by Ruby Loren
Fergus waved a silencing hand. “The point is, I bet you know the answer. You might not realise it, but it’s probably there, staring you in the face.”
I looked hopelessly around the room but the only thing staring me in the face was Fergus… and the knowledge that I’d just eaten far too much chocolate cake. “You said there was a conspiracy theory about the Harving incident?” I said, hoping to distract him from his crazy idea that I’d somehow got it all figured out.
“Yes - that it was deliberate sabotage or deliberate negligence. To be honest, it started out as a theory but was later proven - which was why the sculptors were convicted.” He waggled his eyebrows at me. “See… some of my theories do turn out to be correct all along. I’m not a crackpot.”
“But was it ever explained why the sculptors would have wanted to sabotage their own work? Did they mean for people to get hurt?” I pressed, wondering if a motive had ever been established.
A line appeared between Fergus’ brows. “I don’t think they ever confessed to the crime or explained why they did it. They just ended up in prison.”
“And later died in there,” I filled in, shaking my head. “You know what? Rich said something in the first challenge we did today. He said Christine had a way of getting what she wanted and breaking the rules to get it. What if she’s the one who wanted Elliot Harving out of the way and she’s the one who sabotaged the sculpture?” It was the most plausible theory so far.
“That makes sense. It’s all about Elliot Harving. I’m guessing it wouldn’t be a stretch for someone to believe that Christine was involved in his demise. Although… I’m not sure why.” I thought about it. “Probably jealousy. Elliot was an up and coming garden designer. Perhaps Christine didn’t want to risk the competition.”
Fergus frowned in-between mouthfuls of cake. “Killing him seems a bit extreme when you can just discredit the man.”
“She might not have known that he would die. How would she have known when…?” I stopped talking as several things came together for me. Half-remembered words and comments made sense, and I knew I was on the edge of finding out the truth and the killer responsible for the murder of Christine Montague.
“What kind of trick was that? I thought this course was about building teamwork,” Rich said when he walked through the door. All talk and thoughts about murder would have to wait. After my sudden flash of inspiration the only person I genuinely believed I could trust was Fergus. I wasn’t sure which of the other course members was the one feeding the rest of us a line.
“I had nothing to do with it,” I said, throwing Fergus to the wolves.
He glared at me with chocolate smeared around his mouth. I smiled sweetly in return. This was a battle he’d have to fight on his own.
“You seem to have figured it out just fine,” Fergus pointed out.
Rich shrugged self-deprecatingly. “I wasn’t convinced by your answers from the start. I knew that a woman like Diana wouldn’t have that kind of taste.” He looked at me.
It was as if the whole room disappeared and it was just us, alone and looking deep into each others’ souls.
I blinked to get rid of that unsettling feeling.
“I dunno… the glitter is growing on me,” I said to try to divert the mood.
“It’s growing on everyone. It’s gained a consciousness of its own,” Fergus added, not helping anything.
Rich shook his head and gave me a look that said oh so clearly ‘why do you hang out with this idiot?’. I looked away, not trusting myself to make a good decision on how to look in response.
Tanya was the next one to arrive and she looked even less pleased than Rich.
“What’s the big idea?”
“It wasn’t anything to do with me,” I said whilst Fergus threw his hands up in the air and looked betrayed.
“I thought it would be funny. Something to lighten the mood, you know?” Fergus said, addressing Tanya.
The change to her expression was remarkable. She beamed so brightly it was as if the sun had suddenly broken through the clouds. “I should have known. You have such a great sense of humour! It’s just what we all needed.”
“I know,” Fergus said without any trace of shame whatsoever. “Chocolate cake? There won't be any left soon.”
“Oo no! I don’t really like cake,” Tanya announced. And just like that, I dismissed all chances of anything ever working out between her and Fergus.
The final challenge was rather predictable. It meshed all of the skills we’d learned that day together. We were in a greenhouse area and told to forage but only for plants that were in season for the month we were in right now. Any incorrect choices would result in penalties. Everyone looked to Fergus when the word ‘penalty’ was mentioned and, as predicted, Fergus was the first one to make a critical error. When he presented his ‘final product’, with all the swagger of a student who finished their homework five minutes before the lesson began, there was a small explosion as a hammer smashed down on his arrangement.
Fergus shrugged. That punishment wasn’t such a big deal. No problem. He would make another. Before he could walk away from the judging platform water showered down on top of him followed by a whole bucket of glitter. “I think someone is running out of ideas,” Fergus commented, inspecting his multi-coloured shine. The final icing on the cake was when the icing on the cake hit him in the face. A birthday cake the same as the one we’d eaten earlier struck a direct hit.
Fergus spat glitter and icing out of his mouth, pulling a bemused face. “The challenge is a combination of everything we learned today. I guess the punishment is, too,” he concluded, a lot less smug than he had been.
“Couldn’t have happened to a better person,” I said before primly returning to my own arrangement which I noted was nearly finished. I felt that I still lacked some of the finesse and skills that some florists I’d admired over the years possessed but my knowledge of floriculture and when things were in season had done me proud and I was hopeful that this was a challenge I was going to ace.
