“We start searching for clues to help us solve the puzzle; I’m assuming to the movie set we are on. Open drawers, look behind pictures…that sort of thing.”
Berkley walked over to the roll top desk and began opening drawers. She found a small skeleton style key in one of them and quickly matched it to the lock on the roll-top. “Hey, I got something!” she called, seeing a piece of parchment style paper sitting in the middle next to a quill and ink jar. “It looks like a letter.”
Everyone rushed over to where she was. The words were written in calligraphy.
I'm going to dance and dance! Tonight, I wouldn't mind dancing with Abe Lincoln himself!
“That’s a clue!” Dena yelled, snatching it up. “Dance…hmm?” She looked around. Nothing resembled dancing at all. “Everyone, keep looking!” she said, reading over it again.
“Let me see it.” Berkley looked over her shoulder. “What about Abe Lincoln? He fits with this era.” Her eyes made a slow pass over the room, stopping on the pictures on the opposite wall. She walked away from Dena who was still trying to figure out the movie the quote came from. Just as she’d suspected, one of the pictures was of Abe Lincoln. Berkley pulled it off the wall and flipped it around. Another parchment paper was attached to the back of it. “I have another one!”
The group rushed over to read it.
Now isn't this better than sitting at a table? A girl hasn't got but two sides to her at the table.
“I have one, too!” Maggie shouted, holding up the paper she’d found in the drawer of the side table.
“Obviously, this one led to the table,” Berkley said, putting the picture back on the wall. “What does that one say?”
“I've always thought a good lashing with a buggy whip would benefit you immensely,” Maggie said, reading the paper. “What the hell does that mean?”
“Gone With the Wind!” Dena cheered. ‘The movie is Gone With the Wind!”
“Oh man, how did we not get that?” one of the other EMTs laughed, shaking her head.
“Now what?” Berkley questioned.
“We look for anything that pertains to Gone With the Wind. That’s where we will find the puzzle.”
It took a couple more minutes, but the group finally found a book titled Tara on the fake backdrop of a bookcase. Looking closely, they found the numbers: 12, 15, 39. Dena rushed over to the door leading to the next room and quickly put the combination into the lock. It clicked open.
“Come on!” she called, pulling the door open and hurrying into the next room.
*
The next room was Fame and Fortune. One side of the room was a red carpet scene complete with a carpet and stanchions. A mural of photographers was painted on the wall. A large movie poster was on an easel nearby, indicating a movie premiere. However, the only word written on it was Rebel. The opposite side of the room had a mural of the California coast on a bright sunny day, along with a two-lane road and a checkered flag off in the distance in what looked to be the end of the winding road. Large fake rocks were placed around the edge of the road.
“I have no idea what the hell this one is, and we already wasted twenty minutes in the first room!” Dena huffed.
Garrett walked over to the mural of the photographers. One of them had a Porsche hat on, which he pointed out to Berkley.
“Hey, there is a road sign along the highway,” Maggie said. “Take it easy driving. The life you save may be mine,” she read aloud.
“James Dean!” Berkley yelled.
“Sweet!” Garrett high-fived her.
“What about the clues?”
“We’ve already solved them! We know the actor! We need the puzzle pieces,” Dena said, frantically trying to figure out where to look. She knew nothing about James Dean.
“How many numbers do we need?” Berkley asked.
“This one has a keyboard with a pass code,” one of the EMTs said.
“How many letters?” Maggie asked.
“I don’t know. It says you only get three tries.”
“Spyder,” Berkley said. “Try that.”
He put the letters in as she spelled them. A red x flashed. “Nope. It looks like more letters than that.
“Little Bastard!” she exclaimed, typing in the nickname of James dean’s car herself. A green checkmark flashed, and the lock clicked open.
Everyone rushed into the final room. They had exactly thirty minutes left. The entire room looked like the presidential oval office decorated for a birthday party, except one wall that was a black and white mural of a street in New York City.
“Go through the desk; turn everything over!” Dena yelled, scrambling to the first thing she saw.
“I have no clue about this one,” Maggie said.
“It’s the Scandal Room. What do the president and New York City have in common?” Garrett said. “That could be a hundred things!”
“No kidding,” Berkley muttered, looking closer at the president’s desk. A birthday card was turned over, having already been looked at by someone else. She opened it, reading the inscription in her head. I am good, but not an angel. I do sin, but I am not the devil. I am just a small girl in a big world trying to find someone to love.
“Dena, did you see this card?”
“Yeah. It’s obviously the first clue. Does it make any sense to you?”
“President’s birthday and a sinning woman looking for love…it could be a few different people,” Berkley replied.
“My thoughts exactly,” Dena mumbled.
Maggie walked along the New York City mural, looking at all the signs. Madison Square Garden stood out with its name across the top of the building. “Do you see a year anywhere?” she asked Berkley, who had joined her.
“No, but it looks maybe like the sixties.”
“Who knows anything about New York in the sixties? Maybe involving Madison Square”
“Marilyn Monroe!” Dena and Berkley said at the same time.
