Wicked (13 page)

* * *

Wicked smiled an evil smile. The deed was done. Scott was dead. Wicked stepped into the laundry room, jerked the extension cord from the socket before someone could throw the handle on the circuit breaker to turn the electricity back on, and hurried out to the trash with the evidence. There was still work to be done. While they were still confused about what had caused the sudden power outage, Wicked would make sure that Angela's next chapter became a reality.

Angela had given Wicked some cause for thought. Marc's character had been killed in the cupola. Wicked had gone to the unabridged dictionary in the library for an exact definition of the word. A cupola was a light structure on a dome or roof, serving as a belfry, lantern, or belvedere, and the Sutler Mansion didn't have anything like that. A second definition had been more promising. It had said that a cupola was a dome, especially one covering a circular or polygonal area. And a third choice had defined a cupola as any of various dome-like structures.

Wicked had explored the grounds and found the perfect thing. There was a dome at the Sutler Mansion that matched the description of a cupola. It was in plain sight, an abandoned greenhouse at the real of the rose garden, and that was where Wicked would kill Marc.

Marc was very sports-oriented. Wicked knew that. And Marc was also a physical fitness addict. He was in the habit of jogging three miles every morning, and now that they were all confined to the mansion, he did his laps around the grounds. Marc's route took him right past the greenhouse, and that was a lucky break. It would be laughably simple for Wicked to lure Marc inside and make certain that Angela's fiction turned into fact.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

At first, Eve thought she was having another nightmare. Someone was shouting about losing something and a black screen. A door slammed shut, and then there were running footsteps, outside in the hallway.

Eve sat up and blinked as another door slammed. What was going on? She hurried to open her door and almost ran straight into Beth.

“We had a power failure.” Beth looked very upset. “I think I lost my file!”

“It's all right, Beth. Ryan told me we have a battery backup. Your file's still there. The computer saved it automatically.”

“That's a relief!” Beth began to smile. “I left my computer on, and when I came back upstairs, the screen was blank.”

“Is everyone okay up here?” Ryan appeared at the end of the hall. He had a towel wrapped around his body, and he was barefoot.

“We're fine,” Eve said. “What happened?”

“I guess we had a short, and it tripped the circuit breaker. I heard Beth hollering up here so I jumped out of the pool and came right up.”

“Sorry about that.” Beth laughed. “I thought I lost my file, but Eve explained about the battery backup. Can you help me get back online, Ryan?”

“Sure, right after I check the circuit breaker.”

“We'll go with you.” Eve shivered slightly.

“What's the matter, Eve?” Ryan slipped his arm around her shoulders. “Is something wrong?”

“I hope not. But I can't help wondering . . . has anyone seen Scott yet?”

* * *

It didn't take long to find the circuit breaker and throw the switch back on. Everyone breathed a sigh of relief as the second hand on the kitchen clock started to sweep in its endless circles again.

But Scott didn't come down to see what was the matter, and neither did Marc. “I think we should look for Scott and Marc,” Eve said.

“I'm sure they're perfectly all right.” Angela looked very defensive.

“Marc's okay.” Dean spoke up. “I saw him jogging past the rose garden, just a couple of minutes ago.”

“He probably doesn't even know we had a power failure,” Eve said. “Do you want me to catch up with him and tell him?”

“Don't bother. We'll tell him when he comes in. But I am a little worried about Scott. I haven't seen him since early this morning, and he always comes down to eat breakfast.”

“Let's go look for him.” Beth looked worried, too.

“I'll check his room.” Ryan took charge. “The rest of you split up and check the other floors.”

“I'll got up to the fourth floor,” Dean said. “He might be printing out. Come on, Beth.... You can check the girls' floor. Scott might have heard you yelling about your file and gone up to your room.”

“It's a good thing we don't have an elevator.” Angela shivered a little.

Eve lifted an eyebrow. “That's where you set Scott's murder?”