I placed my finished arrangement of chrysanthemums and rose-hips on the judgement table and waited, wondering for a second if I was going to be covered in glitter and cake.
Emilia beamed on screen and I was congratulated on my success. It would appear that the team spirit nature of the course was diminishing, as I was instructed to leave the greenhouse and enjoy the dinner that had just been automatically cooked for us all. I was certain that things like automatic dinner were supposed to be part of the course’s selling points, but, in all honesty, I couldn’t wait for tomorrow to be finished and to be able to make a return to the real world beyond the walls of the bunker.
Dinner was fish and chips cooked in some healthy, equally trendy, manner - that in my mind completely ruined the concept. I sat alone in the dining hall and picked at my food, wondering who would be next to walk through the door.
I was immensely surprised to find it was Fergus.
“Before you ask how I cheated, I want you to know that I didn’t cheat at all,” he informed me, sitting down behind a plate and digging in. I was starting to get the impression that Fergus didn’t mind so much what he was eating so long as there was something to eat.
“Then what did you do?” I asked, knowing there had to be some kind of trickery involved.
Fergus made a big show of looking offended. “I can learn things, you know! I’m good at learning, and this course has taught me a lot.”
I raised my eyebrows at him. While what he’d just said was plausible, it didn’t fit with my idea of Fergus and his non-conformity to traditional methods when faced with just about anything.
He grinned and I knew I was right. “I watched you make your arrangement and then copied it pretty much flower for flower. I have no pride in my own work, so I borrowed yours.”
“I should have guessed,” I said, considering it. “I suppose that isn’t unreasonable. Unsporting, but not unreasonable.”
“Thank you!”
Fergus acted like I’d just paid him a great compliment.
I shook my head and decided to eat something.
“So… alone again at last,” Fergus said, grinning at me over his dinner plate.
“I haven’t solved any mysteries,” I informed him, spearing something that I assumed was supposed to pass as a chip.
“Have you solved the mystery of your suitor, Rich?” Fergus asked, making me choke on the mouthful I’d just taken.
“Suitor? Are we living in medieval England?”
“He’s been following you around like a puppy all day.”
I pushed my auburn hair back from my forehead. “You really think so?” Of course I’d noticed the attentions of the South African. He’d been nothing if not persistent, but I wasn't interested in any kind of relationship. It had been a long time since my last one had ended, but I was still licking my wounds and was unwilling to open up fresh ones.
But that didn’t mean I wasn’t above pulling Fergus’ leg a little.
“It is rather surprising, isn’t it?” Fergus acknowledged with seriousness that made me want to hit him.
“Is it? I’m young, in my prime, I own a business, I possess a sparkling wit and intelligence…” I countered.
“Young-ish.” Fergus knocked back.
I glared at him. I was not willing to kiss goodbye to my youth just yet - no matter what my birthday might say. “No need to be jealous, Fergus. Tanya seems very interested in you and your work.”
“No jealousy here. I just have an interest in your happiness and wellbeing. I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to shack up with the most obvious murder suspect.”
“Tanya’s hardly above suspicion! She knew who Christine was before this course. She claimed she even knocked on Christine’s door the night before she died in order to tell her how much of a fan she was, but she might have played that part in order to protect herself from any suspicion when her rival turned up dead with puncture wounds in her back. “
“Tanya is just attracted to success and a man who knows what being a man is all about. Didn’t you see the way she switched her attentions to me when she discovered the truth? She’d heard of me, too, remember?”
I frowned, recalling that piece of information. It had struck me as strange at the time. Could it have anything to do with the murder that was currently baffling us all?
“It’s not that implausible! In the right circles I’m quite well known,” Fergus said, interpreting my frown as a slight against him.
“No doubt,” I said placatingly as I started on the fish and the rest of the group filed into the room.
“Only another 24 hours and we can all get out of here,” Jack announced, probably breaking guide protocol by making it clear that it would be a relief to leave this exclusive course. I was betting he wouldn’t be invited back if the course was repeated. I doubted that it would be. Murder was hardly a good advertisement - not when it came to flower arranging anyway.
I pushed the food around my plate again, my thoughts elsewhere. I didn't even react when Rich slid into the chair next to me and oh so causally bumped his leg against mine. But I couldn’t ignore it when he reached out and touched my hand.
“Rich,” I said, turning to him and speaking in as low a voice as I could manage. “Now really isn’t the time. I’m sorry. You seem like a…” I’d been about to say nice but nice didn’t really cover Rich. It was too plain to be applied to him. “…an interesting man,” I finished, a little limply.
“Don’t tell me I’m not your type?” Rich said, looking amused. The flashy-looking South African had probably never been told he wasn’t someone’s type.
“I’m not looking for anyone to date. I’m currently enjoying my own company,” I said and then winced at how that sounded. “I’m focusing on my business.”
“Plenty of people date whilst also focusing on their businesses. I already suggested that we work together,” Rich said, pressing the issue.
I looked into his attractive face and saw Fergus’ scowl out of the corner of my eye. “And I appreciate the offer. I’m just not looking for a partner at the moment.”