“Huh?” Garrett mumbled.
“Look for anything related to Marilyn Monroe. The white dress, blonde bombshell…anything like that. Think sex appeal,” Dena said as she glanced around.
“Wait! I saw something like a bombshell on that side!” Garrett rushed over to the president’s desk. A statue of a bomber plane was sitting on the back table behind the desk. He’d looked under it earlier, but had found nothing. Picking it up again, he looked all over it and flipped it upside down once more. Finding nothing, he moved to place it back on the table and the fuselage twisted in his hand. Everyone watched as he pulled the two pieces apart. A yellow key fell out, making a clinking sound as it hit the concrete floor.
Dena snatch it up and ran over to the exit door. The lock clicked and the door swung open.
Leo was standing a few feet away as they shuffled out of the room.
“Forty-one minutes. Not bad,” he said. “Welcome out of Hollywood.”
“What’s the fastest time?” Maggie asked.
“Thirty-five minutes. You guys got a little held up in the first room, but flew through the next two.”
“Wow,” Berkley said, shaking her head.
“You guys did great. Congratulations. If you step over here, we’ll take a group photo for you.”
“The whole birthday thing threw me off. I thought maybe they’d decorated because it was your birthday,” Berkley said, standing next to Dena as their picture was taken.
“I thought the same thing!” Garrett said.
“I did too, until I read the inscription on the card,” Dena replied. “A sinner woman; happy birthday president; New York City; Madison Square Garden. It all pointed to Marilyn and JFK.”
“Yeah, makes sense,” Maggie said.
“Where to now?” one of the other EMTs asked.
“Anybody hungry?” Dena asked, looking at the Ihop Restaurant next door.
“Pancakes,” Garrett said, grinning at Berkley.
She la
ughed and shook her head.
“What?” Dena asked. “I know it’s not exactly healthy, but it’s my birthday, so…”
“No, it’s not that. GT and I decided to go out for pancakes not long after we were out of the academy. He challenged me to an eating contest—”
“Who won?”
“We have no idea. We lost count, then puked them all up!” Garrett laughed.
“Oh, my God,” Maggie giggled. “Who does that?”
“We did,” Garrett laughed. “Big mistake.”
“So, do you still eat pancakes, or no?” one of the EMTs asked.
“Sure,” he said.
Berkley nodded.
“Onward,” Dena called, ushering them across the parking lot.
11
Randi ran her hands through her hair, shaking out her long wavy locks before slipping on a backward snapback. Olivia wrapped her arms loosely around Randi’s waist, pulling her close.
“What’s gotten into you?” Randi questioned, liking the attention.
“Nothing.” Olivia shrugged, kissing her quickly before letting go. “We should probably get going.”
Randi thought back to the times they were late to the field because of last-minute sex that had rocked both of their worlds. She wrapped her arms around Olivia’s neck before she could walk away. “Do you remember when it used to be fun being casually late?” she questioned with a sly grin and raised brow.
“Yeah,” Olivia laughed. “I remember getting my ass chewed out and being tired because all of my energy was spent.”
“We have time,” Randi said, looking at the stove clock.
“It’s game day,” Olivia replied, reaching back to unclasp Randi’s hands so she could back away.
Randy sighed inwardly. She was tired. She knew she hadn’t slept well, but that wasn’t the only reason. She grabbed her phone off the counter and followed Olivia into the garage where her SUV was waiting to take them to the field.
*
It was the first home game for Richey FC in nearly a month and the fans were overly excited. Two hours before the game they’d already filled the parking lots to pre-party and hang out in the fan zone. Olivia turned the corner, flashing her player ID to the guard at the gate. Fans lined the fenced area, cheering and yelling. The electric gate swung open and Olivia drove inside, parking next to Carrie’s blue car.
Fans yelled their names as Randi and Olivia exited the vehicle. Randi smiled brightly and waved as she strutted like a boss towards the black metal fencing wearing a tight white tank top, skinny jeans that hung off her hips, and flip flops. She still had the snapback on over her dirty blonde hair, and a pair of dark sunglasses covering her eyes. Olivia hit the button to lock the doors, then followed her. The security guard kept a watchful eye on the two players as people shoved jerseys, pictures, hats, shirts, posters, and more through the bars, hoping one or both of the women would give them an autograph.
“Sweet win last week!” one fan said as Randi signed her jersey.
“Thanks. Hopefully, we do it again today!” she replied with a smile, signing her signature loopy double R with the number four.
“You’re beautiful. Will you marry me?” another fan said as Randi signed her poster.
“Aww…thanks, but I’m afraid I’m not available,” Randi replied with a pouty smile.
A few fans wanted pictures, but with the fence bars separating them, that was impossible. The two women signed a few more autographs before going inside the stadium to prepare for the game.
“Did you see the mob outside?” Carrie asked. She was sitting in the locker room, putting on her cleats.
“It looks like a sold-out crowd,” Randi said, sitting next to her.
Olivia walked to the other end of the room where her locker was located.
“All happy on the home front?” Carrie asked.
