Gold Medal Murder

by Franklin W. Dixon

  “Get there as fast as you can.

  CHAPTER 16

  ROAD RAGE

  JOE

  I was running before I even got off the phone with Frank. I’d decided to go out for a long walk before dinner, in the hopes that some brilliant answer would come to me. And now, one had come—over the phone, when I was possibly too far away to make a difference. I tried to reassure myself. Maybe Lexi wasn’t even at The Starlet. Maybe Frank was wrong. Maybe, maybe, maybe.

  I’d gone all of three blocks when something caught my eye: a motorcycle dealership on the corner, which was just closing up shop. I’d never gotten to ride the bike we had on our last mission, except piggyback on Frank. But I had a lot of experience with the scooter, and ATAC did give us “emergency credit cards” for situations just like this.

  Three minutes and a whole lot of money later, I was kick-starting the engine on a brand new Kawasaki Ninja. This was a bike built for speed. It was bright yellow, and to ride it you bent so far forward you were almost lying down. It was a sharp, aerodynamic needle of a vehicle. It had such a sweet engine, it wasn’t even that loud, it just buzzed like a trail of hornets in my wake. Five minutes later, I pulled up in front of the Starlet.

  I left the bike behind a bush in front of one of the side entrances. I couldn’t take the time to give it to the valet, and I figured I might need it soon, so I couldn’t just park it somewhere around the block. Hopefully, it would still be there when I got back.

  I entered the lobby, only to run smack into what seemed to be every tourist in LA.

  “I’m so excited about the games! I just can’t wait to see those Ryan twins compete. They are too cute!”

  “Is this your first time at the Olympics?”

  “I just want to see a movie star! I swear, if I don’t see Brad and Angelina before the week is out, I’m asking someone for my money back.”

  It was a sea of people in red, white, and blue shirts. With the Olympics starting tomorrow, everyone was in town, and the Starlet had more guests than it could handle. And all of them, it seemed, were standing in my way.

  “Excuse me. Sorry! Pardon me.”

  I tried to push my way to the elevators, but once I saw the line for them, I gave up. It would take me longer to get to Lexi’s floor than it had taken me to get to the hotel!

  Then I spotted the entrance to the emergency stairs, partially hidden behind a potted plant. I yanked the door open and started running. Nancy had been on the thirteenth floor, and Lexi was on the floor above her, so that meant I had… a long way to go.

  I hit the stairs in what must have been record time. If there were a StairMaster event in the Olympics, I would have been a shoo-in for a gold medal.

  “Hello? Lexi!”

  I pounded on her door. There was no answer. Maybe, I thought hopefully, she isn’t even here.

  I put my ear to the door. There was a squeak on the other side. It could have been anything: the wood settling, someone walking in the hallway, my imagination. Or it could have been a muffled scream.

  Better safe than sorry, I thought.

  I stepped back, took a deep breath, and delivered a wicked sidekick to the door.

  CRASH!

  The door flew inward. Lexi was standing directly in front of it. Behind her stood Isabelle with one hand clamped firmly over Lexi’s mouth. The other held her wrist behind her back. Behind them, Bess and George were tied up on the floor.

  Before I could get more than one foot in the room, Isabelle threw Lexi right at me. She slammed into my chest, and I managed to get my arms around her and keep us both from hitting the ground, but it was a close call. A split second later, Isabelle bodychecked us on the way out the door, and we went down in a heap. Damn! I thought as I hurtled into the floor, she’s strong.

  “Are you all okay?” I asked Lexi as I disentangled myself from her. I looked at Bess and George. Aside from a bad bruise on Bess’s cheek, and a ragged cut on George’s arm, they looked fine.

  “I… I think so. She forced the door open and—”

  “Look, if you’re not hurt, I need you to cut them free and call the police.” I tossed my pocketknife at Lexi. “Does the bathroom here have a lock?”

  Lexi nodded yes.

  “Good. Lock yourselves in and wait for the police. I don’t care who else shows up—don’t let anyone in. I’m going after Isabelle.”

