A Bidder End

by Ellery Adams

  As they drove out of town, Clara said, “While I was waiting for you to pick me up, I thought about everything you’ve told me. I think you might be wrong about your game theory. Although I agree it’s an oddly compelling concept, the idea of taking a popular board game and using its weapons, rooms, and pawns to mimic a real crime scene seems like too much work. Ask yourself, why would the killer bother going to all this trouble?”

  “Like I told Lombardi, if we’re dealing with a psychopath, there’s no rhyme or reason,” Molly said. “It could be they have a fascination with the game, or they think they’re being clever, teasing us, challenging us to work it out.”

  “But if you do work it out, you’ll discover who it is, and they’ll be arrested. Why would they risk being caught?”

  “I can’t answer that without knowing their motive,” Molly said. “But you’re right, it is just a theory, and I could be way off base.”

  “Sean said he’ll start calling everyone he knows about the flashlight,” Clara said.

  “I’ll thank him tonight at dinner,” Molly said. “If the killer bought it from someone local, we could trace it back to them. Unless, of course, they already owned it, then we’ll never know where it came from.”

  “Leaving those boxes for you and Holt in broad daylight was a bold move.”

  “I think whoever did it must have known Holt would park out of sight of the security cameras, and somehow they knew I wasn’t home. They’re lucky Starling didn’t see them.”

  Clara looked out the rear window. “Do you think you’re being followed?”

  “I doubt it,” Molly said. “But that doesn’t mean they didn’t do some kind of reconnaissance of my house. When I told Matt, he said he was going to call the security company and have them install cameras.”

  “Good idea,” Clara said. “Have you asked your neighbors if they saw anyone around the house?”

  “I did, but no one saw anything.”

  “Not even Mrs. Houghton? She’s always spying out her windows.”

  “She had a doctor’s appointment this morning, and her daughter took her out to lunch.”

  “Too bad,” Clara said. “She’s the kind of nosy neighbor you want at a time like this.”

  “Thanks for coming with me on such short notice,” Molly said.

  “Yes, well, you know I don’t like any of this, but I do see your point about how far you’ve already come. I suppose you may as well see it to its end. How is Starling?”

  “She’s smart and knows to be careful,” Molly said. “I told her to keep all of the doors and windows locked, and to set the security alarm. I also gave her instructions not to let anyone into the house while I’m gone, even if they’re bleeding on the steps and crying for help. I told her if that happens, call nine-one-one, Lombardi, then me and Matt, in that order.”

  “Did you tell her when she took the job that you’re a magnet for dead bodies?”

  “Ma!”

  “What? It’s true, and you know it.”

  “You make it sound like I go looking for trouble, which I don’t. These things just happen to me. If you want to blame anyone, blame the universe.”

  “You think you’re divinely preordained to find dead bodies?”

  “In the words of John Lennon, ‘There’s nowhere you can be that isn’t where you’re meant to be.’”

  Clara pointed. “Slow down, dear. Lakeside Brewery is coming up ahead on the right.”

  “I wonder why they named it Lakeside Brewery when it isn’t anywhere near the lake,” Molly said.

  “I looked them up online,” Clara said. “They call themselves an American tavern with a passion for great food and craft beers. Their game room is popular. They have tournaments on Friday nights, and if you come alone, they say they’ll set you up with other people to play with.”

  The parking lot wasn’t full, and Molly was able to find a space near the door. As soon as they walked in, they were greeted by a smiling hostess with a name tag that read Lauralee. She grabbed two menus off the podium and said, “Right this way, ladies.”

  The dining room was spacious and decorated in warm earth tones. There were booths along the wall by the windows, and in the center of the room was a bar area. At the other end of the room was a sign over a door that read Buds and Boards.

  Lauralee sat them at a quiet booth in the corner. “Your waitress will be Jenny, and she’ll be with you shortly,” she said, handing them menus.

  “Buds and Boards, is that the game room?” Molly asked

  “Yes,” Lauralee said. “We have games you can rent to play. It’s really popular on the weekends, but you can play anytime. A lot of people eat first, but others buy a beer, or a glass of wine, and go in and have some fun. It only costs five dollars a game per person. Enjoy your lunch.”

