And yet another chapter of my story. I think you guys deserve another chappie. After all, my internet has been down since Sunday!
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"Dangit!" Jimmy shouted when he arrived at the scene. "Why can't anybody be murdered in their own room?"
He was once again staring at a picture so horrific, you had to have built resistance to gory scenes in order to be able to tolerate it. Again, as in the first one, the murder was in his hotel room, the one he hadn't been occupying since the murder of Michael. The bedroom had just recently been cleared as a crime scene and the hotel was allowed to put it back as a hotel room. Jimmy was supposed to be moving back into the room that very night.
But, as in most murders, the room wasn't exactly the focal point. The body of Ms. Elizabeth Montague was bloodied and bruised upon the carpeted floor. Two gunshot wounds to the head seemed to be the cause of death. The search for the weapon was apparently starting as Jimmy got there, and the body was being moved.
Chapter 7
"Well, Jimmy," Inspector Takero said, appearing over his shoulder, "Things don't look too good for you. This is the second murder to be committed inside this hotel room, which is still yours. The first murder weapon was discovered inside your safe, which had your prints all over it. That is also where we're expecting to discover the second weapon, a .42 calibur pistol, which you have no authorization for, I checked,"
Jimmy had to admit, his situation looked grave. Whoever had done this was definately a smart one, trying to pin this on him. The only ones who would believe him were Rachel and Harley, since they were the only ones who knew who he was. He couldn't get immunity from anybody else without blowing his alibi.
A moment later, a bloody pistol was taken to the inspector inside an evidence bag.
"Inside the safe, sir. Just like you said," the officer smirked, saluting the inspector.
"Good work," he said. "See this, Ikudo? This is my ticket to your jail sentence,"
"It could be registered," Jimmy spoke suddenly.
"What?" the inspector said, baffled.
"The gun. It's not mine. I know I can't prove it, but I've never owned a gun in my life. I don't even know how to shoot one. But still, if it belongs to someone else, it'll be registered,"
The inspector seemed to grumble at this piece of overlooked evidence. Jimmy sighed inside at the bought time he had. They couldn't arrest him until they found out who the gun belonged to. But knowing this murderer, it was probably registered under him anyway. He figured that the only way to clear his name would be to solve this case.
"Inspector!" Harley said from the doorway. Upon seeing the body, he winced. He looked slyly at Jimmy, showing a apologetic expression.
"Harley! We found the weapon without you this time. It was in the same place, the safe,"
"What?" Harley said, disbelievingly.
"Well, I suppose Ikudo here had a little crush on Montague. Like a little Romeo and Juliet. Ha! I crack me up,"
"No I didn't!" Jimmy said at the completely wrong assumption made by the inspector.
"Well then, would you mind clearing your motive for us?" Takero said, freshly.
"I don't have one! I didn't do it!" Jimmy said.
"Still sticking by that, are you? You know, if you confess, your jail sentence may be shortened,"
"But I didn't do it!" Jimmy insisted.
"Inspector? Perhaps if you let me try again?" Harley suggested. "Please, come this way. Rachel, if we might use your room?"
"Certainly," Rachel said, allowing them into her hotel room, convieniently located next to the crime scene.
Inside the room, Jimmy plopped onto the bed, exhausted. Rachel closed the door, certain that no one would notice her absence. Harly fixed himself up inside one of the armchairs.
"Jeez, Kudo," he began. "If I didn't know you, I'd be convinced of your guiltiness,"
"I know. That's what makes it all the harder to figure out. Whoever really did this is a mastermind. He doesn't leave any clues behind,"
"Maybe there's fingerprints... on the gun," Rachel suggested.
"Unlikely," Harley said. "The way this guy's been doing this, I doubt he would let himself slip up on a matter of fingerprints,"
"I agree," Jimmy said, "Nice try, Rachel," he said, blushing at the thought of earlier. "Although now would be a good time to search her room,"
"Elizabeth's?" Rachel asked.
"Yes. Apparently, she issued a restraining order and should have the document on her at all times. I bet it's in the safe in her room,"
"Well, I can go check that, but I think it would be safer for you to stay here, Jimmy. In case you get caught, y'know?" Harley suggested.
"I know," Jimmy replied.
Harley crossed the room and exited, Rachel slipped out with him.
Harley left the bustling scene unnoticed by anyone other than Rachel. She stayed behind to hear anything that may be going on with the dancers. Harley's footsteps made no sound in the hall as he proceeded to the door Rachel had told him was Elizabeth's.
Taking a credit card from his pocket, he quickly slid it through the door, unlocking it. Harley thanked the lord that this wasn't a high tech lock. He turned on the lights, noticing that nothing out of the ordinary seemed to be in the room. Making a quick sweep of the doors in the dresser and the drawers in the bedside table, he came to the conclusion that the document must have been where he thought all along: the safe.
The keys to the safe were another story. These could be anywhere, and without these, he wouldn't be able to find that document. 'Of course,' he reminded himself, 'The document may have nothing to do with anything in this case. It may just be a restraining order for some guy who we don't even know,'
Looking around, he spotted a handbag. On a whim, he checked the bag for anything, whether it be the document, or the keys to it's hiding place. He found several sets of keys inside the purse, one set he recognised as car keys, and quickly discarded those. Taking the other two sets, he set to work trying each one in the safe.
