Kill Joy

by Holly Jackson

  ‘And the “won’t get away with this”?’ Pip asked.

  ‘Well, that was a slightly different conversation,’ Zach admitted. ‘Father told me that he’d had someone check out the books, and it looked as though someone was skimming money from the London casino, one of the employees.’

  The non-Remy side of the table stared down the Remy side.

  ‘Hey, don’t look at ol’ Bobby,’ Ant said. ‘Daddy fired me years ago. Can’t be me.’

  ‘Someone stealing? At my casino?’ Lauren asked.

  ‘You mean the one you manage, Lizzie,’ said Pip.

  Zach nodded. ‘So I just said we’d look into it and the thief won’t get away with it or something. Nothing suspicious here either.’ He held up his hands.

  That’s when Pip heard it again. Or thought she heard it, something outside. She turned to the window. It was dark now, well on its way to pitch black.

  ‘What?’ Cara asked her.

  ‘I think I heard something outside,’ she said.

  ‘What?’ said Lauren, losing the haughty edge of Lizzie Remy.

  ‘I’m not sure.’

  They listened, but the uptempo jazz was too loud, the saxophone drowning everything else out.

  ‘Alexa, pause music!’ Connor called.

  The music cut off and Pip listened. It was a loud kind of quiet; the breath of the others, the sound of her own tongue moving around her mouth, the whistling of the wind.

  And then it happened again.

  A crash outside in the darkening garden.

  Six

  Connor’s head snapped to his brother, panic pooling in the black of his eyes.

  Jamie held them for a moment, before his face split with a smile. ‘God, you lot are jumpy,’ he said. ‘It’s just the shed door; sometimes it bangs open in the wind. It’s fine.’

  ‘Are you sure?’ Lauren said. Her arm had somehow found itself looped through Ant’s, Pip noticed.

  ‘Yes,’ Jamie laughed, and then added, ‘Youth today.’

  ‘Well, excuse us for growing up in murder town,’ Lauren countered, reclaiming her arm with an awkward glance at Ant.

  ‘Could be ghosts,’ Ant said, his cheeks flushed. ‘I certainly know of two local vengeful spirits who could fit the bill.’

  ‘Ant …’ Cara said in a warning voice.

  ‘Everything’s fine,’ Jamie said. ‘Just ignore it. Alexa! Resume music and volume up. See, can hardly hear it any more. No actual murder tonight, kiddos. Right, back to 1924.’ He straightened his helmet and Pip picked up her pen again. ‘As any detective knows, a killer must have a motive. I wonder if anyone among us might have held a grudge against the late Reginald Remy. A reason to hate him. Please turn to your next page.’

  Pip looked up, her eyes trailing over to Lauren, watching her read her own booklet and biting her lip in concentration. And then Lauren’s eyes flicked up, straight to her, and Pip’s stomach dropped. They held each other’s gaze for a long moment until Lauren sniffed and broke it, her mouth downturned in a scowl.

  Sticky fingers? That meant someone who steals, didn’t it? A thief. Oh shit.

  Pip grabbed her notebook and started to write, her fingers trying to keep up with her head. Reginald and Ralph had had a conversation last night about how someone was stealing from the London casino, the place Lizzie Remy manages. And today Reginald made a pointed remark to her about sticky fingers. He must think she was the one who was stealing! And, judging by Lizzie’s reaction, maybe Reginald was right on the money. And if Lizzie knew that Reginald knew … Well, that was certainly motive enough to kill him. Her only other choice would have been jail.

  Pip’s thoughts were interrupted by Zach clearing his throat and launching into a speech as Ralph. ‘Well, yes, Inspector, if you are talking about any ill feeling within the family, I’m afraid there was quite a lot between my brother, Bobby, and my father. As is no doubt evidenced by him being written out of the will.’

  Ant reacted by poking Zach in the face, a bit too close to his eye.

  Zach recoiled. ‘Ow.’

  ‘Just a bit of brotherly love,’ Ant said, his words slightly slurred.