“No, but I wish I'd thought of it.” Angela gave a nervous laugh. “It'd be a perfect place, especially if the power went off and Scott and the killer were stuck between floors.”

Beth swallowed hard. “That's scary, Angela!”

“I know.”

Now it was Eve's turn to shiver. She'd always hated elevators. Perhaps it was because she didn't like heights and she always imagined what it would be like if the cable snapped, plunging her down to a certain death.

“We'll meet back here in fifteen minutes. Come on, everybody. Let's go.” Ryan shooed them all out of the kitchen. “The sooner we find Scott, the better we'll feel.”

Eve turned back to ask Angela exactly where she'd killed off Scott's character, but she changed her mind when she saw that Angela was still shivering. There was no reason to make Angela even more nervous. She'd bring it up only if their search failed and they couldn't find Scott.

* * *

Marc felt great as he jogged around the perimeter of the grounds. It was another sweltering day, but he'd brought his water bottle and he raised it to his lips to take a quick swig. Jogging was the ticket to good physical condition. Even his father had commented on how fit he looked.

His father's approval was something Marc had always craved. When he was younger, he'd tried to earn it by excelling at sports, but he'd failed miserably. Marc had earned the lowest batting average and the highest percentage of errors on the baseball team; he'd fumbled the football every time it was passed to him; and he'd missed more hoops than anyone else on the basketball team. But Marc loved sports and he'd conveyed that enthusiasm to every other member of the team. His high school coaches had discovered that they won more games if Marc was around, and they'd given him the position of student coach.

Marc had loved coaching. He'd read the rule books from cover to cover and turned into an excellent strategist. His high school coaches had been so impressed, they'd let Marc make up the rosters and call most of the plays. One of them had even managed to secure a college athletic scholarship for Marc.

Of course Marc hadn't played on any of the college teams. He didn't have that kind of ability. But he'd worked on the playbooks, compiled all the stats, and taken charge of the equipment. It was while he was helping the trainer one day that he'd decided what his career should be.

Sports medicine was a growing career, and Marc was planning to concentrate on physical therapy. Perhaps he'd even go to medical school. He just wasn't sure. If he did, he'd need a source of income, which was why he was trying to write his sports novel. He knew his father would give him the money if he asked, but Marc wanted to earn at least part of it himself.

The sun was shining brightly, and Marc was on top of the world. Everyone thought his writing was good. Just last night, Angela had told him she thought he'd shown more improvement than any other member of the group.

Marc grinned as he thought about Angela. She was gorgeous, she was bright, and she was really kind to help him with his chapters. When all this was over, he really wanted to ask her for a date. His father would be really impressed if he found out that Marc was dating Angela.

* * *

Wicked was smiling at the way things had gone. They'd all split up to search for Scott in different places, and now that the bright side was alone, Wicked could take over their body. It was just in time. Marc's route would bring him past the greenhouse in a little less than a minute, and Wicked had to be ready for him.

The greenhouse wasn't locked and Wicked stepped inside. Various tools and re-potting equipment lined the shelves. Wicked chose a sturdy shovel with a flat back. Although Marc was strong, one well-aimed blow should knock him out. Then Wicked would finish the job with one of the heavy clay pots.

Marc was just coming around the corner of the potting shed. Wicked put on the bright side's expression and stepped out, into his path. “Hey, Marc. Come in here for a second, will you? I want to show you something strange.”

“Sure.” Marc smiled and stepped into the greenhouse. “What is it?”

“It's this!” Wicked swung the shovel and Marc went down. Another dozen blows with the clay pot, and his heart stopped beating forever.

Wicked stood up and sighed. Killing was really a lot of work. The bright side might wonder why their arms were so stiff, but they'd go for a swim in the pool later to take away some of the soreness.

