Murder on the Playground - 3. The Note

The old wooden staircase complained loudly under Clementine’s feet as the chef made her way down in her nightgown and slippers, the creaking noise amplified by the stillness of the large house. As carefully as possible, she crept down the stairs, lighting the way with her phone. But as soon as she turned the corner toward the room she knew to be the kitchen, she observed a faint light coming from under the door. Someone was already there.

On her tiptoes, she made her way toward the kitchen and, with no announcement or hesitation, pushed the door open. There was a rustling noise, followed by the slamming of the fridge door.

“Jeez…” Eric let out a relaxed sigh as he realized who the late-night visitor was. He was not easily scared by any means, but anyone would be alarmed if they were ambushed in the middle of the night. “Trying to give a man a heart attack?”

“My apologies,” Clementine did her best to sound sincere. She was not expecting company, but perhaps this would turn out for the best. “And what are you doing here in the middle of the night?”

“What does it look like? I’m eating,” Eric responded tersely, pointing to the fridge in front of him.

“Eating? Or maybe getting rid of evidence?” the woman cocked her head to the side as she observed the much larger man in front of her. His attitude still irritated her, maybe even more so since she was eliminated halfway through the first show, while Eric went as far as the finals.

“Only if this was the evidence.” Annoyed, Eric opened the fridge, pulling out a half-eaten sandwich.

“Very convenient.”

“And what are you doing here? ‘Getting rid of evidence?’” the athlete asked, imitating her voice.

“No. I woke up feeling thirsty. Thought I’d come here for a glass of water.”

“Well, no one’s stopping you,” Eric shrugged, stepping aside to make room for the woman.

With an annoyed sigh, Clementine walked over to the fridge and opened it, looking for water. Once she found a small bottle, she opened it, taking a few gulps.

“So… Father Tabernacle, I suppose there’s no point in asking you if you’ve found out anything interesting?” she kept her eyes on the man’s face, keenly waiting for any clues.

“Maybe I have, maybe I haven’t. Ain’t you the one that’s supposed to know stuff? You’re Nick’s sister.”

“And you’re the priest. Are you sure no one’s come over to make a confession lately?”

“Hey! Confessions are top secret stuff,” Eric mumbled as he resumed chewing on his sandwich.

“So you do know something,” Clementine eyed him with even more curiosity than before.

“I never said that,” he shook his head, unfazed. “But if you have something to confess, I’m here, my child. Maybe something you saw in those playing cards of yours.”

Clementine took another small sip of water, then closed the bottle and gave the man a polite smile before excusing herself.

“Good night, Father.”

~~

Samson was in the dining room rather late the next morning, having some light breakfast. Honey-flavored cereal with milk was all he needed - he never liked to stuff himself full so early in the day. Especially when he wasn’t spending calories on dance practices. Nearly everyone else was there too, making idle conversation as they ate their food and drank their morning coffee, tea, or other drink of choice.

“Samson, I need to talk to you!”

The singer nearly jumped out of his seat when he felt a hand on his shoulder and an excited whisper in his ear. As he turned around, he saw Tiffany standing beside him, looking as if she was about to burst.

“Gurl, a little warning next time! You almost made me spill my cereal!”

“Sorry,” the young woman at least had the decency to look apologetic. “I need your help with something. Can we talk… in private?”

“Sure. What’s happening?”

“Let’s go, and I’ll explain,” she gestured to the door and made her way out, not waiting for the singer. Once they were both in the lounge, out of earshot of others, Tiffany sat next to Samson, looking around nervously.

“It’s just us. What’s up?”

“I found this in my room last night when I was going to bed,” the starlet explained as she pulled out a piece of paper from her pocket, unfolding it before Samson’s eyes. “Look.”

“Stop snooping around or else…” his eyebrows jumped as he read the threatening note. “Wow, the plot thickens! Who do you think it was?”

“I don’t know, but you’re the only person I trust,” she spoke in a hushed tone, still jumpy. “I don’t think it was you.”

