Kill Joy

by Holly Jackson

  ‘Celia,’ she said, glaring back at him.

  ‘Yeah, Celia. I reckon we’ve got a case here of a good girl gone bad. And I think it would annoy Pip most to be the murderer. So, yeah.’

  ‘Such sound reasoning,’ Jamie said, a hint of annoyance in his tone. ‘Next.’

  Zach’s turn. Pip watched him carefully as he cleared his throat.

  ‘I think the murderer is my brother, Bobby Remy,’ he said, keeping his eyes to himself. ‘Bobby never gave up gambling, and I think my mother found out about it. I think she confronted him on that fateful walk one year ago today. And I think my brother murdered her, pushed her off the cliff.’

  Yes, Pip was right. Ralph Remy had always suspected his brother of killing their mother.

  ‘He’s murdered before and I think he murdered again,’ Zach continued. ‘He knew my father was going to cut him out of the will, and he wanted that money. That’s all he’s ever seen my father as – a bank. That’s why he tried to destroy the new will and stabbed our father through the heart. Oh, and that note about meeting up before dinner, that was from Bobby to my wife, Lizzie. But that was just Bobby trying to give himself an alibi, so he could say he was with Lizzie at the time of the murder, even if she denied it.’

  Wrong, Pip thought. That wasn’t it, and that was the whole point. It was something beyond that, between the lines.

  ‘Connor?’ Jamie pointed to him.

  ‘Yeah, so I think it might actually be Celia Bourne.’ He gave Pip a sideways glance. ‘I think she might be a Russian spy or something, because she kept reacting to that word, and she was trying to hide incriminating evidence. I think she’s lying about why she broke into Reginald’s safe, and whatever she found in there, something to do with that Harris Pick dude, it then became her mission to terminate Reginald Remy.’

  Pip was impressed with his observation skills, even if he was dead wrong. She ironed out her face, no expression. It was her turn next. She cricked her neck, gearing up for it.

  ‘Cara?’ Jamie said, eyes skipping over Pip. Oh, he was letting her go last. Maybe because she was the one with the bonus secret clue, he thought she was most likely to have it. And he was right.

  ‘Yeah, so, despite his actor being the most annoying person in the world,’ Cara said, her painted wrinkles dancing across her face, ‘I’m going to go for Bobby Remy. Everything points to him, I think. He’s having an affair with his brother’s wife. He’s been gambling and is now seemingly mixed up with gangsters. Like Ralph said, he probably killed his mum too. He’s after his inheritance money, that’s why he destroyed the new will and killed his dad.’

  Cara had fallen for it all, exactly as it had been planned.

  And now it was Pip’s turn.

  She got to her feet before Jamie even had a chance to say her name.

  ‘OK, before we get to who is behind this murder,’ she said, ‘we first need to discount who is not involved. Yes, Dora Key –’ she gestured to Cara – ‘is a plant by the Garza family. They threatened the last cook to make her quit, and Dora got herself employed here to keep an eye on the Remy business dealings and report back. But she did not murder my uncle Reginald; why would she? There was nothing for her and the Garzas to gain from that.’

  Lauren looked deflated, so Pip turned to her next. ‘Lizzie, you certainly don’t come out of this looking so rosy. You’ve been stealing from the Remy family, skimming money from the London casino. Perhaps you were trying to gain some financial security in case your husband found out about you sleeping with his brother and divorced you and you lost everything. Reginald worked out that you were the thief, and maybe you were worried about him going to the authorities. But you are not the murderer, though you are probably relieved he is dead.

  ‘Humphrey Todd –’ she turned her eyes to Connor – ‘you hated Reginald Remy. You even wished him dead. You said the reason was because you asked for time off work to visit your daughter and he denied you. That was true –’ she paused – ‘but it was only part of the truth. The reason you wanted time off two weeks ago was because your daughter – the only family you have left in the whole world – had contracted a deadly disease: smallpox. But Reginald said no, and your daughter died soon after. You never got a chance to say goodbye. That is why you hated him, in the end, and revenge certainly is a strong motive. But you also did not kill Reginald Remy.’

  By the flush in Connor’s cheeks Pip knew she was right on the mark.

