I relaxed. What had I expected? That he’d confess to committing murder?
He nodded toward the legal pad on my lap. “Are you getting anywhere with those clues?”
“Not yet,” I admitted, “but I’m trying. That’s why I’m here. I was asking Laura some questions about her clue, and I’d like to talk to you about yours, too, if you’ve got a few minutes.”
Buck made a scrunched-up face that answered my question. “I’ve been going room to room,” he said. “I want to search Laura’s room too.”
“Forget it,” she said. “I already searched it.”
His eyes narrowed as he studied her. “Did you find anything?”
“Of course not. Don’t you think I’d have told everybody if I did?”
Buck didn’t answer right away, and Laura’s neck and face flushed an angry red. “You don’t trust me? You think I’d hold out?”
“I don’t know who to trust,” he mumbled. “All I know is that somebody here killed Augustus.”
Her voice rose to a screech. “You think it was me? How about you? Maybe you murdered him!”
“Okay, maybe I did!” he yelled back.
“You did?” I whispered, and clutched the arm of the little dressing table chair.
“No, I didn’t. I was just making a point. Any one of us could be the murderer, so who are we going to trust?”
“Please sit down, just for a minute,” I begged. “I’ve got only a couple of questions for you. I need to know how the song ‘My Darling Clementine’ fits into your life.”
“Fits into my life? That’s a stupid question. The answer is that it doesn’t.”
“Maybe I didn’t ask my question the right way,” I said, and felt myself blush. “I meant, was it a special song for you? Did you hear it at some time under special circumstances?”
“No,” he said. I wished he’d sit down. He was awfully big to glower down on an innocent bystander—me.
“You know the words to the song, don’t you?”
He shrugged. “A few words, here and there, that’s all.”
“Okay, what does ‘pappy’ mean to you?”
“Beats me. I didn’t call my dad ‘pappy.’ I don’t even know anyone called ‘pappy.’ ”
“You’re with kids a lot. As you said, you’re a role model. Maybe sometime in your past—”
Buck interrupted. “What are you getting at?”
Like a ferocious pit bull, he leaned toward me, eyes glinting in narrow slits, his lower lip curled outward. He scared me so much I jumped out of my chair.
“N-nothing!” I stuttered. “I—I’m just trying to figure out these clues!”
He didn’t believe me. Not for a minute. He took a step toward me, and I shrank back against the dressing table, terrified of what he’d say next. But just then we heard muffled footsteps running toward us, and the door was jerked open.
Julia poked her head inside, stared from Laura to Buck to me, and said, “Come on downstairs. Make it quick! I’ve found the fourth set of clues!”
ELEVEN
“Where did you find them?” everyone asked Julia, and as soon as we were all seated in the sun-room, she told us.
“The envelopes were fastened with a rubber band and tucked at the very back in the middle drawer of Augustus’s desk under some papers.” When no one said anything for a few moments, Julia’s voice rose. “Don’t look at me as though you think I’m lying. We didn’t search that part of the desk this morning. Remember? And we weren’t looking for clues. We were looking for the manuscript.”
“Julia’s right,” Buck said. “I went through the drawers on each side, but I couldn’t … that is, Augustus was …”
“Wait a minute,” I said. “The first clues he handed out. The second were under his arm, ready to be given out the next morning. But why would Alex have found the third set in Augustus’s bedroom, and then this set—”
Alex interrupted. “I didn’t find them in his bedroom. I found them just inside the middle desk drawer in his office.” He shrugged. “I suppose if I’d been able to check the back of the drawer I would have found the fourth set of clues.”
I felt cold and creepy as the thought hit me. “Were you looking in the desk while Augustus was still …?”
“It’s none of your business,” Alex said.
“He was dead,” Laura whispered.
“There’s no point wasting time with this discussion,” Senator Maggio argued. “Will you please give us our envelopes?”
Julia proceeded to do so, and I saw that on the top of each envelope, next to the players’ names, had been printed in that same bright blue ink, Game Clue #4.
