, save for the beautiful country sky and the lights from the fire truck that was parked in front. The back doors of the truck were open with medical equipment spewing out of them. An EMT stood at the ready to give me a cursory evaluation. He took my pulse and my blood pressure. Fortunately, he declared me well, but offered to take me into the hospital for a formal evaluation.
I declined.
When the fire fighter and EMT left, Cheryl grabbed my wrist. “I’m so glad that we found you. The place will be crawling with attorneys in the morning and I need your help.”
“How can I help?” I asked.
“Well, we have to convince Gertrude to get off our case. She was livid. Called me at the Indian casino. She can’t believe we haven’t left the premises yet.” Cheryl shook her head. “Pfft. As if I’d leave before we’ve finished filming.”
“How can I help?” I asked again.
Cheryl got a stern look on her face. “Number one, we need to finish filming the show before Lowenstein returns. I wanted Mr. Martin to hash something out with him, but he can only buy us so much time. I need everybody in hair and makeup as early as possible.” She glanced at her watch. “It’s already four A.M. I need you to get in there at five A.M.”
“Oh, no,” I moaned.
She patted my shoulder. “Don’t worry, Kyle can do wonders.”
Becca examined my face. “I think he can probably even hide the bags under your eyes.”
“Geez, thanks,” I said, shooing her away. I turned to Cheryl. “I think it’s time we acknowledged the fact that there’s been two murders since we’ve been here and this property isn’t exactly safe. I mean somebody locked me in that solitary confinement cell.” I glared at Bert.
His face paled and he took a step away from me. “I hope you’re not accusing me of that.” he said.
“How else would you know I was there?” I fired back at him.
Becca got between us. “No, no! What are you saying, Georgia? It wasn’t Bert. He wouldn’t do that.” She glanced at him nervously. “Anyway, what time did it happen? How long have you been in there?”
I admitted to seeing them together near the rosebushes, and Becca grabbed Bert’s hand possessively.
“It’s okay, she’s just tired,” Scott said, putting a protective arm around me. “Let’s go inside and at least let her have an hour’s rest before we have to get to hair and makeup.”
“Rest?” Cheryl squawked. “She should have rested when she landed herself in solitary confinement. Pump her with coffee.”
Scott gave her a nasty look, but before he could say anything else, she added, “Oh, and in case your memory is failing: Third floor is off limits, staircase is off limits, dumbwaiter is off limits.” Cheryl said this in my face.
“All right, all right. I know. You don’t have to get in my face about it,” I whined.
“Apparently I do,” she retorted. “Not that you listen.”
It was about as much as I could take. Worn down by fatigue, anger suddenly flared inside me, my blood boiling. I got right back in her face. “Like you listen to Mr. Lowenstein and—”
Scott snaked an arm around my waist and pulled me away from Cheryl. “Arguing isn’t going to help, ladies.” He turned to me. “You shouldn’t have gone off by yourself, Georgia,” Scott said, lowering his voice. “These people are crazy. Dr. Arch and Karen think that you did something with the votes and this was your cover.”
“What?” My blood went cold. I didn’t know how to answer that. “Of course I didn’t do anything like that,” I stuttered.
Suddenly I felt alone. I glanced around the room, noticing for the first time that my father was nowhere in sight. “Where’s my dad?” I asked Cheryl. I needed a strong ally on my side. After all, Becca seemed to be on Bert’s side and Scott, I didn’t know which way he was turning these days.
Cheryl said, “Your father’s returned to the farm. The sheriff had a lead on the carjacker. He doesn’t know that you were missing. I haven’t called him, because I didn’t want to alarm him.” She shot me a sour look. “Knowing you, I figured you’d show up sooner or later.”
I ignored her snide comment and decided to be grateful she hadn’t worried dad. My father had been under so much stress, he didn’t need to be preoccupied with me
right now.
Now, if only I could figure out who’d locked me in the cell.
Rest out of the question, the cast was awake and on edge and Kyle seemed to have started to put together a makeup corner. It looked like the paranormal docent, Ashley, and Jessica were taking turns under his doting attention. I turned to Scott. “Maybe we can solve this thing and be done early.”
“Sure,” he said, “that would be nice. We could get out of here and get back to normal life.” Hope flooded through my belly. Did he mean normal life with me? Would things ever be normal between us again?
