Murder on the Playground - 6. Last Will and Testament

“So, who wants to do the honors?” Troy asked, sitting at the long dining table in the grand hall, his fellow contestants all sat around him. The air was charged with the sense of mystery and anticipation, all ten participants eager to get things started. Even Nicholas Stone was in the room, keenly observing everything from behind the cameras.

“Isn’t the lawyer the one who usually does it?” Alana suggested, reaching out for the folder everyone had their eyes on.

Eric sat back, wanting to see what everyone else would do. Samson seemed to have taken a page from the same book, quietly observing the others.

“Yeah, but last time I checked, you were dead, Miss Edwards,” Rico was quick to shoot her idea down. “How about we get an actual living person to do it? I’d be more than happy to.”

“Maybe I should do it, as the resident detective,” Tiffany raised her hand, waving it in the air. “I’m the only impartial party here.”

“According to you,” Gloria cocked her head toward the young starlet. “No offense, but we don’t know you that well. Who knows what secrets you’re hiding?”

“I’m not hiding any!” the girl protested, her voice squeaky.

“Perhaps I should do it,” Clementine offered calmly, her bejeweled hands clasped in front of her chest. “We need someone coolheaded to do it. It might as well be me.”

“What difference does it make?” Kelly chimed in, unable to hide her annoyance. “The will’s going to be the same no matter who reads it. Let’s just get the damn thing open and see what it says.”

“Can’t believe I’m saying this, but Miss Turner has a point,” Samson agreed. “Let’s read it already! Who’s gonna…?”

“You snooze, you lose!” Marcus swiftly reached over, snatching the document away before anyone could get their hands on it. “If anyone’s doing it, it’s me. It’s my dad’s will we’re talking about here.” He turned the folder in his hands, preparing to open it.

“Alright, go for it, man,” Eric shrugged, giving him the go ahead. No one else seemed to bother protesting anymore, their curiosity for the will overcoming the desire to stall and create drama.

“Ok, then. Here we go,” the dancer spoke in an almost reverent tone as he opened the gray folder, pulling out a piece of paper from within. As if entranced, everyone’s eyes focused on the sheet in the dancer’s hands. If only for a moment, total silence fell over the room, thick and sudden.

“Oh wow, they made it look like an actual will! Nice,” Marcus was surprised, breaking character as he scanned the official-looking paper in his hands.

“Seen many wills in your lifetime, huh?” Eric couldn’t resist poking fun at him.

“Well, no, but… I imagine this is what it’d look like. Anyway… Let’s see what my father had to say,” the dancer cleared his throat, slipping back into the character of Alfie.

“Last Will and Testament of Nick Fortescue.

I, Nick Fortescue, of Woolcaster, Nebraska, being of sound mind and disposing memory, do hereby declare this document to be my Last Will and Testament, revoking all prior wills and codicils heretofore made by me… What the fuck are these words?”

Next to him, Samson snickered, leaning over to sneak a peek at the paper. “I don’t know, but keep reading.”

“I direct that my estate be administered and distributed in accordance with the provisions set forth below.

To my sister Judy Green, I leave the summer house that she currently occupies, along with the land on that property.”

Clementine simply nodded quietly, casting a sideways glance at Troy, their eyes meeting for a split second. Neither she nor anyone else seemed surprised by that part of the will.

“To my loyal employee Reggie Connors, I hereby bequeath a monthly salary to be paid from my estate for the duration of his natural life, in the amount of… Wait, really?”

This time, the announcement was met with nearly unanimous surprise as all heads turned from Marcus to Troy.

“Hot stableboy, indeed!” Gloria remarked, her eyebrows shooting up to her hairline. “Nick must’ve really liked you.”

“He did always think of you as his second son,” Clementine added, placing a hand over Troy’s. “You deserve it, love.”

“Gee, I… I don’t know what to say,” Troy seemed baffled, shaking his head as he looked around. “I mean, I did work for Uncle Nick my whole life, but I wasn’t expectin’ this.”

“Shady, if you ask me,” Kelly mused.

“Now, now, Miss Turner, don’t be jealous you got squat,” Rico turned to the young singer, teasing her.

“As if I cared about that. I’m just saying, it’s suspicious a simple ranch hand is getting all that.”

“Suspicious or not, that’s what the will says,” Marcus cut in. “Anyway, let me continue. To my lovely Marie…”

Immediately, Gloria perked up in her seat, her full attention on Marcus.

“I know I wasn’t able to give you what you wanted most from me, and for that I am sorry. I hope you can forgive me. I leave you the albums with all of our photographs, as well as a box of our mementos, as I am certain you would like to have them. Please remember me fondly.”

