Murder in Mystery Manor

by Anthony E. Zuiker

  There was not a tarp or covering of any kind lying near where the car Sophia and Parker had taken had been parked earlier that morning. Which is what had likely made it the obvious choice as the car to steal, Thomas supposed. He knelt down right at the entrance to the garage where the skid marks left by the car’s tires began.

  That’s when he saw the small note lying just outside on the paved driveway. The concrete extended out about ten feet from the garage and then transitioned to the same fine, leveled gravel path that looped throughout the rest of the estate. Thomas quickly snatched up the piece of paper and turned back to see if Guadalupe had seen him find it. She had her back to him and seemed completely unaware of his discovery. He palmed the handwritten note and glanced down at it:

  Meet me in the garage.

  I’m getting us out of here.

  It was difficult to tell the gender from the rushed, yet fairly neat handwriting. Thomas slipped the paper into his pocket and then joined Guadalupe near the workbench along the wall. She was examining some sort of black metal box with a small computer monitor on the side.

  “What did you find?” he asked.

  They were literally the first words either had spoken since they’d started investigating the garage.

  “I don’t know, some kind of computerized diagnostic box of some sort,” she said. “Did you find anything?”

  “No, not at all,” he said, pressing his hand subconsciously over the note in his pocket.

  He moved closer to look at the metal box. The words DISTRONIC PLUS DIAGNOSTICS AND AUTOMATED DRIVE SYSTEM were stenciled on the side in an industrially generic white font. The computer monitor was switched on. There were several options listed on the black screen in green font.

  “Do you mind if I…” he started asking.

  “No, please,” she said. “I know a lot about cars, since my brother is a mechanic, but I’ve never seen anything like this before.”

  “Me, either,” he said, “but with my work background and all, I actually think I know what it is.”

  She stepped aside so he could take a closer look. He pressed a few buttons on the attached keypad. Then he selected the seventh menu option:

  7. Print last programmable drive plan

  For a few seconds, nothing happened. Then across the room they heard the screeching of an ancient laser printer starting up. They hurried over to it and waited while the old, yellowing machine printed out three sheets of paper.

  They examined the pages together. Thomas knew there was no way he could hide this from her without getting in trouble somehow. The sheet listed a preprogrammed drive path for an automobile. It was a flight plan for a car autopilot, essentially. He explained his theory to her.

  “Stuff like this exists? I had no idea,” Guadalupe said quietly.

  “Oh, yeah, you’d be surprised,” Thomas said, his eyes bulging with excitement. “There are actually prototypes out there for cars that can literally drive themselves in current, normal traffic. They’ve even been taken out for test drives on busy LA freeways during rush hour. And all the while none of the other drivers on the road had any idea they were driving alongside a self-piloted car.”

  “Wow,” she said. “Well, at least that explains why they drove themselves into a gas tank. Because they weren’t actually driving the car.”

  Thomas nodded slowly.

  “But it still doesn’t tell us who was behind the wheel,” he said.

  Guadalupe frowned and nodded. He was definitely right about that.

  CHAPTER 31

  THEY BOUGHT THE ANT FARM

  Immediately after the investigation period ended, the five guests were served breakfast in a small breakfast nook and sunroom on the opposite side of the kitchen as the dining room. None of them ate much.

  “You may use the next thirty minutes to share information as you so desire,” Giles said. “Please feel free to take your breakfast elsewhere should you wish to discuss matters in private from other guests. I must warn you, however, with only five guests remaining, what you decide to share or not share with certain individuals assuredly could either save your life or lead directly to your death. So be wise, be clear, and please… enjoy your scones!”

  After Giles left, the guests sat at the large table and looked at one another. They stayed there in the sunroom and nibbled tentatively at the scones and sipped at the hot coffee. They seemed to be waiting collectively to see who made the first attempt to share information.

  Surprising nobody, Darrel and Jacqueline were the first to move. They both stood and exited the sunroom out the north door, which led them outside toward the lush estate garden. After just a few minutes, Thomas stood and followed them.

  He knew he would not be able to solve this without getting more information. And he simply trusted Darrel and Jacqueline more than he did Bryce. Actually, it wasn’t that he didn’t trust Bryce himself; the kid was almost naively trustworthy, like a baby deer stranded alone on the African savannah or something. It was more so that Thomas didn’t trust the kid’s investigative skills and therefore wasn’t sure he could trust anything the kid thought he knew. Besides, Jacqueline and Darrel and Thomas had each investigated all three areas, so if he could get them to talk, they’d all likely be Spared this time around for sure. Leaving Guadalupe and Bryce to the wolves, so to speak.

  After the three of them left, Bryce and Guadalupe sat there and ate in silence for a few moments. They avoided looking at each other at first. But then both seemed to realize at the same time how foolish it would be to not at least attempt to talk it out together. The person working alone at this stage in the game was most likely going to be the next one to die.

  “Look, I just want to keep going,” Bryce finally said. “Let’s help each other out. If we both sit here and stay quiet, we’re definitely going to be Scared next.”

  Guadalupe nodded. “You’re right.”

