Gold Medal Murder (15 page)

“Get off me!” Isabelle whispered in a labored voice.

“It's over, Isabelle. Lexi and Scott are safe, and the only games you're going to be competing in are the ones they play in prison.”

“I would never hurt Scott. I love him.”

“Yeah—you love him so much you've been trying to kill him!”

“No! We were made for each other. Everything I did, I did for us. I had to get rid of those other girls—Elisa, Lexi—so he and I could finally be together. We would have been the perfect couple.”

She had no reason to lie at this point. And despite being crazy, she sounded sincere.

“So you haven't been harassing Scott? You didn't try to electrocute him?”

“No!” She was so angry, she struggled to get up again. “I would never hurt him.”

The police and ambulance arrived then, so I didn't have any more time to talk to her. Turns out she was banged up, and she'd have one heck of a concussion, but she was going to be okay. Or at least, as okay as she was before the accident. Sounds like things were a little off in her head way before this accident.

But if what she said was true, that meant someone else was out to get Scott. Which meant he was still in danger.

I tried to call Frank, but his phone rang and rang before finally going to voice mail. Strange. I tried Nancy. Voice mail again.

A chill passed through me. Something was wrong.

At Vijay's, I paced the apartment, trying to will Joe to call me. How long could it take him to get back to the hotel? I tried Lexi twice more, but each time I got her voice mail. Bess and George both had their phones off. Bess usually kept her phone off, so I could see her forgetting to turn it on, even in the middle of a mission like this one. But George lived on her phone. If it was off… I didn't want to think what that could mean.

“Vijay, can you pull up that footage again?” I needed to do something to distract myself.

“But of course,” he said with a slight curtsy. I rolled my eyes, but I had to admit he knew how to make me smile.

I watched the few minutes of footage of Scott again. It was all familiar stuff that had been shown to death on the news and various tawdry talk shows. Why had Elisa wanted to show this to us? I looked to see if perhaps Isabelle would be hiding in the corner of one of the shots, some shred of a reason that would connect this footage with her. But there was nothing. This had nothing to do with her. And since she was the one behind the attacks, that meant this was nothing. Just a random video that Elisa had in her pocket that night.

Then the words popped up again.
YOU KNOW WHAT TO DO WITH THIS
.

It certainly made it sound as though someone had given this footage to Elisa. But how would Isabelle have gotten ahold of it? Maybe she was stalking him, but whoever took these clips had complete access to Scott's life. It seemed almost impossible that Isabelle had done it.

And what was it about those words? Something about them tickled my mind. Had someone said them to me before?

Then I realized it wasn't what the words said. It was how they looked.

“Vijay!”

“Nancy?”

“Did you record that footage of Bess, George, and I being interviewed?”

“Of course.” He sounded personally offended, as
though I'd asked him whether he ever brushed his teeth.

“Can you pull that up for me?”

Vijay reached over to the keyboard and started tapping away.

“No—not here. On another monitor. I want to see them side by side.”

Vijay gave me a quizzical look, but he did it. I was on to something, and I knew it. I only hoped it wasn't too late.

“Look!” I pointed at the screens.

“Yes, the three of you do look lovely.”

I whacked Vijay on the arm.

“No, look at our names.”

Our names were printed on the screen, below each of our faces. The fonts on both screens were identical. And it wasn't just a coincidence.

“That's why those words were familiar! That font—it's the font Sportztime uses in their logo and promotions and everything. It's on everything they do.”

Vijay had snapped to attention and was typing at the speed of light.

“You have a good eye, Nancy. You're right. It's a proprietary font, named Sportztime, natch. And it was created by one Alex Smothers.”

While he was talking, the video of our interview had kept playing. We hadn't watched the rest of it, but something caught my attention.

“Wait—Vijay, rewind that a few seconds!”

Vijay clicked a few times, and the file jumped backward. Alex appeared on the screen, midsentence.

“…the verge of breaking my own world record for most gold medals won by a single athlete. How does that feel?”

The camera cut to Scott, but I didn't hear his response.

The font was created by Alex. Alex had lots of recording and camera experience. Thanks to the exclusive news series he was doing about Scott, he had full access to Scott's life. Alex had everything he needed to be the one behind Scott's attempted murder. And now, he had a motive: Scott was about to replace him as the most decorated Olympic medalist ever.

And Frank and Scott were alone with him. Alone with a desperate man who knew that tonight was his last chance to get rid of his greatest enemy, his nemesis, Scott Trevor. I had to warn Frank—if it wasn't already too late.

“Frank! Oh thank God, you're alive.”

“Nancy?”

“Is Scott with you? Where is Alex?”

“No—they're in the pool area, doing a final shoot. What's going on?”

“It's him, Frank! Alex! He's the one who's been after Scott all this time.”

Before Nancy even started explaining, I was up and running down the hallway. Nancy wouldn't call me unless she was certain that Alex was responsible. My whole body hurt—Scott had managed to do a number on me while we were wrestling. But I tried to ignore the twinges of pain as I raced to the training center.

“How did you figure it out?” I huffed into the phone as I ran.

“The font on the footage Elisa wanted to give Joe? It was the font Sportztime uses, and it was invented by Alex! And then I found out that Alex was the current record holder for the most gold medals won by an Olympic athlete.”

“Giving him the perfect motive!” I remembered Isabelle asking me that question, and I could have hit myself for not going to look it up. It all made sense now. “I'm almost to the pool now. I just hope I'm in time.”

I slammed open the door to the training area. Scott was on the ground on the side of the pool. Was he unconscious or already dead? There was no way I could tell. Alex was standing over him.

“Get away from him!” I screamed.

