They all looked at the small hole in Mr. Cho’s back. Nobody spoke for several long seconds.
“Was there a hole like this in his chest?” Darrel asked.
“I don’t know, it was, like, too crispy and burned to tell,” Bryce said.
“I think this is an exit wound, anyway,” Jacqueline said, as she poked at the hole with a tweezers.
“How can you tell?” Darrel asked.
“Because it’s too big and slightly irregular to be an entrance wound. When I started out as a nurse, I worked in an inner-city ER for a few years. So I’ve seen my share of bullet wounds.”
Neither Darrel nor Bryce had any reason to doubt what she said or challenge her theory. Nonetheless, they eventually flipped the body back over and examined the charred skin on David Cho’s chest. Once they were looking for it, they found the bullet’s entrance wound rather quickly. It was, as Jacqueline had predicted, slightly smaller and rounder than the hole in David’s back.
It was a pretty conclusive find, with obvious, yet odd, implications: David Cho had been shot and set on fire.
CHAPTER 9
SECRET ADMIRER
Elsewhere in the mansion, four guests had been escorted by a maid to David Cho’s suite, his last known whereabouts before the dinner party.
Sophia, Emily, Parker, and Guadalupe were all there for mostly the same reason: the thought of either inspecting a real human corpse, or returning to the place where it had been burned alive, made them queasy. Or, at least, that was Sophia, Emily, and Guadalupe’s excuse. Parker figured, perhaps incorrectly, that he would have been fine investigating any of the three locations. He’d mainly wanted to come here because this was where the three most attractive females in the whole house were going to be.
Of course, Parker had just watched a man get burned alive, which wasn’t exactly an aphrodisiac or anything. But at the same time, if he was going to be forced to play some sick game like this, he might as well get the most out of it. And if he was going to die, then he’d rather die in the company of hot women than old dudes with beer guts.
After the maid explained to them that they had exactly thirty minutes, and could examine or tinker with whatever they pleased, she left the room and closed the door behind her. The four of them started looking around the suite in silence.
Nothing really jumped out at any of them at first. The room looked as one might expect it to. The king-sized bed was still made. David Cho’s suitcase sat on the floor next to the dresser. The clothes he’d changed out of before dinner were lying in a neat pile across the top of the chair in front of the small desk. Nothing looked out of place.
“What do they expect us to find in here, anyway?” Parker asked. “I mean, the dude died downstairs in the dining room. What could we possibly find up here to help us figure out what happened?”
“Just keep looking. There must be something,” Emily called out as she riffled through David’s toiletry bag in the bathroom.
Then Parker noticed Guadalupe looking at something on the desk under the window. It was sort of hard to notice anything, actually, besides Sophia’s obscenely short dress as she crouched on the floor to look under the bed. She stayed down on the floor just long enough to let Parker know that she knew he was looking and didn’t care. But, somehow, he eventually managed to avert his gaze just long enough to see Guadalupe pick up a note from the top of the desk.
“What is that?” he asked.
“It’s a note of some kind,” she said.
Sophia was on her feet now, looking annoyed. Nobody noticed. Emily was still in the bathroom, either unaware that they had found something in the suite or just too busy investigating David’s toiletries to care.
“What does it say?” Parker asked.
“It says, ‘I love the way you smell in this,’ ” Guadalupe read.
“ ‘I love the way you smell in this’?” Parker echoed, trying to make sense of it.
He, Guadalupe, and Sophia looked at the note again. The message was handwritten in a slim, sexy cursive script. The writing was neat, almost seductive, and feminine, although there was no way to be sure about the author’s gender, of course.
“It’s like he got a gift from a secret admirer,” Parker said.
“Please, that guy? Who would find him attractive?” Sophia said.
“You’re missing the point,” Guadalupe said, irritated at the worthlessness of Sophia’s single contribution thus far. “If this was from the killer, then it wouldn’t matter. The purpose was to set up his murder, not actually seduce him.”
“Whatever,” Sophia said while brushing her hand against Parker’s.
“ ‘I love the way you smell in this,’ ” Parker said again, not reacting to Sophia’s touch. “You think there was cologne or something with the note?”
“Maybe,” Guadalupe said. “But where is it now?”
“Guys,” Emily said, suddenly coming out of the bathroom, “I found something.”
They all turned and looked. She held out a small plastic cylinder between her thumb and forefinger.
“It’s a cap to a bottle of some sort, but there’s nothing in there that it fits,” Emily said.
Guadalupe reached out and took the cap from her and then sniffed it.
“Cologne,” she said. “Definitely.”
The four of them looked at one another. They were vaguely aware of a collective sense of satisfaction, almost happiness, at their discovery. But at the same time, the discovery also sent a chill up their spines. The killer was crafty and deceptive, and they knew that the killing wasn’t over yet.
CHAPTER 10
A LITERAL SMOKING GUN
After the estate bell chimed indicating that the investigation time was up, the remaining nine guests were escorted by maids outside the mansion to the patio by the swimming pool.
