Murder on the Playground - 5. The Séance

“Uh, we were just…” Samson stuttered as he straightened himself up. He felt like a deer in the headlights, still standing against the wall where Troy had had him pressed just a moment ago. The actor swiftly moved further apart, unsure whether to laugh or panic over getting caught in the act. The two men glanced at each other, as if trying to agree on a story telepathically. With no one saying a word, Troy finally took it upon himself to explain the situation.

“Mr. Olive, I reckon we better get going,” the actor nodded at his partner in crime before turning to Gloria. “Ms. Thibodeaux, I apologize for the awkwardness. You see, Mr. Olive and I… we’ve been getting closer for a while, and now, with uncle Nick’s passing, I think it’s brought us even closer together.”

“Oh! I thought you two… Never mind,” the actress waved her hands, an amused smile dancing across her cherry lips. “You don’t have to explain yourselves, I understand the ways of passion, trust me. I guess I really should knock next time.”

“That’s… that’s alright,” Samson forced a smile.

“Well, I’ll just… go find another restroom, I suppose. Have fun!” With a final wink, the actress slipped out of the room, closing the door behind her with a gentle click.

“Whew, that was close,” Troy let out a sigh, but the cheeky smile on his face told Samson that the man wasn’t particularly worried. “But I got us out of it, didn’t I? Quick thinking.”

“Are you kidding me? Mr. Olive and Reggie?” Samson let out a laugh as he smacked the actor on the tanned, muscular arm. “That’s not even in the script!”

“When did we ever follow the script?” Troy shrugged before wrapping his arms around the young singer’s waist, pulling him close until their bodies touched. “What’s a little more chaos, right?”

Samson shook his head, but couldn’t help the smile that appeared on his face.

“Ah, what the hell. Get over here,” the popstar wrapped his arms around Troy’s shoulders. Looking into his smiling eyes, it was clear they both wanted the same thing at that moment. Samson closed his eyes, letting Troy’s scent invade his senses as he pulled him in for another kiss. Something about the man made him want to throw caution to the wind and just enjoy himself. And now that they were alone again, it was only fair they continued what they were doing before they were so rudely interrupted.

~~

“Phoebe, be serious!” Tiffany was annoyed, clicking her pen way too hard as she stared at her latest interviewee.

“What? You asked me who my prime suspect was, and I’m telling you it’s you,” Kelly shrugged nonchalantly, sitting with her legs crossed.

“Well, I’m not the killer!”

“Of course you’re going to say that.”

“Ugh, fine,” the detective scoffed loudly. “But I’m not gonna write that down. Who’s next on your list then? There’s got to be someone else, right?”

“Well… I suppose my next suspect would be Mr. Olive,” Kelly replied sweetly.

“Really? How come?” Tiffany leaned forward, suddenly very interested in what the other girl had to say. “Have you noticed him do anything suspicious?”

“Not as such, it’s more of a general feeling. And it’s not really about Mr. Olive as the character, it’s more about Samson. Just think of what he was like on the Playground. Remember the Mafia game? He played us all like it was no big deal. If Samson was the killer, he could easily get away with it again.”

“That’s… that’s a good point, actually,” the TV starlet looked impressed, pointing her pen at the singer.

“I know,” the other girl nodded, looking pleased. “And you’re welcome.”

No sooner had Kelly left the library than Gloria appeared at the door, shimmying her way inside. “I heard you were looking for me?”

“Yeah, yeah, come on in,” Tiffany gestured for her to move closer. “We still have some time!”

“Sorry, I had to go to the restroom,” the actress made herself comfortable in the unofficial hot seat. Giving the younger woman an innocent smile, she decided to keep what she had just seen to herself. Perhaps she could use that information later to her advantage.

“That’s alright, we can start now, but we’ve got to hurry. I still have to question Reggie! Anyway, could you tell me where you were when Mrs. Edwards was killed?”

“Sure thing, darling. I was at the gym,” Gloria replied confidently. “Working on my fitness a little. When you’re the face of a bar as popular as mine, you have to put some effort into looking good.”

“Of course, don’t we all?” Tiffany readily agreed. “I don’t suppose there’s anyone who can confirm your story?”

“Actually, there is. Father Tabernacle was there with me.”

