Murder in the Shadows

by Jade Astor

  “Fine.” Snorting, Victor slumped against his pillow. “While we’re at it, I have another suggestion about what all of you can do when the roads are clear again. And it involves packing your bags and getting the hell out of my house. Now leave me alone.”

  “All right, we’re going. But this is going with us. Safe to say you’ve had enough.” Reaching across the bed, Logan snatched up the bottle of wine and tucked it protectively against his chest. “Everyone else, meeting in my room. Now.”

  Moving as though they were in a collective daze, the four of them followed Logan down the hall. The loose sheets of paper in his quarters, Darian noticed, seemed to be piled even higher than during his last visit.

  Sandra plunked herself down beside her brother on the edge of Logan’s bed. The blankets and sheets were unmussed, suggesting it hadn’t been slept in. Had Logan been up late, working on his script? Or had he actually been prowling around the house?

  “Victor’s just full of surprises, isn’t he? Turns out he’s a better actor than I ever gave him credit for. All these years and no one noticed he was a raging maniac.” Sandra scoffed, but Darian heard the note of fear in her voice. “He’s dangerous, Logan, whether you choose to believe that or not. Maybe we should ask Mikah’s family for their input.”

  The rest of them nodded, but Darian didn’t join in. Privately, he had a nagging feeling they had all overlooked something. He motioned for everyone’s attention.

  “Sorry, but…could I just float a suggestion? Maybe we’re all jumping to a conclusion about Victor’s guilt here. Maybe because someone set things up to make sure we would.”

  “What are you talking about?” Sandra demanded. “We just found him with a potential murder weapon under his bed! What more evidence do you need?”

  “That’s kind of my point. As Logan said, Victor seemed to be sound asleep. He could have been faking, but isn’t it also possible that someone planted that scarf there? I mean, why would he attack Wes in the hall and then take it back into his room with him?”

  “Obviously because he planned to sneak out again later and finish the job. He assumed he’d killed Wes.”

  “Then why not stash it somewhere so he could retrieve it again later? Our finding it like that just seems too easy. ”

  “You’ve got a point there,” Logan agreed. “I actually had the same impression.”

  Darian shook his head. “At first, I wondered if an outsider might have infiltrated this house in order to cause trouble. When I found out about Mikah, I thought it might be him—coming back to take revenge on a group of people who hurt and humiliated him years ago.”

  “No way.” Wes rubbed idly at the mark on his neck. “Mikah was a kind and gentle soul. He would never have done anything like that. Yeah, it’s possible I was mistaken about who attacked me. Like you said, it was dark in the hall, and it all happened so fast. But I would have known if it was Mikah. He was taller than Victor, for one thing.”

  “I think you would have known if it was Jamie, too—his build was much slighter than Victor’s, not to mention yours.”

  Logan’s mouth dropped open. “Jamie? You thought it might be Jamie?”

  “It occurred to me that he might not actually have left. The whole agent thing seemed too much like a ruse—we all noticed it. And he didn’t take many of his things, which suggested that he might be hiding in some little-used part of the house. But the more I thought about it, the more I started to suspect that Jamie wasn’t the perpetrator. He might have been another victim.”

  “You think something happened to Jamie?” Nervously, Logan fumbled the cork off the wine bottle. He took a drink straight from the bottle.

  “I don’t know. I hope he really did just run away, and he’s all right.” Privately, Darian doubted that. “I know we speculated that Jamie might have staged some of those pranks just to get attention. The blood in the room and the caustic substance in the makeup bottle could have been hoaxes. But Brother Lew’s death, and now two attempted murders, were a lot more serious. So I think all of the incidents were designed to hurt Victor badly. Maybe even get him thrown in jail.”

  “So you’re implying that one of us set him up,” Chuck said, his voice edged with anger. “And maybe did something to Jamie? I mean, we all have laptops or phones and enough basic knowledge to build a crummy website like the one Jamie showed us. A fake email account is easy enough to create.”

  “Not exactly,” Darian said.

