Gold Medal Murder

by Franklin W. Dixon

  Nancy tried to calm Mr. Adams down, but he ignored her. The door opened wider, and I saw a whole pack of reporters outside—Alex Smothers, a blond woman I recognized from ESPN, and a number of others. I groaned inside. This was turning into a disaster. Luckily, Lee was paying attention.

  “No photographs, please,” he said firmly. He stepped out of the room, making sure to block the view of the cameras as he did so, and shut the door firmly behind him.

  “He’s the worst thing that ever happened to you, Lexi!” Mr. Adams was still yelling. “He’s ruining your life! He should just go away.”

  Ruining your life? Just go away? Those sounded like threats to me…

  Suspect Profile

  Name: David Adams

  Hometown: River Heights, same as Nancy

  Occupation: Manager/overbearing father

  Physical description: Five-nine, barrel-chested, with a long beard

  and biceps the size of my head. Before he quit to become

  Lexi’s full-time manager, he’d been a carpenter, and he has the

  powerful muscles to show for it.

  Suspected of: Possibly wanting to kill Scott Trevor. Scratch that—he

  definitely wants to kill him. But is he willing to do it?

  That’s the question.

  Motive: Scott and Lexi had been dating for almost a year, and Mr.

  Adams blames Scott for distracting Lexi from her training,

  and for getting injured.

  Suspicious behavior: Mr. Adams’s temper is explosive. And now his

  threats against Scott have been captured on camera.

  Of course, Mr. Adams would never threaten Lexi—that was obvious after seeing them together for only five minutes. She was his world. So were we dealing with two psychopaths? I wished I’d had a chance to find out if Joe had learned anything from Elisa.

  The door to the hospital room burst all the way open. I was expecting more press to shove in, but it was hospital security—three big guys in blue uniforms. Apparently, all of the yelling had attracted some attention.

  “Excuse me, sir, you’re going to have to come with us.”

  “Like heck I am! This is my daughter and I’m not going anywhere.”

  “Sir, I do not want to have to Taser you, but I will.”

  “I will sue every person in this hospital! I oughta—”

  “Dad. It’s okay. I’m feeling better. I’ll leave with you.” Lexi had dragged herself up to a sitting position. Nancy rushed over to her side.

  “Are you sure about this?”

  Lexi nodded her head. “Yes. I’m feeling better already. And it’s easier this way.”

  Mr. Adams put one of Lexi’s arms around his shoulder and helped her stand. Together, they left the room.

  “Lexi, call me!” Scott said as she passed by.

  “Don’t you talk to her,” growled Mr. Adams. Lexi met his eyes over her father’s shoulder and nodded almost imperceptibly. Something told me that despite Mr. Adams’s overbearing ways, he wasn’t going to control his daughter that easily.

  Once they left, Scott seemed to realize who else was in the room. He quickly shut the door, blocking the view of the cameras that were still in the hallway. Since the shouting seemed to be over, most of them had left to film Lexi painfully making her way down the hall.

  “What are you doing here?” Scott asked Joe.

  “Uh… I, uh, saw Lexi get hurt, and since you weren’t around, I followed her to the hospital to make sure she was okay.”

  Scott knew about ATAC, but there was no point in letting Scott know that Nancy knew. She wasn’t supposed to, but she had figured it all out the first time we’d met, and since then, she had proven herself to be very useful on many cases. Still, since we were supposed to be secret agents and all, we tried not to let the word out.

  “And my name’s Nancy. I’m from Lexi’s hometown.”

  “Oh, right—Nancy Drew. She told me you were coming. And this must be Bess and George. Lexi’s told me all about you girls.” A smile spread across Scott’s face. Even though he was exhausted, stressed out, and scared, he still knew how to charm an audience. “I’m glad she’s got some old friends out here to support her.”

  “We’re doing everything we can, Scott.” Nancy put her hand on Scott’s arm.

  “You don’t know the half of it,” George mumbled. Nancy kicked her in the shin.

