The Name of the Game Was Murder (17 page)

Alex looked at the urn, which was still in his hand, shrugged, and placed it back on the pedestal, which wobbled a bit then settled itself. “I needed something to protect myself,” he answered.

“You shouldn’t have used that burial urn,” I told him.

Alex picked up his flashlight and aimed it at me. “Why not? What’s so special about this urn?” he asked, and said to the others, “Look at Samantha’s face. She knows something.”

I knew
everything
, and I couldn’t let my face give me away. “I’ll tell you what I know,” I said. “According to Walter, the urn is haunted.”

“I’ve had as much of this place as I can stand!” Laura wailed, and began to cry.

While they were busy trying to out-shout and out-argue each other, I ran down to the landing, picked up the lid to
the burial urn, and replaced it. The urn felt warm to my touch, and I patted it gently. “You must know by this time that the world is full of weirdos,” I whispered. “Sorry you had to run into a couple more of them.”

In just a few hours it would be daylight and the telltale expression on my face would be easy for everyone to read. I had to distract them. I had to take their minds away from me. The clues … Alex had said the clues they had got weren’t enough. Okay, I’d give them another set.

“Lend me a hand,” I said to the urn, “and you’ll soon be left in peace. I’ve got to get something. If any of them notices that I’ve gone, will you please distract them?” Oh, well, it couldn’t hurt to ask.

I turned off my flashlight and felt my way down the rest of the stairs, across the entry hall, and along the way to Augustus’s office. I entered the room and closed the door behind me before I turned on my flashlight.

It took only a few minutes to find envelopes and paper that matched those he’d used for the clues, but I had to scribble with half a dozen pens before I found the one with the bright blue ink. I tucked the pen in my jeans pocket and slipped the paper and envelopes inside the front of my shirt, next to my skin.

It wasn’t hard to find my way in the dark going back. The sky had grown lighter, and there were even shadows cast by the moon. Thank goodness the storm was over!

As I neared the stairs I heard Thea ask, “Where’s Samantha?”

At that moment there was a crash. Alex let out a yelp, and Buck shouted, “You pushed it! You tried to get me!”

“I did not!”

I took the stairs two at a time and shone my flashlight
beam on the urn, which lay on the floor, the toppled pedestal next to it.

“Yeah? How did that thing fall over if you didn’t push it?”

I stooped and gently picked up the urn, straightening its lid and stroking its sides. “You probably knocked it off balance earlier while the two of you were fighting,” I told Buck. “If you’ll please pick it up, I’ll put the urn where it belongs.”

The pedestal was heavy, and it took both Buck and Alex to raise it. They tested, to make sure it was secure, before I returned the royal burial urn to its rightful place. “Thanks,” I whispered to the urn.

“You’re welcome,” Alex said.

I stepped past him and said to Thea, “It isn’t going to do any good to argue with Alex. I don’t care what he does. I’m going to bed.”

“Good idea,” Julia said, but she glared at Alex. “Don’t waste your time searching my room, because I didn’t keep my first clue. I tore it into little pieces and flushed them away.”

Laura gasped, and I could practically hear her mind begin to work. Her first clue would be the next to go.

“Back to bed, all of us,” Thea said. She kissed my cheek, told me to sleep well, and I followed my flashlight beam up to the tower room, again barricading the door with the chair.

I would have loved to sleep, but there was something I had to do first. Just to be on the safe side I put the manuscript pages back in order, rolled them tightly, and fastened them with the rubber bands.

No one was in the hallway. I was pretty sure that none
of them would wander out of their rooms again, so I sneaked down to the landing and replaced the manuscript inside the urn.

“It’s terrible to bother you again, Your Excellent Ghostliness, after all that you did for me, if that really was you,” I whispered, “but I can’t take any chances. The very minute the police arrive I’ll take this thing out of your royal middle, and you’ll be left in peace and quiet. Is that all right?”

I thought I detected a faint hum, and it didn’t seem antagonistic, so I replaced the lid, ran back to my room, and barricaded the door again.

I was so exhausted, my head hurt and I went into a fit of yawning, but there was one last thing to do before I could sleep. I had to come up with clues that looked and sounded like the ones Augustus had invented so that they’d be accepted. But my clues had to have a single purpose—to lead all the suspects, except one, to the wine cellar.