There was only one thing left to do. Wicked grabbed the shelf with the rest of the clay pots and inched forward until it toppled. Several clay pots smashed, and Wicked grinned. Marc's death would look like an accident. They'd all think he'd come into the greenhouse for some unknown reason and the shelf had fallen on top of him. It was absolutely perfect, and Wicked was proud to have thought of it. Wicked's job would be easier if they thought Marc's death was accidental.

Wicked closed the greenhouse door and walked through the rose garden to the edge of the courtyard. It was time for the bright side to come out for the trip across the courtyard. Someone else could be there, and Wicked didn't want to be seen. There would be too much elation in Wicked's stride, too much joy in Wicked's eyes. The bright side was supposed to be searching for Scott, and that called for a serious, worried expression. It would look strange if any of them saw the blissful smile on Wicked's face. Timing was everything, and it was much too early to reveal that another victim in Angela's book had turned into Wicked's fifth victim in real life.

* * *

“He's got to be somewhere!” Eve turned to Angela. They'd searched the house and the grounds, but no one had come across Scott. “Where did you kill off Scott's character, Angela?”

Angela swallowed. She looked very nervous. “I . . . uh . . . I had the killer stuff in him in an industrial-sized clothes dryer. I thought that would be fine because ours is much too small.”

“Did you check the laundry room, Angela?” Ryan looked very concerned.

“Uh . . . no. Since it couldn't happen the way I wrote it, I didn't see why I had to go in there.”

“I'll do it.” Eve walked to the laundry room door. Angela was a total coward. She'd written about Scott's death in the laundry room, but now she was afraid to go in and look. Eve took a deep breath, opened the door, and flicked on the light switch. And then she gasped and began to shudder at the awful sight that met her eyes.

“Eve?”

Ryan was calling her and Eve turned around in the doorway. She knew all the blood had left her face because she had to lean on the door frame to keep from fainting. The sight of Scott's blackened body had been so horrible, it had taken her breath away. She opened her mouth and tried to speak, but nothing came out.

“Eve? What is it?”

Eve's mouth was dry with horror, but somehow she managed to swallow. She had to tell Ryan.

“Yes, Ryan.” Eve forced out the words. Her voice sounded strange, much too loud in the stillness of the room. “Scott's here. And he's dead.”

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

No one felt like leaving the group and they sat at a table in the courtyard. Now there were four bodies in the walk-in cooler, Cheryl, Tracie, Jeremy, and Scott. The laundry room was off-limits. Ryan and Dean had nailed the door shut. There was something wrong with the wiring, and poor Scott had been electrocuted when he'd touched the metal door of the dryer.

Eve sighed. And then, quite suddenly, she began to laugh. When everyone turned to stare at her in astonishment, she laughed even harder.

“Eve? What is it?”

Ryan was frowning and that set Eve off again. She laughed so hard, tears came to her eyes. “It's the extra blankets. We've only got one left. We'd better make Angela stop writing before we run out of supplies.”

“Eve!” Ryan looked shocked for a brief moment, but then he started to laugh, too. Dean joined in, and then Beth, all of them laughing so hard, they could barely catch their breaths.

The only one who didn't laugh was Angela, and she glared at them. “I think you're all horrible! How can you laugh at what happened to Scott?”

“We're not laughing at that.” Beth was the first to recover. “Haven't you ever heard the phrase,
And if I laugh at any mortal thing, 'tis that I may not weep?
”

“Is that Shakespeare?” Ryan asked.

“No. George Noel Gordon wrote it. You probably know him as Lord Byron.”

Eve reached out to take Angela's hand. Poor Angela really did look upset, and Eve felt a little guilty for joking. “The point is, laughter and tears are very close. They're both powerful emotions. We all feel terrible about Scott's death, but we're laughing instead of crying.”

“I . . . I guess I understand.” Angela didn't look entirely convinced.

“Eve's right.” Ryan patted Angela on the back. “We're laughing to release the tension. What happened is horrible, and it's one way of coping.”