  Lauralee went away, only to be replaced by their bubbly waitress, Jenny. “Hi, I’m Jenny,” she chirped. “Have you been here before?”

  “This is our first time,” Molly said. “Do you have a lunch special?”

  “Yes. A roast turkey sandwich on brioche, with bacon, lettuce, cranberry mayo, and sweet potato fries.”

  “Sounds good to me,” Molly said. “I’ll have an iced tea, too.”

  “Make it two,” Clara said.

  “Coming right up,” Jenny said.

  “Before you go,” Molly said. “I have a question about the game room. How do you pay to play, is there someone in charge of the room?”

  “Yes, we always have a game master sitting behind a desk at the door. You pay them. If you have any questions about the rules, or how to play, you can ask them.”

  “Do you know who was working there on Monday night?”

  Jenny thought a moment. “It was John. He’s working today, too, but he doesn’t come in until two.”

  Perfect, Molly thought. They could have their lunch, and by the time they were done, it would be around two o’clock. “When he gets here, we’d like to talk to him,” Molly said.

  “I’ll let him know,” Jenny said.

  When she was gone, Clara said, “I just had a thought about the little lamb cookie jar. Maybe it was left for you because you’re a new mother.”

  “What?”

  “It’s the song, ‘Mary Had a Little Lamb.’ I know it’s old-fashioned, but I sang it to you when you were a baby. Have you sung it to Tyler?”

  “Yes, actually, I have,” Molly said. “I told Lombardi I thought the cookie jars might have been used as a conveyance for the pawns, but if you’re right, maybe they have a deeper meaning.”

  “Brett’s jar looks like a picnic basket,” Clara said. “Did he like picnics?”

  “I have no idea,” Molly said. “Jasper’s was a clown in a barrel.”

  “Ah, that’s more interesting. Perhaps the killer thought he was clownish.”

  “Holt got a pig, which, sad to say, fits him.”

  “I feel sorry for Iris,” Clara said. “She’s living alone in a tiny house out in the woods, and Sabrina, a girl she thought was her friend, stabbed her in the back. I think she told you about the stolen money, her cookie jar collection, and the board games to get her into trouble. And it worked. Iris has fallen under a cloud of suspicion, in not one but two murders.”

  “I’m not sure what to make of Iris,” Molly said. “People tell me she’s a shy, quiet girl, but Holt says she was all over him when he kissed her. And you’re right, we have Sabrina’s claim that she stole money from her, but Iris refutes it, and Olga doesn’t believe it for one second. And yes, there are six stolen cookie jars, and her connection to board games, but even with all that swirling around her, I still can’t figure out what her motive would be to kill Brett, never mind Jasper.”

  “Maybe you need to talk to Helen again, and Sabrina. Both of them were in love with Brett, which gives them a motive.”

  “I’m not sure I can do that now. Lombardi’s got the case, and he hasn’t asked me to assist him.”

  “I thought you were giving him a bri
efing tonight?”

  “I will, but unless he asks for my help, I’m still on the outside of this.”

  Clara laughed. “When have you ever been on the outside?”

  “You know what, Ma? You’re right. I have to keep going with this, even if I’m working on a parallel track to Lombardi. But what about Holt? I think it’s far more likely he killed Brett. The only sticking point is Jasper. Where does he fit in?”

  “Do you believe Helen’s story?”

  “She did have rope burns on her wrists and ankles, and the police did find rope among Jasper’s possessions,” Molly said. “If things weren’t as lovey-dovey with Brett as she’s making them out to be, and she thought he was going to break up with her, that could be her motive for killing him.”

  “I didn’t know Brett very well, but I never thought of him as the kind of man women were fighting over,” Clara said. “Was he that popular with the ladies?”

  “He’s had a lot of girlfriends,” Molly said. “I think he had trouble with commitment. Like Lombardi.”

  “Tony doesn’t have trouble committing,” Clara said. “He just needs to find the right woman to commit to.”

  Molly sighed. Her mother treated Lombardi like the son she’d never had, one she desperately wanted to marry off, so he could live happily ever after. She refused to believe he might be a confirmed bachelor.

