A Second Chance at Murder Page 19

  EXT. CITADEL DAY

  Todd is standing in front of an eight-foot wall of cypress. He chews on his lip as he looks away. He is dressed in a green jersey that does little for his coloring. In fact, he looks nauseous.

  TODD

  (Licks his lips) I’m Todd Nelson. One of the contestants on Expedition Improbable. I’m competing with my buddy, Cooper Bowman. Big NFL guy. (He waves his hand around as if dismissing Cooper.) Everybody knows Coop. Everybody loves Coop.

  Anyway, I figured we were probably a shoe-in from the start. Cooper’s just so competitive. Man, he’s not going to let anyone get between us and the prize money. But, hey, I’ll say this. That little girl, Georgia, and her dad. They are tough competition. They are in it to win it. But so are we.

  CAMERAMAN (O.S.)

  Are you enjoying yourself?

  TODD

  Oh, heck yeah. (waves his hands around) This is some beautiful country, lots of partying, too. But maybe it got a little too wild the other night. Well, shoot, who am I kidding? The partying has been out of control since we got here. Ever since the first night when Cooper hooked up with that Spanish woman in the mountains. (He pulls on his ear.) Well, I probably shouldn’t talk about that on camera. Coop’s done a pretty good job keeping it under wraps. I don’t think anyone knew except for me and Victoria. And he kept her quiet by keeping her happy. And he can keep me quiet by doing his all to win this prize money. (His face flushes and he turns red with anger.) Because I’ll tell you, I’m tired of keeping secrets and getting no thank-you in return. (He looks off in the distance, chewing on the inside of his mouth.)

  But anyway, I know he feels bad about hooking up with the woman. Well, not exactly bad about hooking up with her, but bad about what happened to her later and he wonders if it’s his fault. (He sighs.) I suppose there’s things we all regret. Things we wonder if we caused . . . (He pauses and buries his face in his hands. After a moment, he suddenly jolts upright.) Can you guys edit this last section out? I’m exhausted and just talking nonsense. Ignore me.

  Twenty-four

  The Plaza de Toros was at the end of a long street lined with pubs and restaurants. The cab dropped us off in front, but the aroma of calamari and potatoes frying that came from a nearby bodega nearly detoured Dad.

  I pulled on his shirtsleeve and directed him toward the main door of the plaza. The entrance was large enough for horses and carriages to enter and above the door was a central balcony decorated with wrought-iron metalwork. On either side of the balcony were two tall Tuscan columns with the royal shield of Spain in the center, bordered by Baroque edging that depicted images of bullfights.

  “Wow,” Dad said as we entered the ring. “This is amazing!”

  There was a matador in the center of the ring, dressed in a white shirt, gold close-fitting tights, and a short red jacket that had rich embroidery and sequins. The matador waved a red cape, and Dad looked around nervously.

  “Are we sure a bull’s not going to pop out of nowhere and charge at us?” he asked.

  As we rushed toward the matador, Kyle snickered. He ran ahead of us and positioned himself for the next shot.

  When we approached the matador, I realized it was a woman. She must be Carmen, but she had a rather surprised expression on her face.

  “Hello! We’re here for the clue!” I said.

  Her expression turned from surprised to confused. “Clue?” she asked, with a heavy Spanish accent. “I’m sorry?”

  “The clue,” Dad said.

  She blinked thick black eyelashes at us. She was breathtakingly beautiful and I knew instantly why Cheryl had hired her. “Are you Carmen?” I asked.

  “Carmen? No. I am Monica.”

  Dad frowned. “We’re looking for a clue. We’re on the show Expedition Improbable.”

  A moment of recognition crossed her face as she looked from Dad and me over to the camera Kyle had fixed on her. “The show? The American show that everyone in Jaca is talking about?”

  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Kyle smirking and I knew something was wrong.

  “Have you come to film me?” Monica asked. She raised a coquettish shoulder at the camera. “Because I am a woman matador. There are few of us. Will you put me on American TV?”

  “No, no, no.” I turned to Dad.

  “Is it because we are reopening the ring for the first time this summer after the ETA attack? Have you come to do a story on that?”

