by T B Audrey
Max got up from the table and walked around to where Tad was sitting,
“Act decently?” he laughed as though he found this tremendously funny. “I think I’m acting wonderfully. It’s you, BROTHER dearest,” he spat, “that is acting out of character. After all, when was the last time a greedy, money-grubbing office drone like yourself ever acted civilly towards anyone?”
Rene stood up from the table and pointed a finger at Max accusingly, “You’re drunk!”
“Am not!” Max exclaimed.
“What’s going on here?!” Beatrice turned around to see Tommy and another man standing in the doorway.
Tad motioned toward Max. “He’s been drinking and right before he came here, too.”
Tommy shrugged. “So?”
“So…so….” Tad’s gloating attitude seemed to shrink under Tommy’s withering gaze. “It’s just exactly what I’d expect from him.”
“If you’re all done bickering,” Tommy said harshly, “I would like to introduce you to an additional guest of uncle’s.”
The man was exceedingly tall with a long nose and small, beady eyes. His business suit was prim and pressed and in his hand he carried a briefcase.
Tommy motioned towards him with a wave of his hand. “Mr. Roger Iberson.”
“Um, the 3rd,” the man interjected.
Tommy nodded. “Yes, the 3rd, right,” he said. “Sorry.”
Roger patted Tommy on the shoulder, his large mouth twisting itself into a caricature of a smile.
“No problem, my dear fellow, no problem at all!” he insisted. “Sit, sit, I’ll take it from here.”
Tommy looked at him in bewilderment. “Take what from here?” he asked.
“Why, the party, I’ll take the party from here,” he said.
Tommy shook his head in confusion. “But I don’t understand.”
“Don’t you?” The smile slid from Roger’s face. “Oh, no. I can see that you don’t… but some of you do, don’t you?” He glanced around at the befuddled looks on their faces and rubbed the back of his neck with a handkerchief he retrieved from his pocket. “Oh, dear,” he said.
“Oh, dear, dear, dear…” he repeated. “Where to begin? The beginning, the end, or the middle?”
“The beginning?” Beatrice suggested.
Tommy took a seat, looking worried. “Please, the beginning.”
“Yes, yes. My, oh my, oh my…” He placed the handkerchief back in his pants pockets and then he began.
“Jonathon Maddus,” he said, “as you all know, was an avid sportsman and competitor. Indeed, there is nothing he liked better than a good game. So, when he died he decided that he wanted his last act to be a game, in and of itself.”
“What are you talking about?” Tad exclaimed.
Roger rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Well, well,” he stuttered. “I’ll tell you. It’s like this. You all know that Jonathon was in possession of what some might call a considerable wealth.”
“And what others may call a butt load of cash,” said Max.
Rene shot him a look of annoyance. “Shut up, Max!”
“I’ll say whatever I want to say.”
Tommy cleared his throat. “Shut up, Max,” he repeated. Max shot him an icy glance but settled back into his chair silently. Tommy nodded to Roger.
“Go on,” he said.
Roger swallowed audibly. “Right… right. So, you see he decided that there was only one fair way to settle it….”
Tad scoffed, “By giving it all to his nephew and neglecting his own children.”
“What are you talking about?” Tommy exclaimed. “He didn’t give it all to me.”
Tad looked at him suspiciously. “He gave you the house.”
“Yes, he gave me the house,” Tommy admitted, “but that’s it. I assumed he gave the money to you.”
“Well, if he didn’t give us the money and he didn’t give you the money, what did he do with it?” asked Amy, talking for the first time about something other than her son.
“Order, order!” exclaimed Roger, slamming his open hand down on the table and then jumping back slightly at the very sound that he just made. “Oh, my! Now, now, now,” he said, making soothing motions with his hands. “If you would only let me explain, I could tell you everything… everything.”
“Jonathon determined that the only fair way to decide,” he continued, “was to hold a contest to see who got the bulk of his estate. In this contest, he decided to include not only his children, but his children’s guest and his beloved nephew.”