You can do it
, I told myself.
After all, you’re a writer.

If I hadn’t been so tired, or if only Darlene had been with me, the job wouldn’t have taken so long. On my legal pad I wrote, I crossed out, I wrote some more, and made dozens of changes until I had the clues the way I wanted them. Then neatly, trying to copy Augustus’s printing, I wrote the clues, put them into the envelopes, and marked them all:
Game Clue
#5. To follow my plan I added,
FINAL CLUE
:
WITH THIS ONE YOU
’
RE ON YOUR OWN
.

I put the unsealed envelopes on the chest, rolled up in one of my blankets, the covers pulled up to my chin, and closed my eyes. Aunt Thea had been right. Even though the air in the room was freezing, my body heat began
working, and soon even my toes were warm. I slept so hard, I didn’t move until the sun woke me.

Sunlight! That meant the storm had passed and soon we’d be in touch with the rest of the world. Tag ends of clouds scraggled across an electric-blue sky, propelled by a wind that slapped at the treetops and churned flips of white foam across the top of the rough and choppy water.

I glanced at my watch, amazed to find it was already ten o’clock. I had planned on being downstairs first, and now maybe my plan wouldn’t work, because the others were bound to be up. There was nothing else to do but give it my best shot, so I washed my face—there was only cold water—and dressed.

Lucy came from one of the bedrooms and joined me as I walked down the stairs. “Do you need anything?” she asked. “Better tell me now, because Walter, Tomás, and I have cleanup work to do in the other house. One part of the roof leaked badly.”

“I don’t need anything,” I told Lucy. “I’m fine.”

But I wasn’t fine. I was scared. I had no idea if my plan would work.

I didn’t hide the envelopes in my pocket. I carried them in my right hand, and as I entered the dining room, where Laura, Buck, Julia, and Alex were eating cold cereal and bananas, I held the envelopes high, waving them.

“Look what I found,” I said. “The fifth set of game clues. They’re the final ones too.”

Alex leaned forward, studying my face. “What are you hiding?” he asked. “Your face gives you away. What do you know that we don’t know?”

“All right!” I slammed the envelopes down on the table. “I read them. I know they have your names on them and
they’re supposed to be for your private information, but I read them anyway. Okay?”

“It’s okay with me,” Laura said. “Sam
is
supposed to be helping us.”

“She hasn’t been any help so far,” Alex grumbled, but my embarrassment at being “caught” seemed to satisfy him.

Julia snatched up her envelope and stood, pushing back her chair. “Thea and Arthur are in the sun-room. I’ll get them,” Julia told us and hurried out of the room.

I’d been waiting for the big question, and as soon as we were all seated around the table, with Mrs. Engstrom bringing in refills of coffee, sugar, and cream, Alex asked it.

“Where did you find this set of clues, Samantha?”

I was prepared. “In one of Julia’s books, her main character finds a packet of love letters hidden behind a bedroom mirror. Isn’t that right, Julia?”

I paused and looked at Julia, who smiled, then nodded. Of course I’d made all that up, but she didn’t know her own books, because they weren’t her own books.

“So I looked behind the mirror in Augustus’s room, and there was the packet of letters, tied with a rubber band and wedged behind the frame.”

“Imagine! Just like in Julia’s book!” Laura said.

Alex shrugged, which meant, I suppose, that he bought my story.

Buck scowled at the envelope in his hand. “What does this mean? ‘Final Clue: With this one you’re on your own’?” he asked.

“I assume that this was Trevor’s attempt to separate the sheep from the goats,” Senator Maggio said, and he didn’t
attempt to hide the sarcasm in his voice. “It’s fairly obvious that once again we’re on our own.”

“Samantha read
all
the clues,” Alex said. “Maybe we should ask her about them.”

I didn’t like the disappointed look Thea gave me, but when all of this was over I was sure she’d understand. I had started this, and I had to finish it. “This time it won’t help you to share the clues,” I said. “All I can tell you is that the clues lead to a place in the house you have to find and go to, and I don’t think they’ll be hard to figure out.”

Laura leaned toward me. “Did you figure it out?”

I nodded.

“Tell us.”

“Open your envelope. Look at your clue. You can work it out,” I said.

She did, and stared at the words so hard, she squinted.