Before he could say anything else, Dr. Arch approached us. “Oh, Georgia, I’m glad you’ve been found. You gave us quite a scare.”
“I’m sure you were shaking in your boots,” I spit.
He frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
I said, “I have a strong suspicion that it might have been you that trapped me in the cell in the first place.”
He looked offended.
Karen Kenley appeared and wrapped herself on his arm. “Oh, Georgia, I’m glad everything’s all right. Where were you?” she asked, as if she didn’t know.
I tried to keep the malice out of my voice, when I demanded, “Where were you all at say ten thirty P.M.?”
They glanced at each other. “We were up here, where the cast was. Asleep, I might add,” Karen said. “Until that awful racket. Why would you wander off?”
“Unless you have information we don’t,” Dr. Arch said, glaring at me.
“What’s the dirty look for?” I asked.
Dr. Arch tapped his foot. “Well that’s what I’m wondering. Do you have special access to different areas of the castle? If so, this is unfair . . . You have an unfair advantage. You’ve been sneaking off when we’ve all been together. I think that calls for an immediate expulsion,” he declared.
Cheryl was rushing around ignoring him. “Everybody get into hair and makeup. We’ll be filming the next scene soon. After this elimination it’s down to the final four.”
Dr. Arch pointed a finger and made a melodramatic statement: “Georgia and Scott should be eliminated from the show right now. They have been tampering with the rules.”
Cheryl said, “Don’t be ridiculous.”
“How do you explain that she’s been off investigating the castle on her own?”
Cheryl gave Dr. Arch an irritated glare. “Listen, we need to get on with production as quickly as possible before we get expelled from the castle, so I need you to, you know, act professional.”
“How do we know Georgia didn’t sneak off to meddle with the voting results?” Karen Kenley said. She stood with both hands on her hips and her feet shoulder-width apart, in a sort of Wonder Woman pose, blocking Cheryl from bustling past her.
Cheryl did the only thing a self-appointed king of the jungle would do. She let out a ferocious roar and threw her hands in the air. The entire room went silent and Karen retreated immediately.
Cheryl’s gaze rounded the room, taking in every single person. “Anyone want to resign? Right now, you have your chance. Just raise your hand and I’ll get your check ready.”
I glanced at Scott. I was ready to resign, my hand itched to go up, but instead Scott took it and pressed my fingers to his lips.
“All right then!” Cheryl said. “Let’s get back to work!”
“I need a heater in here,” Kyle whined. “My hands are so cold I can’t work.”
Cheryl gave him an icy stare that should have frozen his mouth shut, but he only shrugged and added, “At least I’m not begging for a margarita machine.”
Despite her suit of armor, Cheryl softened and a smile cracked through. She studied Kyle, who was dressed in jeans and had a fluffy white winter coat on. “You look like the Polar Bear Express.”
Kyle stiffened. “If it wasn’t like Antarctica in here, I wouldn’t have to dress like this.”
Scott clapped his hands together. “Actually, I was hoping I could get one of those,” he joked trying to make light of the situation.
Kyle bristled. “With your shaved head, I’m afraid you’d look like the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man.”
Scott laughed and rubbed at his head, taking no offense to the gibe.
“All right,” Cheryl muttered. “Someone dig out a space heater for our diva over here.”
A techie with a green and purple Mohawk raced out of the room. Cheryl glanced at her wristwatch and took off after the techie, mumbling something about checking the results. Soon, the crew member with the Mohawk returned with a portable heater fan. He plugged it in the center of the room and the cast huddled around it, as if it were a campfire.
“Anyone up for some s’mores?” Jessica joked.
Becca paced the room, madly punching buttons on her cell phone. Bert followed her around the room like a very big red puppy dog. Every time she looked annoyed with her phone, he scratched at his beard and frowned.
“Where is the caterer? We need our omelet station and coffee bar!” Becca said. She turned to Bert and said something to him that I couldn’t hear, but he nodded and happily left the room
“Mmm, omelet station,” Jessica said. “The meals here were awful until she arrived.”
Kyle shuffled us around, dragging me over to the makeup chair. “I’m going minimal, darling. Cheryl wants everyone to look run-down. Like you all are working overtime on the case.”
