The Name of the Game Was Murder (14 page)

I had the key to the third set of clues, and I was so excited, my fingers trembled.

I stopped making notes. Alex might come back, or someone else who’d feel he could just help himself to everything I’d worked out. In fact, this room was much too public to suit me. I grabbed my things and ran, taking the stairs two at a time and scrambling twice as fast as I passed the burial urn on the landing. Once inside my own room I turned on the light, then slammed and locked the door, collapsing against it and gulping for air.

As soon as I had caught my breath I sat on the bed, my back to the wall so I could keep watch on the door, and went through the third set of clues, one by one. Golden, gold, golden, gold.

“The bald eagle has many kin.” Sure. Of course. One of the bald eagle’s kin is the
golden
eagle.

That left Buck’s clue. “Pappy” was a miner, a forty-niner, and what did the miners in 1849 look for? Gold!

That was it! I had it! I let out a yelp, then slapped a hand over my mouth, hoping no one had heard me. I’d solved two out of the four sets of clues, which proved to me that Aunt Thea had been wrong in suspecting that Augustus had planned to trick his guests. He really
had
worked out legitimate clues for them to solve.

Get busy
, I told myself. It was time to tackle the fourth set of clues.

They proved to be a lot harder because I couldn’t find anything that linked them together.

It was pitch-dark outside by this time, and my stomach
had begun to rumble up and down the scale with hunger. Sometimes it was difficult for me to understand myself. I was in the house with a dead body, a murderer, and a ghost, and I was hungry?

No matter what the circumstances, I guess some things never change. It had been a long time since lunch, and I hoped that Tomás was working hard on dinner. Maybe, I thought, I should go downstairs before someone had to come all the way to the tower to call me.

I took one last look at the clues and for some reason began to read them aloud: “ ‘More silent than the tombs are’ … ‘Like Davy Jones’s locker—minus the sea’ … ‘Deader than a doornail, green as a pea’ … ‘Tea and sympathy—done to death.’ ”

The strange feeling came back and began to grow—tingling through my body like a jolt of electricity—until all of a sudden the whole thing made sense!

In reading the clues aloud I heard a letter instead of a word in each sentence. “More silent than the tombs
R
” … “Like Davy Jones’s locker—minus the
C
” …

Aunt Thea’s clue was the only one without a letter sound, so I ignored it and wrote the letters next to each of the other sentences. I came up with
RCPTY
, which didn’t make sense in itself, but I suspected it was a word with scrambled letters. No vowel, but a
Y
could substitute.
TRYCP
 … 
PYRCT
 … 
CRYPT
.

Crypt! Oh, my gosh! I was so excited, I bounced up and down, shaking and creaking the bed.

King’s Golden Crypt
. But where? Where?

A sudden thought stopped me in midbounce. How did Thea’s clue work into all this:
GIVE UP THE GHOST
?

The last part of the clue fell into place as easily as
though someone had whispered the answer in my ear, and I knew! I knew! I knew where the manuscript was hidden!

It should have been obvious from the beginning that only an important official, a ruler, maybe a king, would be buried in a golden crypt! The crypt had to be the golden burial urn with the
ghost
in it!

The knock on my door was so sudden that I lost my balance and rolled off the bed, managing to bang my knee and break a fingernail.

“Dinner is served, Miss Burns,” I heard Walter call. There was a pause before he asked, “Are you all right?”

I stuck my head out from under the bed and yelled back, “I’m fine, thank you.”

“I thought I heard a … a thump.”

How could I explain. “You did,” I shouted at Walter. “I broke a fingernail. And then I bumped my … Oh, well … what I mean is …” I took a deep breath and calmly said, “I’ll be down in a minute.”

There was a pause, and I knew he had to be thinking what a dork I was, but he answered, “Very well, Miss Burns,” and I could hear his footsteps softly descending the short flight of stairs.

My mind raced as I filed down the rough edge of my fingernail. What was I going to do with my notes? I couldn’t leave them in my room. Someone had searched it before and might again. I couldn’t even tear the sheets up and put them in a wastepaper basket somewhere, because anyone could come across the pieces and fit them together.