“Oh, was he? I wouldn’t expect a priest to be going to the gym,” the younger woman made her best surprised face before writing something down. Eric had told her the same story a few minutes ago, which probably meant they were both indeed together at the time of murder. But as with everything in the mansion, she couldn’t be sure.

“To be fair, he didn’t seem to know what he was doing,” Gloria gave a sympathetic smile. “I think he just wanted an excuse to talk.”

“That makes sense. But I have another question for you, Ms. Thibodeaux. Can you tell me a little about your relationship with Nick - how serious were the two of you?”

Gloria made a show of stiffening at the question, crossing her legs and looking away from the other girl.

“Nick and I… We’d been together, oh gosh, it’s been years. And I thought we’d be together for years to come. So yes, we were serious.”

“So you were happy together? No… problems?”

The actress pursed her lips, looking down at her hands. “I mean, every couple has their problems. No one is perfect, right? But no, no problems that would provoke one to commit murder.”

“Of course,” Tiffany murmured as she updated her notes. What else was she expecting Gloria to say? In the end, it was another nearly useless interrogation, but perhaps after some time, the pieces would come together.

She had no time to ruminate on it though, as she had her last suspect to question. Just as one thespian left the room, another one showed up, wearing his denim suspender overalls and his signature grin.

“Last but not least, right?” Troy walked in casually, approaching the girl.

“Of course, babe, come on in!” Tiffany greeted him with excitement. “I hope you’re ready for some patented P. I. Maxwell grilling!”

“Be gentle with me, Miss Maxwell. I promise to tell nothing but the truth,” the actor clasped his hands in front of his face.

“Great! Then we shouldn’t have any problems. Alright, Reggie, tell me where you were when the murder happened?”

“I was upstairs, in my room. I was actually just coming down the stairs when the power went out,” Troy recalled. “And then you know what happened - shouting, screaming, chaos everywhere.”

“Yeah, it was pretty wild. And can anyone confirm your story?”

“I’m not sure. When the lights came back on, I came downstairs, and basically everyone else rushed over too.”

“Not the best alibi, is it?”

“No, but… I didn’t know I was going to need one, did I?” the man shrugged.

“True, I guess,” Tiffany admitted, writing a quick line in her notebook. “Aaand have you noticed anyone acting suspicious? Anyone you think might be the murderer?”

“Honestly, everyone’s been actin’ suspicious if you ask me. But if I had to put my money on someone - if I had any, that is - it’d probably be Mr. Wordsworth. It seems to me like he had a motive to kill both Nick and Lucy. But I’m not sure if he’d be capable of somethin’ like that. I don’t know him that well. Maybe you should ask Alfie about it,” Troy suggested.

“I sure will. Thanks, Reggie,” the girl sent him a quick smile as she finished her notes. A few people were doubting Rico’s innocence, which was certainly intriguing. But was she truly ready to put him at the top of her list of suspects? She would definitely have to think about it some more, although time was ticking for all of them.

~~

“What did she ask you?” Eric spoke in a hushed tone as he sat in a distant corner of the grand hall, a drink in hand. Gloria sat by his side, pretending to browse through a magazine.

“The expected stuff - about my relationship with Nick, and where I was at the time of murder,” the actress said, not lifting her eyes from the page in her hands.

“And what did you tell her?”

“That I was at the gym with you.”

“Sweet. I told her the same,” the quarterback confirmed. “I don’t think she’s close to figuring anything out. But neither are we.”

“At least we know about each other.”

“Yeah. I know I’m not the killer, and I believe you when you say you’re not either. But everyone else… I ain’t got a clue yet.”

“Do you think anyone else has made an alliance?” Gloria asked, watching as Troy left the library, Tiffany coming out shortly after him.

“I think Samson and Marcus could be in it together. They’ve been hanging out a lot.”

“Interesting. I would’ve thought…” After what she had seen in the bathroom earlier, the actress would have bet on Samson and Troy being allies, but there was no reason to reveal that yet. Especially not to someone as shady as Eric.

“What?” Eric turned to her, waiting for her to finish the sentence.

“Oh. I was going to say, I think Clementine and Troy might be teamed up. The way she stood up for him earlier, you know? Or maybe it’s just her character. Either way, it feels like they’re hiding something.”

