Endgame

by Jeffrey Round

  Chapter 14

  The rain continued without let-up all morning. The next few hours passed slowly, but with each ticking of the clock it became increasingly clear that Edwards was not returning, with or without Harvey Keill, any time soon.

  The remaining guests had gathered in the dining room. At noon, Sandra served a passable spread of cold cuts and bread with sliced tomatoes and a jar of mayo. She was right in saying she wasn’t much of a cook, but the meal was filling.

  At first there was little talk of the deaths. The subject was like the elephant hidden in the room until Verna brought it up, offering a small note of hope.

  “If Edwards did murder those people,” she said, “then we’re safe now at least, because he’s off the island.”

  “Until he comes back to finish off the rest of us,” Sami Lee said, frowning. “He’s probably crazy enough to do it.”

  For once, Sandra had eaten at the table with the others. She stood and went to put on water for tea and coffee. After she left the room, Crispin took the opportunity to address the others.

  “I wonder if we really are safe,” he said in a quiet voice. “We’re assuming that Edwards is behind all this. Aren’t we forgetting that Janice might have died from the medication Sandra gave her last night before she went to sleep?”

  Max’s eyes darted to the kitchen door. “You think it was on purpose?” he asked, his voice low.

  “It could be,” Crispin replied.

  Murmurs of concern went around the table.

  “I was wondering about Noni’s so-called heart attack,” David said. “What if it wasn’t a heart attack? What if his drink was poisoned?”

  Verna looked up. “He didn’t have the wine, did he? Almost everybody else had wine or beer, but he had a special drink. Edwards made it.”

  “Yes,” David agreed. “Edwards made it, but Sandra was in the kitchen at the time. She could have slipped something into his glass.”

  Glances went around the table again.

  “Do you think they’re in this together?” Max asked.

  David shrugged. “It’s hard to say.”

  The kitchen door opened and Sandra returned at that moment. The conversation died as everyone looked away.

  “The kettle’s on,” she said, giving them a curious look. “Give it a few minutes.”

  Spike smiled. “You’re a trouper,” he said. “Thanks for looking after us.”

  David looked at the others. “We still have to consider the possibility that Edwards might try to return to the island when we’re not watching.” He stole a glance in Sandra’s direction, watching her face. “I think we should do a thorough search later this afternoon, if anyone else will volunteer to come out and get wet with me. It might also be a good idea to set up a watch if we’re still here tonight.”

  “Good idea,” Spike said, glancing around the table. “Are we all agreed?”

  “I’m game,” said Verna.

  “Sami Lee and me are sticking together, no matter what we do,” Max spoke up.

  “Agreed,” David concurred. “I think we should all stick together from now on. Or at least go in small groups, to make sure we’re safe in case he tries to sneak up and ambush us.”

  “You’re forgetting one thing,” Sandra said. “It would be very difficult for anyone to land on the island except by entering the cove directly in front of the house. He could never do it without being seen.”

  “Perhaps,” David said. “But Edwards looked pretty fit. It wouldn’t be too difficult for someone in his shape to shimmy up the cliffs on the far side — if he wanted to, that is.”

  “Yes, exactly — if he wanted to,” Crispin broke in, his blue eyes looking at no one and everyone at the same time. “So let’s keep in mind that if he wanted to do something like that, he would very likely have something extremely dire in mind. In which case, he might come armed.”

  This elicited a murmur of concern from the others.

  “There’s no doubt he’ll know that we’re on to him,” Crispin added. “If he does return, he won’t want to confront us empty-handed.”

  The faces that looked at one another around the table suddenly seemed to wake up to the potential threat confronting them.

  “We’re still assuming Edwards has something to do with these deaths,” Max reminded them. “There’s no direct proof.”

  “He stole our cellphones —” Spike began, but Max cut him off.

  “Yeah, but he was also hired by Harvey Keill to bring us here. Where’s Harvey? No one knows. First he says he’s coming over in the afternoon, then next that he’ll be here in the evening, and now it’s this morning. But there’s still no Harvey. So maybe Harvey told Edwards to take the phones once we got to the island. I’d say it’s really Harvey behind all of this.”

  “But why?” Spike asked.

  “Think about it. If we’ve hated him all these years for mismanaging the group, maybe he’s hated us all these years for dumping him. Worse, we tried to turn him in when we found out he defrauded us of our earnings. But by then he had us all fighting one another. We never really talked about it privately.”

  “But we dropped the charges,” Spike exclaimed. “Harvey kept all that money. We were the losers, not him.”

  Max shook his head. “Not entirely true. We lost our earnings, but Harvey lost his reputation. He hasn’t worked with a hit group in more than a decade. All of his other bands dropped him like a hot turd when they found out what he’d done to us. As soon as they could get out of their contracts, they left him. He may have made loads of money on us, but his career was toast once it was all over.”

  “True,” Spike agreed.

  “Last night …” Max paused. “I don’t wanna spook everybody, but last night while you were all in here eating, Spike and me were outside on the porch having a joint. After Spike left, I was sure I heard someone wandering around in the bushes behind the house. It was getting dark and I couldn’t see too good, but I’d swear whatever was out there was human.”