  “What was that?” Scott said to George.

  “Nothing… I, uh, was just wondering how you stay so fit.”

  Scott launched into a description of his workout routine, and George did her best to look interested. I wished he would leave so I could come out. Finally, Lee reappeared.

  “I think they’re gone now,” he said. “Scott, we should leave before any of them try to come back and get a comment from you.”

  “Right. Right. Joe, can we give you a ride?”

  Joe slipped his arm around Bess’s shoulder.

  “Actually, I promised these lovely ladies I’d give them a quick tour of the city. Unless you need me?” I could tell Joe wanted to share the information he had gained. But his first priority was to help Scott, in any way necessary.

  Scott was fooled by the act, though. He got a small smile on his face.

  “No, that’s all right. You have fun tonight. We’ll talk in the morning.”

  He gave Joe a friendly punch on the shoulder, and then he and Lee left.

  “Phew,” I said, stepping out from behind the curtain. “That was close.”

  “Yeah,” Joe said. “Let’s get out of here before he comes back for something.”

  The five of us piled into Nancy’s car and headed back to her hotel room. I was in the front with Nancy, and Joe squeezed into the back between Bess and George. On the way, we took turns filling one another in on what we had learned.

  “So whoever this is, they’re targeting Lexi and Scott specifically,” I said, once we were done talking.

  “Right. And I don’t think Mr. Adams would ever hurt Lexi—he’s just got a temper,” said Nancy.

  “I think Elisa would hurt anyone she had to, if it made a good story. But she had a pretty good reason not to hurt Scott. And a really good one to hate Lexi,” chimed in Joe.

  “So are we dealing with two separate cases? Or are we missing something else entirely?” I said.

  No one answered.

  CHAPTER 10

  SHOCK TO THE SYSTEM

  JOE

  Suspects in this case were beginning to pile up, but try as I might, I couldn’t make any of them match with everything that was happening. Some piece of the puzzle was missing, and I just hoped we found it before someone ended up seriously injured. For the time being, I did the only thing I could think of: I stuck to Scott like gum to the sole of a shoe. I wanted to ask him about what Elisa had said about their relationship, but I never got a chance to talk to him alone.

  “Heads up! Coming through.”

  The Olympic Arena was full of people moving things, setting up stands and equipment, training, and taking photos. Just walking from the door to the pool area was like running an obstacle course. And I mean running—Scott’s slowest pace seemed to be a jog. When he really wanted to get somewhere in a hurry, I bet he could have taken on some of the sprinters in the arena.

  “So, I’ll need you to call my massage therapist. We’re pushing back training tonight by another hour, so he’ll have to be at the house at eight thirty, not seven thirty. Oh, and tell whoever it is that you have delivering dinner that I don’t like onions. I could barely eat whatever that was yesterday.”

  “Uh. Got it. Yeah. Massage. Onions.”

  Did I mention that the entire time we were jogging through the arena, he kept up a steady monologue of things that needed to get done? And that he seemed to have forgotten that my cover story as his personal assistant was just that—a cover story? Oh well. The life of an ATAC agent: so glamorous.

  Once we made it poolside, things calmed down. Scott’s focus nar
rowed down to just the water, and any things he had for me to do were forgotten. While he warmed up and greeted his teammates, I chatted with Lee. My gut said he was innocent, but I thought I would check in on him anyway.

  “So how did you end up coaching?” I asked as we watched Scott swim his first trial heat. We were sitting on the bleachers nearby, and Lee had an old-school stopwatch in his hand. It was hardly the sort of fancy digital tech that our stalker seemed to enjoy, but maybe it was just to throw us off.

  “Oh, I used to be a swimmer myself,” he replied. “’Course, then I got this, and that all changed.”

  He slapped his leg, and I heard a hollow sound.

  “What do you mean?”

  He pulled up his right pant leg. Beneath it was a prosthetic limb.

