The Name of the Game Was Murder (11 page)

Alex slowly unfolded himself and got to his feet. “I’m going to do a little searching myself,” he admitted, and chuckled. “Maybe the butler’s pantry. Remember the old saying ‘The butler did it’? And a thorough search of the wine cellar might be a good idea.”

“What about going through Augustus’s desk?” Julia asked him. “Because … well, because the body was there, we didn’t look very carefully the first time. I’ll go with you.”

“You don’t have to,” Alex said. “I prefer to work alone.”

“You made that pretty obvious when you kept those clues for yourself, and because of that I don’t trust you for a minute!” Julia shouted.

Alex just shrugged. “That makes it mutual,” he said, “especially after the sneaky insinuation you made about my business associates.”

“What insinuation?” Julia’s anger turned to surprise.

Alex didn’t answer, so before Julia could continue the argument, I broke in. “You asked me to try to solve these clues, but you’re all leaving. I’m going to need help.”

Even though all of Augustus’s guests—even Aunt Thea—wanted to find the manuscript to destroy it, and I wanted to find it to see if it would give away the identity
of the murderer, I needed other thoughts and viewpoints. I wished Darlene were on hand.

Laura shook her head and walked to the doorway. “I wouldn’t be any help at all,” she said. “The clues are much too confusing. I’ve got a terrible headache anyway, so I’m going to my room and take a nap.”

Julia and Alex, in spite of their differences, left the sun-room together, Laura trailing behind.

Thea motioned me to join her on one of the wicker couches. “I’ll do what I can to help you,” she said, “but I must be honest with you, Samantha. I believe that the clues may be unsolvable. It would be typical of Augustus to offer false promises just to enjoy watching the discomfort of his guests. I’m afraid that whatever he wrote about us in his manuscript is there to stay.”

“Aunt Thea,” I asked, “was he always that mean?”

She shook her head. “We had many happy days together when we were young. I made sure his working days were quiet and comfortable, and when we traveled and partied there were always exciting people to meet and interesting things to do.”

“I saw the pictures in the Kings’ Corner,” I told her. “But you weren’t in them. Only Augustus.”

“Being photographed with royalty was important to Augustus. My presence in the photographs wasn’t necessary.” For a moment she was silent, then said, “Augustus could be tender and affectionate when he wanted to be, and when he wasn’t … I accepted it as part of his genius.”

“But you fell out of love with him, didn’t you?” I asked.

“I suppose so.”

“Was he ill? Is that why he became mean?”

“He had bouts of pain, but that was no excuse. There are many people who become gentler through suffering.”

“Then why didn’t you leave him, Aunt Thea? Why did you stay holed up in this house, away from everything?”

“Marriage is a contract,” Thea said, but she looked away from me, and I knew she hadn’t given me the right answer. Augustus had been holding something over her head, and it had to be whatever he’d written about in his latest manuscript.

In the silence that followed I listened to the steady drumming of the rain and its gulping gurgles as it rushed through the drain spouts, splashing on the concrete walkways and patios. The storm was no longer violent, but the rain continued to come down as if it would never end.

I stared down at my note pad where I’d copied down
Game Clues
#3:

When I was younger, I had thought I was pretty good at making up clues with Darlene and solving them, and I wanted to prove I could still do it, so I refused to give up as easily as the others had. “I’d really like to work on these awhile, Aunt Thea,” I said.

“Of course,” she answered. “As I told you earlier, I’ll help you, but I have no idea how to start.”

Could I trust her? I had to. Besides, she was my mother’s aunt. “If these are legitimate clues, then each set has to have something in common,” I explained. “Nobody wanted to tell me what was in the first set, so I don’t know what they were all about. But in the second set we were told that ‘one will be above all.’ I can only guess that it means the king.”

“Arthur insisted it was the ace.”

“But you and Augustus played cribbage. There was even a cribbage board in his office. I think he would have thought of the king as top card, and put in the ace just to lead astray all the bridge players.”