  “You think Harvey’s here on the island?” Spike asked, with a worried look.

  Max’s eyes shifted to Spike. “Harvey … or maybe someone Harvey hired.”

  “A hired killer,” David murmured.

  Verna shivered. “Is Harvey that powerful?”

  “The question is,” Crispin broke in, “is Harvey that crazy?”

  Max turned his gaze on the critic. “Harvey is a law unto himself. I could tell you some tales that would curl the hairs on the back of your neck, but I won’t go into it now.”

  There was silence as the wind blew against the house and rain pelted the windows.

  “Still,” Sami Lee said impatiently, “if we all stay together, we’re safe from anything he might try. I mean, the bastard can’t just come in here with a gun and shoot us all in cold blood.”

  “Why not?” Max turned to her. “I wouldn’t trust Harvey as far as I could throw him, and that ain’t too far. Remember, he’s a big fat fucker. His main course in any meal was doughnuts.”

  Spike guffawed, but David cut him short.

  “What’s that smell?” he said, sniffing the air.

  The others looked around.

  “I smell gas,” Pete said slowly.

  A panicked looked spread across Sandra’s face. “The kettle,” she said, racing for the kitchen.

  From the doorway, she could see the kettle sitting on the burner. There was no flame beneath. The air was rank with natural gas. She marched up to the stove and turned off the valve.

  David came in behind her.

  “Quick — open a window,” Sandra commanded, grabbing a tea towel and waving it about.

  David leapt to the nearest window and tugged. It was locked. He turned back to the dining room. “Nobody light a match!” he yelled. “We’ve got to get the air cleared in here. You should all g
o outside.”

  Everyone scrambled for the front door as David ran to the back door, propping it open. He helped Sandra waft the gas outside until the smell faded.

  He returned to give the all clear to the others on the front porch.

  “What were you saying about Harvey already being on the island?” David said to Max.

  “You think Harvey did this?” Max asked.

  “Well, somebody did,” David replied. “Whoever it was must have come in the back door to the kitchen while we were all out here talking.”

  “Are you serious?” Verna said, a fearful look crossing her face. “You mean someone tried to blow us all up? That’s horrible!”

  Sandra joined them just then. “Actually, I’m not sure it was deliberate.”

  “What do you mean?” David demanded. “Someone blew out the flame and turned the burner on high.”

  They all looked at Sandra, waiting for an explanation.

  “I set the kettle on the burner at full,” she said. “I suspect it boiled over and put out the flame. There was hot water splashed over the stovetop. I think I may have overfilled the kettle a little. I’m not used to gas stoves.”

  “So you don’t think someone snuck in the kitchen door while we were all out here?” Max demanded.

  Sandra shook her head. “It’s possible, but I don’t really think so.”

  The faces around them looked relieved.

  David shrugged. “Maybe not this time,” he said. “But we still have to be vigilant. If nothing else, we now know how vulnerable we are here.”

  Sandra put a hand to her forehead. “I think I need to lie down.”

  They all came back inside to the parlour. Sandra lay on a chaise longue, her face pale.

  Crispin spoke up. “I think it’s time we had a frank discussion about everyone’s involvement here. We’ve talked about how everyone got to the island, but we haven’t really discussed why most of us were in the video accusing us of participating in that girl’s death.”

  A silence fell over the room.

  Crispin continued. “Or why some of us here are in it and not others.”

  Looks were exchanged around the room, but still no one spoke.

  “Would anybody like to start?” Crispin asked.

  The suggestion was again met with silence.

  “All right. Then I’ll start. I think I’m named in the video because I discovered the Ladykillers — at least in print. So far as I know, I fanned the flames that put the band in the spotlight …”

  “Hear! Hear! Good old Crispin!” Max cried, raising a fist in the air, but he settled back in his seat when his hijinks weren’t returned with looks of amusement on anyone else’s face.

  “As I said,” Crispin told them, “it was my article that helped the band on their sometimes-notorious rise to stardom.”

  “It’s true,” Spike interjected. “It’s like you discovered us. If it hadn’t been for you, we would never have been taken seriously by anybody, including Harvey. In fact, Harvey once told me it was your article in Spin that encouraged him to come out to the club that day. Otherwise, we’d probably still be just another garage band.”

  Crispin inclined his head. “That might be putting too fine a point on it, but I think I may have hastened the inevitable.”

  “So, in a way, you’re responsible for the band’s success,” Max said. “But you weren’t at that party when the girl died.”

  “No, I wasn’t.” Crispin concluded. “But I can understand why somebody might hold me responsible for what happened that evening.”

  “You’re saying you agree with whoever is behind this?” Spike asked in a surly tone.

  “What I’m saying is I can understand why someone might think that,” Crispin replied calmly.

  “But why would Harvey suddenly start to care about this girl who died?” Pete blurted out. “I mean, it was Harvey who got us out of that mess in the first place.”

  “Only because we were his meal ticket,” Max said. “But not anymore.”

  Before anyone could respond, Sami Lee chimed in. “Does anyone even remember who she was? I mean, I remember all the trouble she caused, but does anyone else really remember her?”