  “I was in a car accident. A pretty bad one. I was lucky just to lose one leg. It kept me out of the pool for a long time. At first I couldn’t swim, and then I didn’t want to. Everything that reminded me of my life before the accident just made me angry. But after a few years, I found I missed it. So I started coaching a local swim team, and that’s how I met Scott. We’ve been working together ever since.”

  That didn’t sound much like the motivation of a crazy stalker. In fact, whenever Lee talked about Scott, he sounded more like a proud father than anything else. I was about to ask him a few more questions, when a voice called out to us.

  “Perfect! That was perfect. Joe—we don’t have a signed release form from you yet, do we? Of course, I could just use the audio from that, but I think the actual footage of the two of you sitting and talking is great, too. Here, Joe, sign this and we’ll put you on TV.”

  Alex Smothers was standing there with his camera in hand. And it sounded like he’d taped our entire conversation. He was waving some form in my face.

  “I don’t think—” I started to say something, and Alex pointed his camera right in my face.

  “Wait—hold that thought. Let me just get you in focus.”

  “No. I don’t want to be on camera.”

  “Shy? Don’t worry. You’ve got a great face. The audience will love you.”

  “No!” I put my hand in front of his camera. The last thing I needed was to end up with my face plastered across the Web.

  “Fine. Where’s Scott?” He swung his camera around and started tracking the bodies in the pool, looking for Scott.

  “He’s training, Mr. Smothers. I think now would be a bad time.” Lee’s voice was gentle but firm.

  “Look,” Alex said, sounding irritated. “You know the deal—unlimited access. I can talk to him anywhere, anytime. That was the contract we signed.”

  “Fine. Best of luck to you getting him out of the water. He’s got his earplugs in and his head underwater. You were a swimmer, you know the deal—he’ll never hear you. Why don’t we talk instead?”

  Alex hesitated. Then he threw up his hands in exasperation.

  “Fine!”

  “Joe, didn’t Scott have some things he needed you to do?”

  Lee winked at me. He was in on the ATAC deal, and I could tell he was giving me a chance to get away from the camera. I was really coming to like him.

  “Yeah, I’ll see you guys later.”

  I walked off as Alex started asking Lee a bunch of questions. Alex was seriously beginning to annoy me, but then, I guess that was part of his job. I decided to stay near the pool area, just in case something went wrong. If yesterday taught me anything, it was that even Olympic security was no match for our stalker. Or stalkers.

  For thirty minutes, I wandered around poolside, trying to keep a subtle eye on Scott and all his belongings. I wanted to make sure no one tampered with him or his stuff.

  “Excuse me. You. Excuse me!”

  It took me a moment to realize someone was talking to me. I turned around to see one of the female swimmers from the American team heading in my direction.

  “You’re Scott’s friend, right?”

  “Guilty as charged.” I smiled. She was tall, with dark hair and a handsome face. Like everyone around here, she was in incredible shape.

  “I’m Isabelle,” she said. “Isabelle Helene. I swim the four hundred meter.” She stuck out her hand to shake.

  “Joe,” I said. “I’m Scott’s personal assistant.”

  We stood there for a second, both of us silent. She looked down at the ground. Girls can’t help themselves around me sometimes. It’s my curse. The patented MoJoe.

  “So how’s training going?” I asked. I knew how to handle girls who were nervous around me. Just be friendly, make conversation, and let them calm down. Who could blame them for being starstruck around me?

  “Great. How’s Scott doing?”

  “He’s doing good. I mean, it’s stressful and all, but he’s dedicated. It’s been interesting, getting to work so closely with him. I’ve really been—”

  “That’s great,” she said, cutting me off. “I’d love to get to talk to Scott sometime. He’s been so busy recently, we just haven’t been able to spend much time together. Do you know where he’ll be tonight?”

  “Do you two normally spend a lot of time together, Ms.…?”

  Alex and his camera were back. Isabelle seemed quite happy about it. She turned and smiled big.

  “Isabelle. Isabelle Helene. And not that it’s any of your business, but yes—Scott and I have spent a good deal of time together. You know, when you’re doing something like this”—Isabelle waved her arms around, indicating the arena all around them—“you end up establishing some pretty intense… relationships.”