It was hard to be patient while the suspects—as I thought of them—read their clues to themselves. I wished I had elbowed in on the couch next to Laura, but I was sitting cross-legged on the floor, which was more comfortable than the hard straight-backed chair which had been the only seat left.
Alex was the first to speak. “This clue makes no more sense than the others,” he said, and read, “ ‘MORE SILENT THAN THE TOMBS ARE.’ ”
I began to write it down but looked up, startled, as Laura burst into tears. “That dreadful, horrible man,” she sobbed.
Her clue fluttered from her fingers as she covered her eyes, and I picked it up. On the paper was typed LIKE DAVY JONES’S LOCKER—MINUS THE SEA.
As soon as Aunt Thea calmed Laura down, I asked her if I could read her clue to the others.
Laura lay back against the cushions, one hand pressed against her forehead, and said, “Oh, go ahead. What difference does it make now?”
I read Laura’s clue, then asked Senator Maggio, “What does yours say?”
He shrugged. “I suppose it’s a threat: ‘DEADER THAN A DOORNAIL, GREEN AS A PEA.’ ”
Julia’s eyes widened. “These are all about death. Listen to mine: ‘TEA AND SYMPATHY—DONE TO DEATH.’ ”
“So that’s what this means. I thought—” Buck interrupted himself and read: “ ‘WHY A SUDDEN DEATH PLAY?’ ”
“My clue is in line with the others,” Thea told us. She handed me her paper, and I read aloud, “ ‘GIVE UP THE GHOST.’ ”
With tears in her eyes she said, “Please believe me when I tell you that I have no idea what Augustus had in mind. To bring you here, to force you into playing this horrible game, and then to threaten all of you—all of us—with death, is unbelievable to me. I’m sorry. I’m so terribly sorry.”
“No one blames you, Thea,” Julia told her, and the others murmured in agreement.
Thea was sitting close enough to me so that I could reach out and take her hand. “Aunt Thea,” I said, “you’re forgetting that these aren’t messages Augustus was giving you. They’re clues, which means they’re supposed to add up to something else.”
Everyone stared at me. Since they were all seated on chairs, and I was cross-legged on the floor, I felt like the frog in biology class just before the teacher gets ready to dissect him. I quickly stood up and read aloud the clues I’d written down:
MORE SILENT THAN THE TOMBS ARE A.
LIKE DAVY JONES’S LOCKER—MINUS THE SEA L.
DEADER THAN A DOORNAIL, GREEN AS A PEA M.
TEA AND SYMPATHY—DONE TO DEATH J.
WHY A SUDDEN DEATH PLAY? B.
GIVE UP THE GHOST T.
As I heard them I got a strange feeling. Something about these clues was odd. For an instant I was almost able to grasp the reason, but I looked the list over again and the feeling had gone. I said to the others, “As I already told you, there has to be a common theme in these clues. That’s the way it works. Why don’t we get busy and try to find it?”
Laura moaned and staggered to her feet. “It’s not true it’s not true it’s not true!” she gurgled as a fresh burst of tears poured down her cheeks. She pushed her way out of the circle of chairs and ran out of the room.
“There’s no use in any of this.” Buck’s voice was deep with despair. He slowly hoisted himself out of his chair and
walked away.
Alex stood and stretched before he said to me, “If you can make anything out of ‘more silent than the tombs are,’ I’ll believe it when I see it.”
“If I can? How about you? You’re the ones who were supposed to figure out the clues and solve them,” I told him. “Don’t leave it all up to me. I need help.”
“Don’t we all,” Alex said, and left the group.
“Come on,” I told the others. “Help me figure out what all this stuff means.”
“You said there was a common theme, didn’t you?” Senator Maggio asked.
“Yes.”
“Well, it’s clear. The theme is death.”
“No,” I insisted. “That’s too obvious. There has to be another meaning.”
The senator didn’t like to be contradicted. The expression on his face was unmistakable.
As he stalked out of the room Julia said, “I’ll help you, Sam.”