  Lexi nodded. I helped her up and took off running out the doorway.

  “Be careful!” I heard her yell. Then I heard the sound of two doors slamming. One came from Lexi’s suite—it must have been the bathroom. The other came from in front of me, and I would bet anything it was Isabelle heading down the emergency stairs.

  “Stop!” I screamed down the staircase. I could hear footsteps below me, and I thought I caught a glimpse of her as she turned a corner, but that was it. No response.

  Right, I thought, because after all she’s done, she’s going to give up just because I yelled “stop.”

  Looked like it was time to break my stair-climbing record. At least this time I was headed down, not up. But despite everything, I couldn’t close the gap between us. I couldn’t even keep up. By the time she hit the last step, I was a floor and a half behind her.

  Thankfully, nothing she could do could get her through the lobby any faster. I heard angry shouts as she tried to push her way into the crowds. I exited the stairwell just in time to see her leaving by the main entrance.

  It’s got to be here somewhere, I thought. I looked around. There! Forty feet from me there was a service door that led out to the other side of the building. It must have been the door I’d hidden my bike next to. I pushed my way over to it, and was outside in just a few seconds.

  Success! It was the right door, and my bike was still there. I leaped on and spun out into the street. I turned the corner to the front entrance of Starlet Grand, just in time to see Isabelle disappearing inside a low-to-the-ground imported silver sports car. The kind of vehicle that you saw in movies about royalty in Monaco. I groaned internally. There went my hopes that she was driving some sort of compact or station wagon. It would be an even race between my bike and her car.

  Or at least, it would have been in any other city. But in LA, smaller was better. I could outmaneuver her any day of the week. As soon as we hit traffic, I had her.

  That is, if I could keep up with her that long. She drove like a NASCAR racer, shifting and weaving through lanes of traffic. She ignored red lights and stop lights, and left screaming pedestrians and swerving vehicles in her wake. It was all I could do to keep her in sight and avoid hitting anyone.

  Any minute now, I thought, we’ll hit some famous LA traffic.

  But the minutes kept passing, and the streets stayed clear. Of course, she was from LA—she knew how to navigate the city.

  Suddenly, Isabelle pulled a hard turn to the left. I heard her tires squeal as she spun out of control. Or at least, it looked like she was out of control. A second before she hit the wall, she threw the car in reverse, spun the wheel in the other direction, and was suddenly heading back the way we’d come. She’d just done a U-turn without ever going below sixty miles an hour. And unfortunately, I’d seen most of it in my rearview mirror as I flew past her.

  I watched her turn left down a one-way street and disappear. I didn’t have time to wait for traffic anymore. I had to get to her before she managed to lose me. This was her city—it was only a matter of time before she managed to shake me.

  If I tried to catch up with her now, I was bound to lose her. What I needed to do was get in front of her. Instead of heading back and following her, I took my next right, hoping the street would run parallel to the one she’d taken. I edged the bike faster and faster, watching the speedometer hit one hundred and keep going. When other cars appeared, I rode up onto the sidewalk. When there were pedestrians, I cut back to the street. I skipped through a narrow gap between a fruit vendor and a parked car.

  CRACK!

  My left side mirror
snapped off like a wishbone breaking. The bike wobbled for a second, but I managed to keep going. There went any chance I had of returning the bike and getting my money back when this was over. Maybe ATAC would let me keep it…

  One block passed by. Then another. As I reached a third intersection, I decided this was it. I’d either gained enough ground, and could turn down this street and intercept her, or she was gone and I needed to call ATAC for reinforcements.

  Damn, I’m good, I thought as I pulled a hard left turn that put me within inches of her silver car door. Even over the noise of the wind and the traffic, I could hear her scream of rage. I accelerated rapidly, putting myself just in front of her and to the left. And just in time, too, as she slammed her car to the left in an effort to sideswipe me. As Isabelle’s car passed behind me, I slowed down suddenly, until I was right next to her passenger side door. With a quick wish for good luck, I grabbed the handle, yanked the door open, and threw myself in.

