Gold Medal Murder (4 page)

I looked at the door I had entered. It wasn't that far away. I began to calculate the distance. If I leaped from this statue to the back of the armchair, and stepped from there onto the dining table, and from there to the love seat… It looked like I could make it back without ever touching the floor.

The first part was going to be the hardest. The armchair was a good four feet away, and if I landed wrong, I'd go flying to the ground, where I'd be lucky if I just broke my neck and wasn't bitten by a snake. Or three.

I psyched myself up to jump.

“One… two… three!”

I leaped. I hung in the air for a split second, and then my right foot landed hard on the wooden back of the chair. Immediately, the chair tipped back onto two legs. I brought my left foot down onto one of the arms, hoping to balance the weight and keep from falling over entirely. For a second, the chair teetered, trying to decide whether to go back to standing on four legs or fall all the way over. I windmilled my arms, trying
to balance as best I could. Then the chair landed back down. I let out a sigh of relief. Safe.

After that, the rest of the trip was easy. I made it to the door without ever stepping once on the floor. Once in the hallway, I raced back to the training center.

“Help!” I screamed, as soon as I got through the doors. “Snakes! There are snakes in the house!”

It was kind of fun to act like a frightened teenager, instead of having to be the calm one who solved the problem. But it seemed like I did it a little too well. At first, no one believed my wild story of a living room full of rattlesnakes.

Thankfully, Joe came to my rescue.

“Scott,” he said, his hand touching Scott's shoulder, “you never know. Maybe he did see something. We should probably call pest control, just to be safe.”

Joe's presence was a good reminder that Scott was in danger. Scott nodded and had Lee make some calls.

Thirty minutes later, two guys in stiff denim overalls entered the house with nets and canvas bags. Fifteen minutes later, they came back with not one, not two, but
nine
rattlesnakes. Everyone breathed a sigh of relief—until one of the men dumped his bag on the floor! Snakes poured out everywhere.

One of the snakes landed right by Lexi. She screamed and brought her foot down on its head. Then she leaped backward.

“What the—” yelled Scott.

“Don't worry,” said one of the wildlife control guys. “They're not dangerous.”

He bent down and grabbed one of the snakes by the head.

“In fact, they aren't even real.”

He flipped the snake over and popped open a lid in its belly. Out dropped two double-A batteries. They were robots. Incredibly convincing, totally harmless, robots.

“Looks like someone's playing a prank on you,” the guy said. “Got a younger brother or something?”

Younger brother—or stalker? Everyone laughed and tried to pass it off as a silly joke, but I met Joe's eye and knew he was thinking the same thing I was. Someone was trying to psych Scott out.

The suspense was starting to kill me. It was just barely after sunrise on the morning we were set to leave for LA, and my dad had just dropped me off in a small parking lot near the highway that led out of River City. Between words of advice (“Always have money for a cab, just in case” and “Don't bet against the Russian gymnasts”), he adamantly refused to tell me why he was taking me… wherever it was we were going.

For the last two weeks, the only thing that George, Bess, and I could talk about was our upcoming road trip. That's right: road trip! Through a mixture of begging, pleading, and promising to do a million chores when we got back, we'd gotten our families to agree to let us drive on out to Los Angeles. Ever since I'd gotten my
sky blue hybrid-electric car—nicknamed “Twinkle”—we'd been talking about taking a road trip somewhere, and this seemed like the perfect time. What could be more all-American than taking a road trip across the country out to see the Olympics?

Besides, the three of us were the perfect trio to go on a road trip. Bess could fix any car, anywhere, at any time. George had so many GPS devices and other electronic navigation tools that she was almost part robot. And I, of course, had Twinkle.

Or rather, I
had
Twinkle. A week ago, he'd disappeared from the street outside my house. I almost had a heart attack, but my dad told me not to worry about it—Bess and George had a surprise for me. No matter how hard I begged them, they wouldn't tell me what the surprise was. Not that I saw much of them. From the moment the car disappeared, Bess and George were gone too. Once I saw Bess on Main Street, wearing an oil-smeared jumpsuit, but somehow still looking her model fabulous self. She scurried in the other direction when she saw me coming, though.