All of a sudden, it was the charming actress’ turn to have all eyes on her. Feeling surrounded, she lowered her head, fishing out a paper tissue and bringing it to her face. She dabbed at her eyes a few times, wiping her invisible tears as a sad sigh escaped her lips.

“Oh, Nick… Of course I’ll remember you with nothing but fondness.”

“Sure, but what did Nick mean by that?” Rico decided to ask what everyone was thinking. “He said you wanted something from him. Money?”

“How dare you?!”

“Then what?”

“I don’t want to talk about this,” Gloria pretended to stiffen in her seat, turning away from Rico’s inquisitive gaze. “My relationship with Nick is not a matter of gossip!”

“Honey, you’re just making yourself seem more and more suspicious,” Kelly observed.

“I don’t care. This is… too much,” the actress feigned an over the top sob, the paper tissue shaking in her trembling hand.

“Ugh, fine,” Marcus rolled his eyes at the woman’s dramatic display. “Let’s keep it moving then. There’s not much more to go. Let’s see… And lastly, to my beloved son Alfie, I leave all of my remaining possessions...”

“Well, this is probably not a surprise to anyone,” Samson observed, scanning the faces of his fellow competitors.

“You deserve it, darling. Nick always had faith in you,” Clementine turned to Marcus, giving him a sympathetic look.

“Thanks, Aunt Judy. I… don’t know how true that is, but he must’ve had at least some faith,” Marcus shrugged in response. “Anyway, let me finish: …all of my remaining possessions, which includes: my moveable and immoveable assets, including my ranch, as well as my share in the Willowcrest Land. I have no doubt that you will manage them well.”

“Willowcrest Land? Isn’t that where your house is located, Father Tabernacle?” Clementine leaned back into her chair, crossing her hands over stomach. The woman eyed Eric with a curious look, watching him squirm as the rest of the group turned to him. “I know it is.”

“Why would father own your land?” Marcus seemed confused. “He never told me that.”

“Yes, well…” Eric was at a loss for words, his eyes jumping from one face to another as if looking for some support, but unable to find any. Even his ally Gloria gave him nothing but a shrug in response, leaving him stranded. “Uh, yes, Nick owned merely a part of it. It’s a long story, and I don’t wish to bother you with it. It has nothing to do with why we’re here today.”

“Why don’t we be the judge of that, huh? Tell us what happened, and we’ll decide if it’s relevant or not,” Samson cocked his head at the burly athlete. “I’m sure you have nothing to hide, right, Father?”

“Ooh, I bet Alana knows about this!” Tiffany practically jumped in her chair, excited to share her thoughts. “You’re the lawyer, you know all about Nick’s business stuff, right?”

“I sure do,” Alana nodded at the girl, not even noticing the death stare Eric was giving her. But before she could continue, Nicholas stood up from his chair, clearing his throat.

“May I remind everyone that Miss Edwards is, in fact, dead? So, no, Alana, you cannot reveal anything.”

“Ugh, fine. Poop all over my ideas,” Tiffany plopped back into her seat dejectedly. “Anyone else?”

“Like I said, why not let Father Tabernacle tell us what happened?” Samson was eager to cut in. “If he really has nothing to hide, that is.”

Eric looked around as he clenched his jaw, feeling cornered. It was him against everyone else, but if he was going to get exposed, he wouldn’t be the only one.

“Fine,” he finally spoke, his voice loud and confident as he straightened up in his chair. The whispers immediately ceased, and he knew he had everyone’s attention. “I’ll tell you what happened… if Ms. Thibodeaux tells us what she really wanted from Nick.”

Gloria looked as if she’d been slapped right across the face. It wasn’t even the fact that Eric betrayed their alliance that bothered her so much - after watching him on the first season of The Playground, she knew she couldn’t trust fully trust him. It was the fact that she didn’t get to betray him first.

“So, that’s how it is, Father?” she hissed, angry at seeing the smug expression on his face.

“Indeed, my child,” Eric replied. “So, are you ready to unburden yourself and share your secrets?”

“No, I am not!” the actress stood up, her chair screeching loudly across the wooden floor. “Feel free to unburden yourself without me.” With a dramatic hairflip, she turned away from the group and marched out of the grand hall, slamming the door behind her.

“Ok, girl, calm down. This won’t get you an Oscar,” Marcus muttered as he looked at the door Gloria stormed off through.

“Well, then, I think I’ll go… pray,” Eric stood up from the table next, leaving everyone to watch as he went straight to the gym.

“So, this is it, then, I suppose,” Clementine spoke up, breaking the silence. “Unless anyone else has something to say?”