“Are you sure it wasn’t me?” he looked at her like a teacher trying to give his pupil another chance to give a correct answer. Even if Tiffany didn’t suspect him, he certainly wouldn’t be letting his guard down around anyone. Eric may have played him for a fool last time, but this time it would be different. “Trust no one, Miss Maxwell.”

“Hey, maybe I’m a better judge of character than you think!” Tiffany smiled, wagging her index finger at him. “At least I hope I am… Anyway, I could use your help in figuring out who did it.”

“Ok, how do you wanna play this?”

“I was thinking we gather everyone in the dining room; I’ll show them the note, and you keep an eye on everyone and see how they react.”

“You got it. Let’s do this,” with a satisfied smirk, Samson got up from the sofa and followed Tiffany out of the lounge. Perhaps this was just what he needed to gain the upper hand in the game.

Once everyone was in the dining room, Tiffany stood in front of the confused group, taking a moment to fix her detective hat.

“What’s this all about?” Kelly seemed as curious as she did skeptical. “Have you found out who did it?”

“No, but I found this,” Tiffany pulled out the note out of her pocket, slowly unfolding it in front of everyone.

“What’s that?” Troy asked mid-bite, a candy bar in his hand.

“It’s a note I found last night. Someone left it in my bedroom. See for yourselves,” the TV star announced as she held up the paper so everyone could read, her eyes on the group. Samson observed everyone’s faces from his spot at the table, waiting to see how they would react. While Eric seemed to find the note amusing, Gloria and Alana looked shocked. They weren’t the only ones, as Troy, Rico and Clementine looked around in surprise, checking the others’ reactions. There was no telling what Kelly was feeling - other than pursing her lips, her face had barely moved. Marcus’ eyes, on the other hand, were firmly fixed on the small scrap of wrinkled paper, as if trying to decipher a hidden code.

“So… someone really doesn’t want you interfering,” Rico stated the obvious, just to break the silence.

“Yeah. One of you wrote this,” Tiffany nodded in confirmation. “But it’ll take more than that to intimidate me! They don’t call me the female Sherlock for nothing.”

“Who… exactly calls you that?” Kelly couldn’t hold back from asking.

“Hold on, children, let’s focus on the important questions,” Clementine cut in, assuming her role as Judy Green. “When exactly did you find that note? Because last night, I went down to the kitchen to get a glass of water, when who should I run into but Father Tabernacle! Maybe he took a detour to Miss Maxwell’s room first.”

“Or maybe you did it before coming to the kitchen,” Eric threw the accusation back at her. “I cannot believe you would doubt a man of the cloth!”

“Cloth or not, my late brother - may God bring his spirit peace - did not speak highly of you. I wonder why that is, Father.”

“That’s nothing but idle gossip,” Eric shook his head vigorously. “Now, let Miss Maxwell speak. When did you find the note, my child?”

“Um, when I was going to bed, so around… half past eleven?” Tiffany replied, sounding unsure.

“Well, Ms. Green found me in the kitchen around three in the morning,” Eric revealed.

“That doesn’t really mean anything,” Troy jumped in. “Any of you could’ve done it.”

“Any of us? Nice try, Mr. Reggie, but you’re as suspicious as everyone else here. Especially since I’m pretty sure you went upstairs early. You easily had time to leave that note,” Gloria fixed him with a mistrustful look. As a professional actress, she certainly found the game right up her alley, even though she discovered she didn’t have as much of an advantage as she might have originally thought. The other contestants were all difficult to figure out, keeping their cards close to their chest.

“Don’t be silly, dear,” Clementine spoke again, turning to Gloria. “You and I both know Reggie would never do such a thing. The boy doesn’t have a bad bone in his body.”

“Oh, really? You’re ready to vouch for him?” the actress seemed genuinely surprised at how quickly the older woman came to ‘Reggie’s’ defense.

“That is precisely what I’m doing,” the other woman nodded calmly. “I trust in my heart and in my cards… and they’re both telling me Reggie is innocent.”

“Thank you, Ms. Green,” Troy responded with a surprised smile. “It’s good to know I’ve got someone on my side. I’ve worked for master Nick my whole life, he was like an uncle to me. I’d never do him any harm.”

“I know that, dear. Nick was always there for you. Especially after your father died.”