  ‘Anyway,’ Zach continued, ‘this ill feeling really began several years ago, back when Bobby used to work for my father and was still heir to the casino empire. Being around casinos all day, Bobby developed a serious gambling addiction. He was always in debt and borrowing money. And when banks would no longer lend to him, he turned to a less reputable source. He borrowed money from a gang of loan sharks and then, of course, lost it all gambling again. And when he couldn’t pay the gang back, they threatened to kill him. So, my father bailed Bobby out, paid off the loan sharks and all his other debts to save his life. But from that day on my father forbade Bobby from working with or having anything to do with the Remy business again. He said he would continue to pay Bobby a monthly allowance to live comfortably, but if Bobby ever gambled again, even once, father promised that he would cut him off for good. An ultimatum.’

  ‘Yes,’ Ant nodded. ‘That is all true. I borrowed money from the wrong people; it was a gang called the East End Streeters, if you must know. But I don’t know why you think that means I had a grudge against our father. He saved me. And, more than that, he continued to pay me to do nothing. Literally a perfect situation for me. No grudge here.’

  ‘Ah,’ Jamie the inspector said, reading from his script. ‘The East End Streeters are a nasty bunch. We at Scotland Yard have had a lot of dealings with them. They’re in the cocaine business, you see. Among other illegal activities. Earlier this year my partner was working undercover to track their cocaine dealings, but they must have figured it out. They murdered him, shot him dead in the street. Very nasty business. I’m glad to see you came out the other side unharmed, Bobby.’

  ‘Thank you, Inspector.’

  Kiss-ass, Pip thought, as she filled another page in her notebook.

  ‘Does anyone else know someone here who bore ill will to Reginald?’ Jamie asked.

  Pip raised her hand. ‘Earlier this evening,’ she said, avoiding Lauren’s eyes, ‘Lizzie, Ralph and I were having tea and scones in the library with Reginald, as you’ve already heard. But there was a moment when Lizzie spilled jam on her hands and clothes and she was making a fuss; Reginald looked at her and made a comment about her often having “sticky fingers”.’ Pip paused. ‘You could have cut the tension in the room with a knife. Lizzie looked shocked and soon made excuses to leave the room.’

  ‘Oh, sticky fingers, eh, Lizzie?’ Cara said, waggling her eyebrows.

  ‘It means someone who steals,’ Pip clarified.

  Cara deflated. ‘Oh, that’s not as fun.’

  Lauren laughed, waving her hand dismissively. ‘That’s nothing. There was no tension, and I’m not sure what you’re implying.’ She stared Pip down. ‘Reginald loved to tease me, as his only daughter-in-law, and I’m very clumsy, always spilling food down myself, hence the sticky fingers.’

  ‘Sure, Jan,’ Cara said, her face recreating that meme. ‘Anyway, I have something too.’

  The table turned its attention to her and Dora Key the cook came out in full force, Cara sitting up as tall as she could, fiddling with her apron.

  ‘As the only members of staff here, Humphrey and me often have conversations of an evening, after our work is done. To pass the time. And, well –’ she side-glanced across Pip, aiming it at Connor – ‘this last week our conversations have taken a bit of a dark turn. Very disturbing in light of what’s happened.’

  ‘What?’ Pip said, impatient.

  ‘Well, earlier this week, Humphrey was complaining about the master, and I said, “Oh, he’s not that bad.” To which Humphrey replied: “I hate him.” Someone gasp, please.’

  Jamie and Zach enthusiastically granted her request. Pip was too busy writing.

  ‘Yes, thank you,’ Cara nodded at them. ‘But that’s not the worst part.’

  ‘It gets worse?’ Ant said, staring at Connor. ‘Not looking so g
reat for you, Humphrey. It’s always the butler, eh?’

  ‘Much worse,’ Cara said, looking dramatically at each of them in turn. ‘Just a couple of days ago, Humphrey was talking about Reginald Remy, and he turned to me, this terrible glint in his eyes, and he said: “I wish he were dead.”’

  Seven

  The room was silent, just the up-and-down notes of the muted trumpets while Connor squirmed in his chair.

  ‘Thanks, Dora, for revealing our private conversations,’ Connor said, emphasizing the word.

  ‘I had to tell the truth.’ Cara put up her hands. ‘A man is dead.’

  ‘Yes, but not because of me.’

  ‘Is it true?’ Pip asked. ‘Did you say that? Did you wish Reginald dead?’

