Third Time's a Crime

by Diana Orgain

  Holtz shook his head. “I don’t get it. Why put the groundskeeper in the pool? Why kill the priest? None of it makes any sense.”

  “Will you loan me Jane Reiner’s file?” I asked.

  He nodded. “Sure, that one is public. In fact, I made a copy of it recently for your show.” He dug around his desk and handed me a thick file with yellowing papers. “Have at it.”

  I stood, then hesitated. “Oh, Officer Holtz. Do you have the file on Merle Greens?”

  Holtz frowned. “Merle Greens? Who is that?”

  “He drowned in the river a few weeks before Jane was murdered.”

  Holtz nodded. “I’ll get it for you, but it’s in archives. It’s going take a while.”

  With Jane’s file burning a hole on the passenger side seat of Becca’s car, I hightailed it over to the Indian casino and resort and booked myself a room. I figured, as long as I was single and down in the dumps, I may as well treat myself to room service and cry in bed over Scott. Not to mention, I was utterly exhausted after spending the night on the cold floor of the solitary confinement cell.

  Once inside the room I read through the police report, then crawled under the awful floral print bedspread and closed my burning eyes.

  Not long after I dozed off, there was a knock on the door.

  “Georgia, are you in there?” a familiar voice called out.

  “Jessica?” I asked, rolling out of bed and padding toward the door.

  When I unlocked the door, I found Jessica standing together with Ashley.

  “You found me.” I said.

  Ashley shrugged. “It’s the only major hotel in town.”

  Jessica grabbed my hands. “We need to talk to you.”

  “Come in,” I said. The police report I’d been perusing was spewed out across the desk. Ashley noticed it first.

  “You’ve been investigating?” she asked.

  “Yup,” I said.

  “That’s why we came,” Jessica said.

  “What is it? What’s going on?” I asked.

  “We want to give you our spot on the show,” Jessica said. “I think you’re the only one who can solve my great-aunt’s murder. We need you there, we have no faith in Dr. Arch and Karen Kenley, they’re completely cheating.”

  “Uh . . . I’m not sure how that would work,” I said. “Scott and I, we’re not even together anymore.” A hollowness bore into my heart as I said the words out loud.

  “He’s already agreed to come back.” Jessica beamed.

  Unexpectedly, jealousy jabbed at me. She’d spoken to him? He’d agreed to come back. To what? To see her? To see me?

  “I don’t know,” I hemmed. “I was just trying to get some traction here with the files.”

  “We’ve looked at them, too,” Ashley said. “There’s definitely something going on.”

  “Father Gabriel was a student at the school,” Jessica said. “He was one of the people who testified about my aunt’s murder.”

  “I saw that,” I said. A disquieting feeling overwhelmed me. Something was going on that I needed to get to the bottom of, but I didn’t see how going back on the show with its constraints could help me. Ashley took a seat by the window.

  “Your friend, Becca, told us about your offer.”

  “What offer?” I asked.

  “The one from Hollywood, where you get to be on the show,” Jessica said.

  “It would help if you were on Cold Case in the Castle and you won,” Ashley finished.

  I shrugged. “I don’t know if it really matters anymore,” I said.

  “It does and we’re not going to beat Dr. Arch and Karen,” Jessica said. “As much as I want to get to the bottom of what happened to my aunt, they’re not going to let us; they’re going to sabotage us every step of the way—” As Jessica was speaking my phone buzzed.

  I looked at the caller ID; it was Becca. I looked back at Jessica and Ashley.

  “Becca’s going to try to convince me to come on the show?” I asked.

  They nodded.

  “She’s been calling you for hours. There’s something else you don’t know. Becca is sure that someone tampered with the results from last night’s show.”

  “Tampered? What do you mean?” I asked. Without giving them a chance to reply, I answered my phone and heard Becca scream into my ear.

  “Well, are you coming back or what?”

  I laughed. “Or what.”

  “Have you talked to Ashley and Jessica?” she said.

  “They’re here in my hotel room,” I answered.

  “Well come on back. Scott’s already here and he’s chomping at the bit to see you.”

  I didn’t know how to process the news.

  Scott wanted to see me again?

  It seemed unlikely the way we had parted. Nerves flooded my stomach.

  “I’ve been to the police station. I have the police files,” I said.

  “That’s all right,” Becca said. “Bring them with you. We need to have resolution or this is going to be a terrible ending to the show.”

  I watched as Jessica and Ashley danced around the room, packing up my belongings. Ashley tossed toiletries into my makeup bag, and Jessica was busy emptying drawers into my suitcase. “Guys!” I said, holding up a hand. “I haven’t even agreed to anything yet.”

  “Well, agree already then,” Becca said, through the phone.

  “All right,” I said, hanging up.

  “Come on, come on,” Jessica said.

  “When Dr. Arch finds out, he’s going to flip a gasket and I want to be there to watch,” Ashley said.

  Ah. A woman after my own heart.

  Twenty-four

  When I returned to the castle, Becca and Scott were there to greet me. Scott wrapped his arms around me.

  “I think I made a mistake,” he said.

  “It’s all right,” I said. “I understand that you need time.”