The patio area was lit by outdoor lamps and metal gas torches. The mansion’s two chefs were at the nearby grilling stations. The smell of cooking meat greeted the guests. And in spite of the fact that none of them had eaten anything since they’d arrived nearly six hours before, most of them looked sick to their stomachs. They’d never known just how similar the smell of cooking beef was to that of a dinner guest being burned alive right in front of them.
Giles stood in front of the two grills. He greeted the guests with a smile.
“I hope your time investigating the crime was well spent. As you know, dinner was rudely interrupted. And nothing will impede an inquiring mind faster than an empty stomach. So dinner will be served shortly. Please use this time to share information you have learned with one another. It will likely be necessary to share information in order to solve the grisly murder of Mr. Cho. But, again, I must remind you that the killer is among you. And a game cannot have a winner if there are no losers. So be judicious and careful regarding what you have learned. Share wisely. In precisely one hour, dinnertime will end and we will reconvene; there is more to this game yet to come. But for now, bon appétit.”
Giles went back inside the mansion, leaving the guests standing in a group collectively unsure of what exactly to do next.
“Well, I don’t know about you guys, but I’m starving,” Darrel said as he headed over toward the two grills.
There was a table in front of the grilling stations covered in condiments, side dishes, plates, silverware, and pitchers of water and iced tea. Darrel grabbed a plate and began scooping food. The other guests watched, and eventually Parker, Frank, and Jacqueline joined Darrel in line. It didn’t take long for the rest of the guests to bury the memory of David Cho’s burning corpse just long enough to muster up an appetite of sorts.
There were nine granite tables and benches scattered throughout the patio area. Darrel had the benefit of being the first to sit and therefore not have to make the tough decision of whom to sit near. After all, each guest knew that in order to survive, someone would need to know less than they did. Which meant that if all nine guests sat at one table and everyone shared everything
they learned, then they’d all essentially have an equal chance of being the next victim.
It was likely this logic, in addition to relationships already having been forged, that led to several groups forming across the patio that evening.
Jacqueline, the retired nurse, joined Darrel at his table in spite of the fact that they’d both investigated the same area. She did so because she trusted him. He seemed the least likely of all the guests to be the killer for some reason. Jacqueline had a feeling that they could solve this thing together. She just needed to convince someone from the other groups to join them. She saw Thomas, made eye contact, and waved. He smiled briefly and then came over and sat down at their table.
Emily and Bryce once again paired up at a table. Parker was making his way toward them when he was intercepted by Sophia’s seductive smile. He knew he needed to dine with someone who hadn’t investigated David Cho’s suite, but at the same time, there was an openness to her smile that he found hard to resist. So Parker put his hand on her back and whispered a suggestion into her ear. She nodded and they both made their way toward a table where Frank was already seated, eating alone.
And so the guests dined and talked. And speculated. Some information was shared, but not nearly as much as any of the guests would have suspected. At least two lies were told, maybe by the killer and maybe not. Mostly, the guests merely ate, making small talk and deflecting probing questions. Many spent the time trying to figure out who was, in fact, the killer. Most conversation gradually shifted away from the crime somehow, even after several guests had switched tables in an attempt to find out more pieces to the puzzle.
When Giles returned exactly one hour later, he was wheeling a small cart with a polished chrome platter and matching dome resting on top of it. He greeted them with a thin smile as usual. That was a very basic service rule: smile often, but never show your teeth.
“I hope you enjoyed your dinner,” he said. “For now the game resumes. The killer has instructed me to provide you with another clue.”
He lifted the dome off the platter, revealing nine party poppers identical to the ones they’d pulled apart at the dinner table earlier that evening. He picked up the tray and handed it to a maid, who walked around and passed out the party poppers to the nine guests.
“I have also been instructed to read aloud a riddle,” Giles said once all the poppers had been handed out. “At the conclusion of this riddle, you have exactly twenty minutes to use these new clues to help you solve the crime. No area of the estate will be off-limits during this time, aside from the morgue and Mr. Cho’s suite. When the estate bell chimes, your time is up and you must gather in the foyer immediately. Here is your riddle. Good luck:
“ ‘To solve this crime two paths must cross. First ignite me where eyes do gloss. Then look where love’s power doth reign, there you will find death’s greatest gain.’ ”
After reading the riddle, Giles retreated back into the mansion without another word. He was gone before several guests realized that they’d already forgotten half the words to the riddle. Two very keen, meticulous, and prepared guests, Guadalupe and Frank, who always carried a pen and notepad with them, had quickly jotted down the riddle as Giles spoke.
Guadalupe did so as discreetly as possible. Just like in the business world, the best way to the top was by fighting your way there alone. Alliances merely bred shared credit and backstabbing. Guadalupe would not be as successful as she was had she wasted time making friends at work her whole life. Besides, like the butler had said, one of the guests was actually the killer. How was she to know whom she could trust? So, after Giles finished the poem, she snuck away to consider the words to the riddle and what she already knew in private, away from prying eyes.
Emily and Bryce just looked at each other. Neither had completely caught the words to the riddle. Or they had, but their minds had been swimming with other thoughts, other evidence, and thus they already couldn’t remember the whole thing. They huddled together, trying to piece together what lines they could remember.
