Darrel continued looking around Guadalupe’s suite. It was somewhat uncomfortable to have an audience while amateur sleuthing. He kept glancing up at Giles, who watched him intently and did not try to hide it.
Guadalupe’s suitcase had been unpacked and her clothes put away inside the massive armoire in the corner of the room. Every article of clothing was folded impossibly neatly or hung with almost clinical care and precision. Where did she even keep her dirty clothes? Darrel wondered. He wasn’t surprised at the tidy state of her room. She’d seemed like an overly uptight anal-retentive bitch, if he was going to be honest. It was almost as if she had never even heard of the words “fun” and “relax,” let alone how to practice them.
But fortunately, the neat nature of her room made finding the next piece of evidence rather easy. Because that item, other than the ink-splattered desk, was the only thing in any sort of disarray inside the victim’s suite.
In between the desk and bathroom door, there was a heap of clothes.
Darrel picked at the pile. It comprised a sweatshirt with a faded UCSD logo on the front, a pair of jeans, white panties, a red blouse, and thick red socks. The front of both the sweatshirt and pants were covered in ink; there were even blotches of black ink on the blouse collar. So the pen had exploded all over the desk, wall, and Guadalupe herself.
He picked around the room for a few more minutes, even taking time to look underneath the various furniture pieces. But the clean nature of her room made it an easy finish. In fact, Darrel still had a good ten minutes left by the time he’d finished searching every corner of her room.
So he sat at the chair by her desk and turned to face Giles. The middle-aged butler looked back at him evenly, showing absolutely no hint of what he was thinking. Darrel had grown to like the butler, even in spite of his sometimes cold and cheeky remarks.
For a time, Darrel had suspected that some of the others in the mansion thought that the butler himself might be the killer. But he knew now that that was impossible. As they likely all did.
“So you really don’t know who the killer is?” Darrel finally asked, breaking a long twenty-two-minute silence.
“Of course not, sir,” Giles answered smoothly.
And it was true. Giles really had no idea which of the four remaining guests was the killer. He had his suspicions, of course. But every time he thought he was figuring things out, something would happen that completely derailed his newest theory.
“So how can you all just go along with this?” Darrel said. “I mean, you guys, the staff, are all getting secret instructions from the killer, right? I’m sure there’s a way you could trace them back and find out who it is. It couldn’t be that hard to do, could it?”
“We are doing our part, just as you are, and for the same reasons,” Giles said.
Of course, although Giles would never admit it in front of any of the guests, what Darrel had just suggested had already occurred to the staff. Just the other night, Giles had overheard two maids, a chef, and a male server talking in the commons area of the staff quarters. They were speculating aloud about who they thought was the killer.
Then one of the maids, Pam, suggested that they all just kill the remaining five guests, and thus the killer as well. Then they’d all be free to escape, she’d reasoned. Better them than us, the other maid had agreed.
Giles had burst into the room then and put an end to their silly conversation. For one, if they all did their jobs, they should all survive. They had no reason to not believe the killer on that; he or she had yet to be caught in a lie. If anything, the killer had always been completely up front and honest with the staff since the game began. Not to mention that killing four innocent people just to put an end to the killer as well was just plain wrong. The end didn’t justify the means. And lastly, he’d merely pointed to several hidden cameras that he knew were inside every room in the mansion.
“The killer is watching and listening right now, you fools,” he’d said. “You may have just gotten yourselves killed!”
That had shut them up quickly. As it should have. Their plan was complete nonsense. Even aside from all the other reasons, where was their sense of duty and honor as a personal residential service worker? But, in the end, he realized he needed to cut them a little slack. This was a bizarre situation, after all. And despite how poor a suggestion that had been, Giles had to admit, if only to himself at least, that he had very briefly considered doing the same thing: killing the guests so the service staff could escape. But he’d known better than to seriously consider that as a real option.
“So how did you get dragged into this mess again?” Darrel asked, bringing Giles back to the present.
“That should be none of your concern, sir,” Giles said.
“Yeah, but I’m just curious.”
“I already said on your first night here, remember? When Mr. Ponder accused me of the atrocities associated with our game. As I said then, I was simply hired for the butler position here. I did not know the nature of the job at the time, the same as all of you. We were, all of us, hoodwinked.”
“ ‘Hoodwinked’?” Darrel said, and laughed. “You damned Brits…”
Giles did not respond to this.
“You guys don’t like football over there, do you?” Darrel said.
“Soccer is a very popular sport in England, as it is worldwide,” Giles said, knowing very well that the man had meant American football.
“Soccer, what a pussy sport,” Darrel said. “The flopping is a travesty. Just a disgrace to real athletes. I’d love to see a soccer player take an NFL hit and try to get back up again.”
“As would I, sir,” Giles said calmly, relieved to finally hear the estate bell chime. He wasn’t sure he had the patience to be in the same room with this man much longer.
“Guess that means time is up, huh?” Darrel said.
“Indeed,” Giles said, opening the bedroom door.
As they left, Darrel slapped Giles on the shoulder.
