Third Time's a Crime

by Diana Orgain

  I put a hand on my heart, ready to profess whatever she needed, but she waved me away. “Oh, save it, Georgia!”

  Kyle and his makeup team appeared to touch everyone up. Harris strutted onto the set, making a show of looking at his watch. “The union will hear about this,” he huffed.

  Cheryl put on her headset and glared at him. “Can it, you oaf, or I’ll have Kyle make you look orange.”

  Harris’s eyes popped wide open and his mouth downturned. “You wouldn’t dare!”

  “Try me,” Cheryl fired back. When Harris didn’t reply, she motioned the camera, lights, and sound team into action.

  Harris took a deep breath and squared his shoulders to the cameras. “Hello, America!” he boomed. “And welcome back to Cold Case in the Castle. This evening we’re going to ask you to vote for your favorite team. As you know, only three teams remain. Dr. Arch and Karen Kenley; Jessica, the grand-niece of our poor victim, Jane Reiner, and her partner, the ever-fearless paranormal docent Ashley. And then America’s favorite couple, from the hit TV show Love or Money, Scott and Georgia.”

  Good Lord! Harris was in full melodramatic mode. The threat from Cheryl to turn him orange must have motivated him to really ham it up.

  The cameras panned the cast and I noticed stiff smiles coming from Ashley and Jessica. Even Karen flipped her black hair at the camera and flashed her white teeth. Dr. Arch seemed curiously subdued and I realized he was holding his arm across his body, favoring the hand again.

  What was going on with him?

  While the camera was on us, a crew member handed Harris a small item I couldn’t immediately identify. Harris stuck the item under one arm, then clapped his hands together and held them in a small triangle in front of his chest. “Only three teams remain, America. And we haven’t gotten any closer to solving the murder of Jane Reiner! Tonight, we’ll ask each team to plead their case with you. Why they should remain on the show and be able to investigate further. At stake is this—” He whipped out the item and waved it at the camera.

  I squinted.

  What was it?

  It looked like a microchip for a computer.

  “This will enable the winners to have one hour online to research and investigate any possible leads for Jane’s murder,” Harris said. “Including access to old police records.” He held the drive card up in front of us all.

  Scott leaned into me. “Do you know how to use that?” he asked.

  “Yup,” I said. “You stick it in the drive and read. Hopefully, there’s something worthwhile on it.”

  INT. LIBRARY NIGHT

  Jessica and Ashley are seated in two high-back chairs. Jessica is dressed in a royal blue top that highlights her blue eyes. On her lap is a cardboard box full of letters. Ashley has on a coral top with lace embroidering on it. She nervously picks at the lace on the cuff of her sleeve as Jessica addresses the audience.

  JESSICA

  (smiles) Hello, America. Earlier today Ash and I found this when we were in the library. (She shuffles through the box.) We came across these cards, these letters. They’re correspondence from Jane to her mother back home. (Her eyes tear up.) We read through each and every letter. They’re beautiful. I don’t know what they were doing here at the castle. My family should have had them.

  ASHLEY

  (stops picking at her sleeve and looks up) Oh! Don’t cry, Jess. You’ve got them now.

  JESSICA

  Right. Yes. It’s just that I know my mother would have liked to have them.

  ASHLEY

  Tell America what they say.

  JESSICA

  (pulling out a letter from the box and opening it) She wanted to go home. She was afraid here (shivers) and I can understand why.

  ASHLEY

  (poking Jessica) Don’t fall apart now, Jess. (turning to the camera) America, obviously Jane was afraid of something. We think that she may have witnessed something. Something . . .

  JESSICA

  Something criminal.

  ASHLEY

  Yes! Something someone wanted to keep secret.

  JESSICA

  Please vote for us. We’re so close. If we had a little more time, we could investigate further. We’ve read through every single one of these letters—

  ASHLEY

  And I get a strange vibe from everything we’ve learned.

  JESSICA

  (adamantly nods)

  ASHLEY

  Vote for us.

  Twenty

  “What do you think we’ll find in the police report?” Scott asked.

  His voice was low and soft as we were outside the library waiting for our turn in front of the camera. Dr. Arch and Karen were up next and I certainly didn’t want them to overhear our strategy.

  I shrugged, and leaned in close to his ear. “Well, if it’s access to Jane’s homicide file, we’ll find out who they questioned and get access to all the statements.”

  “What do you mean if it’s Jane’s file? Who else’s file would it be?” he asked.

  I smirked. “I’d love access to Merle Greens’s file, and the groundskeeper’s and Father Gabriel’s files.”

  Scott grinned back at me. “You don’t ask for much.”

  The doors to the library flew open, and Ashley and Jessica vaulted out of the room. Cheryl motioned Dr. Arch and Karen inside, counting down, “And live in ten, nine, eight . . .”

  The doors closed on us and we waited in silence for our turn.

  INT. LIBRARY NIGHT

  Dr. Arch and Karen are in the same red-striped high-back chairs that Ashley and Jessica have just vacated. Dr. Arch is dressed in a button-down ivory shirt and dress slacks. He tilts his head ever so slightly to the left and stares directly into the camera. Karen makes a show of stretching her long legs out, almost extending into space. She rolls her ankles and lets her red high heel slip off the back of her foot. She dangles the shoe off her toes as she grins into the camera.