“What kind of contest?” asked Tommy.
Roger reached into his pocket and pulled out small deck of red cards, which he set on the table. He then reached into his back pocket, the one that did not currently hold his kerchief, and pulled out three additional blue cards, which he placed parallel to the first deck.
“A card game?” asked Eve.
Roger smiled at her, “Of sorts.” He placed an index finger on each of the decks. “These cards are custom made, you see. The way the game works is like this: on each of the blue cards there is a dare or a challenge. Someone draws a card. If they can complete their challenge, they move on to the next round. If not, they are out of the game.”
“What kind of challenges are they?” asked Beatrice.
Roger tutted and momentarily lifted his finger off of one of the decks to shake it at her, “I’m afraid that is a surprise, young lady.”
“And the other cards?” Max asked, staring at the cards, transfixed.
Roger tapped them appreciatively. “These?” he asked, “After four of you have been removed from the game, I will read a riddle to the remaining four, who will then each be given a card with an object. They will have to solve the riddle to find their object.”
“And that will be it? Whoever finds it wins?” asked Rene.
“We shall see,” answered Roger.
Tad got up from the table. “This can’t possibly be legal. I’m calling my lawyer.”
“It’s all legal and above board, I assure you. In fact, I am-” he paused, “was, your father’s lawyer.”
Tad ignored the old man and punched the number into his cell phone, holding it up to his ear.
Roger smiled. “You can’t get service out here, you know.”
Tad waited several minutes before closing his phone and jamming it back into his coat in frustration.
“There has to be a landline, then.”
Tommy shook his head. “It was disconnected while uncle’s affairs were being straightened out. I haven’t had a chance to reconnect it.”
Tad began to turn red in frustration. “Then we’ll just have to postpone it, until we can drive back into town where we can all seek legal counsel.”
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” said Roger. “Anyone who leaves forfeits automatically.”
The color drained out of Tad’s face. “Everything settled by a game….”
“Yes,” said Roger happily, “and to make sure there are no take-backsies later….” He reached into his briefcase, took out a piece of paper and laid it on the table. Everyone gathered in a crowd to read it, Beatrice included. It was a contract citing the rules of the game; the understanding that whosoever won the game won the prize, and short list of rules. At the very bottom, there were nine lines for signatures. Roger pulled out a pen and held it out to Tad.
“Would you like to go first?” he asked.
Tad went white and looked down the paper sickly. “All of it, everything, depending on a game,” he said in anguish.
On the first line, he wrote his name.
Beatrice looked around at the faces gathered around the table. Unbelievable, she thought to herself. This whole situation was unbelievable.
“Whoever signed first goes first,” said Roger. “Mr.Maddus, pull a card.”
Tad gulped and slowly plucked a card off of the top of the pile.
“It’s too late to give a hoot, if you don’t know how to shoot,” He read
aloud. “Now, what’s that supposed to mean?”
Roger giggled. “Oh, yes, I like that one.” He turned and opened the dining room door. “If everyone will follow me.”
One by one, they all trailed out of the room behind him.
“We’re going to the shooting range?” said Tad. “Father was always so juvenile.”
Tad’s guess proved right and in a short amount of time they arrived at a small, indoor shooting range.
“This must have cost a pretty penny,” Beatrice whispered to Tommy.
Tommy smiled. “Uncle always had a flare for the dramatic.”
“An indoor shooting range is certainly that,” she answered.
Roger retrieved a gun out of the cabinet, unlocking the deadbolt with a key he had concealed in his pocket.
“How did you get a key to the gun cabinet?” Tommy asked.
Roger looked at him sneakily. “I have a key to everything. Your uncle planned this extensively. I was in this house, before his death and after, to set things up before you came to inhabit it. You might find many surprises tonight.”
Roger handed one of the guns to Tad, who looked at it with distaste.