  “If you ask me, I never thought there was an agent, fake or real,” Sandra said. “I assumed Jamie faked the emails and the website to manipulate Logan. He always liked to brag about having big contacts in show business. The whole thing might not have been a hoax on Jamie, but by Jamie.”

  “Could be web-based stalking,” Wes suggested. “You hear about it all the time. Some crazed fan, maybe.”

  “A crazed fan wouldn’t have any reason to strangle you or Sandra. Still, you’re sort of following the same line of thought I did. Eventually I realized Mikah wasn’t the only person who might hold a grudge against Victor. And for more or less the same reasons.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Chuck asked, bristling.

  “Many years ago, Victor made a lasting enemy of a fellow student at Birchwood, who felt that Victor had treated him shabbily. What if that young man, who of course would be much older now, heard about the film being made here? He couldn’t show his face, of course, because Victor would remember him. So he took a less direct route.”

  “He slipped into the house, you mean?” Sandra glanced around nervously, as though expecting to find a stranger hiding under Logan’s cast-off laundry. “He’s been watching us from the shadows this whole time?”

  “That would be one way to do it,” Darian said. “But there’s another way, too. What if someone involved with this movie has a connection to him? Maybe he found a partner, or a caring friend who agreed to take action on his behalf. Or maybe he just hired someone.”

  “Like a hit man?” Sandra went pale for a moment, but quickly recovered herself. “Come on, Darian. You know that sounds ridiculous. What is this, a live game of Clue?”

  “As far as I’m concerned, Darian raises a good point,” Wes said. “None of us can really be above suspicion, man or woman.”

  “I suppose you mean me?” Sandra said. To Darian’s surprise, she seemed amused rather than offended. “I’m flattered, really, but I’ve got enough to do just dealing with my own problems. Why should I care if Victor broke some guy’s heart many years ago?”

  “It would have to be Chuck then,” Logan said, ignoring her, “since the rest of us all met in college. He’s the only outsider.”

  “What the hell?” Chuck’s hands snapped into fists at his sides. “You’ve got some nerve!”

  “Actually, that theory makes a lot of sense to me,” Wes said, turning to him. “Why exactly did you sign onto this project, anyway?”

  “For your information, Victor’s friend Bryce recommended me. I did some video work for him years ago, and the two of us kept in touch. Logan knows that perfectly well.”

  “It’s true,” Logan said, nodding. “That doesn’t mean you don’t have secrets, though, does it?”

  “You can take that attitude and stick it where the sun don’t shine,” Chuck snapped. “Soon as the roads are clear, I’m outta here. Film your own damn histrionics if you’re all so smart.”

  “No need to get testy,” Logan said, wincing. “We’re just speculating here. Clearing the air.”

  “Well, let me help you out there.” Chuck took a step toward the door, ready to storm from the room. Wes stepped in front of him.

  “Wait. I don’t think anyone should go off alone until the sheriff can get here. If there’s a connection between you and this Birchwood kid, he’ll know how to find it.”

  “Try and stop me,” Chuck said through clenched teeth, and Darian winced. Wes was easily big enough to do just that.

  “Enough!” Logan shouted, though he didn�
�t get up from the bed. Darian noticed that his cheeks had gone a shade paler than normal. “We have a couple of hours until dawn, and there’s no way any of us can leave before then.”

  “Great. So we’re all just going to wait in our rooms for the killer to pick us off one by one?” Sandra crossed her arms. “I’ll tell you right now, I’m keeping one of those big brass candlesticks on the pillow beside me. Anyone who gets past the lock will find himself wearing it.”

  “I’m not suggesting that we go back to sleep,” Logan said. “I’m thinking we should call Argo and tell him to get down here as soon as he can. Meanwhile, we can all stay in here together and keep an eye on one another. If there really is someone else in the house, there are enough of us to stand up to him. And if it’s one of us…well, it would be one against all, right? By the time Argo gets here, we could have him trussed up and ready to load in the police car. The odds aren’t in the killer’s favor.”

  Sandra’s gaze darted nervously around the room. “What if it isn’t just one, though? What if it’s two people working together?”