I sat on my luggage in the parking lot, blowing on my big Thermos of coffee, just waiting for the moment it was cool enough to chug. I was not a morning person. This coffee was a medical necessity.

Suddenly, I heard the sound of a car approaching. I shaded my eyes with my hand, and saw a sky blue car
headed directly at me. It looked almost like Twinkle, if Twinkle were a convertible. Then I saw the heads of the driver and passenger. There was no mistaking the mass of blond curls beneath an Audrey Hepburn–style scarf-and-sunglasses combo or the no-nonsense brown ponytail. That was Bess and George… which meant that was Twinkle!

“Surprise!” they yelled as they pulled up beside me.

I couldn't say a thing. I just stared at the beautiful car beside me. They'd not only made Twinkle a convertible, but they'd also redone his paint job and managed to knock out all the dings and dents I'd put in him along the way. He looked beautiful.

“What? How? I mean, wow!”

“You like it?” said Bess.

“You know it!” I replied, running my hand against the smooth medal side.

“I remembered how much you loved the fleet of hybrid-electric cars they had down at The Wetlands—so we decided to make you one of your very own!”

The Wetlands had nearly spelled the death of Bess, George, and me—as well as our friends, Frank and Joe Hardy. But they were right; the cars were nice. Maybe the nicest thing about our time there, other than seeing the bad guy behind bars.

“We made a few other modifications.” George smiled. She began to point at various things along the dashboard.
“This is an input line for your MP3 player. I mean, what's a road trip without good music, right? And this”—George pulled out the key and held it up so I could see the new ring it was on—“is an auto starter. Now you can turn it on from a hundred feet away!”

This was awesome! No more waiting for the car to heat up on cold mornings—or trying to find it in large parking lots. Sometimes, when I was on a case, I forgot little details like where I had parked.

George tossed the keys at me and scooted into the backseat.

“What are you waiting for?” yelled Bess. “Hop in!”

They didn't need to tell me twice. I took the driver's seat.

“Los Angeles, here we come!”

The next five days were pure pleasure. We took a leisurely route, stopping at every tacky road side attraction, mini–petting zoo, mammoth cave, natural wonder, and mysterious rock formation between River Heights and Los Angeles. We camped out most nights to save money. The weather was perfect—sunny during the day, but cool at night so that it was easy to sleep. It was almost relaxing enough to help me forget that we were on our way to one of the craziest cities in the country, where a friend of mine was receiving death threats!

On the afternoon of our fifth day, we started to hit
traffic—according to our guidebook, that was a sure sign that we were near LA! The smog started too. For the time being, we decided to put the top back up.

“Okay, girls,” said Bess. “Get your star-spotting glasses on. I'm not leaving here without at least a few autographs.”

“You know, if we head down toward Venice Boulevard, I hear there are a couple of movie studios down that way. You'd be sure to get some autographs there,” said George. “And I could stop in and see if I could get a tour of the animation studios. You wouldn't believe what they're doing with CGI these days! It's incredible.”

They were both so excited, they talked as though they had just downed six shots of espresso each. I hated to cut them off, but we had a few things to attend to first.

“How about we find the hotel, and then go sightseeing?”

“Right. Sorry, Nancy.” Bess blushed.

“I'll get us directions.” George whipped out her smart phone, and soon we were headed deep into the heart of Los Angeles, looking for the Starlet Grand Hotel. When we found it, it was every bit as “grand” as we could have hoped. There was a red carpet leading up a set of marble steps, with two golden lion statues roaring on either side. My dad had a friend in LA who owed him a few favors from work that they had done together in the past, and he'd pulled some strings to get us a suite here. Not only
was it a beautiful building in one of the ritziest areas in LA, it was also the same hotel where Lexi was staying!