  ‘For my own part,’ she said, hand on her chest, ‘yes, Humphrey, you are partly right. I am a spy working for His Majesty’s Secret Service, and I was instructed to investigate my uncle, and whether he was funding seditious communist activity. Harris Pick is a known communist agitator. But I did not murder my uncle, and my mission was misguided. Reginald wasn’t funding communists; he was simply settling his outstanding debts. Sending money to an old friend who had saved his life in the war. Because, and here’s the kicker, everyone … Reginald Remy knew he was going to die.’

  ‘What?’ Lauren and Ant said in unison, the others staring at her.

  ‘Here.’ She pulled out the secret clue from her dress, dropping it in the middle of the table. ‘A secret clue that was hidden in the cellar, for whoever went down to the fuse box. Reginald was dying of lung cancer, and the doctor told him he didn’t have much time left. And just a couple of weeks ago the doctor was sent a load of money to keep his mouth shut about this.’

  ‘Oh shit,’ Zach said, casting his eyes down at the clue.

  ‘Oh shit indeed,’ Pip continued. ‘And while you are right, Dora, that everything seems to be pointing to Bobby Remy, there is a precise reason for that. But while the rest of us didn’t have alibis for the time of the murder, two people here actually did.’ She nodded at Lauren and Ant. ‘Lizzie and Bobby Remy were together at the time of the murder. Having more relations, no doubt. It’s something that Lizzie would never ever admit to, especially not in front of her husband, Ralph, because she’s terrified of divorce and losing this comfortable, wealthy life she has grown accustomed to. Bobby had to play along too and say he was alone on a walk, because Lizzie would never vouch for him and he knew it. And so did our killer, who knew exactly where Bobby Remy would be at the time of the murder, and that he’d never be able to prove he had an alibi. So, if neither Lizzie nor Bobby are the murderer, that leaves one final person among the guests tonight.’

  She shifted her gaze to Zach. ‘Ralph Remy, you are the killer.’

  ‘What?’ Connor exclaimed, though it sounded far-off somehow, in a different world from her.

  ‘Although I’m not sure we can really call you a killer, seeing as your father was in on it and wanted you to do it.’

  ‘What?!’ From Cara now.

  ‘That’s right. This whole thing was an elaborate plan set up by Ralph Remy, Reginald Remy and one other person.’ She paused, her heart thrumming through her, right up to the point of her raised finger. ‘Inspector Howard Whey.’

  Jamie froze. He lowered his eyebrows, watching her closely.

  ‘What?!’ That one was Lauren.

  ‘Ralph has always suspected that his brother, Bobby, murdered their mother last year. Pushed her off a cliff because she found out about his gambling again. Reginald Remy also knew, deep down, that his eldest son was a murderer and had robbed him of the love of his life. But this wasn’t the first time that Bobby had killed someone, oh no. See, after Reginald Remy paid off Bobby’s gambling debts to the loan sharks threatening his son’s life, Bobby actually joined them. He was a member of the East End Streeters gang, seen dealing cocaine with them at the Garza Casino. Bobby had a serious gambling addiction to fuel, after all. A violent gang that Inspector Howard Whey and Scotland Yard have had many dealings with before. Your partner, Inspector, went undercover to try and expose the gang’s drug network and was gunned down for it. But you’ve always known exactly who it was that shot him. It was Bobby Remy. At least two murders under his belt, and yet he would never face justice for either of the
m. Neither could ever be proved, and Bobby would continue living his life, free to kill again if the need arose.

  ‘Unless someone stopped him. Fast-forward to just a couple of months ago when Reginald Remy found out he was dying. He knew he would never live to see justice for his poor wife, and that his eldest son was a very dangerous man. So he hatched a plan with his other son, Ralph. If Bobby would never be caught for the previous two murders he’d committed, they could make damn well sure that he did go down for another murder: the murder of Reginald Remy. Reginald was going to die anyway; they might as well achieve something with his death and have Bobby locked away for life. And pay off the doctor so no one would work it out. Ralph would not only find justice for his mother, but he could put a stop to the affair between his wife and his brother, which he knew about. Ralph and Reginald must have looked into Bobby’s past and made the connection with the dead policeman, and that’s when they approached Inspector Howard Whey and he came in on the plan. You, too, were desperate to see justice for your late partner, and to get this dangerous man off the streets.’

  ‘But he’s not part of the game, surely?’ Lauren said.

