Gold Medal Murder (13 page)

“Ah, Ms. Drew. How nice to get to meet you in person.”

I looked around, startled.

“Vijay?” said Joe.

“I had some free time, so I hacked into the elevator's cameras and audio equipment. I could get used to living in a place this swank.”

Swank was definitely the word for it. The elevator doors opened into the largest hotel room I'd ever seen. Joe tossed the flash drive to Vijay and gave me the five-minute tour. He'd promised me a ten-minute tour—and the place was big enough to give a thirty-minute tour, at least—but Vijay had the encryption cracked in five.

“Looks like a video file. Let's go to the big screen.” Vijay typed a few commands on his computer, and a movie screen began to lower from the ceiling. At the same time, black shades began to rise up from the floor
and block all the windows. Within moments, it was dark as night inside.

Grainy black-and-white footage of Scott appeared on the screen. It was clearly from lots of different cameras, at lots of different times. Scott falling into the pool, Scott freaking out about something, Scott cleaning obsessively.

“This is all the footage Elisa is—was—releasing to the television stations,” said Joe. “Why would she need to show me that?”

“Maybe this wasn't what she wanted to show you,” I said. “What if she just had this in her pocket?” I felt my hope draining away. This wasn't going to be the clue that broke the case after all. A few minutes later, the footage ended. Vijay reached down to turn off the projector, when something else popped up on the screen.

YOU KNOW WHAT TO DO WITH THIS
, it read.

“What is that?” I blurted out.

“Do you think that was a message from Elisa to me?”

“No,” answered Vijay, “I think that was a message from whoever gave Elisa that footage.”

“Gave her the footage? But I thought she said she'd filmed it herself.”

“That's what she said,” said Vijay. “But that's not what this tape is telling me. Look, this footage is from seven different cameras.” Vijay pointed to a new screen
he had pulled up that had a breakdown of the different segments of the video and what they had been shot on. “Not one of them is the camera she's been using for any of the reporting stuff she's done in the last year. Someone made this tape for her.”

“That's what she wanted to tell me!” said Joe, excited. “Someone else was leaking information to her. And whoever it is is probably the same person who made that tape of Scott sleeping.”

“And they made that voice-edit they played over the national anthem, too,” said Vijay. “Looks like it was done on the same editing software.”

“Something about those words…” I started to say, but stopped. I couldn't think of it.

“What is it?” said Joe.

“I don't know. But something about those words was familiar.” It would come to me at some point. But for right now, it was just a buzzing sensation, like a fly stuck in my brain. There was something about those words that I should know.

“Any hint on who made the tape?” said Joe.

“Nope. They scrubbed it pretty good.” Vijay whistled to himself for a moment, shutting down the computer projector and opening up the screens. “Anything else I can do for you guys?”

“Yeah,” I said. I pulled out the photo I had found in Lexi's locker. In all the craziness, I hadn't had the time
to ask her about it. “I dusted this for fingerprints, but I didn't find any. Joe said you might have some more sensitive equipment.”

Vijay smiled. “You're my new best friend. Now I've got a way to justify my new toy to ATAC. Throw it on the laser scanner over there.”

Vijay pointed to what looked like a pane of glass hovering above a small table.

“This uses lasers to detect oils and markings that traditional powder or ink methods can't find. If there's anything on this photo, we'll see it.”

The machine sprung into action and a red light filled the room. A few seconds later, a message popped up on the screen.

“Nothing,” said Vijay. Then he paused. “Or rather, no fingerprints. Whoever did this was clever—they washed it down using chlorine to destroy the evidence. But this scanner can pick up chemical residue signatures.”

“At least that lets me know someone did tamper with it, even if it doesn't tell me who.” I put it back in my bag. “I'm going to have to ask Lexi about it.”

“I think we're done here anyway, right V?” said Joe.

“Unless you want to stay and watch
Revenge of the Nerds III
with me?”

“Thanks for the offer, but…”

“Yeah, yeah. A superspy's work is never done. Go on, get out!”