I laughed. “Is that retaliation for everyone’s bad behavior?”
Kyle shrugged, grabbing the straightening iron. “I just do as I’m told.” He took a strand of my hair and placed it in the flat iron, working the strand until it had an amazing glossy look. Despite his instruction, by the time he was done with me, I was sure no one would ever guess I’d spent the night in solitary confinement.
“I’ll bet,” I said, glancing around the room. “I’m sure you’ll get an earful from Dr. Arch.” I realized that he wasn’t in sight, and neither was Karen.
Now where had they gone off to?
“What’s that burning smell?” Ashley asked.
Kyle shrieked. “OMG, am I burning your hair?”
Scott looked from Kyle to me. “No, I don’t think it’s that—”
As we all turned to look at the heater, it all of a sudden spontaneously combusted and shot itself into a ball of flames.
The group let out a collective scream and everyone scampered around the room.
“Holy Christ,” Scott yelled. “Where’s a fire extinguisher?”
“Call 911,” Jessica yelled.
“Get back!” Becca cried.
“Let me out of here,” Ashley screamed, running out of the room and into the hallway.
Most everyone shot out of the room after her, leaving only Scott, Kyle, Becca, and me.
Scott raced to unplug the heater as I frantically looked around the room. The castle obviously wasn’t up to fire safety standards; there was no fire extinguisher at hand.
“Give me your coat,” I said to Kyle.
He looked horrified. “What?”
“We need to snuff it out before the floor catches!” I shouted. “Come on.” As dry and rotten as the wooden floor was, if one ember caught we’d be standing in ashes.
Kyle begrudgingly shrugged out of his coat and handed it to me.
I threw his coat over the fan; it immediately turned into a fireball and knocked the fan over. The dry wood underneath caught fire.
“Holy smokes!” I yelled. “We need to back up. Everyone out!”
Bert raced into the room with a First Alert Tundra fire extinguisher. It was no bigger than a can of aerosol hair spray, but once Bert released the stream of fire-squelching chemicals it immediately covered the scorched wood and heater, tamping the fire out.
Cheryl ran in after him, screaming, “What’s going on! What’s happened?”
Becca grabbed her arm. “This place is totally haunted, or cursed or whatever.” She pointed at the heater. “That thing just spontaneously combusted.”
Cheryl buried her face in her hands. “Will this show ever be over? Now I’ll have to deal with Gertrude on smoke damage and burn marks.” She whipped around and stared at me. “Was this you?”
“I was nowhere near it! I swear,” I exclaimed in my defense.
“I’m telling you, I think it’s a ghost. I’m a believer now,” Becca said, clinging to Bert’s arm.
Bert shook his head. “I don’t think so. Something’s not right. It doesn’t smell like a specter to me.”
“It’s smells like smoke,” Cheryl said, sarcastically.
“It’s not that,” Scott said. “When I pulled the plug from the wall, I got a shock. I think someone tampered with it.”
“Why would anyone do that?” Cheryl asked.
I glanced around the room, something nagging at me. “Hey, where did Dr. Arch and Karen Kenley disappear to? They were gone when the thing burst into flames.”
Scott quirked his head to the side. “You think Dr. Arch is an arsonist?”
“He’s something,” I said.
And I’m going to figure out what.
Twenty-two
While the smoke cleared from the main living room, Cheryl assembled us into the parlor for the elimination scene. As soon as I saw Dr. Arch, I beelined toward him.
“And where have you been?” I demanded. “We had an emergency in the other room and I noticed you and your cohort had conveniently disappeared.”
He stared at me. “I don’t believe I’m under any obligation to discuss my whereabouts with you.”
I ignored him and flipped around to Karen. “I suppose sabotaging a heater is within your FBI-trained skills.”
She batted her eyelash extensions at me. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”
“All right, save the detecting for the camera,” Cheryl said, striding between us. “I have an elimination scene to film.”
Harris entered the room, with a paper cup of coffee in one hand and three envelopes in the other. He wore a scowl on his face that said all too clearly he didn’t like early morning shoots. But ever the professional, on Cheryl’s cue, he handed off his cup to one of the crew members, then flashed his over-whitened teeth and clicked his snakeskin Berluti loafers together to get the audience’s attention.