  Before I had a chance to even gain my bearings, Isabelle was on me. She wasn’t giving up without a fight. Her right hand slammed straight into my head.

  “Get out of my car!” she screamed.

  It was all I could do to brace myself against the doorframe to keep from being pushed out right into oncoming traffic. I twisted my neck this way and that, hoping to break her grip, but she had my head palmed in her strong hand. I could feel myself being inched out of the car.

  “Give it up. The police are on their way.” I had no idea if that was true, but it was the sort of line that people fell for. Isabelle didn’t respond; she just pushed harder against my head. This was starting to hurt. One of my legs was completely out of the car now, and I could feel the surface of the road scratching off the tip of my shoe.

  Well, I hate to fight dirty, but…

  I had no time to play fair. I shifted my head again, until her hand was partially over my mouth.

  Chomp!

  I bit down as hard as I could on her hand. Isabelle screamed, and I tasted something warm and salty in my mouth. She yanked her hand back, pulling me with her. My teeth were still clamped down on her hand. I couldn’t let go yet. I needed to distract her for just a second more.

  My foot groped along the floor of the car. While Isabelle was distracted trying to get me off of her hand, I yanked the seat belt over me and clicked it into place. Then I let go of her hand and pounded my foot down on the brake.

  Even with my belt on, the whiplash felt like it was going to tear my head right off. My chin slammed into my chest, and then rebounded back, driving my skull into the seat. For Isabelle, the impact was even worse. Her head slammed straight into the steering wheel. By the time the car had come to a complete halt a few seconds later, she was barely conscious. But even then, she put up a fight. As I reached over to unbuckle her belt and see how seriously she was injured, she threw a weak punch at my face. I blocked it easily, and checked her pulse to make sure she was okay. I could hear a siren in the distance—police or ambulance, we’d be out of here soon.

  “Get off me!” Isabelle whispered in a labored voice.

  “It’s over, Isabelle. Lexi and Scott are safe, and the only games you’re going to be competing in are the ones they play in prison.”

  “I would never hurt Scott. I love him.”

  “Yeah—you love him so much you’ve been trying to kill him!”

  “No! We were made for each other. Everything I did, I did for us. I had to get rid of those other girls—Elisa, Lexi—so he and I could finally be together. We would have been the perfect couple.”

  She had no reason to lie at this point. And despite being crazy, she sounded sincere.

  “So you haven’t been harassing Scott? You didn’t try to electrocute him?”

  “No!” She was so angry, she struggled to get up again. “I would never hurt him.”

  The police and ambulance arrived then, so I didn’t have any more time to talk to her. Turns out she was banged up, and she’d have one heck of a concussion, but she was going to be okay. Or at least, as okay as she was before the accident. Sounds like things were a little off in her head way before this accident.

  But if what she said was true, that meant someone else was out to get Scott. Which meant he was still in danger.

  I tried to call Frank, but his phone rang and rang before finally going to voice mail. Strange. I tried Nancy. Voice mail again.

  A chill passed through me. Something was wrong.

  CHAPTER 17

  BLINDSIDED

  NANCY/FRANK

  NANCY

  At Vijay’s, I paced the apartment, trying to will Joe to call me. How long could it take him to get back to the hotel? I tried Lexi twice more, but each time I got her voice mail. Bess and George both had their phones off. Bess usually kept her phone off, so I could see her forgetting to turn it on, even in the middle of a mission like this one. But George lived on her phone. If it was off… I didn’t want to think what that could mean.

  “Vijay, can you pull up that footage again?” I needed to do something to distract myself.

  “But of course,” he said with a slight curtsy. I rolled my eyes, but I had to admit he knew how to make me smile.

  I watched the few minutes of footage of Scott again. It was all familiar stuff that had been shown to death on the news and various tawdry talk shows. Why had Elisa wanted to show this to us? I looked to see if perhaps Isabelle would be hiding in the corner of one of the shots, some shred of a reason that would connect this footage with her. But there was nothing. This had nothing to do with her. And since she was the one behind the attacks, that meant this was nothing. Just a random video that Elisa had in her pocket that night.