“I see. But there's another way of coping, Ryan. Why don't we all go back to work? It'll take our minds of what's happened, and I think I could write another chapter.” Angela began to laugh when Eve gasped. “I'm kidding, Eve. And you're right. I do feel much better, now that I've had a good laugh.”

Eve wasn't sure that Angela really got the point. And then Angela said something that made Eve's blood run cold.

“How about Marc? He should be in from his run by now, shouldn't he?”

They all exchanged uneasy glances, and then Ryan nodded. “We'd better find Marc. We have to tell him what's happened. But this time I think we should all stick together.”

“I know what you're thinking, but Marc's perfectly all right.” Angela looked very positive. “I set his murder in the cupola, and there's no cupola here. I even looked it up in the dictionary, just to make sure I had the correct architectural term. A cupola is a dome-like structure on the roof, like a belfry.”

They all looked up at the roof, but there was nothing even remotely resembling a dome-like structure. Eve looked very relieved as she turned to Angela. “You're absolutely right, Angela. There's no cupola on our roof.”

“Let's go.” Ryan looked resigned as he got out of his chair. “The last time anyone saw Marc, he was jogging. Let's go find him and give him the bad news.”

* * *

It took them almost an hour, but they found Marc on the greenhouse floor, surrounded by shards of pottery. There was no doubt that he was dead and it was clear what had happened. Marc had gone into the greenhouse for some reason, and he'd been standing under the shelf of heavy clay pots when it had pulled loose from the wall. They'd wrapped Marc in their last remaining blanket, and now they were all out in the courtyard, trying to cope.

Eve was worried about Beth. Her face was very pale, her hands were shaking, and there were traces of tears on her cheeks.

“Come on, Beth.” Eve patted her on the back. “You've got to pull yourself together.”

Beth shuddered. “But . . . it's so awful! First Scott. And now Marc. It's like Angela's book is cursed! She wrote about it, and now it's actually happened!”

“You can't blame my chapter this time.” Angela was clearly upset. “We didn't find Marc in a cupola. He was in the greenhouse, and that's not the way I wrote it at all!”

“Were there any other definitions of a cupola in the dictionary?” Ryan asked.

“Yes. There were a couple of others, but I didn't bother with those.”

“Maybe I'd better look it up.” Eve got out of her chair.

Angela looked confused. “But why?”

“Well . . .” Eve wanted to say that it might give them a clue to why Marc had died in the greenhouse. But she bit back her words and settled for the first thing that popped into her mind. “I'm curious, that's all. I'll be right back.”

A few moments later, Eve was back. She was carrying the heavy, unabridged dictionary, and she placed it on the table. “The greenhouse is a cupola. It fits the third definition.”

“Let me see!” Angela pulled the dictionary to her side of the table and looked up the word. As she read the third definition, her face turned very pale.

“What does it say?” Dean was frowning as he faced Angela.

“It says a cupola is any dome-like structure. But I didn't know that!”

Ryan sighed. “Okay. Nobody's blaming you personally, Angela.”

“Ryan's right,” Eve said. “You tried to be as careful as you could. It just didn't work out, that's all. But that doesn't change the fact that every murder victim that you've written about has wound up dead.”

“It blows my theory,” Ryan said. “Scott might have been so nervous about Angela's chapter that he was accident prone. But Marc couldn't have been nervous. He didn't know he was the next victim.”

“I think victim is the operative word here.” Beth sat up a little straighter and looked much more composed. “Are we really sure these were accidents?”

Eve winced. The same thought had occurred to her, but she'd decided not to voice it. “What do you mean, Beth?”

“We've all been in that walk-in cooler and we didn't fall and hit our heads on that table. And we've all used the washer and dryer and we didn't get electrocuted. We've had five accidents in a row, and everyone who died was a victim in Angela's book.”

“You've got a point, Beth,” Ryan said. “Five accidents in a row is just too much to blame on coincidence.”

“Then you think someone is actually killing off the victims in my book?” Angela's hands started to tremble and she clasped them together to keep them from shaking.

“It's possible,” Ryan said.