  The way she said that last word definitely seemed to imply that she and Scott were more than just teammates or friends. What the heck? Had Scott dated Lexi, and Isabelle, and Elisa? Or was she making this up?

  “In fact,” Isabelle continued, “I was hoping to see Scott tonight, but I couldn’t remember where we were supposed to meet. I was just asking his personal assistant here…” Isabelle drifted off, clearly waiting for me to tell her Scott’s plans for the evening.

  “What? Oh, I don’t have my planner on me. I’m afraid I don’t know anything without my planner.” I tried my best to look helpless.

  “Well, maybe I’ll come find you later and you can tell me then.” The way she said it, it sounded more like a command than a possibility.

  “So, Ms. Helene, how are you feeling about the Olympics?”

  “Feeling? This isn’t about feeling. This is about winning. And I am prepared to do whatever it takes to win. That’s my motto in life. Whatever it takes.”

  Something about the insistent way she asked about Scott turned me off from Isabelle. She seemed to really like Scott—in fact, she seemed to think they might be dating—but I didn’t trust her. Could she be his stalker? But if she liked him so much, why would she try to hurt him? Although, liking Scott could be a good reason to hurt Lexi… This was just too confusing. I decided to put her down as a suspect, though, just in case.

  Suspect Profile

  Name: Isabelle Helene

  Hometown: Los Angeles, California

  Occupation: Professional swimmer

  Physical description: Isabelle is tall. Like, really tall. I had to look

  up, so I’d guess she’s six-one. And if she wasn’t a professional

  athlete, she’d probably have a career in modeling. But there’s

  something a little crazy in her eyes. Maybe it’s just the

  dedication and focus it takes to be an Olympic athlete… or

  maybe it’s something else.

  Suspected of: Her questions about Scott definitely bordered on

  stalker-ish. But I have a feeling she wouldn’t hurt him. But maybe

  she’d hurt Lexi? Or maybe I’m just beginning to suspect everyone?

  Motive: If she really is as hung up on Scott as she appeared,

  Lexi would definitely be her number one enemy.

  Suspicious behavior: Nothing specific yet. But I’m keeping my eye

  on her
. “Whatever it takes” is definitely the attitude of someone

  who would stop at nothing.

  The rest of the day passed without incident, though I did spend a fair amount of time dodging both Isabelle and Alex. Finally, around six p.m., I headed home on the scooter I had convinced ATAC to send me. It was better than having a car in LA—I could zip between traffic and get home in record time. In fact, I beat Scott by a full thirty minutes. I used the time to check out the house. Everything looked legit: no broken windows, no forced locks, no psychotic stalkers hiding in the shower.

  I flopped down on the couch, and was about to put my feet up on the table when I remembered—all white. No putting my feet up anywhere, not unless I wanted Scott to spend the night cleaning the house again. Carefully, I sat up and made sure there was nothing on me that might stain the couch. Then I dug the all-white remote out of the all-white basket by the table, and turned on the television.

  Or at least, I tried to. It wasn’t working properly. No matter what channel I tried, all I got was static. That was weird. I called Vijay for some tech support—since we had him, I might as well use him, right? But my phone was all static as well.

  Something was definitely going on. This was creepy. I heard Scott’s car pull up, and I ran to meet him at the door.

  “Hey, Scott—something’s going on. The TV signal is all screwed up, and so is my phone.”

  “Don’t worry about that,” Scott said as he brushed past me. “This is LA, the smog will do that sometimes. Gets so thick it interrupts everything. Call the cable company and see what they say. I’ve got to hop in the wave pool—traffic was so bad I’m already seventeen minutes behind schedule.”

  I followed Scott through the house. He shed clothing as he went, his Olympic tracksuit flung on the floor. He really must have been in a hurry! I’d never seen him put so much as a piece of paper down out of place. Soon, he was in just his bathing suit, and we were in the training area of the house.