  Then the words popped up again. YOU KNOW WHAT TO DO WITH THIS.

  It certainly made it sound as though someone had given this footage to Elisa. But how would Isabelle have gotten ahold of it? Maybe she was stalking him, but whoever took these clips had complete access to Scott’s life. It seemed almost impossible that Isabelle had done it.

  And what was it about those words? Something about them tickled my mind. Had someone said them to me before?

  Then I realized it wasn’t what the words said. It was how they looked.

  “Vijay!”

  “Nancy?”

  “Did you record that footage of Bess, George, and I being interviewed?”

  “Of course.” He sounded personally offended, as though I’d asked him whether he ever brushed his teeth.

  “Can you pull that up for me?”

  Vijay reached over to the keyboard and started tapping away.

  “No—not here. On another monitor. I want to see them side by side.”

  Vijay gave me a quizzical look, but he did it. I was on to something, and I knew it. I only hoped it wasn’t too late.

  “Look!” I pointed at the screens.

  “Yes, the three of you do look lovely.”

  I whacked Vijay on the arm.

  “No, look at our names.”

  Our names were printed on the screen, below each of our faces. The fonts on both screens were identical. And it wasn’t just a coincidence.

  “That’s why those words were familiar! That font—it’s the font Sportztime uses in their logo and promotions and everything. It’s on everything they do.”

  Vijay had snapped to attention and was typing at the speed of light.

  “You have a good eye, Nancy. You’re right. It’s a proprietary font, named Sportztime, natch. And it was created by one Alex Smothers.”

  While he was talking, the video of our interview had kept playing. We hadn’t watched the rest of it, but something caught my attention.

  “Wait—Vijay, rewind that a few seconds!”

  Vijay clicked a few times, and the file jumped backward. Alex appeared on the screen, midsentence.

  “…the verge of breaking my own world record for most gold medals won by a single athlete. How does that feel?”

  The camera cut to Scott, but I didn’t hear his resp
onse.

  The font was created by Alex. Alex had lots of recording and camera experience. Thanks to the exclusive news series he was doing about Scott, he had full access to Scott’s life. Alex had everything he needed to be the one behind Scott’s attempted murder. And now, he had a motive: Scott was about to replace him as the most decorated Olympic medalist ever.

  And Frank and Scott were alone with him. Alone with a desperate man who knew that tonight was his last chance to get rid of his greatest enemy, his nemesis, Scott Trevor. I had to warn Frank—if it wasn’t already too late.

  “Frank! Oh thank God, you’re alive.”

  “Nancy?”

  “Is Scott with you? Where is Alex?”

  “No—they’re in the pool area, doing a final shoot. What’s going on?”

  “It’s him, Frank! Alex! He’s the one who’s been after Scott all this time.”

  FRANK

  Before Nancy even started explaining, I was up and running down the hallway. Nancy wouldn’t call me unless she was certain that Alex was responsible. My whole body hurt—Scott had managed to do a number on me while we were wrestling. But I tried to ignore the twinges of pain as I raced to the training center.

  “How did you figure it out?” I huffed into the phone as I ran.

  “The font on the footage Elisa wanted to give Joe? It was the font Sportztime uses, and it was invented by Alex! And then I found out that Alex was the current record holder for the most gold medals won by an Olympic athlete.”

  “Giving him the perfect motive!” I remembered Isabelle asking me that question, and I could have hit myself for not going to look it up. It all made sense now. “I’m almost to the pool now. I just hope I’m in time.”

  I slammed open the door to the training area. Scott was on the ground on the side of the pool. Was he unconscious or already dead? There was no way I could tell. Alex was standing over him.

  “Get away from him!” I screamed.

  I ran toward them. My only plan was to tackle Alex, like Scott had tackled me earlier. Whatever he was about to do, I had to stop him. But Alex was quicker than I thought. He bent down and grabbed something off the floor. Right as I was about to leap, he swung his arm in a wide arc.