“Yeah, could be. This shit is gonna be tougher than I thought,” the athlete downed the rest of his drink and got up. “Well, let me know if you find out anything juicy, ok?”

Gloria nodded as she looked up at him. “Of course. You too.”

~~

When Tiffany walked into the lounge, she was surprised to find most of the contestants there. Samson and Alana were seated on a small sofa, while Marcus, Troy and Kelly were on the larger couch opposite. Rico stood by the bar, pouring a whiskey.

“Ooh, the gang is all here - well, almost. What are you guys talking about?” the starlet made her way over to the group with quick, deliberate steps.

“Just sharing theories. Of course, I have to be careful not to spoil anything,” Alana looked frustrated. When this was all over, she would have Nicholas on her talk show, and she would get back at him somehow. Maybe she could fake kill him too. “Ugh, who knew being dead was so annoying!”

“Here ya go, this should help a bit,” Rico looked cheerful as he walked over, handing one of the glasses to the older woman.

“Thanks, you’re a champ,” Alana readily accepted the drink. “Are you all done with the interrogations, Tiff?”

“Yeah, and with minutes to spare!” the girl looked pleased with herself. “By the way, I wanted to chat with our resident cook for a moment. Mind coming with me, Jim?”

Completely oblivious, Samson continued his conversation with Troy and Marcus until he noticed Tiffany waving to him.

“Hello, Earth to Jim! Do you have a moment?”

“Gurl, are you talking to me?”

“Well, who else?”

Just as Samson opened his mouth to reply, he felt Marcus’ foot sharply connect with his own.

“Your name is Jim, remember?” the dancer muttered, staring daggers at the other guy.

“What? Since when?” Samson looked bewildered.

“Since I said so,” Marcus replied through gritted teeth. “Fuck’s sake, just go with it.”

“Ah, of course! Silly me,” the singer let out his best fake chuckle. “Let’s go then.” With a final pointed look at Marcus, the popstar got up from his seat. But before he and Tiffany even managed to leave the lounge, an excited Clementine walked in. She clapped her hands loudly, the many bracelets on her arms jangling as she did. She gazed at the group, her eyes wide as if she had just had a mind-blowing revelation.

“Talk about a dramatic entrance! What’s going on?” Kelly seemed intrigued.

“I’ve realized what we have to do if we wish to get some new information,” Clementine replied as she stood in the middle of the room, all eyes on her. “We must hold a séance.”

“A séance?” Marcus did not look one bit impressed with the idea. “Oh gee, and I left my Ouija board at home.”

“Not that kind of séance,” the chef-turned-psychic cut him off. “A proper one. We’ll summon Lucy’s spirit and ask her where she kept my brother’s will. Then we’ll at least get some answers.”

“I’m in,” Alana immediately stood up to surprised looks from several of her fellow contestants. “What? Then at least I get to do something. It’s boring being dead.”

“So, is everyone in then?” Clementine asked.

“Is everyone in for what?” Eric looked curious, entering the lounge with Gloria in tow.

“We’re summoning the dead,” Rico gave him a shoulder pat. “You know, the usual.”

“Alright then, I shall go and prepare everything. Luckily I brought my occult paraphernalia with me,” Clementine said, taking her role of Judy Green very seriously. “Let us all convene in the grand hall in a bit.”

It was nearly an hour later that everyone was gathered around the long table in the middle of the room. Everyone, that is, except Alana. The room was dark, the only source of light coming from the candles that the self-proclaimed psychic was lighting up and placing in front of her as she sat at the head of the table. A cup with strong-smelling aromatic beverage sat in front of her. Samson took a seat next to the older woman, curiously observing her preparations.

“Ooh, that smells nice! Tea?” the singer asked as he eyed the fancy ceramic cup.

“Common wattle.”

Samson let out a surprised gasp, giving the woman an insulted look. “Well, you’re an old hoe!”

“I- I meant the tea,” the woman rolled her eyes at him. “It’s made from common wattle.”

“Ahh,” Samson gave an embarrassed chuckle. “Sorry then.”

“Can we start already? I wanna see some ghosts,” Eric asked as he looked around the table. “Who does everyone want to summon?”