  Thus Guadalupe and Bryce each shared what they’d found from their investigations. Or so they hoped. They, of course, had no way of knowing if one of them had lied about their evidence. But at this point, the thin trust forged out of desperation that morning was the only hope they had.

  Near the end of breakfast, the guests were all called back to the breakfast nook and sunroom. Giles wheeled in a huge glass case. Inside of it was an ant farm, complete with dirt, natural paths, millions of ants, and an obvious queen’s chamber. As the guests stared at it, wondering what that could possibly have to do with the double murder at hand, two maids passed out magnifying glasses to each of them.

  “It appears our killer has somewhat of a sense of humor,” Giles said glibly, glancing at the ant farm and then at the magnifying glasses clutched in the guests’ hands. “And it’s now time for the next challenge.”

  All five guests put down the magnifiers and took out small notepads and pens to scribble down the riddle they all knew was coming.

  “Very good, I see you’re learning,” Giles said. “Here is the killer’s riddle to help you with your next challenge:

  “ ‘In the blink of an eye, two young lives have been lost forever. To solve this crime you must be far more than merely clever. Like a brand-new parachute colliding with Locard’s theory, you must figure out who drove the car with such reckless fury. Use the magnifier to help you find the smoking gun; or you could always just use it to melt these ants with the sun.’ ”

  The guests finished scribbling down the words as fast as they could and then looked up at Giles. Waiting for more. Another hint, more instructions, anything. He said nothing.

  “Well, is that it?” Jacqueline asked. “Ain’t you gonna tell us how long we have?”

  Giles shook his head.

  “This time, to make things more interesting, the killer has not disclosed the time limit,” he said. “It would be my advice to not waste any time you may or may not have, and get to work!”

  This incited a flurry of activity as guests stood up quickly. Except for Guadalupe. She remained seated, studying the poe
m in front of her. She saw no point in running around like a headless chicken until she could glean some concrete hint from the riddle that gave her a direction.

  Thomas, however, immediately bolted from the room. Having taken a lot of science courses throughout college, he was likely the only one of the guests who knew precisely what Locard’s theory was. And that knowledge alone had quickly tipped him off as to where to start looking for the next big clue. In fact, as he left the sunroom, glancing behind him to make sure nobody was following, he was quite shocked at how quickly it had all come together in his mind. He was impressed with himself. He’d solved the riddle much quicker than he expected. But, alas, the hints were all there; they just needed brilliance to put them all together.

  Bryce, on the other hand, felt hopelessly lost. He ran out of the sunroom toward the library, in search of an encyclopedia or dictionary there that could explain to him what Locard’s theory was. He was surprised by the sudden tears that streamed down his face as he ran toward (hopefully) salvation. He’d never before considered the possibility that a library could actually save his life someday.

  Darrel and Jacqueline were collectively somewhere in between panic and assured calm. On one hand, neither had any real clue as to where this riddle was supposed to be leading them. But on the other hand, they felt that they each had more than enough other evidence to at least be Spared. Thomas had proven to be rather forthcoming with his information, even showing them the note he’d found in the garage. As such, armed with solid evidence from all three locations, even if they didn’t solve this riddle or challenge, Jacqueline and Darrel were both individually convinced that they’d still be okay.

  Back in the library, Bryce had finally found an encyclopedia set containing Locard’s theory. The library had four different sets of encyclopedias. The first two Bryce had checked were vintage sets and, as far as he could tell, had nothing in them at all relating to Locard’s theory.

  But the third set, a much newer yet still expensive leather-bound collection, contained exactly what he’d been looking for. It was in the L volume, not surprisingly, on page 494:

  Locard’s Exchange Principle: Every actionable physical contact leaves behind a trace of evidence at the aforementioned site of contact.

  Bryce slammed the book shut, clearly frustrated. That hadn’t helped him much at all. But even if it had, his time was running thin, for another of the guests had already solved the challenge and the estate bell was mere seconds away from chiming.

  The first part of the riddle that had jumped out at Thomas was the phrase “Like a brand-new parachute colliding with Locard’s theory.” He knew that Locard’s principle was a staple of forensic science. He also knew the use of the word “colliding” had been no coincidence. It was a hint to head to the crash site.

  After being sure that none of the other four guests had followed him, he broke into an awkward sprint across the east lawn, toward the lake and car still smashed into the side of the partially burned boathouse.

  The parachute line made perfect sense as soon as he saw the wreckage. The air bag, now deflated, sat drooping across the driver’s-side seat, looking very much like a small, new parachute. And just like that, it all clicked: “… blink of an eye… a brand-new parachute colliding… Locard’s theory…”

  He took out the magnifying glass from his back pocket and began inspecting every inch of the deflated air bag. He found a few splotches of dried blood, but of course there was no way he could determine who was driving from that. He was close to giving up when he finally saw what he knew was the smoking gun the riddle had referenced.

  Near the top of the air bag, barely visible to the naked eye, but clear as day with his magnifying glass, was a small imprint of vertical lines forming a slight arch. It was mascara, transferred to the air bag fabric when Sophia’s face had pressed into it during the collision. With those tiny lines of vanity, Thomas had finally found his answer.