  ‘Yes, I said it, but I didn’t mean it.’ Connor fiddled with his white bow tie, like it was tightening round his neck, trying to strangle him. ‘I was just blowing off steam. I’m sure most butlers have choice words about their masters. And, well, I was annoyed at him because a couple of weeks ago I asked him for some time off, and Reginald outright denied me. Said he was too busy to let me go at the moment with no notice, no matter how much I begged.’

  ‘Why did you want time off?’ Pip asked, pen ready and waiting above the page.

  ‘To visit my daughter. I hardly ever see her. And now it’s … It was important to me, and I was angry, that’s all. But that doesn’t make me a murderer.’

  ‘Makes you look dodgy as fuck, though,’ Ant said.

  ‘You can talk, Bobby,’ Pip countered.

  ‘And anyway, if we are talking about dodgy –’ Connor finally unclipped his tie, pointing a finger back at Cara – ‘let’s talk about Dora Key, shall we? Since you decided to spill my secrets.’

  ‘Fine by me. I’m an open book, or an open cook,’ Cara said with a wink.

  Pip was caught between the two; she pushed back her chair so she could watch the altercation.

  ‘Oh really?’ Connor steepled his fingers. ‘Well, how about this, then? Dora Key was hired by Reginald only six months ago. I knew the cook before her very well; we’d worked together for fifteen years. Then, all of a sudden, out of the blue, she quits, with no real reason. She’d never mentioned leaving to me before. And as she left, just before she got on the boat to the mainland, she told me that someone was forcing her to quit, threatening her life, but she couldn’t say who. And then, two days later, Dora Key turns up. The new cook. And your food is terrible. So, who are you and why are you really here?’

  ‘How dare you? I made you Domino’s Pizza,’ Cara said, trying to fight a smile. ‘Even a Pepperoni Passion.’

  ‘OK, OK,’ Jamie stepped in, silencing them all. ‘It’s clear that there are a lot of secrets in this room. And some of these secrets might be linked to the murder. But for now it’s time for you to learn your own biggest secret. Please turn to the next page and be careful that no one else sees it.’

  Pip’s chair screeched against the floorboards as she shuffled it back to the table.

  ‘Wait, can I go for a piss before we do the next bit?’ Ant asked. ‘I’m bursting.’

  Jamie nodded. ‘Yep, sure. The rest can be reading their secrets while we wait.’

  Pip’s heart dragged its way up to her throat as she snatched up her booklet. What was her biggest secret? What exactly was Celia Bourne hiding?

  She turned the page.

  Pip put her booklet face down, refusing to glance up in case anyone was watching her and somehow read the secret across her face. Stole it from her head out through her eyes. Stupid, she knew, but, still, she didn’t look.

  A spy. She’d sensed her secret was pretty big, but a government spy? That changed everything. And during that phone conversation with her handler, Ralph had overheard her saying the word terminate. What if she’d been given orders to take Reginald Remy out if she found evidence of his treason? What if she was the murderer? Could she have done it? Did Celia Bourne have it in her?

  She tuned back into the room and the others had resumed talking. Maybe it was safe to look up now. No one was watching her, but she felt watched anyway somehow, hairs prickling at the back of her neck.

  ‘Can I just check my phone for two seconds, Connor?’ Lauren was asking. ‘Tom’s probably texting me and wondering why I’m ignoring him.’

  ‘No,’ Cara answered instead. ‘He knows you’re at a murder mystery party. You can go a few hours without contacting your boyfriend. You’ll live, I’m sure. I mean, unless you murdered Reginald Remy, in which case they’ll probably hang you.’

  ‘OK, has everyone read their secrets?’ Jamie said. ‘Oh, wait … Ant’s not back yet.’

  Connor sniffed and stared at the open door. ‘He’s been gone a while. He hasn’t drunk enough to pass out, has he? I’ll go check on him.’ He sidled out of the room, and his footsteps were lost beneath the music. But it wasn’t quite loud enough to cover the sound of the wind outside, whistling against the house, slamming the shed door.

  Pip turned to the windows, but it was completely black out there now. All she could see was their own reflection; Cara making bunny ears over Pip’s head and the dancing flames of the candles. She locked eyes with the mirror-image Pip, trapped in the darkness of outside, until she saw Connor’s reflection return.