“I am not taking requests, Father Tabernacle,” Clementine responded tersely. “We are going to attempt to summon Lucy Edwards’ spirit. And yes, everything is ready now, so we can finally begin. Now, let us all please join hands with each other,” the woman instructed. One by one, everyone sitting at the table held out their hands, joining them until they formed a circle. “Now, close your eyes and think about Lucy. Focus your minds, please.”

“She’s really gotten into this role, huh?” Troy leaned over, whispering to Samson sitting beside him. “Who knew Clementine was into roleplaying?”

“That’s something we have in common then,” the singer replied quietly.

“Shhh,” the old woman interrupted them before clearing her throat and speaking in a loud, clear voice. “We wish to talk to the spirit of our dear friend, Lucy Edwards. Lucy, if you can hear us, let us know.”

Unable to restrain herself, Tiffany peeked, looking around the room. Aside from the fact they were all holding hands and pretending to perform a séance, nothing unusual was happening.

“Is it working?” the girl whispered. “Nothing’s going on.”

“We have to be patient,” Clementine advised. “It is sometimes difficult for spirits to cross over to our side. And sometimes they don’t wish to.”

“Yeah, so hard to cross the hallway,” Rico muttered.

The entire room went silent again as everyone expectantly waited for something to happen. Clementine was the only one who talked, encouraging the spirit of the murdered lawyer to show itself.

Just a few moments later, the sound of a door opening got everyone’s attention. Excited, all of the contestants opened their eyes and turned toward the source of the noise, only to see Alana walking in, dressed in a long, white dress, her face pale as if she were an actual ghost.

“Nice outfit,” Marcus struggled to keep the laughter in.

“Took you a while,” Eric shifted impatiently in his seat.

“Give me a break. I sat in makeup for over half an hour for this,” Alana pursed her lips, pointing at her white face. She walked over to the group until she reached the vacant end of the table.

“Lucy! Thank you for coming to us,” Clementine spoke up again, trying to restore some semblance of order to her séance. “We have some questions we would like to ask you.”

“Yeah, like who’s the killer?” the NFL star asked.

“It would be nice if you could tell us that,” Tiffany agreed. “Tell them it wasn’t me.”

“Unfortunately, I did not see who killed me,” Alana replied solemnly, changing her voice to sound deeper. Closing her eyes, she sadly shook her head.

“Well, that would’ve been too easy indeed,” Clementine was not surprised. “Perhaps you could help us with something else then. Could you tell us where my brother’s will is? I believe you had it in your possession?”

“Indeed,” Alana confirmed it. “Now heed my words, for the will is in my bedroom, in the bottom drawer of the nightstand by the bed.”

“Finally! Now we’re making some progress,” Kelly seemed excited. “Can you tell us anything else?”

“Do you know any juicy secrets about anyone at this table?” Gloria looked hopefully over at Alana, trying to fish for some more information.

“I’m afraid I cannot reveal anything else. The rest is all up to you,” the woman replied as she turned to leave. “Avenge meeee…” Her voice fading out, Alana walked back out where she came from, closing the door behind her as the lights in the room turned back on.

“Well, that was anti-climactic,” Samson was the first to speak after Alana had left. “I was expecting levitation or something. Don’t you guys have a special effects budget?”

“Maybe they’ll edit it in post-production?” Troy wondered.

“Who cares, we know where the will is,” Kelly wasted no time in getting up from her chair. “Let’s go get it!”

“I’m coming too. I don’t want you messing with dad’s will,” Marcus quickly followed.

“Someone’s got to keep an eye on you two,” Eric quickly got up and rushed after them. He then stopped at the door, turning to the remaining contestants. “Back in a minute, guys. Wait here!”

With that, the trio bolted up the stairs, rushing to get their hands on the precious piece of paper everyone was dying to read. Once they got to Alana’s bedroom, they immediately went for the nightstand, opening the bottom drawer.

“It’s actually unlocked! I thought it’d be harder than that,” Marcus sounded surprised as he pulled on the handle. “There’s something in here!” The dancer quickly pulled out a light gray folder, turning it over.

“Is that it?” Kelly asked, standing right next to him, as Eric stood behind her.

“Yup,” Marcus grinned as he flipped the folder and saw the words printed on it in small font:

‘The last will and testament of Nick Fortescue’