  “No,” he said. “You don’t understand.”

  He pulled me close to a bench and we sat. Becca made herself scarce.

  “All this time, Georgia, I’ve been trying to remember feeling in love with you, but what’s happened through the course of this week is I’ve fallen in love with you again. I can’t explain why I don’t remember the past in the way that I want to, but I know what I’m feeling now and I know what I’ve put you through.”

  My throat constricted and my mouth went dry. “Are you saying you want to stay with me?” I asked him.

  He took my face in his hands. “I’m saying I want you and only you. I know that for sure now. Are you okay with that? And are you okay with me not remembering everything about our past?”

  I grabbed his hands. “Yes, I am. I love you, Scott.”

  He pressed his forehead to mine, our noses touching. “I must know you better than I think because I knew you’d say that.”

  He smiled his irresistible smile and pressed his lips to mine. Excitement shot through my fingertips as I wrapped my arms around his neck and pressed him close to me.

  “All right, you two lovebirds, break it up,” Cheryl said as she approached, the gravel crunching under her feet. “We’re going to make a big show of Jessica and Ashley picking you guys to take their place.”

  I groaned. “Might as well get into hair and makeup.”

  We all walked together back toward the castle, Scott’s hand in mine. Kyle was ready to do my hair, this time taking out his curling iron and wielding it with such precision it was alarming.

  “I’m glad you’re back, doll.” he said. “I’m going to make you look extra pretty because I missed you so much.”

  “You can’t have missed me that much. I’ve only been gone a few hours,” I said.

  He pulled the curling iron out of my hair, deftly leaving a curl behind. “Oh, well,
it must be the guilt then.”

  “Guilt? About what?”

  “Don’t you remember that I’m the one who sent you up to the third floor? It’s my fault you’ve been limping all this time.”

  “I’m not limping,” I said.

  “Sure you are, and I can only give you flat-heeled shoes not comfy sneakers because Cheryl said so.” He looked resentful.

  “It’s not your fault that I’m hurt,” I said.

  He unplugged the curling iron and wrapped the cord around the base of it. “You forgive me?”

  I stood and hugged him. “A girl must never ever be angry with her stylist.”

  “Lights, camera, action,” Cheryl called.

  Jessica and Ashley sat across from Scott and me in the library and made a formal presentation to us of the network card and the police reports. Jessica gave a teary speech about her belief that Scott and I were the best team to resolve the murder of her great-aunt. Meanwhile, in the neighboring room Dr. Arch and Karen Kenley fumed.

  Once the transition happened, we were given free rein to investigate as long as we kept our cameraman in tow.

  “Let’s go back to the kitchen,” I said to Scott. “Where the dumbwaiter is.”

  Scott agreed and walked with me to the kitchen. I reexamined the place and I got into the dumbwaiter.

  “Do you think you could hoist it to the third floor?” I asked him.

  He looked dumbfounded. “What do you mean, G? No, we’re not supposed to do that.”

  I shrugged. “I never follow the rules. You should know this if you’re falling in love with me again.”

  “I can’t let you up there.” He pulled me out of the dumbwaiter and got in himself. “You hoist me.”

  I laughed. “There’s no way I’ll be able to lift you.”

  “Try,” he said. “These things have some leverage in them.”

  I gave it one heavy pull and lifted him about two inches before releasing the cord and dropping him back with a thud.

  He laughed. “Oh, my gosh. And here I thought you were strong.”

  “I am strong,” I said, flexing my bicep.

  “Is it me?” he asked, rubbing his flat belly.

  “Get out of the box,” I said.

  He climbed out and I stuffed myself into the dumbwaiter. He began to hoist me up. As the dumbwaiter ascended, I could no longer see Scott.

  “Can you hear me?” I asked as I was raised up.

  “Yes,” he said.

  Our cameraman grunted. I knew he was upset that he’d no longer be able to film me, but he dutifully filmed Scott as Scott continued to lift me up. Probably not the most exciting TV. Maybe Scott would sing to liven things up.

  “I’m on the first floor now,” I said. “Keep going.” The box stopped for a few minutes. “Do you need a break?” I asked.

  “Uh-huh,” I heard from below. I climbed out onto the second floor.

  “Just one more floor,” I called down.

  “Okay. I’ll let you know when I’m ready.”

  After a minute or two Scott called, “Okay, get in, Georgia.”

  I got into the dumbwaiter and he hoisted me up to the third floor. I got out gingerly.

  “All right,” I said once there. I examined the room. I was in a corridor. To the left were rooms that I figured might have been Jane’s. I walked into one of the rooms, carefully avoiding any wood planks that looked rotted.

  From the third floor I could see the river. It had been a heavy water year, raining almost every night. The riverbanks were flooded; any more water and we’d lose a levy. As I stared out to the water I thought about Merle Greens’s drowning. He was the first victim. Three weeks prior to Jane’s murder. Was there a connection?

  I fingered the wood board, the wood trim around the window. Could Jane have seen the accidental drowning from her windowsill?

  As I continued to peer out, I saw Gertrude, the head of the historical society, strolling along the gardens. I remembered reading her biography online. She was a local. She’d been a young girl living in Golden at the time Merle had drowned . . .