At first, I thought it was strange that Lexi wasn't staying at the Olympic Village with most of the other athletes. When I'd asked her about it, she'd blushed and stammered. Finally, she'd admitted that it was her father's idea. He didn't want her to stay anywhere near Scott. Her dad was superprotective when it came to Lexi dating. Even though the men and women were staying in different areas of the Olympic Village, he wanted Lexi somewhere even farther away, preferably where he could stay and keep an eye on her.

On the plus side, it meant I could keep an eye on her too. We'd managed to score the suite directly below Lexi. I'd wanted something on the same floor, but the Starlet was pretty booked up due to the Olympics, and we were lucky to get anything.

“Look at this balcony!” said Bess as we settled into our rooms. “You can see the entire city from here!”

“Look at all the neon!” said George.

The famous skyline of LA was just beginning to come to life as the sun went down. It was a beautiful sight. And the guidebooks told the truth—the sunset was a thousand different colors: red and gold and orange and yellow, but also green and blue at the edges.

Bess and George would be sharing the larger of the two bedrooms, which had two full-size beds. The smaller
room only had a twin bed, but I liked the privacy. Sometimes, when on a case, I've been known to stay up way late making up theories and going over the evidence, and I didn't want to disturb Bess or George.

Once we had everything squared away, we headed upstairs to find Lexi.

“Room 1407—here it is!”

I knocked on the door. No answer, but I could hear someone moving around. I knocked again. Nothing.

“Maybe they're not—” Bess started to say, when the door was pulled open a crack.

“What?”

David Adams had never been the friendliest citizen of River Heights. And even though Lexi had been in school with the three of us since kindergarten, he didn't seem to recognize—or even really look at—Bess, George, or me.

“No autographs,” he said briskly.

He went to shut the door, but I shoved my foot in it.

“Ow!” That door was heavy! But so long as the door was still open, I had the chance of getting in touch with Lexi. “Mr. Adams, we're friends of Lexi's! From River Heights!”

Mr. Adams didn't look convinced. He went to close the door again, but then a voice called out from behind him. “Nancy? Is that you?”

Lexi came running up behind her dad. Reluctantly,
he opened the door all the way. Lexi's face appeared next to her father. The resemblance between the two of them was strong, except when it came to their expressions. David looked angry and suspicious. Lexi looked excited, but also worried.

“Remember, Dad—I told you some of the girls from school were coming to watch the Olympics.”

Lexi shot me a look as she spoke. I could take a hint. Ix-nay on the death threat talk while her dad was around. I couldn't blame her—the last thing she needed was for her father to have one more reason to be overprotective. Although, given the evidence, perhaps he had reason to be overprotective.

“We're so excited to watch you compete, Lexi,” said Bess.

“It's going to be awesome,” I added. “We just got in and were thinking of getting some dinner. Want to come with us?”

Lexi looked at her father, her eyes pleading with him. He was silent for a full ten seconds. Ten long, quiet seconds. Finally, he shook his head yes.

“So long as you girls stay in the hotel. And remember, you have training bright and early tomorrow! And don't go seeing that
boy
. I swear, he's ruining your training schedule. Good for nothing…”

Lexi shut the door on her father's grumbling. We were all silent for a second, then burst out laughing. Of
course that was her dad's biggest worry—Scott!

The Starlet's restaurant was named Dinner Theater. Like many things in LA, it revolved around Hollywood. There were photos of famous actors everywhere. Many were photos of the actors actually at the Starlet Grand Hotel. Almost all of them were signed. Every dish on the menu was named for a famous movie, like the “Snow Whitefish” and the “Mystic Pizza Pie.”

Sitting at the table over dinner, Lexi seemed to relax somewhat. She told us all about the training regimen, and all of the excitement leading up to the Olympics. It seemed like every major television station, magazine, and newspaper were all here—and they all wanted to talk to her. Being one of the youngest American Olympiads had its pluses. And everyone loved the story of her and Scott, or “The Olympic Power Couple,” as the tabloids had taken to calling them.

“Before I forget,” Lexi said over dessert, “I got these for you guys.”