After a few minutes, Emily pulled apart her party popper, thinking that perhaps the confetti inside contained a clue. She and Bryce dug through the streamers and chunks of paper strewn around their feet in the lawn for the better part of ten minutes. They found nothing relevant.
By then, most of the other guests had dissipated. Some had paired up once again to figure out the riddle, while others, like Guadalupe, had decided to go it alone.
Inside the mansion, Frank and Thomas huddled together in the trophy room. They reread the riddle together from Frank’s small notepad. The phrase “First ignite me where eyes do gloss” had drawn them here. Thomas had made the connection, remembering the uneasy feeling he’d had in this room earlier that day, while he and Frank drank and talked with the glassy-eyed stares of dead animals watching them.
“ ‘Ignite me’?” Frank said again for probably the fourth time since they’d gotten there. “Do you think we need to light the fireplace?”
“Maybe,” Thomas said, but he sounded unconvinced.
They both instinctively turned and looked at the fireplace.
“Wait, what’s that?” Frank asked, pointing at something on the mantel.
They walked over to the fireplace. It was a small glass bottle with no cap. It had no label but looked very much like a bottle of cologne.
“That wasn’t here earlier,” Thomas said. “I’d remember. I spent at least fifteen minutes examining that thing hanging above it.”
“I have an idea,” Frank said, grabbing the cologne. “Step back.”
Thomas took a few steps back. Then Frank sprayed the cologne into the air a few times. He quickly held up the party popper and pulled it apart. There was a muted bang and then a quick whoosh of blue-and-white flame ignited in midair where vapors of the cologne had still been lingering.
“Wow,” Thomas said quietly.
“This is no ordinary cologne,” Frank said, putting the bottle back on the mantel. “So we know how David was set on fire, at least. Now we need to figure out how he got shot.”
Thomas recited the second part of the riddle in his head. And suddenly it clicked.
“Follow me,” he said.
As the two of them left the trophy room, Sophia and Parker were just arriving. The two duos exchanged quick and distrustful glances as they passed each other. In the hallway, Thomas heard Parker’s fading voice say, “See, ‘eyes do gloss.’ I’m telling you this is right…”
By the time Frank and Thomas reached the dining room, they found that they were not the only ones to have figured out the second part of the riddle. Guadalupe was already there, examining the bust of Eros, the Greek god of love, resting on a pedestal at one end of the dining room.
Frank looked at Thomas, impressed.
“ ‘Look where love’s power doth reign…’ ” Thomas started.
“ ‘… there you will find death’s greatest gain,’ ” Frank finished for him. “The gun. Death’s greatest tool in the history of mankind.”
Guadalupe glared at them as she fiddled with the bust. She had obviously made the same connection. She had assumed she’d be the only one to do so, and it annoyed her that these two were intruding.
“Come on, let us have a look. We can work together,” Thomas said to her.
Guadalupe hesitated but then stepped aside. After all, she had been examining the bust for the better part of six minutes with no luck.
It didn’t take long for Thomas, an engineer whose mind operated on a slightly different level than others’, to find the latch hidden by the brass plate at the base of the bust. Once he clicked it, Eros’s head split open. There was a very small pistol inside, identified by Frank to be a Diamondback 9mm handgun. The barrel was aligned with Eros’s left eye. The trigger had a small device mounted to it with a flashing red light.
The three of them closed the bust of the statue and then looked to where the eye lined up. It was pointed across the room, directly at David Cho’s a
ssigned chair. But before any of them could say anything more, or truly process what they’d just discovered, the estate bell chimed.
Time was up.
CHAPTER 11
SCARED OR SPARED
It didn’t take long for the nine remaining guests to reconvene in the foyer. For one, the mansion’s staff helped round them up. But also, they were collectively too scared not to follow the rules of the game. And quite frankly, for just a few of them, they had to admit to themselves that they were actually sort of having fun. They didn’t want to miss out on the next portion of the game. They knew it was sick, but they couldn’t change how they felt. Emotional reactions are pure, after all; they can be neither manufactured nor changed.
“Welcome back,” Giles said. “I hope you found those twenty minutes fruitful. Now begins the portion of the game where your cunning and wit can save your lives. The killer has asked me to read the following message:
“ ‘My dear guests, now the time has come for you to state your cases. To tell me how you think I managed to murder poor Mr. Cho right in front of you. This is where all of your hard work, deduction, and problem-solving skills can save your life. The more lucid, logical, and convincing your case, the more likely I am to spare you. For now.’ ”
As Giles finished, he noticed a number of the guests shuffling their feet uncomfortably. Surely several of them still had no idea how the murder had occurred. But others, he noticed, looked confident. Cocky, almost. Perhaps even excited.
“For now, you all must retire to your suites. You will be escorted one by one to the study by the mansion’s maid staff, where you will have five minutes to state your cases. The room will appear empty, but you should know: the killer will be listening.”
After an hour alone in their suites, save for the five minutes they were taken to the study to state their case, the nervous guests were once again escorted down to the foyer. Giles once again greeted them with the thinnest of smiles.
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