“Yeah, I need a drink,” Alana stood up. “Who’s with me?”

~~

Samson was curled up in an armchair in Marcus’ room, holding a bag of buttered popcorn in his lap. With everyone focused on the will and playing the game, they had barely had any time at all to just hang out and chat without thinking about solving the murder case.

“So, what are you doing after the show? Are you going on tour or something?”

“No, not any time soon,” the dancer replied. He was sitting cross-legged on his own bed, holding a bottle of sparkling water in one hand as he slowly ate from his own popcorn bag. “I’ve started holding dance classes, though. That’s been a lot of fun… and also frustrating.”

“Oh, that’s so cool! Are you teaching little kids?”

“All ages, really. And some of them are really good, but others… Some people were clearly born with two left feet. I always have to remind myself to be patient even when I wanna slap the shit out of them.”

“Hah! I can’t imagine you as a teacher!”

“Hey, I’m good at it!” Marcus threw a popcorn at Samson, hitting him in the chest.

“Ok, ok, I believe you,” the singer gave in. “So, will Ash and his group not be touring this year? I thought they would, what with their new album and all.”

“Yeah, they will, but… I decided I wasn’t gonna come with. The group already has their own dancers,” Marcus popped a kernel in his mouth, slowly chewing on it. “And to be honest, I think it’ll be good for us. Dating and working together isn’t the healthiest thing for a relationship. And now that I’ve moved in to his place, we definitely don’t want to tour together as well.”

“That makes sense. You don’t want to drive each other nuts, right?”

“Exactly. I mean, Ash has the patience of a saint, but even he has his limits.”

“Well, of course he does. He’s been dating you for years,” Samson replied with a cheeky smile.

“Hey! Watch it,” Marcus lifted his index finger as a warning before breaking into a grin. “You’re right, though.”

“So that means you’re a free agent? Wanna come and join my tour?”

“Really?” the dancer seemed surprised. “When are you going?”

“Not till January, but we’re starting rehearsals in a month,” Samson explained, getting excited. “You’re a killer dancer, I’d love for you to join us. We’re two people short, by the way, so if you know someone else… It’d save us the trouble of having auditions again.”

“You know what? I’d love to join. And I’ll have to check with some of my friends,” Marcus replied, looking around for his phone before remembering they were made to hand them over when they arrived at the mansion. That way, there was no risk of anyone going online and seeing the viewers’ comments. “I’ll let you know as soon as I get home. But you can count me in for sure.”

“Sweet! Now you’re finally gonna get to dance to some good music!”

“Hey, don’t make me tell Ash you said that.”

“Hah, go ahead, honey!” Samson laughed. “He knows I’m a big fan! Anyway, should we get down? The others are gonna get suspicious of us. They might think we’re planning a murder together or something.”

“Eh, let them think whatever they want,” Marcus shrugged, not moving from his spot on the bed. “You think anyone knows about us?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t said anything to anyone,” the singer said, biting on his lower lip. “But who knows what information they have in their sheets. Clementine could know something, she’s supposed to be your aunt.”

“Yeah, true. But why would she know about our characters having an affair? I doubt Alfie would’ve told her.”

“Mr. Olive definitely wouldn’t have!” Samson added.

“I know. So… who do you think’s the killer?”

“I’m not sure yet, which is so annoying! I thought I’d have it figured it out by now. But I’m suspecting Clementine, and… is it crazy to say Troy as well?” Samson replied, feeling slightly guilty for thinking his crush could be playing him, even if just for a game.

“No, why would it be crazy?” Marcus seemed confused.

“I don’t know… No reason,” the popstar shook his head, forcing a smile. “And, of course, after what happened today, Gloria and Eric shot to the top of my list. They’re obviously hiding stuff.”

“Yeah, for sure. I think it’s gotta be one of them, or someone who got something in the will. So, either Troy or Clementine,” the dancer concluded. From where he stood, the most logical solution was that the killer was someone who had something to gain from Nick’s death.

“But you gained the most from the will,” Samson stated the obvious, his lips spreading into a teasing smirk.

“Yeah, but I know Alfie didn’t do it.”

“And I know Mr. Olive didn’t either.”

“Well, ok then,” Marcus shrugged, smiling at Samson as he looked him in the eyes. Even though their characters were supposed to be lovers, the two men were still rivals. And after securing a win on the first show, the dancer had no intention of breaking his streak.

“Ok then,” Samson echoed his words, not budging an inch. This whole show was one big mind game, and the singer knew he could not trust anyone - neither his real lover, nor his pretend one.

~~

“Ladies, how’s it going?” Troy entered the kitchen later that evening after dinner had already passed. While he was sated from the mushroom risotto he’d just had, he was still craving something sweet. “Is there any of that ice-cream left?”