  Darian had to admit he hadn’t thought of that—at least not to the extent of strategizing a physical line of defense. Still, he preferred Logan’s suggestion to leaving everyone scattered and vulnerable.

  “The same still holds true.” Logan took another gulp of wine. His hand shook slightly around the bottle.

  “You’re forgetting about Victor,” Chuck said. “How about someone stands guard by his door until morning? At least that way we’ll have advance warning if he comes out swinging an axe.”

  “No need,” Logan said. “We’re going to wake Victor up and have him sit in here with us. Are you okay with that, Wes?”

  “I don’t have much of a choice, do I?”

  “Not really.” Logan started to take another drink but stopped and wrinkled his nose. “Ugh. What the hell did Victor do to this wine? It didn’t taste this bad at dinner.”

  They all froze at the same instant, including Logan. He held the bottle in midair, inches from his lips. His face went slack with terror.

  “Logan? Logan, what’s going on?” Sandra said, noticing his sudden distress.

  The wine bottle fell to the floor as Logan put both hands to his throat and his eyes bulged out.

  “He’s choking,” Chuck said, jumping up. Logan shook his head violently and pointed to his lips. He started making a gasping sound that sounded like garbled attempts at words.

  “Poison,” Sandra said as Logan slumped to the foot of the bed. She knelt beside him, throwing her arms around her brother. “He’s saying he was poisoned.”

  “The wine! Victor must have doctored it,” Chuck said. “Maybe he planned to commit suicide after he killed the rest of us, starting with Sandra. Wes stopped him just in time.”

  “I’m dialing 911,” Sandra said, while Darian rushed to take her place at Logan’s side. Logan was beginning to shake, his eyes rolling up in his head.

  “He’s having a seizure,” Chuck said. “Hold him still!”

  “Should we induce vomiting?” Wes asked, grabbing the trash can out of the corner and upending it.

  “I heard you’re not supposed to do that,” Chuck argued, pushing the can back when Wes offered it. “Sometimes the stuff does more damage coming out that going in.”

  “Sandra, hurry,” Darian said. Foam began to bubble from the corners of Logan’s mouth.

  Sandra tapped the screen frantically a few times and then put down the phone with a stricken expression. “No service.”

  “The storm probably wiped out the cell tower,” Wes said. “It can happen in these kinds of winds.”

  Chuck was on his way out the door. “We need to find out what Victor put in the wine,” he called over his shoulder.

  “Hey!” Wes shouted after him. “We’re supposed to stay together, remember?” When Chuck didn’t return, he set off in pursuit.

  “Darian, do something,” Sandra wailed, punching at her phone so hard she almost cracked the screen. “Come on, come on, damn it!”

  “He’s having convulsions,” Darian called back to her. He struggled to recall what one was supposed to do in such situations. If he survived this escapade, the first thing he would do was take a first aid class. Meanwhile, Logan twitched and thrashed against him, his jaw working spasmodically while his chest heaved. At least that meant he was breathing. At least Darian hoped so.

  Seconds later, Wes and Chuck came thundering back.

  “Bad news,” Chuck said just as Logan went still in Darian’s arms. “Victor’s not in his room anymore.”

  Chapter 17

  “Victor’s gone?” Part of Darian knew he shouldn’t be surprised. He’d fallen for Victor’s charming deceptions again and again. “Where would he go?”

  “He can’t have traveled far in this weather,” Chuck said. “Got to be inside the house somewhere.”

  Wes looked down at Logan, lying still on the floor. “Whoa! Is he…?”

  “No. He’s breathing,” Darian said. He motioned for Sandra to crawl over to pull Logan’s head into her lap. She stroked his hair while Logan moaned in pain. “Keep trying your phone,” he told her. “The three of us will look for Victor. Maybe he can tell us what he put in the wine. Meanwhile, lock this door and don’t open it for anyone. Not even us.”

  Sandra gave him a tearful nod as he motioned to Wes and Chuck. “Come on. Like Chuck said, he can’t be far. We’ll search together.”

  Wes led them into the hall, but Darian waited until he heard the lock click behind him before following. “Well, so much for your brilliant theory, Darian.”