Rich kept watching me without backing off. “So, what happened? Some guy put you off men, or something?”
Did I blink? I wasn’t sure. “Nothing should have to have ‘happened’ in order for me to not be interested in having a relationship. Plenty of people are happy on their own!” Was I really having to defend my decision?
Rich gave me a disbelieving look. “Sure, but something did happen, right? Whatever it was, I’m not like that guy.” He moved closer again.
I pushed my chair back. “Actually, I have a feeling you are. Exactly like that guy,” I told him, seeing it for the first time. I pushed my chair back and stood up trying to ignore the smug expression on Fergus’ face. “Excuse me, I think I’ll get an early night,” I said and walked off to sit in my shared room. With a bit of luck, Fergus would have brought along some books to read. Even literature based on little to no evidence and wild speculation was more inviting than being pushed into something I didn’t want to do by Rich.
Ten minutes later, there was a knock on the door. “Who is it?”
“Me,” Fergus said, opening it and coming in. He looked at the Close Encounters of the Seventh Kind book I was holding with some surprise.
“There was nothing else to read. And I wanted to know what ‘the Seventh Kind’ referred to. I thought there were only five kinds…” I told him.
“You’re quite far into it.”
“It’s gripping… if you treat it like fiction,” I said defensively. The book was supposed to be a firsthand account of one man’s experience chasing after flying saucers, or whatever it was he liked to refer to them as, but it read like a trashy thriller, and sometimes a trashy thriller was just what the doctor ordered.
“It’s a little out there even for me,” Fergus confided, sitting down on his bed. “I prefer theoretical arguments which are more earth based. Even investigating this bunker was more of a whim than something I’m expert in. Still… it will make an interesting magazine article. I’ll make a few quid from selling it to all the usual places.”
“Is that how you make money?” I asked. Normally it would be considered rude to enquire about one’s means of income, but Fergus was such an enigma about everything.
He waved a hand. “A lady never tells.”
I shook my head and rolled over with the book. Typical Fergus - never giving a straight answer.
“You know… Tanya came over right after you ditched Rich so dramatically.”
“Really? Which of you did she come over to?” I asked drily.
“I’ll have you know that I have a lot going for me! She came over to me,” Fergus clarified anyway. “She, uh, actually asked me if I wanted to change rooms - seeing as you might be upset over things not working out between you and Rich.”
I pulled a face into the book. Had it been that obvious? I’d been trying to keep it subtle so Rich wasn't publicly humiliated, but if Tanya had noticed, I might have missed the mark. It wasn’t entirely my fault. Rich shouldn’t have pushed matters so hard. “Am I to conclude that, as you are still here, you didn't take her up on her offer?”
“That would probably be accurate, yes,” Fergus said, sounding faintly amused by the whole thing. “I won’t tell you what she said next.”
I glared at the book and then sat up. “What did she say next?” I asked, as I was certain I was supposed to.
Fergus inspected his fingernails. “Something along the lines of us messing everyone around when we are so clearly vying for the other’s attention.”
“Vying for your attention? That’s absolutely ridiculous!”
Fergus grinned at me. “Actually, she didn’t say anything like that. I just thought it would be hilarious to see your reaction.”
I threw the book at him.
When I opened my eyes and discovered the glowing hands on the alarm clock were pointing to 2:10 a.m., I was l
ess than impressed. My first conscious thought was that the shenanigans of last night had better not be repeated. Just when I was concluding that my own jumpiness had caused me to spring awake something moved outside the room.
Someone was sneaking around at the dead of night.
9
Running from Murder
I threw on a jumper and my trainers, walking to the door and listening intently for a moment. I could hear the sounds of Fergus snoring from his bed so didn’t bother trying to wake him up. That man could sleep through a tornado.
After holding my breath, I thought I could just make out the sounds of someone’s footsteps disappearing along the corridor. With the memory of the figure dressed in the military costume at the forefront of my mind and the spectre of a murderer running loose in the bunker, I stepped out of the room and silently shut the door behind me. It was only when I was standing out in the silence of the empty corridor that I reflected I probably should have brought some kind of weapon along with me for company. I wanted to reassure myself that no one here had a motive to murder me, but I wasn’t convinced it was entirely true. I’d asked an awful lot of questions today and, like it or not, I knew full well that I was up to my neck in the murder of Christine Montague.
I tried not to think of her still lying in her room when I passed the closed door. I was walking right past death and could be hot on the heels of the person responsible for it.
I walked down the dead end corridor, wondering what I was going to find waiting.
A closed door was not what I’d expected. I hesitated, wondering if I was going crazy or if there was something paranormal going on. I only ever contemplated it when I was alone in the dark, and I quickly shook the idea from my head. It was while I was pursuing these thoughts that I heard the same sound of footsteps - only this time they were walking on the other side of the door. On a whim, I reached out and pressed down the handle. Jack had told me that the door was locked with no way through, but the handle compressed and I found myself in another long, empty corridor. Someone had found a way to get through - locked, or not. I bit my lip, wondering if this was how the killer had got away. Was there another person in here with the group?