  DR. ARCH

  (smiles) Hello, America. We’ve had a difficult time investigating the murder of Jane Reiner—

  KAREN

  (patting his knee) Don’t be so hard on yourself, doctor. The case has gone unsolved for almost fifty years!

  DR. ARCH

  (nods) Thank you, Karen. (turning back to the camera) However, we found a few things that we believe the other teams are unaware of. There’s a dumbwaiter that leads from Jane’s room into the kitchen.

  KAREN

  (wiggling a finger at the camera) It appears that Jane may have used that dumbwaiter a few times. To escape out of her room after hours. (tilts her head coquettishly at the doctor) Now, what girl hasn’t wanted to sneak around every now and again?

  DR. ARCH

  (looking alarmed, he speaks over Karen) Yes. Thank you, Karen. (turns back to the camera) America! We need more time. We need access to those police reports. Please vote for us. We will make sure that Jane Reiner gets justice.

  The doors to the library flew open, and Dr. Arch and Karen spilled out into the hallway.

  His hand was on her arm. “Really! What’s gotten into you? Did you get into the rum?”

  They barreled past us as Cheryl poked her head out the door. “Georgia, please, a personal favor. This is live. For me. Be good.”

  Before I could reply, she pulled us into the room and thrust us toward some chairs.

  “And live in ten, nine, eight . . .”

  INT. LIBRARY NIGHT

  Georgia and Scott are seated in red-striped high-back chairs. Georgia’s hair is pulled back and she looks stunning in a green halter that shows off her strong shoulders. She faces the camera directly with an intense and determined look. Scott has a more relaxed posture. He wears a tight white T-shirt that flatters his muscular chest. His eyes are fixed on Georgia.

  GEORGIA

  Hello, America. I know you are as anxious as Scot
t and I are to solve the murder of Jane Reiner, but we need your help. I believe Jane Reiner was killed on the third floor. I would love to get up there and investigate but I’ve been prohibited. Access has been restricted to us, since I . . . (She rubs at her leg.) Since I fell through the floor.

  SCOTT

  You’d risk life and limb to figure this thing out, huh, Georgia?

  GEORGIA

  (shrugs) I don’t really think of it that way. I know I can find justice for Jane. If only I had access to those police records—

  SCOTT

  Don’t sell yourself short.

  GEORGIA

  (glances at Scott) What?

  SCOTT

  You’re the smartest person I know. You can solve this thing. I have complete faith in you and I know America does, too.

  GEORGIA

  (blushes and lowers her eyes) Thank you.

  SCOTT

  (stands up and pulls Georgia to her feet) You have to believe. I know you don’t believe in all the crazy stuff going on in the castle. But you have to believe in yourself. In me. (pauses, takes her face in his hands) In us.

  GEORGIA

  (takes his hands in hers) I do. Oh, Scott. I believe in you. I believe in us.

  (Scott leans in and kisses Georgia.)

  “And cut!” Cheryl screeched, interrupting my delicious moment with Scott. “Fabulous, you two!”

  The bright lights from the camera clicked off, leaving us in relative darkness. I blinked rapidly trying to adjust to the change. My knees felt week and I wanted to cling to Scott forever. His arm was around my waist and he whispered, “Everyone is clearing out. We better get going before the spooks get us.”

  “Do you really believe in spirits?” I asked him.

  He shrugged. “I suppose a part of me always did.”

  “What about us? Do you still believe in us or . . .” I hesitated.

  Was it all for the camera?

  His jaw tightened and I felt his arm tense under my palm. “Georgia, I’ve always believed in us.”

  My heart soared as my hands wrapped around his neck. I pulled his face close to mine and our noses touched. Time seemed to suspend as I looked into his dark eyes, searching for my way home.

  Then an unfamiliar voice startled me. “Hmm, guys. Sorry to ruin the moment, but you’re standing on my power cord,” a technician said.

  Scott and I jumped apart and let him wrap up the cord. He smiled wickedly at us. “Anyway, you two probably want to be left in the dark, eh?”

  Before we could answer, Becca peeked into the room. She smiled when she saw Scott and me standing so close together. “I’m on babysitting duty tonight. You all have to get to bed now. Cheryl wants to film the elimination as soon as the polls close.”

  Scott rubbed at his head and moaned. “And what time would that be?”

  Becca made a face, ushering us out of the library and down the hall to the main room. “The ungodly hour of five A.M., but hey, I’ll have an omelet station and warm coffee waiting for you.”

  In the main living room, our sleeping bags were arranged in a semicircle and now with only six of us left, the room seemed eerily quiet.

  Scott had fallen asleep almost as soon as his head hit the pillow. And by the sound of Jessica and Ashley’s breathing, I figured they were asleep, too. I propped myself up on my elbows to peek at Dr. Arch and Karen Kenley; neither of them moved or seemed to notice me so I supposed they were asleep, too.