“I like him,” I said to Joe as we rode the elevator back down to the lobby.

“Vijay?” Joe winked at me. “He's a real nerd.”

The elevator shuddered to a halt.

“I heard that!” Vijay's voice came out over the loudspeaker. Joe and I laughed.

“Just playing with you!”

“Humph. Well… I'll let it go this time.” The elevator started back up. We laughed all the way to the scooter.

Joe dropped me off at the Olympic Arena so I could find Lexi. He wanted to head back to the Starlet, to look over the spreadsheet we'd made last night and see if any of it connected with what had happened last night. He left the scooter with me, just in case. He said he'd catch a taxi back.

It didn't take me long to find Lexi inside. All I had to do was follow the sound of her father's voice. I found her standing by the fencing mats, drinking water. Her father was gesticulating angrily.

“I'm not sure we really have time for you to take a break right now, Lexi. The opening ceremony is tomorrow!”

“Dad. I've been training for four hours. If I don't take a break, I'm going to pull a muscle. Do you really want that to happen?”

Even though she was facing away from me, I could tell Lexi was exasperated. All of it: the stress of the
Olympics, the death threats, Elisa's murder—it was getting to her. I'd never seen her so much as disagree with her father before. Now it looked like they were about to get into a fight.

I stepped in between them.

“Hi, Lexi! Hi, Mr. Adams!” I said brightly, in an effort to break the tension. “Lexi, could I talk with you for a minute?”

“Sure,” she said without even looking at her father. He threw up his hands and stomped off, while Lexi and I took a seat on the bleachers.

“How are things going?” I asked.

“Well, the biggest day of my life is tomorrow, someone just killed my boyfriend's ex-pretend-girlfriend, and I'm about to kill my father. How do you think it's going?”

She gave a laugh that was on the edge of tears.

“Hey,” I said, looking her straight in the eye. “You're going to get through this.”

A tear leaked out of her eye. I put my arms around her and she buried her head on my shoulder.

“Oh, Nancy,” she mumbled. “What would I do without you?”

When her eyes were dry and she had managed to compose herself, she pulled back and sat up.

“I should find my dad and get back to training,” she said.

“Wait. Before you go, I had a question for you.”

I rummaged around in my pocket for the photograph, and handed it to her.

“I found this in your locker.”

“Oh, yeah. I had that hanging on the inside of the door. But where's the other half?”

“This is how I found it. What was in the rest of the photo?”

“I'd gone to visit Scott at one of the Olympic trials. It was a photo of me and him and a couple of his teammates. We liked the photo so much, we got the photographer to send us both copies. Do you think… Is this another threat?”

“No,” I said. I didn't want to worry her. “I'm sure it was just an accident.”

“Right. I'm not dumb, Nancy.” She smiled, a weak smile, but a real one. “But I'm not worried. I know you'll be able to handle it.”

Lexi squeezed my hand and stood up. “I've got to get back to training. I'll see you later tonight.”

Once she was gone, I called Frank. I told him about the torn photo, and the chlorine tampering that Vijay had found on Lexi's copy of it. Since he was at Scott's house all day for the filming, I asked him to try and find Scott's copy of the photo. Maybe someone just wanted Lexi “out of the picture,” literally. Or maybe the other half of the photo held some clue to our killer's identity.

We'd spent all day filming Scott around LA: his favorite stores (a couple of vintage places, mostly down hidden alleyways where you'd never expect to find anything other than a Dumpster and a mangy cat), his favorite restaurants (man, could he eat! I guess exercising that much gave you quite the appetite, 'cause he seemed to always have the munchies), and his favorite “date spots.” I couldn't believe how many questions Alex could find to ask Scott. By the time the day was over, he must have known Scott better than anyone else in the world. And though I still found him irritating, he didn't do anything particularly suspicious. He did trot me out in front of the camera at nearly every location, to ask me how I felt that Scott's favorite color was green, or if
I liked Thai food as well. The most excitement we saw all day was when Alex tripped while walking backward filming us and nearly broke his camera. Aside from that, nada.