“Hey, no hard feelings, eh? I wasn’t trying to offend you or anything. I just really love football, and I get worked up sometimes thinking about it,” he said.
“It’s quite all right,” Giles said. “Your passion for what you do is admirable.”
“Cool,” Darrel said.
Because Darrel had been walking behind him, he hadn’t seen Giles rolling his eyes and smirking as he’d answered.
CHAPTER 38
THE MAZE
“With only four of you left, sharing information is going to become a tricky dance of sorts,” Giles said. “Which is why the killer has given us this new twist, to further amplify the fun. So proceed carefully.”
After the investigation period had ended, Giles had instructed each guest individually to change into appropriate outdoor clothes. Which, given the already rising temperature, meant shorts, T-shirts, or anything light. Then they’d all been escorted separately out to the estate’s massive hedge maze. They would each enter the maze from different entry points. In order to exchange information, they first would have to find each other and then convince whomever they found to share what they’d learned.
It was a twist that certainly put a wrinkle into Jacqueline and Darrel’s team plan. On the plus side, they’d both tried to tackle the maze together a few days ago. Then again, they’d gotten completely lost and had needed help getting out, so that might not be any sort of an advantage at all.
“If you get lost, please don’t panic,” Giles continued. “At the end of one hour, you will hear the estate bell ring, at which time, if you have not found an exit to the maze, you are to ring your own personal bells, being handed out as I speak. The estate groundskeeper, who knows this maze quite well, will find you and escort you out to safety. Your time starts now.”
Each guest was led around the outside walls of the maze to separate entrances/exits, one guest on each side of the maze. They all entered the halls of green vines and bushes tentatively at first. The walls were high, at lea
st nine feet tall, and so thick that it was almost dark inside the hedge maze being that it was still morning and the sun wasn’t completely overhead yet.
But after just a few minutes, all four of them were hurrying through the endless green hallways, desperate to find someone, anyone, with whom to share information. They each knew that their survival likely depended on it.
It took almost twenty minutes for the first meeting to occur as the four guests weaved almost in fits and bursts through the maze’s seemingly endless twists and turns. Eventually, as they grew more desperate to find one another, they began shouting out names, like some sort of twisted reverse game of Marco Polo. But the first meeting happened entirely by chance.
Thomas spotted Jacqueline first. He’d heard her slowly shuffling across the dirt path and had veered in the direction the noise was coming from. After just a few feet he saw her walking in front of him. He realized, just then, that inside this maze anything could happen. It was almost outside of the game’s rules. For instance, he could have snuck up behind her, shoved the old lady to the ground, and then stomped on her head until she was dead if he’d wanted to.
But he didn’t do that, of course. Why would he?
“Jacqueline,” he said, coming up behind her.
She jumped slightly, turned around, and then laughed that big, raspy laugh of hers.
“You damn near gave me a heart attack, honey!” she said.
“Sorry,” he said. “I’m glad I found you, though.”
“Same here,” she said.
There was a pause then, as they stood in the dirt path, surrounded by towering green walls, wondering who would break first. Thomas finally gave in, not expecting her to hold out for so long.
“Let’s share,” he said. “I’ll go first as a peace offering. A freebie, of sorts.”
Jacqueline nodded, but said nothing.
“I picked the crime scene,” he said. “One thing I noticed right away was that the bathroom looked pretty normal. I mean, everything was completely in its right place aside from the broken window. So it was really confusing as to just how she managed to get in that state when she fell.”
It occurred to Thomas, as he stood there and lied, that she might, in fact, lie to him right back. But he’d have to take that chance. After all, if they lied to each other, then they’d both likely end up on the bottom.
If she knew he was lying, she didn’t show it. Instead her face scrunched up as she tried to figure out how that would be possible. Then she shrugged and shared some of her evidence right back.
“Well, that’s weird, because she was definitely frozen somehow. I mean, her body was like a darned ice cube when it hit the goddamned ground!” she said.
“That is odd,” Thomas admitted. “Okay, the next thing I noticed was there was something off about the bathtub itself. It was, like, rigged on a hydraulic system to lift up and dump her out the window automatically. So I think she was already dead when it happened since it looked like it would move slowly enough for someone to jump out in time.”
It also occurred to Thomas, as he stood there and told yet another lie to Jacqueline, that if she ran into Bryce she’d hear a different story from him. But what was done was done; it was too late to second-guess now. He just had to hope that she either never found the kid inside this maze or that, if she did, she wouldn’t know which of them to believe.
“Interesting,” Jacqueline said. “Well then, I bet I know what triggered the device.”
“Really?” Thomas said, unable to hide his grin. Finally, he was going to get something good.
After she revealed to him what she’d found attached to Guadalupe’s finger, they said their good-byes and went off in what they assumed were separate directions. They, of course, had no way of really knowing where the paths they picked would eventually lead them.
Thomas’s choice led him to Bryce, whom he found sitting on a stone bench in a small clearing, getting high.
“Dude, it’s nice to see someone,” the kid said, exhaling smoke. “Even if it’s you.”
Thomas made a face.