There was only one place I was pretty sure they’d be
safe. I folded the pages up into a tight square and stuffed them into my bra.

It took just a quick glance in the mirror to see that people might wonder why I’d suddenly become lopsided, so I removed the wad, divided it into two wads, and tucked them into both sides of my bra. Good. I protruded a little more than usual, but I didn’t think anyone would notice.

But what was I going to do about the expression on my face? I looked as though I’d just discovered America. Or won a lottery. Or got picked for a quiz show.

While I tugged off my jeans and T-shirt and pulled a dress over my head, I practiced making bland, unemotional faces in the mirror. It didn’t work.

I could wait until Walter came back to see what happened to me and tell him I was sick, but then I’d miss dinner. At the very thought of going hungry my stomach growled. No. I’d have to go downstairs and tough it out.

As I arrived the group was moving from the parlor toward the dining room, cocktail glasses still in hand. I slipped in between Thea and Laura and tried to look inconspicuous, which was hard to do with my door key and necklace every now and then swinging against the paper in my bra, making a sharp, slapping noise.

Thea and Laura looked at me questioningly, but I just drooped along, trying to keep my eyes on the floor.

“Samantha, are you feeling well?” Thea asked, and I could hear the concern in her voice. I felt guilty at being even the least little bit suspicious of Aunt Thea.

“I guess I’m tired,” I answered. Tired. That was a good direction to take. My shoulders slumped, and I dropped into the first chair I came to.

“You’ve been working too hard trying to solve those horrible clues,” Laura said.

The clues! Yes! Bursting with excitement, I almost bounced in my chair, but I was so terrified at giving myself away that I hunched my shoulders and kept my eyes on my plate, which, unfortunately, was still empty.

Thea felt my forehead. “You aren’t running a fever,” she said. “Maybe a little food will give you an energy boost.”

I hoped it would be a lot of food. We started with a Caesar salad, which was a good omen, because at last we were eating something I knew about. I could hardly wait until everyone had been served and Thea raised her fork, but I didn’t get a chance to begin eating, because I had to answer questions.

Buck’s came first. “Have you got to first base with those clues, Sam?”

“They’re tough,” I mumbled.

“You made a start, though,” Alex said, and again his gaze was penetrating. “As I remember, you wrote down ‘Kings’ for the solution to the first clues.”

“Oh?” Julia asked, and everyone stopped eating to stare at me.

“
Second
clues,” I said, wishing they’d leave me alone. “And the king wasn’t a solution. It was only my guess.” I took a long breath, and calmly added, in a burst of inspiration, “Senator Maggio said I was wrong and the key was the ace.”

“That’s correct,” the senator affirmed. “The ace is always the top card.”

“But what does it mean?” Laura asked.

Alex’s eyes narrowed. “Ask Samantha,” he said. “I think she knows.”

I wished he’d stop staring at me like that. Deliberately and slowly I ate a bite of salad. It was delicious, so I took another bite.

“Well?” Alex asked again.

I looked up to see all of them still watching me, and again excitement bubbled up inside me like a soft drink coming out of a can right after you shake it.
I know, but I’m not going to tell you!
I thought, then quickly realized that my facial expression was going to give everything away.

I could see suspicion beginning to cloud Julia’s face, and Senator Maggio and Buck glanced at each other. Alex smirked. Had I given away my secret? Suddenly I was frightened.

“What?” Laura asked, holding her hands palms up and staring from face to face. “What’s the matter? Julia, why are you looking like that?”

I pulled a Laura trick. It was the only way I could think of to get out of this mess. I closed my eyes, covered my face with my hands, and cried, “You’re asking too much of me!”

Immediately Aunt Thea’s arms went around my shoulders, and she gently scolded the others. “We are the ones who were supposed to solve the clues and find the treasure. Samantha offered to help, and instead of thanking her, you’re browbeating her. Can’t you see how tired she is?”

“I’m sorry, Sam,” Laura said.

I sat up, patting Thea’s hand and nodding to Laura. “Thank you,” I murmured. I was glad to get out of that tight spot and extra glad that Walter, who had busied himself at the table, hadn’t removed my salad.