“You have three chances to hit the bull’s-eye at the bottom of the range,” he said. “Good luck.”
“This is ridiculous,” Tad scoffed.
Max laughed. “Afraid you’re not up to the challenge?”
Tad looked at him coldly and then turned to the range and shot three times.
Beatrice looked in astonishment down the range, where, in the middle of the bull’s-eye, there were now three perfect holes.
“If there’s one thing daddy taught me,” said Tad, turning with a smile, “it was how to shoot.”
They marched back to the study, where Amy was the next to draw a card.
“Before this contest can get stale, let’s see if you have learned to spell,” she read.
Roger pulled yet another paper from his briefcase. “You have one chance,” he said, “to accurately spell ‘arachnophobia.’”
Amy bit her lip and looked around at the expectant faces. “A…r…a,” she began, going slowly, as she spelled it out in her head, “c…h…n…a-“
“No!” said Roger. “I’m afraid that’s incorrect. You, miss, are out of the game.”
Tad glared at his wife. “You have a Master’s degree, but you can’t spell arachnophobia?” he exclaimed.
“I’m sorry, Tad,” she whispered to her husband, and for a moment Beatrice was moved with pity for the cold woman that sat beside her.
To Beatrice, the next few hours were so full of challenges and suspense that time seemed to fly by. One by one they drew and competed. After Amy lost the game, it was Eve’s turn. She had drawn a card that challenged her to solve a particularly tricky riddle. As soon as she read the card, Max laughed. “Poor Eve,” he had said. “She’ll never get anything that requires her to think.”
Amy bit her lip. “Why couldn’t I have drawn this one?” she complained. “I could have gotten this one!”
True to Max’s prediction, Eve came up short, not even being able to give the riddle a wrong answer, let alone the right one. After her, came Max, who won his task by reciting a full passage from Macbeth, complete with voices and gestures that were not called for by the contest.
Next it was Beatrice’s turn. “Go on, Bee.” said Tommy, “Draw a card.”
Beatrice reached out and picked up a card. Looking at it nervously, she began to read.
“Soon you may be living high, if only you hit the bull’s-eye.”
She looked at Tommy in confusion, but he was looking behind her. She turned and sighed in dismay.
“Oh, no,” she said, looking at the dartboard across the room. “I’m terrible at darts.”
Roger walked over and handed her three darts.
“You must stand eight feet away from the board to shoot,” he said, walking to a line that was already placed on the floor, “which is behind this handy little line here. Also, you must hit the bull’s-eye with at least one dart to advance.”
She took the darts and faced the board, her heart pounding in her chest. She closed her eyes for a second and tried to collect her thoughts. She sighed, and looked at the dartboard in apprehension. She pulled back to throw….
“Boo!” Max yelled from behind her.
In her surprise, she jerked her hand upward, sending the dart flying into the back of a dining room chair to her right.
“That’s not fair!” Tommy exclaimed.
Roger shrugged. “I’m afraid there is no rule against it,” he said. “He didn’t directly interfere.”
Beatrice lifted up the next dart in her hand, realizing how badly she was shaking.
She pulled back again. “Boo!” Max yelled again, but Beatrice was ready for that this time and didn’t let it faze her. The dart left her hand, but she could tell it was too low. It hit the bottom of the board with a dull thud.
“Come on, Bee,” Tommy encouraged, “You can do it.”
She smiled at him before turning back to the dartboard. She held the last dart up, trying to visualize it sailing into the middle of the board. Bull’s-eye.
She pulled the dart back and let it go. Max didn’t scream this time. Beatrice wondered distractedly if it was because he had decided it would no longer work or because he was as entranced as she was by the tension of the moment. She could tell it was a good shot, but would it be good enough? The dart hit right on the edge of the bull’s-eye, too close to tell if it was on the mark or not. Roger walked forward and inspected it closely. Beatrice felt as though she might pass out and wished to herself that he would hurry.