For the second half of the day, Scott was going to be training. Alex would get to ask him questions occasionally, but Scott insisted there was no way he could take the entire day before the games off from training. This, I figured, was my chance to look for that picture Nancy had mentioned.

“I'll be with you guys in a minute,” I yelled, as Scott and Alex headed down the hall to the gym area. “Too much coffee.” I smiled and pointed toward the bathroom.

I shut the door behind me and counted to ten. I listened at the door. I heard nothing. Quickly, I opened the door and scanned the room. It looked like I was alone. I walked down the hall in the opposite direction from where Scott and Alex had gone, away from the gym and toward Scott's bedroom. I'd never been inside it before, but I figured if he was going to keep a photo of him and Lexi anywhere, it would be there.

Inside, his bedroom was as immaculate as the rest of the house: white walls, white carpet, white blanket on a white bed. There was a huge wall of books on one side, and he'd even gone to the trouble of having them all rebound with new, white covers. But there was one
thing in the room that wasn't white: a framed picture on the nightstand, right by his bed. It was facing away from me, so I couldn't make out who was in it, but even before I got close, I felt certain this was the right photo.

I nearly ran across the room in my excitement. Maybe this would finally be the clue that made this case make sense. Just as I lifted the picture off the nightstand, I felt a breeze behind me and heard fast footsteps approaching. I turned, but not in time.

BAM!

Next thing I knew, someone had their arms around me and I was flying through the air. Luckily, I landed on the bed, but whoever had just tackled me was right on top of me. I drove my elbow back into their stomach.

“Oomph!”

Whoever this guy was, he was made of steel. Hitting his stomach felt like hitting a brick wall. But I'd knocked some of the air out of him, enough that his arms loosened and I was able to break his hold. I squirmed free of his arms, but his entire weight was still on me, pinning me to the bed. I dropped one leg down on the floor to give myself some leverage, and then pushed as hard as I could, flipping us over so that he was against the bed. I stood up on the soft mattress, which was hard to balance on, and got my first good look at my attacker.

“Scott?!”

“Who are you? Why are you doing this to me?”

I was so shocked that I was completely unprepared for Scott's low kick, which knocked my legs right out from under me. We ended up tangled on the bed. Scott tried to get me in a headlock. I grabbed his arm and slipped out from under him. It wasn't easy trying to fight someone you didn't want to hurt!

“Stop it! Scott, this isn't what you think it is!”

I tried to get my ATAC badge out of my pocket, but Scott must have thought I was reaching for a weapon, because he tackled me to the floor and knocked my hands. This time, there was no mattress to cushion the fall. My back was going to be bruised for weeks. Scott was kneeling on top of me, pinning my arms to the ground.

“Right. So you weren't just going through my stuff? And yesterday you weren't talking to Elisa about me? And you haven't been sending me death threats all along?”

“No! Ugh!”

He hit me in the face. Man, Scott could throw a punch. I had to stop this before he ended up seriously hurting me, or I was forced to hurt him in self-defense. There was only one thing to do.

“I'm with ATAC! American Teens Against Crime!”

Scott paused, his arm raised to punch me again.

“Joe is my brother! I'm in deep cover, so no one—not
even you—would know I was working to protect you.”

“How do I know you're telling me the truth?”

“How else would I know about Joe? Or ATAC? But if you don't believe me, check my pocket—you'll find my ATAC badge there.”

Without letting me up, Scott slid his hand into my pants pocket and fished out my badge. Once he had it in hand, Scott leaped to his feet.

“Oh man, I'm sorry!”

He reached down to help me up. Once I was standing, I leaned against the wall and felt my face. Man, was I going to have one heck of a black eye. But nothing felt broken. Scott looked horribly embarrassed.

“I swear, I had no idea. I wouldn't have hit you—it was just, I'm under so much stress, and when I saw you going through my stuff, I figured…”