  “This is a mistake,” I said. “We made a mistake. Let me see the clue again.”

  At this, Kyle laughed outright.

  I glared at him. “Shut up! If you’re not going to help you can just—”

  “Georgia!” Dad admonished me. “It’s not his fault. Let’s just take a look.” He dug around his pocket for the clue.

  “Maybe I can help,” Monica said. “What are you looking for?”

  Dad pulled the clue of his pocket. “At the bodega find your bullring and enjoy a calimocho with Carmen,” Dad read.

  Monica laughed. “Ah! It’s like a scavenger hunt, no? I know because my cousin’s, cousin’s, second cousin’s, brother-in-law is working on the show.”

  “What?” Dad asked.

  Monica smiled. “My cousin Maria Fernada’s cousin, Maria Juliana, has a second cousin, Juan Gabriel, who is married to Harrieta—”

  “You had to ask,” I said to Dad.

  “And Harrieta is Juan Jose’s sister. Juan Jose works on your show, no?”

  Dad looked at me, confused. “I didn’t hear a Carmen in there, did you?”

  Monica laughed. “Carmen owns the bodega across the street. Come, I will show you.”

  Dad and I nearly flew out of the bullring, although we were slowed down because of my ankle. As we crossed through the main gate, Monica pointed to one of the Tuscan columns. She indicated new plaster at the base. “This is what we had to reconstruct last year after the bomb.”

  We exited the plaza and in front of us was the bodega with the aromatic frying foods. Dad smiled, despite himself. “My nose knows!” he said, happily.

  Monica ignored him and continued. “It’s terrible what ETA does. I told Juan Jose not to get involved with that woman Annabelle . . . or AnnaLuisa? Anna, whatever, it doesn’t matter now.”

  I froze.

  Annalise?

  Suddenly we saw Cooper and Todd dart out of the bodega. They were startled to see us and Cooper waved madly, a large gold bull ring in his hand.

  “See ya later, suckers!” Todd yelled, as they dashed to the corner to hail a cab.

  Dad grabbed my arm, but I shook him off. “Wait, wait. What did you just say?” I asked Monica.

  She frowned. “About what?”

  “Juan Jose and Annalise? Was it a woman named Annalise?”

  “¡Sí! He was in love with that woman from ETA. Somebody killed her and I can’t say that I’m sorry.”

  • • •

  Dad wanted to rush into the bodega, have a calimocho with Carmen, and get the bullring, but I remained frozen in place.

  Juan Jose?

  Could it be that he’d killed Annalise?

  If he had been in love with her, it didn’t seem likely, but what did he know that he hadn’t told us?

  “Come on,” Dad said, pulling me forward.

  “I need to talk to Juan Jose,” I said.

  “Later!” Dad insisted. “Come on, Cooper and Todd aren’t that far ahead of us, we can still win this thing.”

  Inside the bodega, there was a transgenerational mix of an old crowd playing cards along with young families eating tapas. The bar was so dark in contrast to the bright daylight that Kyle had to boost the light on his camera. The light didn’t seem to bother the people at the bar much, as Cooper and Todd’s cameraman had probably done the same.

  There was a musky smell in the bar that made me want to
root myself to a bar stool and hibernate.

  The woman behind the counter smiled expectantly and quirked a finely shaped eyebrow at us. “¿Calimocho?”

  “Carmen?” Dad asked.

  “Sí,” she said, filling two glasses with ice and mixed red wine and cola together.

  “Do you have a bull ring for us?” I asked.

  “Sí,” she said, “but first enjoy!” She pushed the calimochos in front of us and suddenly someone with a guitar began to strum and sing a folk song.

  Dad downed his drink. “That hit the spot! Do we have to stay for the show in order to get the ring?”

  “I think so. It must be someone’s cousin’s, cousin’s, somebody that cut a deal with Cheryl when she was out drinking yesterday with Becca, Kyle, and Harris.”

  Dad laughed. “Well, do you think I can at least have some fried potatoes?”

  “Don’t order food. I’ll kill you if we lose the competition because you were sitting here stuffing your face instead of having your head in the game.”