Roger turned, and Beatrice felt her stomach drop as he shook his head.
“I’m afraid not,” he said.
After Beatrice’s failed attempted, it was Rene’s turn. Silently, she drew a card.
“The prize you could win could be sweet, but answer this wrong and you could be beat…” she read. “There’s a question under it.”
“What is it?” Beatrice asked.
Rene looked back down at the card. “Whose son was Cupid?”
She looked at the ceiling, seemingly lost in thought. “Let’s see…” she said. Then suddenly Beatrice saw her eyes light up. “Oh, of course, it’s Venus!”
“Correct!” said Roger.
Next was Tommy. He looked at the last card nervously and then slowly picked it up.
“You’re as lucky as can be, you move on automatically,” he read.
Tad began turning red. “What?!” he half yelled. “That can’t be right. How is that fair?”
Tommy looked up from his card. “Life’s not fair.”
“What did you just say to me?!” Tad asked angrily.
Tommy blinked. “What?” he said. “No, it’s what the card says… look.”
He held out the card for everyone to see. At the bottom of the card, the words ‘life’s not fair’ were written in swirling type.
Max actually laughed out loud. “I didn’t know that would be there.”
“None of us did, you idiot,” said Tad. “Jonathon’s idea of joke, I suppose.”
Roger giggled. “Yes, yes, very good,” he said, plucking the card out of Tommy’s hands. “That will be the end of the first round, time for round two to begin.”
All of the guests sat in a circle around the table as Roger looked over the piece of paper in his hand speculatively.
“Are you ready for the riddle?” he asked.
Everyone around the table nodded.
“Yes, please, let’s get on with it,” said Tad.
Roger smiled slightly at him and began reading.
“Standing with our ears up high, waiting for the cougars cry.”
Max jumped to his feet. “It’s the deer in the foyer, with the cougar above them!”
Everyone jumped to their feet, even those who were already out of the game, to run to the foyer. Max and Eve made it out of the room first, with Tad and Amy follow
ing, and Beatrice and Tommy close on their heels. Rene came last, her long skirt almost tripping her as it wrapped around her legs in her haste.
The group raced through the halls, all pulling up short when they reached the group of deer.
Everyone began looking over and under them, searching for something that might tell them… they didn’t really know what… none of them were quite sure what they were looking for. That’s when Beatrice heard the sound of someone clearing his throat. She turned to see Roger standing in the doorway of the hall.
“You’re in the right room,” he said, “but I’m afraid you forgot your cards, which makes the game all the more difficult.”
The crowd looked at each other for a moment before all running back to Roger.
“One at a time, one at a time!” he said, giggling.
Max and Eve got their card first and ran to an umbrella stand on the other side of the room. Then Rene grabbed hers and took off for a picture frame next to the window, while Amy and Tad hurried to a coffee table next to the deer.
Meanwhile, Tommy and Beatrice looked down at their own card. On it was a picture of a stuffed bobcat. They ran over to where it sat near the door. Tommy picked it up and looked under it, but there was nothing there.
“Wait!” said Beatrice. “I saw something in its mouth.”
Tommy turned it back over and looked in its mouth, pulling out a small piece of paper.
“Hurry!” said Beatrice, looking over her shoulder. Max, Eve, and Rene were already gone, only the two of them and Tad and Amy were left in the room, both reading their papers.
“It’s another riddle!” said Tommy. “In a booth I wrote my name, find it fast or lose the game.”
“The diner, Tommy!” exclaimed Beatrice. “It has to be a booth in the diner.”
Tommy nodded. “You’re right,” he said. “Grab your coat.”
The two of them ran through the dark woods, slipping and sinking in the dew soaked grass. Beatrice was trying to keep up, but her heels were wobbling in the thick, moss-covered ground.
“I’m slowing you down,” she said. “Go on without me.”
He put his strong arm around her waist, practically pulling her along with him.