  Verna threw a shocked glance at Sami Lee for her callousness, but said nothing.

  “That’s right. She was just some chick who showed up at the party,” Max exclaimed. “I don’t even know who invited her.”

  “Spike did,” Pete said.

  Spike glared at Pete over his shoulder. “I might have. I invited a lot of people to a lot of parties back then. Most of them were glad for the invitations.” He turned back to the others. “But Crispin wasn’t at the party. Nor was Edwards, by the sounds of it, though we know from David what his involvement was in the events of that evening.”

  “I wasn’t there,” Sandra said softly, not looking at anyone.

  “So that’s three.” Spike looked around the table. His gaze fell on Verna. “And you couldn’t have been there or I’d remember you. I’ve never laid eyes on you till yesterday.”

  “Sarah was there. It was her party,” Pete reminded them.

  Spike nodded. “That’s right. It was Sarah — a.k.a. Janice Sandford — who threw the party. She’d been a regular Ladykillers groupie for about a year by then. I think we all fucked her at one time or another.” He looked around him. “No offence.”

  Sandra looked up sharply. “She said she felt guilty because she was in bed with you when the girl overdosed.”

  Spike shrugged. “I don’t recall.”

  “Why did Janice throw the party?” Crispin asked.

  “When she heard we were having a CD launch, she offered to host a little after-party at her place. She had this walk-up flat near the market in Seattle.”

  Max looked up sharply. “Sami Lee and me met at that party. I don’t recall seeing this girl till she got sick.”

  Sami Lee nodded in agreement. “She was a nobody. I don’t even remember her.”

  “She came backstage at one of our concerts,” Pete said. “We all met her.”

  “Well, I never met her,” Sami Lee said impatiently, lighting up a cigarette. “In any case, we know who gave her the ecstasy. That was Newt Merton.”

  Sandra looked up at the sound of the name. Merton? How had that fact escaped her all these years? She must have been stoned not to realize the man she sold prescription medication to was the same pusher who gave the dead girl her lethal drugs at the party.

  Max nodded. “Newt was this kid who supplied us with stuff in the early days. He was the best, so we let him hang around the band. His dope was always pure, always quality, but I guess that night he got hold of some bad shit.”

  Spike shook his head. “They said it was the drug mafia trying to put the little guys out of business. Someone messed with his stuff that night and it was lethal. At least, that’s what they made out at his trial.”

  At that moment, Sandra drew a line connecting the last few dots in the mysterious outline of events. She nearly gasped as she turned to David.

  “Your last name is Merton. It says so on the file upstairs.” Her voice was barely audible.

  For a moment, David didn’t speak. He looked at the faces staring at him.

  “I knew it,” Verna whispered.

  “Whoa! I’m just a real-estate agent,” David said. “I’ve never met any of you people before.”

  “It can’t be him,” said Spike. “He doesn’t look anything like Newt.”

  “That’s right,” David said. “I don’t know any of you, either.”

  “I know how we’ll know for sure,” Max said. “Roll up your sleeves.”

  David snorted. “You think I’m a junkie and that will prove I sold dope?”

  Max leaned forward, speaking with a snarl. “No — I don’t. But I remember Newt Merton had
a tattoo of a seahorse on his left biceps. So let’s see if you have the same tattoo.”

  David licked his lips nervously. He looked around the table.

  “It can’t be him,” Spike said, watching David. “No way!”

  “Show us,” Max said. “Or we’ll make you.”

  David sighed and rolled up his sleeve, revealing the outline of a seahorse on his biceps.

  “Holy shit!” Spike exclaimed. “You’re Newt Merton?”

  “It’s been a long time, Spike,” he said. “People change.”

  “You’re the guy who went to jail,” Max said slowly.

  “That’s right. Four years of my life it cost me,” David said darkly.

  “It cost Zerin Ames more than that,” said Verna.

  David’s fist smashed down on the coffee table, startling them all.

  “Don’t get all fucking high and mighty on me,” he said through clenched teeth. “You guys invited me to that party in the first place. Anyway, I’m clean now. I haven’t sold drugs for twenty years.”

  “Not since they put you in jail,” said Pete.

  “That’s right. I went to jail for you fuckers, and don’t you forget it. I pleaded no contest so the rest of you could get off.”

  “You got paid for it,” Spike said. He looked around at the others. “In case anybody wonders why Newt went to jail without a fuss, Harvey concocted a scheme with Noni Embrem. They arranged to pay him fifty thousand bucks to go quietly. That’s what was in the envelope Noni handed him before the trial.”

  David shook his head. “They only paid me to plead no contest. Noni promised me I’d get off with parole. He never said anything about going to jail.”

  “Tough luck,” Max told him. “You gotta play the cards you’re dealt.”

  David glared at him. “In that case, I had a crooked dealer.”

  Spike whistled. “So you must still be pretty pissed off about that. What’s to say you weren’t the one to do in Noni Embrem?”

  David lunged across the coffee table as Spike retreated. Max and Pete restrained the real-estate agent, but barely.

  “Get your fucking hands off me!” David screamed.