  Dad looked longingly at the card game going on near us and eyed their plate of jamón serrano. “Drink your cali-whatever. It’s not bad,” he said.

  I pushed it toward him. “You can have it. Let’s wrap this up, I want to find Juan Jose and talk to him.”

  Dad polished off my calimocho, just as the singer finished his solo.

  We applauded, then looked at Carmen. She smiled and handed us the gold ring.

  INT. BODEGA DAY

  Cooper is smiling good-naturedly at the camera. He is dressed in a white shirt and chinos. He sits in the chair with his back to the wood paneled wall. He is holding a tall tumbler filled with dark liquid. In the background faint Spanish guitar music plays.

  COOPER

  (Sips the drink) I’m Cooper Bowman. One of the contestants on Expedition Improbable. I’m competing with my buddy Todd Nelson. He’s a strange cat, I know, but I put up with him and he puts up with me. Not that he hasn’t pissed me off this trip, but . . .

  (shrugs) Winning this game is important for me. I have some bills . . . well, the wife and I . . . ex-wife? (shrugs again in a repeated fashion) I don’t know what to call her anymore. Expect that it’s over and she’s taken everything! Not that she doesn’t deserve it, cuz she does, but then . . . (He sips his drink.) I gotta earn some money for me. That’s all. And I can do it. This here race is going to put us over the top.

  (He switches positions in the chair and grimaces.)

  CAMERAMAN (O.S.)

  You okay, Cooper?

  COOPER

  Oh, yeah, yeah. It’s only the old football injury; sometimes it rears its ugly head. I just wish I had my pain med . . . (He stops suddenly as if he recalled something disturbing.) Uh, never mind. I’m fine.

  Twenty-five

  After we left the bodega, the bright daylight stung my eyes. We said our good-byes and caught a cab on the corner. We asked him to speed toward the Bridge of San Miguel.

  Kyle arranged himself in the front of the cab, switched off the camera and then swiveled around to face us.

  “Boy, I thought you guys were really going to lose the contest when you went to the Plaza de Toros instead of the bodega, but I got some fantastic shots of that lady matador. Cheryl’s really going to be pleased.”

  “I knew something was up when you kept laughing like a hyena,” Dad said.

  Kyle took offense to the hyena comment and flipped back around to feign interest in the road.

  “What about Juan Jose?” I asked Dad. “The matador lady said he was in love with Annalise.”

  Dad shrugged. “Yeah, so?”

  “I have a really bad feeling. Sergio told me Annalise had been with a man the night she was killed. He said that Montserrat thought I might have come upon Scott and Annalise together. And Scott killed her.”

  “That’s ridiculous!” Dad said.

  “I know, but the theory works the other way around, too, right? What if Juan Jose was in love with the girl and he found she’d just been with someone else?”

  “Like who?”

  The cab driver exited the interchange, leaving the town behind. We were once again headed into a more rural area of northern Spain. Ahead of us another cab lumbered in the same direction we were heading, toward the medieval bridge.

  “As much as I hate to say it. Cooper. He’d been skulking around camp that night . . . Actually, come to think of it, what about his leg injury? He takes meds for the pain sometimes. Miguel died of an overdose . . . What if he figured out that Cooper was with Annalise that night?”

  “You think Cooper killed Annalise and Miguel?”

  “Cooper’s not a killer!” Kyle piped up from the front seat.

  We were now directly behind the other cab. Both Cooper and Todd turned in the backseat to look at us. Cooper was all smiles and waving, while Todd had a mean look on his face. There was no oncoming traffic, except the little yellow SEAT, which crossed our path like a shot. I wondered where Cheryl might be running off to. Had she forgotten something for the finale?

  Ahead the Bridge of San Miguel came into view. It was long with an asymmetrical profile. One side rested directly on the right hand bank of the Río Aragón, which was higher, while on the left-hand bank, the bridge rose above from the river’s floodplain.

  The bridge had a central arch and a double-sloped profile. On our side of the road, the bridge was barricaded. There was a temporary rock-climbing wall affixed to the south side entrance. On the other side of the bridge, I could see Cheryl and Becca standing off to the side chatting with Harris. Our blue tarp was visible and some crew members were huddled near it. Presumably, we were meant to scale the rock wall in order to reach the finish line.

