A Second Chance at Murder (13 page)

Dad shrugged. “Do you think Parker deliberately steered us into those rocks?

I sighed. “I don't know. I hate to think that. It must have been an accident.”

The trunk meandered along the road until we crested up a hill. Ahead there was a rickety bridge. “We're not crossing that! Are we?” Dad asked, a look of alarm on his face.

I giggled. “This trip is full of surprises!”

Once over the bridge, we took a left turn onto an old dirt road, rugged with grooves and dips. I hung on to Dad, thinking we'd be bounced right out of the truck. Branches swept against the sides of the truck dangerously close to our faces.

I tucked my face into Dad's shoulder. “We've got to be there soon, right? And if we're not last, I'm quitting.”

Dad said, “Aren't you having fun? If I hadn't been
scared out of my mind about losing you, I think I would have actually enjoyed the rapids.”

I snorted. “I think I prefer the Storybook Land boat ride at Disneyland.”

Dad chortled. “Tell it to Becca and Cheryl, maybe they can arrange the next episode there.”

Augustine honked the horn and I looked up to see the familiar crew bus along with the blue tarp. Dad let out a whoop and jumped out of the back of the truck.

“We're here!” Dad screamed.

In the circle, I spotted Cooper and his partner, Todd. They were clearly safe and next to them was Double D, seemingly in second place. I hobbled out of the pickup truck and ran behind Dad toward the circle.

“Where's Victoria and Parker?” Dad asked, as we ran.

I looked down the hill toward the river, a sinking feeling overtaking my stomach, only two rafts were docked.

We entered the circle and Harris, the host, clapped his hands. “Georgia! Gordon! Welcome. I'm happy to say you are the third team to arrive and are therefore safe. You will be able to start the race tomorrow one hour and nine minutes after Double D.”

Double D beamed bright white smiles at us.

Cooper wiggled his eyebrows. “Took you long enough. Nice ride. How'd you manage it?”

Dad grimaced. “Long story.”

We both glanced nervously at Becca and Cheryl wondering if they would allow us our third-place finish, or disqualify us for hitching a ride. Before anyone could
complain, another raft came into view. We'd just beat Victoria and Parker's arrival by minutes.

The raft struggled to dock, overshooting the distance and almost catching another current. Victoria and Parker scrambled out of the boat and ran up the hill. Their jaws were agape as they took in the scenery. Augustine standing by his pickup truck, Dad and I standing in the circle. It took a moment for them to process everything. In the meantime, they continued their frantic run to the circle.

Harris's expression was solemn as he said, “Victoria, Parker, we're so happy you made it through this challenge safely. But I'm sorry to say, you are the fourth and final team to arrive and are therefore eliminated.”

Parker had a slack expression, his shoulder hunched, a posture of pure exhaustion and defeat.

“No!” Victoria roared.

Harris pressed his hands together and frowned sympathetically. “I'm sorry.”

Parker cleared his throat. “Uh . . . thank you for the experience—”

“No!” Victoria screamed again. “No, no, no!” Her face turned beet red and she pointed her finger at me. “You cheated! You cheated!” Suddenly she rushed at me and wrapped her hands around my neck, screeching, “You cheeeeeeaaaaaaateeeeeed!”

EXT. RIVERBANK DAY

Victoria is looking down away from the camera. She is dressed in a yellow life jacket, her face is sunburned, her hair matted and tangled, eyes red and swollen.

VICTORIA

(
sniffles and wipes her nose with the back of her hand
) Um . . . I'm Victoria Wilson, one of the contestants on
Expedition Improbable
.
(lets out a muffled cry)
Well, I
was
one of the contestants on
Expedition Improbable
! I've just been eliminated, but I don't think it's very fair. (
She bites her knuckle and searches the sky in an overly
dramatic way
.) I really wanted to win. Winning would be everything. There's this thing I want to do back home and now . . . (
She shrugs.)
I guess it doesn't matter. Nobody would vote for me after the way I behaved here.
(She shakes her head and cries violently.)
I don't know what came over me.
(wailing)
I'm so ashamed.

(A dejected Parker joins her.)

PARKER

Vicky, you gotta suck it up.

VICTORIA

(
leans her head on Parker's shoulder)
I'm sorry I ruined this for us, Parker.

PARKER

(
shrugs)
You were just being yourself.

VICTORIA

(
gasps)
No. Really? Come on, the competition brought out the worst in me, that's all. That woman, Georgia, brought out the worst in me!

PARKER

You say that about everyone.

VICTORIA

(slugs him in the shoulder)
Parker!