She smiled. “I’m inclined to agree with you. What else do you get from that set of clues?”

“Nothing,” I said. “Just
kings
. Although
king
could mean
ruler
or
general
or
official
or
emperor
or whatever might be in that line.”

Wait a minute!
I thought.
Kings’ Corner
. But there was no place among those photographs to hide a manuscript, and I didn’t see how the pictures could give me any kind of help in solving the clue.

Thea said, “Samantha, you saw the first clue that Augustus gave me. It was a travel brochure to Acapulco.”

“That’s all?”

“That’s all.”

“But what does it mean? You told me you’d figured it out.”

“Wasn’t it Julia who told you that these were more messages than clues? That they were Augustus’s way of informing us that he had uncovered our secrets. You don’t need them to solve the puzzle, Samantha. Please believe me.”

While I was thinking about it and deciding that I had to believe Aunt Thea, Mrs. Engstrom came into the room with a teapot and two cups and saucers. “Hot tea tastes good on a rainy day,” she said, and gave careful scrutiny to Thea. “Are you feeling well, Mrs. Trevor? I’m sure that this stress is tiring you.”

“I’m fine, thank you,” Thea said. “There’s no need to worry about me.”

“I’ll be glad when this storm is over,” Mrs. Engstrom said as she poured two cups of tea. “Tomás is upset because he’s running low on sugar and salad greens and I can’t send in my computer order. I wouldn’t dare turn on my computer with only the generator to power it.”

“How do you shop by computer?” I asked.

“A number of people on the island have a software program with a grocer in Avalon,” Thea answered. “We send an order on our household computer, he receives it, and either delivers it or it’s ready when we pick it up.”

“Well, latest reports on the radio are that the storm should be over by Monday,” Mrs. Engstrom said.

I could hear the relief in her voice, but Thea and I glanced at each other with concern. Even though we had different reasons for wanting to find that manuscript, we both realized that we hadn’t much time.

Mrs. Engstrom caught the look and asked, “How far have you come on working out the clues, Miss Burns?”

“Not very,” I answered.

“Does ‘not very’ instead of ‘no’ mean that you’ve begun to solve it?”

I opened my mouth to say “yes,” but thought how weak my guess was on the second set of clues and how I
hadn’t even begun on the third, so after hesitating just a fraction too long I answered, “No, I haven’t.”

She stared at me as though she suspected I’d just lied to her, and walked to the other side of the room, where she busied herself straightening magazines and picking up a couple of empty cups that had been left on a side table.

Thea sipped at her tea and said, “Look over your list, Samantha. If you have any questions, just ask, and maybe between us we can come up with the answers.”

“Thanks,” I said, so grateful for her moral support and so sure she couldn’t possibly be the murderer that I confided, “Aunt Thea, I have to find this manuscript before the others do.”

“No, Samantha,” she said quietly.

“Don’t you see, Aunt Thea? If we read the manuscript, we might find out who the murderer is.”

“If we read the manuscript, six lives might be ruined.”

I squirmed uncomfortably. “But not yours, Aunt Thea.”

“Yes, mine too,” she answered.

I shouldn’t have spilled everything out. I looked around to see if we might have been overheard, but Thea and I were alone. Not knowing what to say next, I got up and went to the desk, opening the lined pad to the page with the number-three clues and spread my notes next to it. I couldn’t look at Thea. I didn’t want to do anything that might hurt her, but surely she had to understand that someone in this house was a killer and might kill again!

From the corner of my eye I saw her refill her teacup. “I’ll wait right here with you, dear,” she said, as though our conversation about the manuscript hadn’t happened. “If you want my help for anything, just ask.”

“Thank you, Aunt Thea,” I murmured, and set to work.

I read the clues over twice, and each time I came to a dead stop on Julia’s clue. Finally, I looked up at Thea and said, “Do you know any poets named Oliver? The only Oliver I can think of was in that novel
Oliver Twist
by Charles Dickens, and that Oliver was a kid, not a poet.”