  The cabbie pulled to the side of the road. “I cannot go any further,” he said.

  We piled out of the cab, just as Cooper and Todd tumbled out of the cab ahead of us.

  I darted toward Cooper. “I have to talk to you!”

  He grinned widely. “Sure darling, in a minute. I’m kinda busy winning right now.”

  Todd rushed the wall, scaling the bottom piece in no time. Below, the Rio Aragon raged by and for a moment I feared he’d fall off the makeshift rock wall and into the river.

  Dad sprinted to the wall, yelling over his shoulder. “Come on, Georgia! You can talk to him later.”

  I grabbed Cooper’s arm. “It’s important! That night at camp—”

  “You can’t talk about that on film!” Kyle shouted, suddenly angling the camera away from us toward the river. “Cheryl will kill us.”

  “I don’t care what Cheryl thinks,” I screamed. “That night at camp. The girl, Cooper, did you hook up with her? What happened? Tell me!”

  Todd turned back, looking down at us from the wall. “Cooper! Come on! We need the cash, buddy. Let’s go.”

  Todd and Cooper’s cameraman had already found an alternate route to the other side of the rock wall and was capturing us from a different angle.

  Cooper chuckled. “Don’t worry now, darling. I didn’t hurt that pretty lady. Everything I ever do is consensual. You hear what I’m saying?” He jogged over to the rock wall. I noticed he limped as he ran.

  “What’s up with your leg? Why are you limping?” I chased after him. “Where’s your medicine?”

  “Shut up!” Todd screamed at me from the wall. “Leave him alone!”

  Dad was already at the top of the wall, just beginning his descent. “Georgia! Come on!”

  “Did you kill her, Cooper? What about Miguel? Was he asking questions? He figured you out and you overdosed him with your meds, right?”

  “No!” Cooper said. “You got it all wrong. I never hurt no one!”

  “Get away from her! Cooper,” Todd yelled. “Leave her! We can win this thing.”

  Cooper scrambled up the wall, it seemed a ridiculously easy ef
fort for him. Dad jumped off on the other side and sprinted toward the finish line. Todd scaled down the wall in hot pursuit after Dad. The one cameraman jogged after them.

  I climbed the wall, while Kyle found his way around it in order to keep filming. Cooper got to the top and stayed in place, one leg dangling on each side of the wall.

  He reached out and helped me to the top. “Georgia, you have to believe me. I didn’t hurt that woman. I would never kill anyone.”

  We sat on top of the wall, looking down at that mighty river as it rushed past us.

  “Someone did, Cooper. Do you have your pain meds?”

  He closed his eyes and sighed. “They’re gone.” When he opened his eyes, he looked in Todd’s direction with a sad expression on his face.

  I recalled their argument in the halls of the B&B that morning I’d found Miguel.

  “Todd?” I asked. “Did he kill Miguel in order to protect you?”

  “Hell no! Girl, are you kidding me? Todd ain’t no killer! Just a little bit of an addict, you know?”

  We looked at the finish line, both Todd and Dad had made it to the blue tarp and each one was watching us expectantly.

  I hitched my legs over the wall and started the descent. “I guess we need to finish this thing, so I can talk to Todd.”

  Cooper stayed in place on top of the wall. “Go on ahead.”

  “What? No, come on, Cooper.”

  “My leg hurts, you go on.”

  “No! You’ve got to run, fair and square. Suck it up. Walk it off, or whatever else they tell you in the NFL.”

  He chuckled. “I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for you, girl. You gave me that chalice and got us a two-hour advantage.”

  “Well, if you look at it that way, Cooper, I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for you, either. I’d be dead.” I turned to run the length of the bridge and shouted over my shoulder. “Now, come on down off that wall and beat me to the finish if you can!”

  He perked up and slide down the wall in no time. I ran as fast as I could, ignoring the pain that shot through my ankle with each step. Cooper must have been in similar pain, because he yelled out with each stride.