“So will I,” Thea added. “What do you want us to do?”
“Help me look for hidden meanings in these clues.”
“Let’s start with mine,” Julia said. “Tea and Sympathy is the title of a novel, and it was made into a movie.”
“Anything else here that ties in with a book or a movie?” I asked.
We studied the list but came up with zilch.
“There’s a clue about football and a clue about sailors,” I said. “At least I think Davy Jones was a sailor, wasn’t he?”
Julia half rose out of her chair. “Wait a minute! Locker! Davy Jones’s locker!”
“Aunt Thea!” I cried out. “Could the manuscript be hidden in a locker?”
Thea looked bewildered and spread out her hands helplessly. “We don’t have anything resembling a locker here,” she said.
“What about down at the dock? Are there lockers there for gear or equipment?”
“No. There’s a large metal chest in the boat shed where equipment for the boats is kept, but the crew members live in the house for employees and keep their gear there.”
“Where is this house?” Julia asked.
“Just the other side of the cove.”
“All your employees live there?”
“Yes.” Thea nodded, then suddenly said, “Except for Mrs. Engstrom, of course. I guess I think of her as more of a friend than an employee. She has a small suite of first-floor rooms here in our home.”
Julia thought a moment, then asked, “Is it possible that Augustus hid the other copy of his manuscript in the employees’ house?”
“I know he didn’t,” Thea told her. “During the last few years Augustus became sedentary and rarely went outdoors. I’m positive that Augustus didn’t leave the house at any time after he completed his manuscript.”
“What if he gave the manuscript to one of the employees to hide? Maybe Walter?” I asked.
Thea shook her head. “Mrs. Engstrom informed me that she immediately questioned Tomás, Lucy, and Walter. They knew nothing about a copy of the manuscript. In fact, they’re all frightened about everything that has happened.”
“I’d still feel better if we searched the other house,” Julia said.
Thea stood, her spine as straight and stiff as the back of the chair she’d been sitting in. “I can’t allow anyone to invade my employees’ privacy,” she said. “However, if you wish, I will ask Walter and one of the others—Buck, perhaps—if they would like to put on raincoats and boots and climb down to the boat shed in order to search the chest.” She paused and glanced at the windows, which were blurred with a steady shimmer of rain. As she turned back to Julia, Thea said, “Maybe you’d like to visit the boat shed, Julia.”
“Well …” Julia drew out the word. Her gaze was on the windows. “If no one else volunteers, I’ll go.”
“I’ll ask them,” Thea said, and left the room.
Julia slumped against the arm of the couch and pressed her fingertips over her eyes. “It’s never worth it,” she mumbled. “Nothing is.”
“Worth what?” I asked.
She slid her hands down her face and let them fall into her lap as she looked at me. “Peace of mind,” she said. “I gave it up too easily.”
I didn’t want to intrude on her thoughts, but I didn’t understand what she was talking about, so I asked, “How did you give it up?”
“With one stroke I traded it for a handful of beans—magic beans.” Her laugh was scary because there was no humor in it.
One stroke? Only too clearly I could visualize Augustus Trevor’s bloody head. Even though Julia and I were alone in the sun-room, which was growing darker and gloomier by the minute, I blurted out, “Are you talking about Augustus Trevor’s murder?”
For a moment Julia looked confused, but as she understood my question she leaned forward, her gaze as penetrating as a laser beam. “Are you asking if I killed Augustus?” she whispered.
“Uh—not exactly. I—I don’t know what to think.”
“Then I’ll tell you what to think.” She moved even closer, and her eyes glittered. “Don’t try getting inside other people’s minds. Don’t begin suspecting them, and above all, don’t tell other people your suspicions or you might very well find yourself in real trouble.”
* * *
Buck and Walter did go down to the boat shed, and they came back to report that, just as Thea had told us, there was nothing but equipment in the metal chest. Buck hadn’t been able to fit his overly long feet into any of the work boots on the back porch, and the slicker they crammed him into couldn’t fasten across his chest, so he was as grumbly cross as a cold, wet bulldog.