The others read their clues, and I watched their faces intently. Had I made the clues too hard? Too easy?

Five of the clues were the same:
ONE ACROSS
,
THIRTEEN DOWN
.
WHO FINDS A MESSAGE IN A BOTTLE
?

Alex studied his clue intently. All of a sudden his eyes widened and a puzzled expression spread across his face. He quickly glanced at the others, then slid back his chair, picking up the flashlight he’d brought down with him. He casually strolled out of the dining room in the direction of the wine cellar.

Julia murmured “Hmmm” a few times, then said, “Oh! But we …” As cautious as Alex had been, she quietly left, going the same way.

I was pretty sure they had guessed the answer I wanted them to come up with.

Thea got to her feet but hesitated. She gave me an odd
look, glanced at those who were left at the table, then walked through the door leading to the entry hall.

Mrs. Engstrom followed her, and that was fine with me.

Senator Maggio looked up from his sheet of paper, then down again, mumbling under his breath. “It must be,” he said aloud. He pushed back his chair, snatched up the only flashlight that was left, and strode toward the door to the cellar stairs.

“The first part sounds like a crossword puzzle, but there’s no puzzle here. I’ll never figure it out!” Laura complained.

She probably wouldn’t, and that could ruin everything, so I said, “Then why don’t you follow Senator Maggio? He seems to know where he’s going.”

Laura and Buck scrambled to their feet and ran after the senator.

I followed at a more leisurely pace.

One across … the dining room. Thirteen down … the stone steps leading to the wine cellar. Five suspects were in the cellar now, probably searching for the manuscript in and among the rows of wine bottles.

They didn’t even notice as I walked down the steps. I silently closed the door, locked it, and pocketed the key.

It was time now to join Thea. I’d sent her to the sun-room with the clue
ON THE BEST OF DAYS THIS IS WHERE YOU
’
LL GET YOUR RAYS
.

I knew it wasn’t worded the way Augustus Trevor would have worded it. Thea had probably guessed that these were my clues and not her husband’s, which was why she had given me that strange look. She’d want an explanation, but that was okay. I planned to tell Aunt Thea everything.

J
ust as I flopped into a wicker chair across from Aunt Thea, the phone jangled in my ear, startling me so much that I jumped to my feet and reached for it.

But Mrs. Engstrom was one step ahead of me. She picked up the receiver and listened a moment. “Thank you,” she said formally, and hung up, turning to Thea. “The phone service has been restored, Mrs. Trevor.”

“Mrs. Engstrom!” I interrupted. “You didn’t tell them about the murder!”

“The caller was simply an employee of the telephone company,” Mrs. Engstrom answered. “Besides, it is your aunt’s prerogative to inform the police, not mine.” She walked across the room and began to open the filmy curtains that shaded the windows. The room was bright with sunlight, but the trees outside the windows bent and shimmered in the wind.

“Aunt Thea?”

“Yes, I’ll call them,” Thea said, but she didn’t move. I
could hear the exhaustion in her voice as she added, “I had so hoped that we’d find the manuscript in time.”

I sat down and leaned toward her. “We did. I found it.”

“You what?”

“I worked out the clues. They gave me the answer.”

“Why didn’t you tell me, Samantha?”

“Because it didn’t seem like the right time until now.”

“What does this particular time have to do with it?”

“Aunt Thea,” I said, “your husband didn’t make up the last set of clues. I did. I think you figured that out, but the others didn’t.”

“Yes. I wasn’t sure what you were doing, Samantha, but I trusted you.”

That made me feel awfully guilty, and I hurried to explain, “We don’t have to worry about the suspects. They followed my clues to the wine cellar, and I locked them in.”

Thea stared at me in amazement. “You didn’t!”

“I had to. While they’re down there we can talk about what Augustus wrote about them. Maybe together we can discover who committed the murder.”

“You read the manuscript?”

“Parts of it. The parts about
them.
” My voice dropped to one notch above a whisper. “And about you.” Quickly I briefed her on what Augustus had written about each of the suspects.

Tears came to Thea’s eyes, and she said, “I don’t understand why you weren’t open with me right from the beginning.” She stood up and reached for my hands, pulling me out of my chair. “Come with me, Samantha. Show me where the manuscript is hidden.”