“But some of us don’t know Reggie that well,” Gloria insisted. “What do you think, Alfie? He’s worked for you too.”

“Mmm, I don’t really know him that well,” Marcus bit his cheek, trying to sound unsure. “We’ve played together a lot when we were kids, but since I went away for university, we’ve hardly seen each other.”

“Come on, Alfie, you talk as if we’re strangers,” Troy responded softly. “If they asked me about you, I’d tell them I don’t doubt you for a second.”

“Well… thanks, Reggie. I appreciate that,” the dancer nodded, surprised by the kind words he received. “I suppose if I had to bet on who did it… I probably wouldn’t bet on you either.”

“Cheers!” the actor walked over, clapping the other man on the back. Even though he knew Marcus was quite likely lying, it was better to play along for now. There was no telling what game everyone was playing just yet.

~~

With the breakfast finished and the surprise over Tiffany’s note subsiding, the group broke off into several smaller ones as the contestants scattered around the mansion. Troy, however, stayed in the dining room with Clementine, wanting to continue their conversation.

“Thanks for sticking up for me there,” he cut to the chase. “I wasn’t sure you would.”

“Well, my character obviously thinks you’re trustworthy,” Clementine responded with a dose of hesitation. “I’m just playing my role.”

“Guess I should be thanking Ms. Green then. Speaking of roles, who do you suspect? Have you seen anything in your cards?” When Clementine failed to respond, Troy decided to push her ever so slightly. “Oh, come on, Ms. Green. We both want to find out who killed Uncle Nick. How are we gonna do that if we don’t share our theories?”

“Well… I suppose you’re right, dear,” the older woman finally relented. “This is just a feeling, but… I think Father Tabernacle is hiding something. Ms. Thibodeaux as well - I don’t think she’s as sweet as she portrays herself to be.”

“Interesting…”

“What about you, dear? Who do you think is not to be trusted?”

“I don’t think Alfie could’ve done it. We’ve known each other forever and I just don’t think he’s capable of somethin’ like that. I know he’s a bit spoiled - pardon me for sayin’ that…”

“Oh, that’s an understatement, my dear,” Clementine let out a soft chuckle. “My brother has spoiled him well!”

“True, but he ain’t no murderer, I don’t think,” Troy agreed. “But I’m not so sure about the cook. I don’t know him well, but I’ve seen the way he looks at Alfie. Can’t say I trust the guy.”

“I don’t know much about Mr. Olive either. Maybe I should keep my eye on him then,” the woman replied as she finished putting her dishes away. “Try to relax, dear, and don’t worry. We’ll find out who killed my brother.”

“I sure hope so,” Troy nodded, looking after Clementine as she left the room.

~~

“Father? Can I help you?” Alana was surprised at seeing Eric join her out on the balcony. It was a pleasant fall afternoon, with only a slight breeze disturbing the nearby trees and sending their orange leaves fluttering down on the pristine lawn below. Even though she had wanted to catch a moment alone, she was hardly surprised someone had come to look for her. After all, everyone was trying to get to the bottom of the mystery.

“Hello, my child,” Eric broke into a grin as soon as he uttered the words. Playing a priest would never be in his wheelhouse, and he was perfectly fine with that. But having to act pious and serious for a few days would certainly not prevent him from winning the game - it might just make things a little awkward. “I wanted to have a word with you.”

“Of course. What about?”

“It’s about Nick, of course. May he rest in peace,” Eric clasped his hands in front of his face, closing his eyes for a moment. “We both want to see his murderer brought to justice, I’m sure. So I thought… maybe we could help each other out?”

“Help each other out? How?” Alana was curious.

“By sharing information. I could tell you something I’ve found out, and in return you could tell me something I want to know.”

“Sounds… like something I’d be potentially interested in. What is it you want to know?”

“Well, since you were Nick’s lawyer… You must know a great deal about his business dealings. His ranch, donations…”

“Ah, so that’s what it’s about,” a knowing smile spread across Alana’s face. “Yes, I know about the donations he’s made to your church. They were used for the renovations several years ago.”

“Yes, that’s right. And… is that all you know about that?”