  ‘I can’t find Ant,’ he said. ‘I checked the downstairs and upstairs toilets. He’s not there. He’s gone.’

  ‘What?’ Pip said. ‘Well, he must be somewhere.’

  ‘He’s not. I’ve checked everywhere.’

  ‘Everywhere?’

  ‘Well, no, not every room.’

  Jamie pushed up to his feet, taking charge. ‘Come on, Con,’ he said. ‘Let’s go look again.’

  The brothers left the dining room and Jamie’s voice sailed through the house.

  ‘Ant?! Where’ve you gone, you little shit?’

  Cara turned to Pip. ‘What’s going on?’ she asked, abandoning her Dora voice.

  ‘I don’t know.’ Those three words Pip hated to say.

  ‘He can’t have actually gone anywhere,’ Zach said, but even he didn’t sound sure.

  ‘Ant?!’ Connor’s shout was softened by the carpets and walls, but there was a new urgency to it. ‘Ant! ANT!’ The word grew louder and louder as Connor made his way back to them, Jamie right behind.

  There was an awkward, expectant silence. And the music felt different somehow, changed; the climbing notes of the trumpets now sounded like a threat.

  ‘Yeah, he’s, er … he’s not here,’ Jamie said. ‘We looked in every room.’

  ‘He’s gone?’ Lauren fiddled nervously with her beaded necklace. ‘How is he gone?’

  Pip stood up. She wasn’t going anywhere but sitting didn’t feel right any more. In the corner of her eye she saw her dark mirror-image get to her feet too, side-glancing back at her. No wonder she felt watched.

  ‘How could he have left? We would have heard the front door,’ Cara said, looking to Jamie, who could only reply with a shrug.

  ‘Connor, you need to unlock our phones,’ Lauren said, ‘so we can call Ant.’

  ‘How’re we going to call him when I also have his phone?’ Connor replied, a small bite to his tone.

  Watching the reflected scene unfold in the window, an idea took hold in Pip’s mind. This whole thing … it was a performance. A game. It wasn’t real, just like those mirror people in their 1920s get-up.

  ‘Jamie,’ Pip said, ‘is this part of the game? Ant going missing?’

  ‘No, it isn’t,’ he replied, his face giving away nothing.

  ‘Was it something in Bobby’s booklet?’ she said, her eyes seeking it out, discarded on Ant’s plate. ‘Did it tell him to hide? Is he the next person to be murdered?’

  ‘No,’ Jamie said, raising his hands earnestly, no hint of amusement in his eyes. ‘I swear this is not part of the game. This isn’t supposed to happen. I promise.’

  She believed him, picking up on the growing unease in the lines on Jamie’s face.


  ‘Where could he have gone?’ It’s dark outside.’ Pip gestured to the window. ‘And he doesn’t have his phone. Something’s not right.’

  ‘What do I do?’ Jamie asked the room. He seemed to shrink, almost, lose six years until he was just one of them. ‘I don’t –’

  But Pip didn’t hear what he said next.

  The room erupted with a sharp pounding coming from the window.

  There was someone out there. Someone unseen. Knocking on the window. Again and again. Faster and faster. So hard that the pane seemed to shake in its frame.

  ‘Oh my god,’ Lauren screamed, scrambling back to the far wall, her chair clattering to the floor.

  Pip couldn’t see anything. It was too dark out there and too bright in here. All she saw were their own reflections, their fear-widened eyes. They were blind in here. Trapped. And someone was out there, someone who could see everything.

  Pip watched Cara’s reflection grabbing for her hand before she felt it.

  The knocking picked up, louder and faster, and Pip’s heart beat harder and harder to match it, trying to escape her chest. Too fast; maybe there was more than one someone out there?

  And, just as sudden, the knocking cut out. The glass stopped shaking. But Pip could feel it still, as though the knocking was inside her now, hiding at the base of her throat.

  ‘Wh—’ Connor started to say, his voice shaking at the edges.

  Then the outside flooded with light, blazing through the window at them, and Pip covered her eyes against the glare.

  Eight

  ‘What the –’

  Pip blinked until her eyes could focus on the light streaming in from the garden, and the shape silhouetted against it.