“But there's only five of us here!” Eve swallowed hard. “If there is a murderer, it's got to be . . .” Eve's voice trailed off, and Dean finished the thought for her. “It's got to be one of us.”

“But . . .” Angela took a deep breath. “That's impossible, isn't it?”

“I think so,” Ryan said. “And that leaves only one other possibility. There's someone else here, someone who's reading your pages and acting them out.”

“Oh my God!” Beth moved a little closer to Dean. “What are we going to do?”

Ryan took a deep breath. He looked very determined. “We're going on the buddy system. No one goes anywhere alone, not even to the bathroom. We're going to cook together, eat together, swim in the pool together, and watch television together. We're even going to sleep together.”

Beth burst into laughter. “Excuse me?”

“I didn't exactly mean it that way.” Ryan laughed, too. “We'll all sleep in the living room. There are three couches and you girls can have those. Dean and I'll sack out in sleeping bags on the floor. Are we all agreed?”

Everyone nodded, but Angela looked upset. “How are we going to work? Our computers are in our rooms.”

“I think I know how to solve that problem.” Dean smiled at her. “We can all work together in the library.”

“But we can't use our computers down there.” Angela still looked upset.

“Yes, we can. The guy who installed our workstations put a hook-up in the library. I'm sure it's linked to the whole system, and I noticed that there's a new phone jack right next to it. They were probably planning to use the library for a fax and modem line when they converted this place to offices.”

“Does the phone jack work?” Eve held her breath, but Dean shook his head.

“No. I thought of that and I plugged in a phone, but it's not activated yet.”

Ryan looked a little concerned. “We've got cable television. Are you sure the cable you saw is a computer cable?”

“I'm almost sure it is,” Dean said. “Why don't you check it out? It's on the far wall, opposite the fireplace.”

Ryan got up to look and when he came back, he was smiling. “Dean's right. It's a computer cable, and we can split it, five ways. We've got five extra setups. Dean and I can move them to the library and we can all work in there together.”

Eve knew where the extra workstations had come from. They'd started with ten students in the workshop, and now five of them were dead. But she didn't mention that because she didn't want to get them all upset again.

“I'm so glad we can all work together!” Angela smiled at Eve and Beth. “I don't know about the rest of you, but I really didn't want to go up to my room to work. I know I'll write a lot better if I'm not nervous about being alone.”

“Me, too!” Beth exclaimed.

Eve shivered slightly. She couldn't help wondering which victim's workstation she'd be using. And then she realized what Angela had said. “Wait a minute, Angela. Are you really going to go on with
Ten Little Writers
?”

“Of course I am.” Angela looked surprised. “Why shouldn't I keep on writing? If we're all together, protecting each other, nothing can possibly happen.”

No one said anything for a long moment, and then Ryan nodded. “I guess that's true. Maybe I shouldn't bring this up, but who's going to be your next victim?”

“I'm not sure.” Angela gave a little sigh. “I almost have to stick to my original plot. The story won't work if I don't. That means it'll have to be either Beth or Dean.”

Beth shuddered, and Dean put his arm around her shoulders. “Make it me, Angela.”

“All right.” Angela gave him a brilliant smile. “You're very brave to volunteer, Dean.”

Eve noticed that Dean didn't look brave. He looked terribly nervous. She turned to him with a question in her eyes. “Are you sure, Dean?”

“I'm sure.” Dean gave Beth a hug. “I don't have a thing to worry about. I know you'll all watch out for me.”

Beth hugged him back, but she didn't look happy. “I'm going to spend every second with you, Dean. You're never going to get out of my sight.”

“He's not going to get out of anyone's sight,” Eve agreed. “We're all going to stick to Dean like glue. And Angela's going to make his character's murder impossible to duplicate. Isn't that right, Angela?”

“Of course I will.” Angela was very serious. “You don't have a thing to worry about, Dean. I'm going to write it so that it can't possibly happen.”