“Well, we already know what each other knows, so our talking will accomplish nothing,” Thomas said.
“You seen anyone else?”
“Yeah, I saw Jacqueline a few minutes ago. She went that way,” Thomas said, pointing in the opposite direction than she’d been heading.
“Okay, cool. I’m going to finish clearing my head here and then go look for her,” Bryce said.
“Good luck,” Thomas said as he started walking away.
“You, too, man!” Bryce called out after him.
The only other meeting that happened in the maze that afternoon occurred because Darrel, growing increasingly panicked at not having found anyone else, had been calling out for Jacqueline. Thomas heard it first and directed himself as best he could through the shrubby labyrinth toward the sound of the football coach’s booming voice.
“Hey,” he called out when he finally spotted him.
“Finally, someone!” Darrel said, looking relieved.
“Scared in here?” Thomas asked.
“Well, no, just afraid I wasn’t going to get any more information,” he said.
“I know, I was kidding,” Thomas said.
“Oh.”
“Anyway, I’ll start. I think we’re running out of time, so we have to hurry,” Thomas said, speaking quickly. He proceeded to give Darrel the same incorrect information he’d told Jacqueline. “What did you find?”
Darrel hesitated, perhaps debating screwing him over by not divulging anything. But in the end, he didn’t think he could do that to Thomas, even if the skinny, pale geek gave him the creeps.
So he gave in and told Thomas about the ink, the pen, and the pile of stained clothes by the bathroom door.
CHAPTER 39
BEFORE I MELT
“I do apologize again for the unusual nature of our meeting,” Giles said as he looked at the four guests.
They were standing in the mansion’s foyer, and Giles had just handed out strips of duct tape and instructed them to place the tape over their mouths. They were hesitant to follow instructions, but Giles insisted, reminding them about the poor maid they’d watched die on the TV monitor that first night.
They eventually gave in.
“The killer has requested that we not ruin the fun of the maze challenge by sharing what we know or don’t know. Or what we merely think we know,” Giles said with a sly grin. He opened a polished silver ice bucket on a table next to him before continuing. “This challenge will be timed using a very unique device: an ice cube.”
He held up a square ice cube for them to see.
“Once your ice cube has melted, your time will be up and you will be disqualified from the challenge. It mustn’t leave your hand until you think you have solved the riddle. Therefore, be sure that you have figured things out before releasing your ice cube, or cleverly placing it into a freezer. Once it leaves your hand in any form, the challenge, for you, will be over. A maid or servant will accompany you at all times to ensure you are following the rules the killer has laid out.
“And now, on to the best part. The killer has once again carefully crafted a riddle to help you solve this murder. When I am finished reading it, you will be handed your ice cube. Which means, of course, that the clock will be ticking!
“ ‘Go here, look inside me to be a spy and oust a mole, or maybe even pretend to be dancing on a pole. I’m the same as Jumbo’s tool but just not quite as handy, and I’m most certainly not a container for candy. But here, you’ll see the device of a murder quite deft. And once you’ve found it, simply pull the switch and toss what’s left.’ ”
Giles finished the riddle as the gagged guests scribbled down the words. Then they were immediately handed one ice cube each. Water began dripping down the sides almost as soon as the cubes hit their warm, clammy palms.
“And may I remind you,” Giles said as the four guests rushed off to find whatever it wa
s the riddle was directing them toward, “please be careful if you feel the need to go outside, or near a window… it’s a scorcher out there today!”
Darrel looked as though he suddenly felt lost without the ability to brainstorm with Jacqueline. He’d been doing so well. He’d been so determined. But now he merely looked deflated, reduced to the doomed man in shock he’d been for the first few challenges.
And his nerves betrayed him even further. The more anxious he got, the more he squeezed the ice cube, causing it to melt faster. And that’s partially why Darrel was the first guest disqualified. His ice cube turned entirely to water while he was in the kitchen, possibly led there by the references in the riddle to candy containers and vague tools with switches.
Jacqueline’s ice cube was the next to melt completely, accelerated by the fire blazing in the fireplace in the center of the game room. It’s hard to say exactly what had led her there—perhaps thinking “Jumbo’s tool” was a reference to a large TV’s remote—or what led her to any of the places she ended up going that afternoon, looking for hints. But all the places she checked led to very few results.
Bryce actually seemed to have figured out the riddle. Near the end, he was headed in the right direction. He’d apparently eventually figured out the reference to an old trunk full of clothes. And a short time later, he’d realized that old trunks full of clothes were usually stashed in attics. And old attics were typically located on top floors, exactly one floor above Guadalupe’s room to be precise.
The problem was, he didn’t start up the stairs and look around the mansion’s fourth floor until his ice cube was already as small as a casino die. Thus, by the time he finally saw the open, narrow door leading to the attic stairwell, and saw Thomas already climbing toward the top, it was too late. His ice was now water. But even still, he had seen enough to put together a fairly accurate murder scenario. After all, he now knew that something above the bathroom had played a role in the last victim’s death. Additionally, he hadn’t been given false information like Jacqueline and Darrel.
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