by Diana Orgain
“Just that, what I said,” she answered.
“But how are we supposed to measure all the activity in the castle?” Jack protested. “And there’s tons, let me tell you!”
“Hand in our phones? What if we need the tools on them?” Martha complained. Then her face paled and she said, “Or worse! What if we have to call for help?”
Cheryl waved her hand again, ignoring all the grumbling. “Don’t worry. You’re not being cut off from civilization, for crying out loud. My crew has phones.” Martha didn’t seem soothed by the idea. In fact, she looked ready to complain further. But Cheryl cut her off by barking, “Places. Places, everyone.” She put on a headset and retreated to the back of the room.
Harris came to life in front of the camera, booming in his made-for-TV voice. “Hello, America! And welcome back to Cold Case in the Castle!” He launched into a brief introduction of the cast, to remind the viewing audience about us. I imagined they’d edit in our names and roles in a neatly printed banner underneath our faces.
The cameras all panned us and we pasted smiles across our faces when we saw the small red light homed in on us.
Harris clapped his hands together. “All right, everyone. As you may know, we’re eager to get on to solving the mystery of the murder of Jane Reiner. However, in order to do that, we need everybody on equal footing. Therefore, we’re going to ask everyone to turn in any phones, laptops, or any other equipment you’ve brought with you.”
The cast grumbled as we put our phones into a basket that was passed around. Harris looked satisfied, an evil grin on his face. “But we understand, in a high-tech world everyone needs a little help getting started with their mystery solving, so we’ve thought ahead for you. Throughout the castle is hidden: a laptop, a battery, a power charger, a network card, and some additional equipment that you all might find handy in solving the mystery.”
The cast made some rumblings, but before anyone could protest too verbosely, Harris pulled out a box. “Now we’re going to have ourselves a good old-fashioned scavenger hunt. As you get to know the castle, so will our viewer. Inside this box is a clue to where one of the items is located. In order to be fair, we’ve mixed it up, so everyone will have a chance to pull at random.”
He called out, “Jessica!”
Jessica approached him. He held the box toward her. “Well, Jessica, let’s go ahead and try your luck.”
Jessica stuck her hand into the box and pulled out a slim piece of paper.
“Go ahead, read it,” Harris encouraged.
She unfolded the paper and looked at the print. “Argh, matey. Any good captain would never be caught dead without one.” She frowned and looked at Harris.
He shrugged. “Up to you, my dear.”
She returned to the lineup.
Next up, Harris called Father Gabriel. He approached and picked a note card out of the box. Harris nodded, and Father Gabriel unfolded the paper.
“Come here if you want to be closer to God,” he read. He smiled. “Well, I assume this means my clue is in the chapel, although everyone should know God can be found everywhere.”
Harris gave Father Gabriel a tight smile. Next up was Karen Kenley, the FBI profiler.
She picked out her slip of paper and read, “If I were a book, this would be my favorite place.” She smiled and tapped the paper. “I think I know where to go.”
After several more, it was finally my turn. When I approached, my clue read, “On a hot day, I love to take a dip here.”
Harris smiled at me.
I retreated back to the cast line.
The pool.
Scott gave me a grin, and for a moment I suddenly felt that all was right with us.
As soon as Harris gave us the go-ahead, the cast scattered in different directions, a cameraman following each of us. I left the castle with my cameraman in tow. His name was Adam and although we didn’t know each other well, he seemed friendly enough. He had a full beard and clear sharp eyes that gave me the impression he didn’t miss much. Together we headed out toward the back, toward the pool. He had me stop a few times and refilm the exit of the building.
“Don’t we need to get on with this?” I asked, impatiently jamming my foot against the rotting floorboard on the porch.
He shrugged. “Go inside and exit the castle again. The light’s not right.”
“The others are going to find their clues, their equipment, and get started before I even have a chance to get to the pool,” I complained.
He laughed. “Don’t worry. It’s all a big setup.”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
He gave me a crooked grin. “You know I’m not supposed to say.”
“Say it anyway,” I said.
“Well, you know how Cheryl is.” He adjusted the camera on his shoulder, and I realized he was turning it off so our conversation wouldn’t be recorded. “Everybody will find something, but it’s pretty useless.”
“What do you mean?” I said.
He chuckled. “She wants you all to work together. It makes for better TV. You know, make alliances with some, make outcasts of others, that kind of thing.”
“Oh, brother,” I said. I’d known there’d be a catch. What, I wasn’t exactly sure, but it’d be forthcoming.
He hoisted the camera back onto his shoulder and began to film me again. I entered the castle and this time when I exited, he didn’t stop me, so I said, “Come on, then. Let’s get over to the pool.”
As we walked toward the pool, he said, “Wait up. Wait up. I want to get you next to these roses.”
Surrounding the perimeter of the pool were beautiful roses in full bloom. I let him capture me walking beside the rosebushes.
“Do you want me to pick one and smell it or anything corny like that?” I asked.
“No. No, this is fine. Just try to look like you’re enjoying yourself,” he said.
Guilt plagued me.
“Don’t I look like I’m enjoying myself?”