  She was about Jane’s age . . .

  She’d been living in Golden when Jane had been murdered . . .

  She definitely didn’t want us here at the castle . . .

  Could she have been involved with anyone at the reform school? Could she have had anything to do with Jane’s murder?

  A chill went up my spine. I had no proof, but I knew nobody wanted us out of the castle more than Gertrude did. I swabbed the inside of the room with the DNA kit that I’d won in the first challenge, and then called down to Scott through the dumbwaiter tunnel.

  “Are you ready for me?” I asked.

  “I’m here for you, babe.”

  I climbed back into the box. “Hold it steady now,” I said, preparing myself for the bumpy ride. He lowered me down the three flights until I careened into the kitchen and fell out of the dumbwaiter.

  I sprawled out on the floor. “Remind me, I don’t ever want to do that again.”

  He picked me up. “I’m sorry.”

  The cameraman chuckled, happy to get the shot of me falling down onto the kitchen floor.

  “Did you find anything?” Scott asked.

  I showed him the DNA swab. “Well I’ve got this, but I don’t know how to read it. I think I need to make nice with Karen, the FBI agent.”

  Scott said, “They’re our competition. We’re the final four.”

  “I know,” I said. “But justice trumps prize money, doesn’t it?”

  He pulled me close. “Love trumps prize money for sure.” He pressed his lips against mine and I felt small shivers of contentment spread through my body.

  Twenty-five

  Scott and I, followed by our cameraman, Adam, made our way down the corridor into the library. Karen looked startled to see us. Dr. Arch quirked an eyebrow as though he had been expecting us.

  “What do you say we join forces?” I asked.

  Dr. Arch bristled. “Absolutely not.”

  Karen leaned forward, exhaustion in her eyes. “What do you got?”

  “DNA,” I said, flashing her my sample.

  “Hmm,” she said. “I don’t know that I can do anything with it. I don’t have my regular equipment.”

  “I understand.”

  “Where did you get it from?” Dr. Arch asked, trying hard to look indifferent.

  “Third floor,” I said.

  Karen gasped. “I thought the third floor was off limits!”

  “It is,” Scott said. “Do you want to stop the show?” He quirked an eyebrow at her.

  She crossed her arms in front of her chest and said nothing.

  Dr. Arch challenged, “What are you implying?”

  Scott said, “I think you guys rigged the last round of audience results.”

  This was news to me. I had no idea that Scott suspected Dr. Arch and Karen of tampering with the results, too, but I decided to play along. Poker-faced, I said, “We have proof.”

  Karen looked over at me, her eyes growing wide. “What kind of proof?”

  Aha. It was the wrong answer. Of course, I had no proof, but she hadn’t denied it, either.

  Dr. Arch said, “All right. We’ll play along. What do you got?”

  I gave my DNA findings to Karen.

  “I need a microscope,” she said.

  We looked at the cameraman who looked blankly back at us. “I think we’ll have to negotiate that with Cheryl,” I said.

  “Let’s go,” she said to Dr. Arch.

  “No,” Dr. Arch said. “That’s what they want. They’re sending us on a wild-goose chase while they sit here with the records and buy more time to investigate.”

  “You don’t trust a soul, do you?” Scott asked.

  “That�
��s right,” Dr. Arch said.

  “I’ll go with you then,” Scott said to Karen. “You and I will track down Cheryl, and Georgia and Dr. Arch will continue to investigate. That way it’s fair and square.”

  Dr. Arch laughed and appraised me like a wolf looks at a lamb. “That’d be fine. Yes. Leave the lovely young woman here with me,” he said.

  Scott glared at him, but I shooed him away. “I can handle him,” I said. “Plus, I got security.” I motioned toward the cameraman, who remained fixed in the corner.

  “Right,” Scott said, kissing my cheek. “Watch him. Don’t let him near anything that can blow up.”

  At that, Dr. Arch made a little smirk and I knew he’d messed with the heater, in order to distract us so he could do God knows what to the voting results.

  Sneaky!

  Scott and Karen left the room in search of Cheryl, and I took a seat across from Dr. Arch.

  “So what have you found? I’ve looked through the same material over and over again,” he said. “I don’t know what to make of it.” He pointed to a section in the police report about Jane’s murder.

  I said, “No, you’re looking at the wrong information.”

  “How so?” he asked.

  “I think the key is somewhere else.” I flipped through the file, searching for any reference to Merle Greens. “Do you know anything about the boy who drowned in the river?” I asked.

  Dr. Arch shook his head. “What does that have to do with Jane?”

  “I don’t know, but there’s a view of the river from her room. She wrote to her mother that she’d seen something and I wonder if maybe what she saw was a drowning that was not all that accidental.”

  “Aha,” Dr. Arch said, elongating the vowels in the word the way doctors do.

  Together we reviewed the file on Jane again. There had been no eyewitnesses and several children in the school had been questioned, one of whom was young Father Gabriel.

  “Did you know he was a student here?” I asked.

  Dr. Arch nodded. “He told me as much.”

  “The day you were on the third floor?” I asked. “Together?”