“We haven’t much time left in which to find the manuscript,” Alex said. “As long as Buck has survived the elements on this first trip, it might be a good idea if he made his way over to the employees’ house and took a look around.”
“Yeah? What about you going out in that mess, instead of me?” Growling as drops trickled from his scalp down his face and neck, Buck grabbed a fistful of Alex’s shirt, and for a moment I held my breath, sure that Buck was going to hit Alex.
But Buck suddenly flung Alex backward. Alex sprawled on the sofa, then slid to the floor, while Buck stomped toward the stairs. Alex didn’t say a word. He climbed to his feet, methodically rearranged his open collar, tucked his shirt back into his slacks, and walked toward the dining room.
Buck was a very strong man, and he had a temper. Could he have gone to Augustus’s office and argued with him? Could he have lost his temper and hit Augustus?
Maybe.
I gathered up my writing pad, the loose papers, and the pen and walked to the parlor. I had a new idea about the photographs in the Kings’ Corner. What if a message was tucked inside one of the frames behind the backing? I could hardly wait to find out.
Someone else had been even more impatient. The photos, cardboard, glass, and frames had been separated and were strewn all over the table. What a mess! I was furious at this crude violation of someone else’s property, and more than a little angry that whoever had done this had got the idea of searching the photos before I had.
I didn’t try to repair the damage. Only Aunt Thea would know which photo went with which frame. I found a seat at a small antique desk in the parlor. I turned on the small green-globed desk lamp and moved a lot of little china and crystal birds, which were arranged in groups on top of the desk, so I’d have room to work. I spread out my sheets of paper and went back to the third set of clues, writing down everything that came to mind. I checked to see if the first letter of each sentence added up to anything, but it didn’t, which didn’t surprise me. Augustus had planned some tough clues, and he wouldn’t waste his time with an easy kid trick. The clues had to have a common theme, and I was determined to find it.
“Samantha.”
I hadn’t heard anyone come into the room, and I wasn’t expecting Alex to speak my name just behind my left ear, so I let out a yelp and jumped up, my papers scattered around me.
“How long have you been lookin
g over my shoulder?” I demanded.
“Not long. I came to see how you were doing.”
“You didn’t have to sneak up on me!”
“I wasn’t sneaking. The carpets are soft. It wasn’t my fault that you didn’t hear me come in.”
I picked up my papers, and tried to look dignified. “Sorry,” I muttered. No matter what excuse Alex gave, I still believed he’d been sneaking, but I had to answer his question. “I haven’t got any answers yet, if that’s what you want to know.”
“You’ve made a lot of notes. May I see them?”
He reached for the papers, and I instinctively drew back.
“What’s the matter?” Alex asked. “I thought you said you wanted help. Don’t you trust me?”
“No, I don’t,” I answered. “You opened the third set of clues and tried to solve them yourself.” I glanced across the room at the Kings’ Corner. “And you’re probably the one who took apart all the framed photographs of Augustus with the kings.”
Alex shrugged. “So what if I did? There weren’t any rules to the game, or instructions to share information. We were simply told to find the treasure and win.”
Curiosity took over. “Did you find anything in the photos?”
“No.” Alex took the papers out of my hand and I let him. He walked to one of the sofas, sat down, and laid the sheets of paper on the coffee table. I sat next to him and waited while he read every one of my notes.
When he’d finished, he turned and looked right into my eyes. “You made these notes earlier. I watched you. What else have you come up with?”
“Nothing,” I said. I wished he wouldn’t stare at me like that. I felt as though he were poking around in my brain looking for answers.
“You still don’t trust me,” Alex murmured.
I inched a little farther away on the sofa as I said, “One person in this house is a murderer, so why should I trust any of you?”
“I didn’t kill Augustus,” he said, “so it’s perfectly safe for you to trust me.” His lips stretched into a broad smile, but his eyes were cold.
The Name of the Game Was Murder Page 10