PARKER

See what I mean?

•   •   •

T
hat evening I could barely stand to shower, my skin was lobster red and I had to borrow buckets full of aloe vera from Double D. It had taken several crew members along with Dad to pull Victoria off of me. It was little consolation when Cheryl had congratulated me on a fine dramatic moment and credited me with being irritating enough to get choked on camera.

Victoria wasn't talking to me and she and Parker were getting ready to be taken to the bus stop to leave the country via the Madrid airport. I couldn't believe Sergio would give them clearance to leave, but right now I had bigger fish to fry.

Becca had gone off with Kyle and one of the local crew people, Juan Jose, to scout out the next location for the contest. Cheryl had somehow talked Dad into watching the jousting tournament they'd missed last night. Miraculously, Dad, being the trooper he was, had agreed to accompany her despite his hangover.

I really wanted to win the contest now. Dad needed the money and he deserved it.

As I hurried to get dressed, a knock on my door interrupted me. “Just a minute,” I called out, as I shrugged
into my clean jeans. “Who is it?” I asked, walking over to the door. I hesitated when no answer came and cautiously cracked the door open an inch.

Cooper was standing in the doorway waiting patiently, his million-dollar grin on his face.

I pulled open the door. “Yeah?”

Cooper pointed at my bare feet. “What are you doing, girl? We're all downstairs having some dinner. Then we're going into the town square for more dancing.”

“Not me. Thank you. I . . .”

“What are you talking about, ‘not me'? Come on!”

“No, no, no. I'm sunburned. I . . .”

“Sunburned? Shoot, don't you know you need fluids for a sunburn,” he said.

I laughed. “
Sangría
will not help a sunburn.”

“The hell, you say.”

I laughed again in spite of myself. “Well, I am hungry. You may convince me to go down with you. On one condition.”

He cocked a brow at me. “I like conditions.”

“Get your mind out of the gutter. Is Victoria still down there or have they left for the bus station?” I asked.

Cooper was so big he took up the entire doorway. “Ha! That little scruff of a girl sure does talk a lot of trash. She got you scared? Is that what's on your mind?”

“I'm not scared!” I said.

He glanced up and down the hallway.

“What are you looking at? Is someone in the hallway?” After filming all day it was hard to shake the idea of someone always listening.

“No,” he said, but he looked unconvinced. “I thought I heard something.”

“Come in,” I said, doubting my own sanity. For all I knew, Cooper could have killed Annalise, but it wouldn't have been the first time I was alone with a murderer. I was after all, a trained police officer, albeit unemployed.

Cooper smiled slowly. “Okay, sweetheart. Have it your way.” He came in and glanced around the room. My side was clean and tidy; Becca's looked as if her suitcase had thrown up and strewn articles of clothing throughout. “Wow,” Cooper said. He hesitated, then lumbered over to the small writing desk in the corner.

“Have a seat,” I said, gesturing to the white wooden chair in front of the desk. He had to remove three tops and two skirts before he could sit down. I seated myself on my bed across the room from him.

“So, why don't you want to come downstairs?” he asked. “It can't be because of Victoria? Is it Todd?”

I laughed. “I'm tired. That's all. But since you mention it, what's up with him?”

He shrugged. “Dude's a strange duck. I know he rubs a lot of people the wrong way. But he's had my back a long time. He'd do anything for me.”

I squinted at him. “He'd do anything for you, huh?”

Even kill?

There were plenty of cases where friends took the fall for high-profile athletes. I knew of a few who'd done jail time and a few who'd gotten off, even when we were convinced they were guilty.

Cooper gave me his signature deep chuckle, the kind that sounded like an approaching locomotive. “Now, don't get all distracted with Todd. You know how good friends are.” He leaned back in the chair and looked around the room. “So, where's
your
friend?”

Aha! He'd come to check on Becca.

I smiled at his cockiness. “You want to know about my friend? What, now that Victoria's gone, you're looking for another girl to take her place?”

He pretended to be offended. “What do you mean?”

Finally I had something I could use to leverage against him. Loosen his tongue. “I'll tell you where Becca is if you tell me about that night at the campground.”

He swallowed, clearly uncomfortable. “I don't have anything to tell, or I would have told you already. I just took a walk. I knew Victoria wanted to hook up with me. You know, I talk a good game, but I'm here to win the contest. I can't really get messed up with chicks right now. There's a lot of cash at stake.”

I studied him for a moment. “Oh? You need the cash, Cooper?”

He looked back at me blankly. “Well, yeah. Of course. Why else would I be doing this?”