  Fueled with the hope Scott had given me, I felt wired. I wanted more answers. Crawling out of my sleeping bag, I inched toward the door, flirting with the idea of heading back to the third floor. But my thigh still felt tight and sore, and just the thought of going back up there seemed to make it burn a little.

  Once in the hallway, I knew the idea of going upstairs was out of the question. The corridor was pitch black and I had no light. No way would I risk falling again. Instead, I headed out toward the front porch, but when I peeked out the window, I saw Becca and Bert chatting by a rosebush.

  Becca was likely in charge of monitoring the votes pouring in from tonight’s episode, but judging by her body language, tallying votes was the furthest thing from her mind.

  Bert plucked a rose out of the bush and handed it to her.

  Becca tilted her head, her auburn hair bouncing up and down as she laughed, clearly enjoying herself.

  My heart warmed watching them.

  Please, God, let us be lucky in love.

  I turned away from them and headed back toward the staircase. Dr. Arch and Karen Kenley had been able to examine the basement early today. I hadn’t explored that part of the castle yet, and I knew that’s where the boys had their dormitories. Rummaging around a few of the crew’s duffel bags that were deserted in the dining room, I found a flashlight.

  Armed with the small light, I headed down the treacherous staircase and reached the basement. There was a large, shared shower facility, along with an indoor pool. Flashing my light on the placard on the wall, I realized this was an intake procedure for all the boys. They were dunked in disinfectant upon admission to the school.

  I shuddered with horror at the thought.

  Proceeding down the corridor, I found another small dormitory. The rooms on the right-hand side of the castle had individual fireplaces, while the rooms on the left-hand side had sinks. I guess it was luck of the draw.

  If I could have only one, which would I pick?

  I suddenly felt grateful for our modern-day conveniences. A draft rustled through the basement, and I swore I heard a sound from behind me.

  I whipped around and flashed the light in the direction of the sound.

  Nothing.

  Was it just my imagination?

  Or was I being followed?

  “Scott?” I whispered. When no reply came, I called out, “Dr. Arch? Is that you?”

  Only silence answered me, but a strange smell wafted toward me.

  Sulfur?

  Kerosene?

  I recalled Bert saying the smell was evidence of a presence and strained to see anything in the darkness.

  I thought about my dream of Jane, and this time, I shined my light, looking around the basement for a floating apparition. I laughed to myself.

  Was I starting to believe that ghosts were real?

  After another round of examination with my flashlight, I determined there was no one in the basement with me.

  Goodness, I was close to losing my mind!

  At the end of the corridor, I found something strange, another room. I opened the door, but this room was only five by eight. It had padded walls and there was one small barred window.

  Chills crept up my spine.

  This must have been the room that they held the boys in during a solitary confinement.

  I crossed the room to look out the dirty window. I was facing the front of the castle. The rosebush where Becca and Bert had been earlier was now visible. They were no longer in front of the bush. Where had they gone?

  Suddenly, the door slammed.

  Oh, my Lord!

  What had just happened?

  My heart leapt out of my chest as I rushed to the door. I yanked on the knob. It was locked.

  I pounded on the door with all my might. “Hey! Hey! Is someone out there? Let me out!”

  Was this a sick joke?

  Had Dr. Arch followed me again? He seemed to be everywhere I turned, especially if something terrible was about to happen. I pounded on the door again. “Dr. Arch, if that’s you, let me out!”

  What a creep!

  I took a deep breath and reevaluated the room. There was no draft, so the door hadn’t blown closed. Someone had definitely locked me in here.

  I pounded again.

  No answer.

  I yanked on the doorknob again, desperate to jimmy it op
en. I had nothing on me, no hairpin or metal or any device at all to pry it open. I rapped on the door with my flashlight, hoping to create enough of a ruckus to wake someone upstairs.

  When I got tired of banging on the door, I returned to the window and rapped on it through the bars. The thing was rock solid. I wondered if I could throw the flashlight or my shoe and break the glass. But then what? It was too small to climb out of, not to mention the bars.

  I was stuck.

  Twenty-one

  I’d lost track of time wondering if anyone knew that I’d disappeared. Would Scott sleep straight through the night? My flashlight was dimming, now on low battery, and it was getting darker and darker in the cell. I imagined I felt the same emotions one of the boys attending the reform school might have felt.

  A complete loss of hope.

  Certainly by morning someone would miss me and they’d do a search. Would they find me here in this solitary confinement room? Why hadn’t I told anyone where I was going?

  Because they would have tried to stop me.

  Well, once a rule breaker always a rule breaker, I supposed.

  Wasn’t that what had got me fired from the SFPD and started my entire reality TV saga in the first place? I’d been canned for putting the people of San Francisco before the newly appointed police chief, and obviously that’s against every political rulebook ever written.

  Oh, well, it was no good thinking about my past career. Those negative thoughts would get me nowhere.

  Who could have locked me in? Had it been Dr. Arch? Why was he always the first one on the scene when there was trouble?

  What happened to Father Gabriel?

  If what Dr. Arch said was true and he’d fallowed me upstairs, had someone been up there before us?