“Well, that depends on what you have to share with me.”

“Ah, right,” Eric nodded. Alana was smart, so he’d have to play it carefully with her. “I know something about Clementine. Last night when we were in the kitchen together, she let something slip.”

“Oh? What did she say?” the woman got closer, lowering her voice.

“She said Alfie got expelled from university, and that’s why he’s come back home,” Eric whispered the first lie he could think of. “He’s certainly no angel.”

“It would seem so,” Alana pushed herself off the railing, fixing her jacket. “Well, thank you for the chat, Father. It’s been riveting. If I find out anything else, I’ll be sure to come and find you.” With a smile on her face, she opened the balcony door and slipped back inside, leaving a disappointed Eric alone.

~~

“Guys, have you seen Alana? Lucy Edwards, whatever her new name is?” Rico barged into the lounge where Samson and Marcus sat by the window, eating chips. The two immediately stopped whispering, turning to the other man.

“No, I haven’t seen her since we were in the dining room,” Samson shrugged, while Marcus nodded his head in confirmation. “We only saw Tiffany. She was just here to interrogate us.”

“Why, what did you want with her?” the dancer asked.

“Nothing, just wanted to chat,” Rico shook his head as he stepped back towards the door. “See ya guys later!” Without waiting for a response, he turned on his heel and dashed out of the room, leaving the two men confused.

~~

“You’ve been busy today, haven’t you, Miss Maxwell?” Alana was standing in the library, inspecting one of the ceiling-high shelves stacked with books. Although quite large, the room was surprisingly dark, with only a few table lamps and two small windows covered in heavy drapes. The walls were all covered in wooden shelves crammed with books. The only exception was the north wall, which had the two windows on it, with a heavy wooden desk under them.

“I sure have! I’m rushed off my feet today, trying to question everyone,” Tiffany walked into the room, closing the door behind her.

“And now it’s my turn? Surely I’m not a suspect too?”

“I’m afraid so, hun. I’ve got to question everyone. Leave no stone unturned - that’s my motto!”

“That’s only fair, I guess,” Alana laughed at Tiffany’s enthusiasm and dedication to her role. Or perhaps the younger woman wasn’t as clueless as she seemed. She certainly did well in the original show, far better than Alana herself did. “So, what do you want to know? I’d like to help in any way I can.”

“Great! Because I could seriously use all the help I can get,” Tiffany admitted as she walked across the thick brown carpet covering the floor. “Ok, I wanted to ask you about what happened last night at dinner. You said you had some documents about Rico. What exactly do you have?”

“Oh, that,” Alana nodded as she made herself comfortable in one of the three armchairs in the room. “It’s about a new business idea Rico… er, Jeremiah had, a new venture for him and Nick. The thing is, Nick rejected it. He didn’t see the value in it. But without Nick, Jeremiah couldn’t get it off the ground,” Alana explained.

“Oooh, that’s interesting! I bet that’s important… for some reason,” Tiffany seemed excited as she furiously wrote something down in her notebook. Once she was finished, she looked back up at Alana. “So, what was the business idea?”

“It was…”

Suddenly, everything turned black as the lights went out, and a piercing shout came from somewhere in the villa. The commotion only seemed to grow, with loud footsteps echoing all around.

“Alana! Are you here?” Tiffany shouted, frightened.

“Yeah, I’m here,” the other woman replied calmly before the distinct sound of a door opening made her get up. “Who’s there?... Hey, what the hell!”

Before she could even realize what was happening, she was getting pushed down in her chair. A strange squirting sound was all she heard before the door slammed shut. Then, several moments later, the lights were back on.

“Oh my God, that was so scary! I didn’t apply for a horror sho- Ah! What happened to you?” Tiffany’s jaw dropped as she ran over, staring at Alana.

The library door opened again, and Marcus popped his head in.

“There you are! Someone turned off- whoa, what happened here?!”

Sprawled out in her armchair, Alana let out an annoyed sigh as she glanced down at her fancy blazer, now all covered in a thick, red liquid. A piece of paper lay on the floor by her feet, while the distinct smell of ketchup filled the room.

“I think… I think I’ve been murdered.”