We ate in silence for a few minutes, but finally Thea put
down her fork and said, “I think we have to face facts. I felt from the beginning that the game Augustus was playing was that of cat and mouse and not the game he outlined to you. You’ve seen all the clues. The first set was threats. The rest are impossible. No one could solve them.”

“Then why would he go to all that trouble?” Julia asked.

“Just to watch us squirm, to watch us try and fail,” Thea said.

“Was he really that cruel?” Senator Maggio asked.

“I’m afraid you know the answer to that question,” Thea said.

Her eyes became blurry with tears, and as they spilled over her cheeks I leaned toward her. “Aunt Thea,” I begged, “don’t cry. I’ll tell—”

“Excuse me, Miss Burns,” Walter said as I collided with his outstretched arm. I jumped back, and he added, “May I remove your salad plate?”

I nodded and leaned back.

“But what about the manuscript? What about the material Trevor wrote that threatens us?” Senator Maggio was so intent on the situation, he hadn’t heard me. I glanced around the table, but no one was looking in my direction. They were as upset about what Augustus had written as the senator was.

I’d been about to tell everything to Aunt Thea—and to the others.
Stay cool
, I reminded myself again. I had to get my hands on that manuscript before the others found it and destroyed it.

I kept my peace during the rest of the meal, which wasn’t hard because the suspects had so much they
wanted to talk about: Had Augustus actually included their secrets in his manuscript, or had he been bluffing? It was obvious that he had come into possession of some facts, but just how far had he gone in repeating them? Would the manuscript contain only simple hints and allusions or would it spell out the stories in detail?

They complained about hunting for the manuscript copy in every place imaginable. Had this been a complete waste of time? Did a copy of the manuscript even exist? I concentrated on eating a breaded ham and chicken roll, but I listened to every word.

As chocolate fudge cake was served, Senator Maggio said, “I think we can relax and forget the whole thing. I am of the opinion that
if
a copy of the manuscript still exists, it is probably hidden away so carefully that it may never show up.”

Laura spoke up hesitantly. “When the police come, they’ll search the house. They’re better at searching than we are. They’ll find the manuscript. I know they will.”

Julia groaned and said, “I hate to admit it, but Laura is right.”

“What if none of us mentions the manuscript?” Alex suggested. “The police need never know.”

“Trevor’s computer file was wiped out, and his papers and disks were burned,” the senator said, and looked down his nose at Alex with contempt. “They’ll have to be told about the manuscript and Trevor’s reason for inviting us here. Lying won’t help.”

Alex didn’t flinch. “It wouldn’t be lying. It would be avoiding the issue, just as
you
intend to do if we find the manuscript and destroy it.”

“That’s different.”

“How?”

“I suggest,” Thea broke in, “that we conduct another detailed search of Augustus’s office. There are manuscript boxes in his files, and on the shelves in the office closet are countless boxes with content labels pasted on. No matter what the boxes are labeled, we’ll open them and examine everything that’s inside.”

Finding that Augustus was well organized blew my theory. I had just about convinced Mom that I couldn’t keep my room cleaned up because I was going to be a writer, and creative people were not as organized as other people. It just wasn’t in their nature to worry about mundane things.

In our search we soon found that if a box was labeled
Correspondence with
The New York Times, that’s exactly what it contained.
File folders
was filled with file folders, and
Clippings, Paris, 1962
was filled with newspaper articles from Paris newspapers.

No manuscript.

All that work with no result discouraged the others, but it just made me more impatient. Except for that one slip in which the look on my face might have given me away, I’d managed to cover what I’d learned, and I had actually been able to keep from running off at the mouth. Even more important than that, I’d been able to solve the clues.

I felt kind of proud of myself until I remembered that somehow, during the night so that no one would know, I had to sneak down a dark hallway and remove Augustus Trevor’s manuscript from a haunted burial urn!

W
e drifted into the parlor. None of us were comfortable about being together, yet at the same time we didn’t want to be apart. I was doing my best to build my courage so that later I could do what I needed to do, and at the moment I didn’t have enough nerve to go into that dark upstairs hallway all by myself.