  They stopped talking as Jenny walked over with their lunch. “Is there anything else I can get for you ladies?”

  “Not for me,” Clara said.

  “Everything looks delicious,” Molly said.

  Jenny went away, and they ate in silence, enjoying their sandwiches. Molly didn’t speak again until she was almost done. “Lombardi told me Jasper has been here for three weeks,” she said. “I wonder why he waited so long to get in touch with Helen. Why not call her right away, if the sole purpose of his being here was to ask her to go back to California with him?”

  “I want to know why he had a hatchet, a shovel, and disposable razor blades in his backpack, along with duct tape and rope,” Clara said.

  “Lombardi thinks he might have planned on killing Helen,” Molly said. “But I’m not so sure it was what he really wanted to do, despite the implements of death he was carrying around. I think killing her could have been a last-resort backup plan.”

  “He did tie her up,” Clara said.

  “Yes, he did. And if he was going to kill her, that would have been the time to do it.”

  “Maybe he couldn’t go through with it,” Clara said.

  “That I could believe,” Molly said. “And if he was angry at Brett, thinking it was his fault that Helen wouldn’t agree to go with him, he could have gone to his house to beat him up, teach him a lesson, or kill him.” Her phone chimed, and she picked it up off the table. “It’s a text from Lombardi,” she said. She read it out loud. “I got the postmortem report back on Brett. He tested positive for ketamine. There’s an injection site noted in his neck.” Molly looked at her mother. “Ketamine is an anesthesia drug. They have it at the hospital for surgeries, but you can’t just take it home with you. Someone must have injected it before they killed him, to make sure he didn’t put up a struggle.”

  “Maybe you’re right, and it was Holt who killed him,” Clara said. “He’s the only person who’s strong enough to overpower Brett and lift a limp body.”

  “Or it was two women, or a man and woman.” Molly slapped her forehead. “Or Julian. He’s not as strong as Holt, but he’s no slouch. I forgot all about him. Olga said she saw him and Sabrina making out in his car, and Matt and I saw them at Lotus Flower last night. Maybe he killed Brett for Sabrina. Or maybe he did it because he didn’t feel Brett appreciated him.”

  “I don’t know, Molly. Julian has known Brett for such a long time. He moved to Vermont with him to manage Laurel Wreath for him. Would he really kill him because he felt underappreciated, or because he likes Sabrina?”

  “You didn’t see the way Julian was staring at her at the auction. She could easily wrap him around her little finger.”

  “Well, if we’re going down the path of possible male suspects, there’s another man you haven’t mentioned. Did you forget Atlas?”

  “He’s a movie star,” Molly said.

  “So what? You told me he moved to Vermont to raise Katie, but don’t forget he does have another daughter, Sabrina. If he knew she was in love with Brett, and Brett had broken her heart, perhaps he did it for her.”

  “What? Like some kind of honor killing?” Molly shook her head. “What we need is evidence. Whoever committed these two murders must have left something behind.”

  “Well, I’m sure the police will be able to trace the ketamine back to its source.”

  “I hope so. Because right now, Lombardi’s got nothing solid to go on, just a lot of speculation.”

  Jenny came over with their check, which Molly took before her mother could grab it. “How was everything?”

  “Very good,” Molly said.

  “I’m glad you enjoyed it,” Jenny said. “By the way, John is here. I told him you were looking for him, and he said he’d be happy to talk to you about the games.”

  Chapter 23

  The game room attendant, John, was a young man in his early twenties wearing a maroon Lakeside Brewery shirt and gray slacks. He was standing behind a counter in the game room when Molly and Clara walked in.

  “Good afternoon,” he said. “Are you the two ladies Jenny told me about?”

  “Yes, we are,” Molly said. She handed him her business card. “I write for an antiques and collectibles magazine, and I’m writing an article about board games. I’d like to get your perspective on the people who play them.” Molly felt a twinge of guilt that she was continuing to mislead people about the real reason behind her questions, but she didn’t know how else to get them to open up.

  “Oh, wow. Jenny didn’t tell me you were writing an article,” he said.