  He stood up and grinned, just as the estate bell sounded. He was about to win his second case, he knew. And this time it was coming when it mattered most, with just five guests remaining.

  CHAPTER 32

  REWARD

  “Congratulations to one of you,” Giles said once they were all back in the sunroom. “You have solved the challenge, thus concluding the investigation period for our fourth crime. As you all know, that means it is now time to once again lay out your cases for the killer to review.”

  One by one the guests were escorted away to a small screened-in smoking parlor adjacent to the sunroom. The room was complete with a walk-in humidor and various antique and modern ashtrays, most of which cost more than an average American’s monthly salary. The room, like usual, had a single tiny camera set upon a tripod.

  The guests once again stated their cases into the camera. By the time the last guest had been escorted back to the sunroom, it was just after nine in the morning and the wear of not having had a full night’s sleep in several days was definitely showing on all of their faces.

  “We now must ask that each of you retire to your suites until lunch. This will give you time to nap, freshen up, relax, or perhaps merely consider what you’d like to eat this afternoon: a fresh lobster roll or a Waldorf chicken salad sandwich. Regardless of what you choose to do, you will be confined to your suites until lunch is served at precisely one P.M.”

  Most of the guests did indeed sleep that morning until lunch. Except for one, of course. The killer alone remained awake, powered by the adrenaline of such a well-executed game. The killer sat and watched the other guests’ newest murder scenario theories with growing delight. Everything had gone as planned so far, which was somewhat unexpected. The killer hadn’t even had to resort to any of the backup murders that had been arranged in case any of the primary murders didn’t work out as intended.

  Then again, this had all been so carefully coordinated and so meticulously thought out in advance, why should the game’s success have been unexpected? Even the killer’s choice of Giles as the administrator of the game seemingly couldn’t have been a better one. He had remained calm and professional throughout, just like a butler of his training and experience should.

  At lunch, later that afternoon, Giles held up the five envelopes containing the results of the most recent murder case. The five guests looked concerned, to be sure, but they also finally looked at least somewhat well rested having had the better part of the morning to relax and sleep.

  “Thomas, the killer wishes you to open your envelope and share your results first,” Giles said, after they’d all started eating.

  Thomas’s hand shook as he reached out for the envelope. But it was from the excitement and adrenaline of knowing he’d won rather than from nerves. He opened the envelope and read the contents aloud.

  “ ‘Congratulations, you have won a second time and are once again Spared. Please share with the room what you and I alone know. Tell everyone how I managed to murder two of you at the same time while I was in my suite, sound asleep.’ ”

  Thomas put the card back into the envelope and looked up at the four faces watching him expectantly.

  “Sophia realized that with both her and Parker Scared, she was likely going to eventually die one way or another. She knew she stood no chance to win this game without her partner in crime solving the murders for her,” Thomas started out, smirking at both his bad pun and cruel joke. Nobody else in the room even so much as grinned. He shrugged it off and continued. “So she devised a plan to break them out of the estate, ignoring the warnings that escape is not possible.

  “She slipped a note under his suite door that night, telling him to meet her in the mansion garage at three thirty A.M. She was going to get them out. Parker, nervous and uncertain, arrived at the garage slightly late, her note still clutched in his hand. Sophia had already broken in and found the keys in the ignition of the only uncovered car in the garage, a rare Rolls-Royce convertible. She yelled at Parker from inside the car, telling him to go around to the fro
nt of the car and open the garage door.

  “As he did this, she started up the car. As soon as the car was running, a computer system connected to the car wirelessly transmitted a preprogrammed route. The car shifted into gear on its own before Sophia realized what was even happening. The headlights switched on and the car fired forward, hitting Parker straight on, breaking both of his knees. He hung on to the car’s hood for dear life, probably staring into Sophia’s wide, terrified eyes the whole time, wondering why she was doing this, of course having no idea she was not actually in control of the runaway car at all.

  “The car made several programmed turns, lining itself up with the boathouse gasoline tanks. Then it hurtled straight ahead and crashed into it. Upon impact, Parker was thrown back-first into the top of the gas tank, suffering fatal internal injuries. Sophia was smashed forward into a deployed air bag, leaving behind traces of her makeup imprinted on the air bag material and also keeping her from smashing her head into or through the windshield. She was not wearing her seat belt, however, and thus the impact broke both of her legs and caused severe internal injuries to her organs.

  “The gas tank ignited seconds after the collision. The force of the explosion ejected both victims more than fifty yards straight backward, where they landed remarkably close to each other. Had they not already suffered fatal injuries from the force of the collision, their proximity to the initial concussion of the explosion would have killed them instantly, and the subsequent impact with the ground fifty yards away might also have proven to be fatal were they still alive by some miracle.”

  By the time Thomas finished, he was nearly out of breath. He sat down, trying to catch it.

  “Well done, Mr. Gatling,” Giles said. “Now, for the rest of you.”

  He held up the other four envelopes. Each guest was given one with his or her name printed on the front. Giles pointed at Guadalupe.