“You really have to ask?” he said.
I knew he was right. I was probably scowling. A large part of me couldn’t stand all the Hollywood hype, but I wanted to know what had happened to poor Jane. I wanted to find justice for her, and if playing along for the cameras was part of getting to the bottom of the case, I’d do it.
I pasted a smile on my face and did the best I could, all the while fighting the desire to dash toward the pool. Finally, when he waved at me that he’d gotten enough footage, I beelined toward the pool. It was empty and dilapidated, the bottom of it peeling, but that’s not what bothered me. A lump was visible almost as soon as I turned the corner.
I gasped, my blood pressure skyrocketing, and I raced toward the ladder of the pool.
The cameraman said, “What the—”
“There’s someone down there,” I said.
I scurried over to the railing and climbed down into the pool.
The cameraman rushed over, close behind me. “Wait, wait! Maybe you shouldn’t go down there.”
But I couldn’t stop myself.
Oh, my goodness.
It was a body.
Six
I reached the last rung of the ladder and jumped to the floor of the pool. My heart racing, I prayed, “Oh, Lord. Please don’t let him be dead.”
But as I got closer, my gut screamed at me that it was a false hope. The man was unmoving and crumpled at such an odd angle that it didn’t seem there was any way possible he was still alive. Against my better judgment, I flipped him over and evaluated him.
The man seemed to be in his late sixties, with a scruffy white beard and gray hair. His eyes were screwed shut, but his mouth was open and his expression was anxious. There was a large gash over his left eye, but not much blood.
I took his pulse. None. The cameraman, Adam, had his lens trained
on me.
“Call 911,” I yelled up at him.
He hesitated to put the camera down.
“Call 911,” I shouted again, this time anger flaring up inside me. Was nothing sacred to these people? They cared only about capturing the moment on camera, no respect for this poor man’s dignity.
Adam grunted and pulled his cell phone out of his pocket. He dialed rapidly. “Uh . . .” he stammered. “We need an ambulance.”
“Not an ambulance,” I called to him.
He went a little pale and asked, “He’s dead?”
I sighed. “Well, he’s not sipping margaritas down here.”
“What do you want me to tell them?” he asked, referring to the 911 operator.
“Tell them we found a body and to send a black-and-white.” While he mumbled a few things into the phone, I examined the scene around me.
There was a black sack in the corner of the pool. That was probably the package intended for me to find. I ignored it and glanced around for other clues.
What could have happened? Had he fallen into the pool overnight?
Last night, there’d been a lot of predators roaming around. Could he have been spooked by a bobcat or a coyote? Maybe he lost his footing and fell into the empty pool.
I regretted turning him over now. I’d disrupted his position and that was sure to rattle the investigating officer. I closed my eyes and imagined the body before I’d flipped him over. His arms hadn’t been flayed out, the way one would expect if he’d been trying to break his fall.
What had happened, then?
The cameraman called down to me. “Georgia, they said someone’s on their way.” He shuffled his feet in the dirt and grimaced. “Man, Cheryl is going to freak out about this.”
I reached the ladder and climbed up out of the pool. “Yeah. I think we’ll have to tell her to halt production.”
A look of fear crossed Adam’s face. “Halt production?”
“We just found a body! We can’t keep filming as if nothing happened,” I said.
Adam pressed his lips together nodding, then said, “She’s going to hate that.”
“Right,” I said. “She’ll want to use this unfortunate incident somehow to leverage the show, get publicity.”
“You know it,” he said, handing his phone to me.
“What?”
“You call her. She’ll take it better coming from you.”
Despite the situation, I laughed. Cheryl wouldn’t take it any better coming from me, but at least I knew she wouldn’t fire me. I took his phone and dialed her number.
“What’s going on, Adam?” she barked into the phone.
“It’s me, Georgia,” I said.
She let out a groan. “This can’t be good.” Suddenly, she appeared on the balcony from the second floor. “What’s going on down there?” she called.
I disconnected the call. “We found a body,” I shouted up to her.
“What?” she said. “Who?”
“I don’t know. I don’t recognize him,” I told her.
“I swear, you’re bad luck!” She pointed an accusing finger at me. “Not a word to anyone else. You understand? I’ll be right down.”
Begrudgingly, Cheryl had halted production, as we waited for the police to arrive. Feeling guilty for having disrupted the crime scene, I made sure no one else stepped out of the castle to further alter anything. Cheryl, Adam, and I mutually decided it would be best not to say anything to the others until the police had arrived and we knew the identity of the man at the bottom of the pool.
Cheryl assembled the cast and crew in the dining hall, giving out minimal information. Lunch had been provided for us, a similar semblance of the salad bar and sandwiches we’d had the evening before. I felt as if I was on pins and needles about the victim. Who was he? What had happened? Was his death connected to our being in the castle?
I made my way to Scott, quietly hoping I could get in a discreet word with him.
Jessica was chatting happily away with him. “It was a bottle of rum,” she said, running her fingers through her impossibly long silky blond hair. “I found it next to the little ship . . . the little toy ship that sits in the hallway on that ancient telephone booth . . . It is a telephone booth, isn’t it?”