“We can use the encyclopedia in Augustus’s office,” she suggested.

“I thought of that,” I said, shuddering at the idea of going back into that room, “but it’s going to be almost impossible to check out poets by first names.”

Thea smiled. “I can give you a start,” she said. “What about Oliver Goldsmith, the British poet who lived in the seventeen hundreds? You’ve studied
The Deserted Village
in school, haven’t you?”

“No,” I said, “but I like the title. Is it a mystery novel?”

“It’s a poem, and I do believe I still remember a few lines from those I once had to memorize about the village schoolmaster.” She got a faraway look in her eyes and recited, “ ‘But past is all his fame. The very spot where many a time he triumphed is forgot.’ ”

She could have been talking about Augustus. We both felt the impact of the words at the same time and looked away from each other, embarrassed.

I wrote down
Goldsmith
and went on to Buck’s clue, writing down the chorus of “My Darling Clementine” and snatches of words from the verses. I could only remember part of them, and I couldn’t remember any that had the word
pappy
in them. Aunt Thea had remembered that awful old song about growing old, so I asked, “Do you remember any of the words of ‘My Darling Clementine’?”

She put down her teacup and hummed quietly to herself before she answered, “Just snatches.”

“Do you remember anything about Clementine’s pappy?”

Between her eyebrows a little crease flickered as she thought. “I can’t remember him being called
pappy
. Wasn’t he a miner?”

“Right,” I said. “ ‘Came a miner, a forty-niner, and his daughter Clementine.’ ” As I wrote it down I wondered aloud, “So far, this stuff is pretty gloomy. We’ve got somebody growing old.” I checked my notes. “With ‘life fading fast away.’ Then we’ve got somebody being forgotten after he dies, and now old Clementine being lost and gone forever. Augustus didn’t look on the bright side, did he?”

I got another thought, and this one was too scary to share with Aunt Thea. Was Augustus warning each of his guests that something bad was going to happen to them? And if he was, when was it going to happen? With the weekend half over, we wouldn’t have to wait long to find out!

D
on’t think like that!
I cautioned myself.
He’s not here to do anything to us, even if he wanted to
. But the memory of his body upstairs in the bathtub was so unnerving that I pushed back my chair and stood up.

“Are you through working on clues already?” Aunt Thea asked.

“Oh, no,” I said. “I’ve made a good start, with your help, Aunt Thea, but I’ve got some questions to ask two of the others.”

“What kind of questions?”

I knew Aunt Thea wasn’t prying. She was just being interested. “Well,” I said, “I’ve been thinking that the solution to Laura’s clue might be in the name of one of the movies that flopped so badly. I don’t remember either of them. Do you?”

“No,” she said. “Better ask Laura.”

“I have something to ask Senator Maggio, too—the
names of all his relatives. Maybe their initials spell something. I won’t know unless I try.”

“ ‘The bald eagle has many kin,’ ” Thea said.

“You’ve got a good memory,” I told her.

Her smile was sorrowful. “Under the circumstances, the clues would be hard to forget.”

I took my pen and pad, with my notes stuffed inside, and headed for the stairway. But I glanced into the parlor and saw Senator Maggio standing alone at the window, staring out at the rain.

As I passed the Kings’ Corner I paused to study the framed photographs, but pairs of eyes stared blankly out at me, offering nothing.

The senator didn’t acknowledge me as I joined him, and I supposed he was drawn into that swirl of gray sky and grayer sea, its choppy surface shredded by rain and wind.

I waited patiently, then said, “Could I ask you a question, Senator Maggio?”

“If you wish.” His voice was as depressed as the view outside the window.

“Okay,” I said. “It’s about your relatives.” But I was sidetracked by my next thought. “Weren’t you searching the house for the manuscript?”

“I don’t see any hope of finding it before the storm lets up,” he answered.

“Then help me solve the clues.”

He shook his head. “I don’t see how that can be accomplished either.”