I ran toward them. My only plan was to tackle Alex, like Scott had tackled me earlier. Whatever he was about to do, I had to stop him. But Alex was quicker
than I thought. He bent down and grabbed something off the floor. Right as I was about to leap, he swung his arm in a wide arc.

The world went white. A searing pain spread across my face. My eyes! I couldn't see anything. By the smell, I could tell he had thrown chlorine or some other pool chemical at me. I felt him shove me hard as he ran past, his footsteps retreating off into the distance. I screamed in pain.

“Frank? Frank! What's happening?”

I heard him scream in the background. He must have dropped his phone, because everything had become muffled and far away.

“Call 911!” I told Vijay. I didn't want to hang up on Frank, but they needed help now. I only hoped the police would be fast enough.

“Nancy?” Frank's voice, soaked with pain, suddenly reappeared on the line.

“Frank, what happened? Are you okay? Is Scott?”

“He threw something at me. I can't see anything, and he's getting away. I'm trying to find Scott now.”

Damn!
I thought. If he got out of the house, our chances of catching him were slim. I slammed my fist down on the desk, making the monitors jump.

The monitors!

“Vijay, pull up all the cameras in Scott's house, now! Frank, can you move?”

“Yeah. But if I can't see anything, what good will it do?”

“You put cameras in every room of the house, right?”

“Pretty much.”

“All right. I'm going to be your eyes.”

By this point, Vijay had all the cameras live. I could see Alex in the kitchen, rifling through the shelves.
What is he doing
? I wondered. Then, when he pulled out the paper towels and matches, I realized it.

“Frank! He's in the kitchen. He's planning on burning down the house, with you and Scott in it. Can you get Scott out?” I could see from the monitor that Scott wasn't moving.

“No. He's alive, but he's unconscious, and I can't carry him like this.”

“All right. Listen to me. Seventy feet in front of you is the door to the hallway. It opens into the pool room.”

“I'm heading for it now.”

“After the door, it's about twenty-five feet to the stairs.” As I spoke, I watched the little figures on the screen: Frank, making his way slowly out of the training room, one hand on his phone, the other rubbing his red and tearing eyes; and Alex, moving quickly throughout
the house, making small piles of paper towels. There wasn't much time.

“Now I want you to go ten more feet, and turn right. There's going to be a small—”

“Ow!”

“Table. Sorry about that, you're moving faster than I expected. There's a bronze statue of a swimmer on the table. Pick it up.”

“What's Alex up to?”

“He's approaching the hallway you're in. Five feet beyond the table, you'll find a doorway. The door should be open. Duck inside it.”

I could feel the smooth metal of the statue in my hands, but if Nancy hadn't told me it was a swimmer, I'd never have been able to tell. How did blind people learn Braille? Or do anything? The pain had begun to recede, but I still couldn't see a thing. I held still and waited. I could hear Nancy's breathing on the phone. There would be only one chance at this. I couldn't fight Alex blind, and once he finished placing the little piles of paper around the house, it would be the work of thirty seconds to run around, light each of them, and leave Scott and me to burn to death.

I heard the muffled progress of footsteps coming
down the hall toward me. It was hard not to jump out. They sounded so close. Surely he had to be in front of me now. But I waited.

“Now, Frank!” Nancy yelled on the phone.

I leaped forward, swinging the statue in front of me at what I hoped was head height. I hit something hard, and heard the sound of a body slumping to the floor.

“Nice shot!” Nancy yelled. “He's down for the count. You did it!”

“And Scott Trevor takes the gold! That's his third gold medal in this Olympics alone, and he is now officially the most decorated Olympic athlete of all time, breaking the record held by one Alex Smothers. And that's a whole other story right there, isn't it, folks?”

Amid the cheering in the hotel room, I switched off the sound on the television. The last thing we needed was another recap of the footage of the police bringing a blind Frank and an unconscious Scott and Alex out of Scott's house. The media couldn't get enough of the story. Or of Isabelle's attempt on Lexi's life—and a traffic helicopter's footage of the high-speed chase that followed, starring yours truly. One paper had dubbed
them “The Gold Medal Murders” after both Lexi and Scott had taken the gold in their first events.

“Scott! Scott! Scott!” Nancy, George, Bess, and Frank were chanting. Frank's eyes were still red from the chemical burns Alex had given him, but his sight had mostly returned and the doctors said he wouldn't have any lingering effects.

“Anybody else hungry?” I asked.

“Yes!” Nancy yelled.

“Let's go back to the Moonbeam, one last time,” added Bess.

We'd gone to the Moonbeam nearly every day since we'd wrapped up the case. It had become our regular hangout. And since our case had very nearly gotten Bess and George killed, ATAC had been eager to pay for all their expenses afterward. Just one more perk of being a superspy: free lunch. Which reminded me, I had a surprise for them.

“I'll call a cab,” said Nancy.

“Wait, Nancy—catch!” I pulled a small box out of my pocket and tossed it to Nancy. Across the room, Frank smiled.

“What's this?” said Nancy.

“A thank-you from ATAC.”

Nancy pulled the ribbon off the sky blue box and popped the lid. She lifted out a key.

“Joe,” she said in an excited voice, “is this—”

“A key to your new sky blue convertible, paid for by ATAC? Yes.”

“It's a hybrid, too. Just like your old one,” Frank chimed in.

Nancy screamed with joy. Losing her car had been one of the worst parts of this case, and I knew she'd been dreading explaining it to her father. ATAC was so grateful for her help, though, that it hadn't been hard to talk them into replacing it for her. It wasn't quite as cool as one George and Bess had fixed up by hand, but it was the best I could do.

“All right,” Nancy said, “you boys take the gold in classiness. Let's go get some food.”