  ‘You’d think that,’ Pip said, her voice running away with her. ‘But this information has been there all along, one of the very first things we were told. On our invitations it said that there is only one boat a day from the mainland to Joy island, leaving at twelve p.m. sharp. Today, Reginald is murdered between five fifteen p.m. and six thirty p.m. and then shortly after – the same evening, mind you – the inspector shows up to help us solve the murder. But how is he even here? Think about it.’ She leaned across the table. ‘It’s because he was already here, had been here all day since the boat at twelve p.m. Inspector Howard Whey travelled to Joy island before the murder had even happened. Because he knew it was going to happen, because he was part of the plan to set Bobby Remy up for the murder of Reginald. This is why most of the clues have been mounting up to point at Bobby; the inspector has been steering the investigation.’

  She grabbed the ripped-up, taped-up will from the evidence pile in the centre of the table. ‘Bobby Remy did not find and destroy this new will. Ralph and Reginald did this. We know they were in the library together alone earlier this evening. That’s when they ripped it up and put it in the fireplace, and yet they didn’t burn it because they wanted it to be found. Because they were trying to establish a motive for Bobby to murder his father: money, essentially. That argument I heard last night, between Ralph and his father, they weren’t talking about business plans. They were talking about this: their scheme to kill Reginald and set up Bobby. Remember what I overheard Ralph saying –’ she double-checked against her booklet – ‘“I refuse to do that, Father” and “this scheme of yours is ridiculous and will never work” and “won’t get away with this”. Ralph was clearly getting cold feet about this whole plan, about having to stick a knife through his own father’s chest. But Reginald talked him back into it.

  ‘Look.’ She picked up the final clue they’d found in the pizza box. ‘This note from RR. Some of you thought Bobby wrote this to Lizzie, about meeting up behind Ralph’s back. You might think that Bobby wrote this intentionally to give himself an alibi so he could claim he was with Lizzie at the time of the murder. But Bobby did not write this note. He is not the RR here. This note –’ she brandished it – ‘was written by Reginald Remy to his son, Ralph. Tonight …’ she read from the note. ‘You promised me … he does not deserve our sympathy. Reginald was making sure that Ralph did not have second thoughts again. And if you don’t believe me,’ she said, ‘just look at the handwriting. The font. We have 100% confirmed that Bobby wrote the other RR note to the cook about the carrot cake. Look at it: that one is printed with a different handwriting font to this one. Because they were written by two different people. And the handwriting in this note –’ she waved it again – ‘matches the writing on our original invitations by Reginald. And his cheque book. The truth is, Reginald organized this whole weekend to orchestrate his own murder and set up his son Bobby, with the help of Ralph – who inflicted the fatal stab wound on instruction – and the inspector, both of whom had their own scores to settle with Bobby. Robert “Bobby” Remy is a murderer, but he’s not our murderer. Our murder was carried out by three conspirators: Ralph Remy, Reginald Remy himself and Inspector Howard Whey.’

  Pip dropped the note, watching it glide slowly to the table, as she caught her breath. It landed right in front of Zach, like an arrow. He gulped.

  Connor was the first to speak. ‘Wow,’ he said, clapping his hands together, staring up at her, his jaw falling open. ‘Just … wow.’

  ‘Shit, your brain is scary good,’ Cara laughed, the gasp real this time.

  Jamie finally moved, glancing down at his master booklet, open to the final page. ‘That,’ he began, an uncertain croak in his voice. ‘That … that’s wrong.’

  The trumpets screamed.

  ‘What?’ Pip stared at him. ‘What do you mean that’s wrong?’

  ‘Th-that’s not the answer,’ he said, his eyes doubling back across the page. ‘That’s not what happened. It’s Bobby. Bobby’s the murderer.’

  ‘Yeah, baby!’ Ant shouted suddenly, making Pip flinch. He stood up, raising his arms above his head in victory. ‘I’m the killer, bitches!’

  ‘No …’ Pip said, forcing the word out through her tightening throat. ‘But, it can’t be.’

  ‘That’s what it says here,’ Jamie said, eyebrows drawn across his eyes. ‘It says that Bobby murdered Reginald. Yes, you’re right about Bobby murdering his mother last year, because she found out about his gambling. And Bobby was concerned his father would cut him off if he knew. This weekend he learned of the new will he’d been written out of, so he murdered his father and destroyed the new document, so he’d still get his massive inheritance. And that RR note from the pizza box, like you said, Bobby wrote it to make it look like he had an alibi, that he was with Lizzie at the time of the murder. It was premeditated.’