And as in Murphy's Law: the last one was the key he was looking for.
Cursing his bad luck, he quickly opened the safe.
Inside, he found a single solitary piece of paper.
"I got it," Harley said, entering Rachel's room. The suspects had disbanded, and he found both Rachel and Jimmy inside the room, in their pajamas. "Restraining order for a guy named Jake Summers. Anybody know who that is?"
"Wait- I've heard that name before," Jimmy said, thinking hard.
"So have I- I think," Rachel said, alo thinking of where she had heard that name.
---
"...That would be Jagan Waters, Jake Summers, Carol Carabatsis, Peter Lynch..."
---
"I remember! It was in the list of people Gary was rattling off as Michael and Lizzy's old dance coordinators!"
"You're right," Rachel agreed. "But who is he really?" she asked suspiciously.
"Possibly our murderer," Harley supplied. "I'm taking this down to Cole, see what he can get on him,"
"Good idea. Have him call me if he finds anything,"
"Gotcha, 'night!" he called, closing the door.
" 'Night," Jimmy said back.
" 'Night!" Rachel called after. She yawned after Harley had disappeared. "Well, Jimmy. I think we should be saying g'night too, it is late, after all. What were you doing when I called about the murder?"
"I was at Cole's office. He said that he'd found info. And he had, about the restraining order. The police copy apparently was misplaced, though,"
"Oh. I called Rika and Jet, by the way. It was funny, but in my dream you told me I had to call them too,"
Jimmy stiffened, "In your dream?" he asked nervously.
"Yes, and then you left,"
"Oh," Jimmy said, relieved.
"Why, what did you think happened?" Rachel said, blushing at the full contents of the dream.
"Nothing," Jimmy covered quickly, thinking she didn't remember what really happened.
"Don't try and fool me with that, Jimmy Kudo! What do you know?"
"Nothing, Rach, honest!"
"I don't believe you, but I'll let it go," she said, apparently not really wanting Jimmy to divulge that he'd been there through the whole thing, and even had to kiss her and was almost asked to... nevermind.
"Okay," he said, fluffing the pillow on the cot he would be sleeping on.
It was then that his nose started to bleed.
Running to the bathroom, he packed tissues inside his nose as he struggled to get blood off his hands.
"Jimmy?" Rachel called worriedly, "Are you alright?" she rounded the corner into the bathroom, and upon discovering Jimmy's rapidly bleeding nose, was eager to help.
She held the tissues to his nose as he washed his hands. Then she took off his bloody shirt when his hands were once again free to hold the tissues.
The clamber had left both panting heavily and, as they discovered, very close together... with a shirtless Jimmy. Blushes rising into their cheeks, Jimmy's nosebleed steadily worsened, causing another shuffle to replace the tissues and get another shirt.
Still recieving the silent treatment from everyone but Rachel, Jimmy was having a hard time this week. Along with being hounded by the police, the steadily increasing-in-frequency dance classes were enough to make someone murderous.
But Jimmy handled it like a pro, after all, he didn't exactly need even more to add to the police's motives for him for the murders.
The third week of the competition, Michael and Elizabeth's deaths were announced to the public, although no one could say it didn't increase publicity and interest in the program.
Rachel and Jimmy's entrance brough boos and shouts from the crowd: 'boo's from those who thought Jimmy was guilty, and cheers from his fan club and those who believed his innocence.
Even if the crowd was divided, the judges were not. They went through their results in an unbiased way, leaving Jimmy and Rachel now in first place by them with their amazing tango. The voters tonight would most likely be the ones that downed Jimmy and Rachel in the scores, possibly sending them homeby next week. This left both sides determined to send in more votes than the other, and it would be tough deciding who would win: the Jimmy believers or the Jimmy condemners.
Midweek again Jimmy recieved another phone call. As Rachel was not taking a nap at this point, Jimmy was relieved to not have to try and wake her up again. This time, he was able to straight-out tell her thant she needed to call and cancel the dance lesson for the day.
He headed out for the police station as early as the security, who were now guarding the building, would allow.
"Cole," Jimmy acknowledged when he got into his office.
"Kudo," he said back, turning the computer monitor toward him.
Jimmy stared at the screen for a few seconds. There was a picture up in the left hand corner of the screen. Something about the picture struck him as familiar.
"Name: Jake Summers, Occupation: Dance Instructor and Coordinator, Rap Sheet: Nothing except a restraining order filed against him by a Ms. Elizabeth Montague. Summers spent no time in jail for the supposed violations of 'space', if you know what I mean, due to the lack of evidence. The only evidence there was was the witness' account," Cole narrated.
"I see," said Jimmy.
"I don't know if it's gonna help you at all in your case. May even be irrelevant,"
"Well, thanks anyway,"
Jimmy got up to leave the office when something occured to him.
"Officer Cole? Is it possible to see that picture in black and white?"
A few minutes later, it was done.
"Here you go, Kudo,"
Jimmy stared at the picture.
"Oh my God, it's him,"
And everything snapped together.
TBC
AH! A cliffhanger! Whatever will you do? I'LL TELL YOU:
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Next Chapter: LAST AND FINAL CHAPTER The final showdown between Jimmy and this mysterious perpetrator. I promise a very interesting ending.
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