  Molly took a notebook and pen out of her bag. She may as well make it look like a real interview. On second thought, she liked the idea of writing an article about vintage board games. Hadn’t Swanson said readers were asking him about collectibles articles? She began with easy questions, asking John about himself. He told her he was a recent high school graduate and would be attending his first year at a local community college in the fall to study computer science. He had been working at the Lakeside Brewery part-time since he was sixteen.

  “I know it costs five dollars to rent a game, but I’m not sure how it works,” Molly said. “Do people play while they eat, or do they eat first in the bar or dining room?”

  “We serve finger food in the game room, and drinks, so if someone wants a big meal, they have to eat outside the room,” John said. “If you look over there, those two men playing cribbage are drinking beer and eating a loaded potato appetizer.”

  Molly saw the two men, as well as two elderly women at a nearby table playing Scrabble.

  “Do you have regulars who play specific games? Or do they try different ones?”

  “We have a lot of regulars,” John said. “Some stick to board games, others like cribbage or other card games. We have a whole room of games to choose from.” He opened a drawer and pulled out a glossy brochure. “This is a list of all the games we have in stock.”

  “Do you have Murder Mystery?”

  “Yes, of course.”

  “Could I see the game?”

  John walked over to a door that opened into a room stacked with games. Molly watched him pull Murder Mystery off a shelf. When he came back out, he handed it to her over the counter, and Molly gave him a ten-dollar bill. “We’re going to play,” she said. “But before we do, a couple more questions. Jenny told us you were working Monday night. Do you remember a young woman with short, spiky dark hair? Her name is Iris Jefferson, if that helps.”

  John smiled. “Sure, I know Iris,” he said. “She comes in a couple times a week. And I do remember seeing her on Monday.”


  “Was she with a friend?”

  “No, she was here alone.”

  “Is she usually alone?”

  “Most of the time,” he said. “The only person I’ve ever seen her with is Sabrina Dolan, the actor’s daughter.”

  “Who does Iris play with if she’s by herself?”

  “Whoever needs an extra player,” he said. “People are friendly, and sometimes teams form, especially on tournament nights. It’s a lot of fun. Our busiest nights are Friday and Saturday.”

  “On Monday, when Iris was here alone, do you remember who she played with?”

  John nodded. “She played Parcheesi with Mr. and Mrs. Wagner. They come in every Monday for dinner and a game because we have a special on Monday nights, buy one meal, get another meal half off.”

  “Did Iris leave with them?”

  “I saw her helping Mrs. Wagner,” he said. “She needs a walker to get around, and Mr. Wagner was pulling the car up to the front door, to make it easier for her to get in. Iris stayed with her until he got her outside. Then she left alone.” He paused. “Is Iris going to be in your article? Is that why you’re asking so many questions about her?”

  “Yes, she is,” Molly said. “Actually, I’ve already talked to her, which is how I knew about your game room. I thought readers would find it interesting to know about someone like Iris, a millennial who isn’t on her phone all the time, who loves to play old-fashioned board games without any electronics.” Molly was trying to make her questioning of Iris’s movements sound reasonable. John smiled and nodded. He was buying it. “I did forget to ask her one important question,” Molly said. “I hope you know the answer, so I don’t have to bother her again. Does she have a favorite game?”

  John pointed to the box in her hand. “You’re holding it,” he said.

  Of course I am, Molly thought. Her theory about Murder Mystery wasn’t so far-fetched after all. “I think my mother and I will play now,” she said. “Thank you, John. You’ve been very helpful.”

  “Glad to help,” he said. “Sit anywhere you want.”

  Molly and Clara sat far away from the other players. Molly opened the box and carefully took everything out. “Okay, we’ve got the cards, the envelope for the cards, and the dice,” she said, putting them aside. “It looks like all the tokens are here. There’s the knife, rope, hammer, flashlight, baseball bat, and revolver.” She looked at her mother. “Only the pawns are missing.” She sat back in her chair. “I know I should feel happy about this. I’ve discovered the game the pawns could have come from. But I don’t. I feel like it’s one more nail in Iris’s coffin. I have to tell Lombardi.”