I laughed. “Some people want to do it for the fun of it.”

He shook his head. “Maybe that mother-and-son. They don't know what it feels like to have cameras follow you around all day. Or the Double Ds, they want the limelight so they can get discovered. Have you heard them sing? They're pretty good.”

I nodded. “Yeah. But you've got money, right Cooper? Big NFL star like you?”

He leaned forward. “Well, you have money, too, right? You won the last show.”

I shrugged. “No tax planning . . . old medical bills . . .”

“Me and you are in the same boat, sister. So where's your cute friend?”

I understood now. He wanted to know about Becca because he wanted to get information out of her about the next contest.

“She won't tell you anything.”

He quirked an eyebrow at me, giving his most irresistible and practiced smile. “How do you know?”

“She doesn't tell me anything and I'm a lot cuter than you are.”

He laughed. “Don't underestimate me.”

“You don't need to cheat. You're going to win. No one can compete with you.”

He drummed his fingers on his legs. “Yeah, well, don't forget about Todd.”

“What about him?”

Cooper got up and headed toward the door, mumbling, “Weak link.”

As soon as Cooper left, I knew it was time for action. I put on my sneakers and slipped out of the back door of the B&B.

T
he doorman held the heavy glass door open for me as I entered the Spanish Moon. Inside, the lobby resembled a historic mansion. Framed in the center of the far wall was a fresco and off to the left was a wrought-iron elevator. I followed the fancy red carpeting over to the mahogany front desk.

I felt grossly underdressed in jeans and sneakers, but the woman working the reception desk made no note of it. Her black hair was secured in a bun and she wore dark red lipstick.

She smiled when she saw me. “
Buenas noches, señorita
.”

“
Sí, buenas noches
,” I said, taxing my limited knowledge of Spanish. “I'm looking for someone. Can you tell me if a
Señor
Scott—”

She made a sharp motion with her hand. “No, no, no,” she said. “Hotel guest lists are confidential.”

My heart sunk. I didn't have a plan B.

What was I thinking?

This was a world-class hotel, they weren't about to give out a guest's information to someone who walked in from the street, in sneakers no less!

“
Señor
Matthew Barrett,” I said. “He wrote a book.
Spanish Moon
.”

She shrugged her shoulders as if she didn't know it and could care less.

“Please,” I begged. “My boyfriend's gone missing and I thought . . . I think he could be here.” I pressed a hand to my heart hoping to appeal to hers.

She smiled sadly, tilting her head to the side as she said, “Yes, many men who don't want to be found are here. I'm sorry,
señorita
, I cannot help you, except to say that if your man is
missing
, forget him.” She flicked her hand as if dismissing me.

“He's not that kind of missing,” I said. Although I really didn't know, but it seemed worth a shot. “He's in danger kind of missing.”

She leveled a gaze at me. “In danger? Then you should call the police.” With that she picked up a pen and began to look over her paperwork. Our conversation was over.

I'd struck out, but you don't get fired from San Francisco's police department for following the rules. I'd stake the hotel out. I could wait with the best of them.

“Is there a bar here?” I asked.

The woman put down her pen and drummed her red lacquered nails on the desk. Her eyes were slits as she studied me, then when I thought she would kick me out
she said, “Take the elevator to the top floor. You will have a lovely view of the fireworks.”

I crossed over to the wrought-iron elevator and pressed the button. Humiliation swelled inside me. What was I doing here? What did I hope to find? Scott/Matthew in bed with some Spanish beauty?

I'd felt certain that Sergio and Montserrat being here meant they had a lead on Scott, but perhaps they were only at the hotel because of the name.

On the fifth floor, I stepped out of the elevator and into the bar. It was brightly lit and decorated with teal and yellow. There were groups of people at various tables. None of them Scott.

The far wall of the bar was entirely made of glass. There was a breathtaking view of the Plaza de Toros which was illuminated in bright lights.

I sat alone at one of the tables and had a good view of the door. If Scott was staying at this hotel, sooner or later he'd hit the bar. Wouldn't he?

I perused the tapas menu while I waited, carefully keeping an eye on the entrance. A familiar figure appeared in the doorway. My heart pounded out of my chest and I hid behind my menu. But by the sound of the approaching footsteps, I could tell he'd spotted me.

Had he followed me to the hotel?

“Do you like the view here better than at my little church?” Sergio asked.

It wouldn't do any good to confess to him my suspicions about Scott, so instead I gave him my best smile and said, “I heard they serve a mean
sangría
at the Spanish Moon.”