  ‘No!’ Pip said again, irritated now. ‘No, that can’t be the solution. It’s too obvious. It’s too easy. It doesn’t even make sense!’

  ‘This must be absolutely killing you,’ Ant chuckled, ‘to be so epically wrong. Damn, I wish we’d been videoing you.’

  ‘No, I’m not wrong,’ Pip dug in her heels, feeling a flush of anger climbing up her neck, reaching for her face. ‘Explain the handwriting, then. How can both of the RR notes be written by Bobby if they are printed with different handwriting styles?’

  ‘Um.’ Jamie flicked through his pages back and forth. ‘Um, no, I don’t know. It doesn’t say anything about that in here.’

  ‘And what about the secret clue, then? That Reginald knew he was dying of cancer? How does that figure into Bobby being the killer?’

  ‘Um …’ Jamie ran his finger down the page. ‘It says he learned of his father’s diagnosis and therefore knew that Reginald would soon be likely to draw up a new will, so he had to act quickly to secure his father’s money.’

  ‘Who paid off the doctor, then? And what about you?’ Pip said, her hands balling up at her sides, fingernails carving angry lines in her palms. ‘How does the game explain the inspector even being here if he wasn’t in on the whole murder plan? There’s only one boat a day at twelve p.m. You can’t be here unless you knew about the murder beforehand.’

  Jamie’s face crumpled, returning to his page. ‘Yeah, I, er, I don’t know what to tell you, Pip. Sorry. It doesn’t say anything about that in here. Just that Bobby did it.’

  ‘That’s bullshit,’ she said.

  ‘OK, OK.’ Cara tugged her back into her seat by the ends of her feather boa. ‘It doesn’t matter, though; it’s just a game.’

  ‘But it’s wrong,’ Pip said, the fight all but leaving her, fading along with the half-moon imprints in her hands. ‘Bobby as the killer is too easy. It’s too easy. And there are too many holes,’ she said, more to herself than the others. Why had she let herse
lf get so invested? It wasn’t even real.

  ‘Well, that’s OK, it’s only a bit of fun,’ Cara said, squeezing her hand. ‘Besides, I guessed it, so I’m a boss.’

  ‘Yeah, and the whole game was really good,’ Connor said, an extra cheery edge to his voice, to compensate. ‘Way more interactive than I thought it would be. Thanks for setting it all up and hosting, Jam.’

  ‘Yeah, thanks, Jamie,’ Cara said, and Pip echoed it right after.

  ‘That’s OK, everyone,’ he said, removing his police helmet to take a bow. ‘Inspector Whey over and out.’

  And it had been good, right up until the end. The whole world outside this house had disappeared; it had been just her and her mind and a problem to solve. Exactly the way she liked it. Exactly when she was most herself.

  But she’d been wrong.

  Pip hated being wrong.

  She ran her thumb across her closed booklet, along the logo at the bottom. With a quick, sharp movement, she made a tiny rip in the page, her small act of revenge, splitting the words Kill Joy.

  Twelve

  ‘So how was it?’ Elliot Ward asked from the front of the car. Mr Ward filled several roles in Pip’s life: Cara’s dad and her history teacher. Her favourite teacher really, but don’t tell him that. She was round the Wards’ house so often he’d probably come to see her as a bonus daughter. She even had a Pip mug that lived over there.

  ‘Yeah, really fun,’ Cara replied from the front. ‘Pip’s in a semi-sulk because she guessed it wrong.’

  ‘Ah, Pip,’ Mr Ward said. ‘Probably something wrong with the game, then, eh?’ He teased, looking back quickly to smile at her and Zach sitting in the back.

  ‘Oh my god, do not even get her started,’ Cara said, licking her finger to start wiping away her wrinkles.

  ‘I preferred your theory anyway,’ Zach said to her across the dark back seat.

  Pip gave him a closed-mouth smile. She supposed it wasn’t his fault he wasn’t the murderer and that the writers at Kill Joy Games were incompetent hacks. Bobby Remy as the killer, she sniffed. It was just way too easy. OK, maybe she wasn’t quite over it yet.