“Yeah. Why?”
“I don’t know,” Carrie shrugged. “I just got an odd vibe, I guess. Have you seen your coffee friend lately?”
“No, actually. I haven’t seen her since before we left for Chicago.” She stripped off her shirt and pants and began putting on her warm-up uniform. “It’s probably a good thing,” she muttered.
Carrie raised a brow. “Something else you want to talk about?”
Randi shook her head.
Carrie sensed Randi was holding back, but figured she’d talk to her when she was ready. She only hoped her best friend hadn’t done something stupid. She and Olivia were good together and had been in a relationship for what seemed like forever.
“We’re on the field in fifteen for warm-ups,” the assistant coach called, popping his head in.
The women came together in the middle of the room, forming a circle.
“This is our house, and we run this mother! Let’s go!” Olivia yelled, pumping up the team.
Their coach didn’t use her same motivation techniques, but he entrusted her with pushing them to their limits, leading them on and off the field as their captain.
12
Berkley rested her hands on her utility belt. Cool air blew on the back of her neck from the vent above as she stood in the back of the roll call room for shift change. Garrett stood next to her, mimicking her position while the lieutenant went over new assignments, ongoing issues, and anything else they needed to know for the start of their shift.
“Joe Crawford broke his leg playing with his kids on their trampoline last night, so he’s riding a desk for the next six to eight weeks. Patrick Moody and Tracy Mann will be cross-covering his riding zone, and Berkley Ward will cover his security shift at the Richey Sport’s Stadium for the Richey FC soccer games. The three officers I just named, see me after,” he said, finishing with, “that’s all I have. Stay safe.”
“What did he just say?” Berkley mumbled, looking at Garrett, who simply shrugged.
“Looks like you’re pulling security duty for the next six weeks.”
“The hell I am,” she growled, walking around the exiting officers, towards the lieutenant.
“LT, what is this security detail? I have a riding zone,” she said.
Lieutenant Cooper pursed his lips together like a cartoon before he spoke. “The next game is tonight at seven-thirty, so you’ll need to head right over. It’ll last about three hours by the time the game is over, and the stadium clears out.”
“Why not put a duty officer over there?”
“I assigned you because they recently had some security issues. While the soccer team was away, there was a concert and a football game, both of which resulted in numerous arrests, including a felony arrest for someone who had made it through their security with a weapon. I had Crawford over there as the senior officer with two other patrol officers with him. You’re my only other senior field officer at the moment, so you’re covering for him. All you need to do is keep an eye on the fans and help the stadium security guards keep the teams safe and the fans from getting out of control. Here is the schedule. I highlighted the games you will be at. Watch your six. There are 5,000 fans and only three police officers. I’m not sure how large their security team is.”
“What about my zone?”
“Garrett Tamayo will double cover. It’s only for three hours, but we’ll have other officers riding near the area in case he needs backup before you get over there.”
“Roger,” she said. This wasn’t the first time she’d been pulled from her patrol zone. As a senior field officer, she was often assigned to additional duties.
As soon as she got into her car, she saw a message from Garrett on her computer. Call me when you can. She dialed his number and put her cell phone on speaker before pulling out of her parking space, heading towards the stadium downtown.
“Hey, what’s up?” Garrett answered.
“There’s been some security issues over there, which was why Crawford was assigned to the games. He’s out, so I’m the only SFO available. I don’t know anything
about soccer or whatever the Richey FC is, so this should be interesting. It’s only for three hours, then I’ll be back in my zone.”
“Watch your six. Those stadium drunks can get nasty.”
“That’s what Coop said. I’ll be fine. You watch yours. Tomlinson will be riding nearby if you need backup.”
“Roger,” he said before hanging up.
*
When she arrived, Berkley parked her patrol car near the main gate and walked inside. The other two officers showed her around. The stadium was already packed with a sold-out crowd.
“Officer Crawford always stayed near the teams. He was at the entrance to the tunnel and once they took the field, he stood outside of the tunnel along the wall with a 300-degree view of the stadium,” Officer Sanchez said.
“That’s fine. I’ll mimic what he did.”
“We’ll be on channel three. I’m at the north end, and Officer Lowe will be on the west side.”
“Roger,” she replied, switching her radio channel as she walked over to the tunnel area.
“The teams are already on the field for warm-ups. They’ll be coming off in about ten more minutes, then they head back out in fifteen for the start of the game,” an older black man said. He was wearing a yellow volunteer security polo shirt and black slacks.
“Thanks.”
Berkley heard laughing and light conversation as the opposing team wearing orange shorts and white shirts began walking off the field and into the tunnel. She watched them go by two at a time. Two minutes later, Richey’s players came off much in the same manner. They were wearing light blue warm-up jerseys and matching shorts. She smiled or nodded at those who looked her way until a familiar face passed by quickly and turned back around.
“What the hell?” the player mumbled, walking up to her.
“Randi?” Berkley questioned, knowing it was her.
They stared at each for a second, waiting for the shock to wear off.
Playing the Game Page 5