“Not better than
Señora
Antonia's at the Jaca B&B. Those are the best in town.”

I shrugged. “I needed to get away from the cast and stuff.”

He rested a hand on the back of a chair. I noted he wasn't dressed in the traditional white garb of the fiestas. Instead he wore dark pants and a blue button-down shirt. He was working tonight. He asked, “May I sit down?”

I glanced in a very obvious way toward the door of the bar. “Oh, I'm meeting my father here,” I lied.

He frowned. “I saw your father back at the jousting tournament. He was with his lady friend, Cheryl.”

“Right,” I said. “They're going to meet me here later,” I lied.

He studied me with his dark eyes. He knew I was lying. “It is not typical in Spain for a woman to go have a drink alone.” He pulled back the chair he held and seated himself at my table. “I can accompany you for a
sangría
.”

“I don't need a chaperone,” I protested.

“It is not safe for women to drink alone,” he insisted. “Not during the fiestas, when everyone gets out of hand.”

“Come on. I used to be a cop. I can take care of myself.”

He smiled mischievously. “No, no. I insist. I'll sit with you.”

Now I'd have to make up conversation and try to figure out how I could get him off Scott's tail. I imagined Scott walking into the bar. Did Sergio know what he looked like? He must. He had a record of his passport.

“So, you've cleared Victoria and Parker to leave town, huh?” I asked.

He nodded. “I can't hold them. I don't have the evidence.”

“Are you going to release the rest of the cast?”

He shook his head. “I can't, no. Not yet.”

A passing waiter came by and placed coasters in front of us as Sergio said, “
Dos sangrías.
” When the waiter retreated, Sergio asked. “You look very sad, Georgia. Did you find Scott here?”

“No, did you?” I asked.

He cocked his head to the side and studied me. “No, Monse and I were here earlier. He is not registered here.”

“I know. I saw you two this afternoon. Dad and I caught a cab out in front and I saw you leaving.”

Sergio fiddled with the coaster that was in front of him.

“How did you know I was here now?” I asked. “Did you follow me?”

He shook his head. “No, I figured you think like I do. As soon I realized Matthew Barrett's book title was the same as the hotel, I came to investigate.”

The waiter approached with our sangrias and placed a glass in front of each of us. Sergio took a sip and asked. “If he left you, why are you looking for him?”

I laughed bitterly.

It was a good question. Why couldn't I accept the fact that Scott had broken up with me?

“There was something strange about that email.” I shrugged. “I can't explain it. Gut feeling.”

“Monse has a gut feeling, too.”

I quirked an eyebrow at him. “Oh, yeah? What's her gut feeling?”

Running a hand through his hair, he lowered his eyes, giving me a glimpse of his dark thick eyelashes. “Annalise was with a man the night she was killed. Monse thinks maybe you came upon Scott and Annalise together. She thinks you lost your temper and killed the girl. Scared off Scott.”

“What? That's absurd!”

The weight of what he was saying suddenly hit me. It was me. They weren't letting the show move on from Jaca because of
me
!

I slammed my fist into the table, nearly toppling over my
sangría
. “I'm your top suspect!” I shouted.

Several people from a nearby table glanced in our direction but said nothing.

Sergio remained calm in the face of my hysterics. He said, “She thinks you sent the email to yourself to fool us.”

“I didn't send the email! And anyway if I did, I would have sent the email to myself, not my father.”

That was it.

Why had Scott sent the note to Dad?

My head began to throb and I found it hard to concentrate.

“She thinks you are pretending to still be in love with him,” Sergio continued. “Because you think that will throw us off.”

“She's wrong!” I said.

“I know.” He suddenly had a wistful expression on his face. “I know you aren't pretending.”

“What?”

He took a sip of his
sangría
. “You still love him. It makes no sense.”

I pressed my fingers to my temples. He was right. Scott had abandoned me, lied to me. Completely humiliated me. I didn't even know who he really was.

Scott or Matthew?

And here I was camped out hoping to find him!

What was wrong with me? I was pathetic.

I stood to go, as if the hotel was on fire. I couldn't wait to get out of here and get back to the B&B to be alone with my shame.

Sergio stood with me. “Don't do that.”

“Do what?” I asked.

He came to stand next to me, pulling a handkerchief from his pocket. He pressed the silken cloth to my face, wiping the tears I hadn't even realized I was shedding. He cupped my head and pulled me into his shoulders. “Don't cry, Georgia.”

“I'm so stupid,” I sobbed.

“No,” he said. “Scott is the stupid one. But don't worry. People can't stay hidden forever. I will find him. You can be sure of that.”