Scott nodded. “Yup, like a little phone kiosk or something.”
Jessica giggled and grabbed Scott’s arm. “Exactly! That’s exactly what it is. I guess they used to sit there—in the little kiosk—and turn the crank, wait for the operator, I think.”
They were chatting so amicably it annoyed me. I stood next to Scott, hoping to get his attention.
Jessica smiled at me. “I don’t know how the rum is supposed to help me solve the murder, though.”
Anxiety flooded my chest. Now we had a real dead body on our hands, not a cold case. Had it been a murder? Was there someone around us capable of that?
I’d heard noises coming from behind the bushes. What exactly were they? Voices? An altercation? Just rustling in the wind?
When had it happened? I’d spoken with Becca and Dr. Arch last night in front of the pool. What time had that been?
I glanced at Dr. Arch as he served himself a sandwich. He seemed quite content, even smiling and flirting with Ashley, the paranormal docent. He piled food onto his plate. Certainly, if he had a guilty conscience, it wasn’t stopping his appetite at all.
Scott turned to me and asked. “What’d you find, G?”
I wanted to tell them exactly what I’d found, but I stuttered instead.
Scott frowned as he looked at me, then said to Jessica, “Uh, will you excuse us a second?”
Her shoulders hunched up a bit as she realized something was up. “Is everything all right?” She blinked rapidly as she surmised that neither Scott nor I was going to answer her. “Oh, I see Ashley.” She pointed across the room, where Ashley was perusing the buffet table next to Dr. Arch. “I think I’ll put together a little sandwich for myself and join her.”
Jessica crossed the room toward the buffet table and as soon as she was out of earshot, I leaned into Scott.
He put his hand on the small of my back and pressed me into him. “What it is, G? What’s wrong?”
For a moment, I wanted nothing more than to relish the warmth of his hand and hope that things were getting better for us. I squeezed my eyes shut and buried my face into his neck, inhaling his unique scent of cedar mixed with leather. Before I could tell Scott about the body, the sharp blast of a police siren permeated the thin windows.
The black-and-white had arrived.
Scott’s body jerked sharply as he turned to the windows. “What’s going on?”
“I found a body,” I said to him as I walked toward the window.
The rest of the cast and crew seemed oddly uninterested in the police vehicle outside. Except Bert, the psychic, who joined me at the window. Outside, as the officer exited his vehicle, a woman with gray curly hair set in a bouffant rushed toward him.
“Who’s that?” I asked.
Scott shrugged. “I don’t know.”
Ashley wandered over to us. “That’s Gertrude. She sits on the board of the historical society that’s in charge of renovating the castle. What’s she all in a panic about?”
Outside, Cheryl, Gertrude, and the officer were discussing something in a very animated way.
Scott leaned in close to me. “Why don’t you go outside and see if you can help?’ he asked.
Cheryl had asked the cameraman and me to wait inside, as she didn’t want the rest of the cast and crew to be alarmed. But sooner or later, the officer would want to take our statements, and as it was, I was chomping at the bit to talk to him.
I nodded. “All right. I’ll go check in with Cheryl.” I turned to exit the room, but Bert caught my arm.
“Georgia! Wai
t. It’s not good,” he said.
An ominous feeling filled my belly. “What isn’t?” I asked.
“My vision. The man—” he said.
“How do you know about the man?” I asked.
Bert shrugged. “I had a vision. He drowned.”
“Drowned? Come on. The pool is empty. There was no way he was drowned. He fell, maybe. Hit his head on the bottom of the pool.”
But that didn’t seem right. There hadn’t been the telltale sign of blood. If he’d been alive when he fell, he would have bled . . .
The psychic grabbed both of my wrists. “Georgia, I’m telling you. I see water.”
“All right,” I said, pulling my wrists away from him. “I’ll let the police know.”
How could Bert have known about the body?
Had he overheard me? Or had the cameraman said anything to him? I rushed outside, happy to have an excuse to approach the officer and insert myself into the investigation.
The wind buffeted my face as the woman, Gertrude, stalked off. She glared at me as she whizzed past me back into the castle. The officer in charge was middle-aged with dark hair and a bushy mustache. He had a small paunch and stood with his legs apart and his arms folded. He was listening to Cheryl do a song and dance. He didn’t seem at all impressed.
“Excuse me,” I said.
The officer turned toward me, raising a hand to block the sun from his eyes.
“This is Georgia Thornton. She’s the one who found the man,” Cheryl said by way of introduction.
The officer nodded at me. “Miss, will you please show me where the man is?”
“The pool is around back,” Cheryl said.
“You don’t need to see him again, if you find it upsetting,” the officer said.
“I’m all right,” I said. “I used to work for SFPD.”
The officer frowned, as if trying to make a connection between my previous experience on the police force and my presence here at the castle. He said nothing, though he followed Cheryl and me around the castle toward the back grounds where the pool was. As we walked, I studied the dirt path leading up to the pool. It didn’t seem to have any unusual disturbances, just regular foot traffic, along with various paw prints, likely squirrels or other small critters. There were also deep grooves along the path that I couldn’t identify.