  “What do you mean? Just because Victor slipped out of his room doesn’t mean he’s guilty.”

  “No? He loaded that wine bottle with poison, intended either for himself or one of us. Then he pretended he was going back to sleep, but as soon as our backs were turned he took off. Now he’s in the house somewhere, stalking us. We can’t even call for Argo now that we don’t have cell phone reception.”

  “Maybe we can. Does Victor have a landline?”

  “Not that I’ve seen,” Wes said. “Besides, even if there were one, the first thing he’d do is cut the line.”

  “Come on,” Chuck said. “They only do that in movies. Still, you’re right. We’ve all been using our cells since we got here. Never noticed anything else.”

  It made a sick kind of sense. Victor and his mother were away so much that they probably used cell phones exclusively, like most of the people Darian knew.

  Chuck spoke up. “Sandra’s phone might be dead, but maybe one of ours has better reach. We might even be able to pick up a wireless signal on my laptop. Come, let’s go to my room and try.”

  “Worth a try,” Darian said. He assumed, given Chuck’s interest in digital equipment, that he would have the best chance of patching them through to someone.

  They were halfway down the hall when the lights flickered twice and went out.

  “So much for using wireless,” Wes said.

  “We can still get my phone,” Chuck reasoned. “It has a flashlight app we can use to find our way around. I put it on the charger before I went to bed, so it should have plenty of juice.”

  He continued on to his room, with Darian and Wes in his wake. Thanks to the storm outside, there was almost no moonlight to navigate their way around. Darian stumbled into what seemed to be a chair loaded with clothes on his way in.

  “Hey, watch your step. I’m afraid I’m not the best housekeeper,” Chuck said as he rummaged around in the dark. Wes stepped past Darian and moved in closely behind him, presumably to help. “It’s around here somewhere. Aha. I think this is it.”

  Darian could hear clunking sounds as Chuck moved various objects out of his way on top of the bureau. Then a series of events unfolded so quickly Darian had no idea what was happening. From the other side of the lightless room came a crash, a yelp of shock and pain, and finally a thud as something heavy hit the floor.

  “Chuck?” he ask
ed, edging forward with one hand extended. “Are you okay? What happened?”

  “Don’t worry,” Wes’s voice, eerily calm, assured him. “I hit him with his tripod.”

  “You…what?” Squinting, Darian managed to make out a couple of silhouetted shapes: Wes standing a few feet away with a large, bulky object in his hands, and Chuck sprawled on the floor beside him. Darian could smell, rather than see, the blood. His first instinct was to rush toward Chuck and make sure he was okay. Something about the way Wes stood frozen in place told him to hold off, though.

  “I had to,” Wes explained. “He wasn’t really looking for his phone. He was going for a knife. He would have stabbed us both before we had a chance to fight him off. Looks like I owe you an apology, Darian. You were right all along. Chuck was the killer.”

  “A knife?” Darian couldn’t figure out how Wes could possibly have registered that sort of detail, considering Darian had missed a whole chair. “Where?”

  “It doesn’t matter. The point is, I managed to stop him in time.” Wes made a few gloom-obscured movements that Darian interpreted as setting down the tripod and brandishing a different object. The room was too murky for Darian to see much, but he got the sense that Wes hadn’t picked it up off the bureau. He seemed to have pulled it from the waistband of his sweatpants. He felt his stomach slowly twist into a knot.

  He struggled to keep his voice casual. “Did you find the phone? The flashlight?”

  “Not yet. But I’m sure it’s here somewhere.”

  Wes made no move to look for it.

  The scent of freshly spilled blood assaulted Darian’s senses. He fought back a rush of nausea. “Is Chuck okay?”

  “No. But why would you care? He’s the killer, remember? I’m sure you agree he deserves whatever he gets. I suggest we just lock him in here and leave him to his fate.”

  Darian began backing toward the doorway. Wes finally took a step toward him. He still couldn’t see more than a silhouette. The picture in his mind, though, drew into sharp, terrible focus. “What about Logan? We ought to go and check on him.”