“Yes, there’s plenty,” Clementine replied, opening the freezer for him. While most of the group was in the lounge or the grand hall, the older woman was in the kitchen, accompanied by Kelly, as both seemed to have the same idea - alcohol.

“Sweet!” Troy sounded excited as he approached the freezer, looking at the ice-cream boxes on offer. “What are you two up to? Making cocktails?” He glanced over at the two women, noticing some bottles on the kitchen counter in front of Kelly.

“Actually, I was trying to get everyone to have a little drinking sesh,” the young singer explained. “It’s our last night here - we should have some fun, right? It’s still too early to go to bed. Come on, Clementine, are you in?”

“You don’t have to convince me, I’m in,” the chef was quick to respond.

“What about you, Troy? Come on, we all need some time to just chill,” Kelly insisted.

“You make it sound like we’re doing manual labor here,” the actor laughed, grabbing an ice-cream box as soon as he saw hazelnut and chocolate written on it.

“Well, I’m with Kelly. I could use a relaxing evening with some drinks and snacks,” Clementine said. “God knows I don’t get many of those anymore.”

“Busy schedule?” Troy asked, already spooning his frozen dessert.

“When you have three kids, every day is a busy schedule,” the chef replied, chuckling.

“See, Clementine gets it,” Kelly supported the other woman. “And it’s not like we’ve been sitting on our asses here. It’s all murder this, suspect that! Let’s just take a breather.”

“Fine by me,” Troy agreed.

“Have you already figured it out, then?” Clementine asked as she helped Kelly grab a few more cocktail glasses.

“No, not yet,” the songstress didn’t seem too happy to admit it. “But I think I’ll get there by tomorrow.”

“Ahh, so that’s your plan! You want to get us all drunk so we’ll reveal our secrets.”

“Damn it, my masterplan has been foiled!” Kelly rolled her eyes. “No, you know I don’t beat around the bush. If I wanted you to tell me something, I’d simply ask you.”

“And you think we’d tell you?” Troy asked out of amusement, curious to see where the conversation would go.

“I don’t know, let’s see. Who do you think is the killer?” the singer asked, watching as Troy and Clementine laughed almost in unison. “Come on, if you tell me, I’ll tell you what I think.”

“Alright, why not?” the older woman shrugged. “I’m suspicious of Eric and Gloria, obviously. But I also think Samson is hiding something. I’d bet it’s one of them.”

“Interesting…” Troy narrowed his eyes as he observed the women. “I’m with you on Eric, but the other two… I’m not buying it. I think everyone’s overlooking Marcus. He might be the one to watch out for.”

“Hmmm…” Kelly pursed her lips, pausing with what she was doing. “We need more info, that’s for sure. But something’s telling me not to trust Tiffany.”

“Really? You still think she’s the killer?” Clementine didn’t sound convinced.

“I’m just saying. She’s the detective, but what has she done to solve the case? Basically nothing.”

“You don’t think she’s trying hard enough?”

“Girl, no. I don’t think she cares about being competitive. She’s just trying to be funny to get more screen time,” Kelly waved her off. “Anyway, let’s go and have fun. We’ll deal with this tomorrow.”

As Kelly left the kitchen, Clementine and Troy stayed behind, their eyes meeting.

“You think she suspects us?” the actor whispered.

“Who knows what she thinks. I don’t trust a single thing that girl says,” the woman replied with a soft chuckle.

“Me neither,” Troy agreed. “But I don’t think anyone knows you’re supposed to be my mom.”

“Yeah, I think we’re safe on that. Now, come on, ‘son’. Let’s go before they get suspicious.”

~~

The large Victorian mansion seemed distinctly eerie at night, blanketed in complete silence and darkness. The full moon was the only source of light, casting disturbing shadows that turned even the most ordinary household objects into spooky monsters, ready to pounce on you in the dark.

Long after everyone had retired to their bedrooms, a solitary figure made its way down the stairs, taking careful steps to avoid making any noise that might disturb the others. Slowly, they finally made their way to the kitchen, opening the door with a soft click. Without turning on the lights, they opened the fridge door and returned the ketchup bottle back to its rightful place on the middle shelf on the inside of the door.

Without a word, they closed the door and crept back up the stairs, returning to their bedroom, their mission accomplished.

~~

Sunday morning, the final day of the show, saw all of the contestants gather one last time in the dining hall for breakfast. As if last night’s sleep had rejuvenated them, everyone seemed in great spirits, chatty and relaxed. On the surface, it seemed that the murder mystery was the last thing on everyone’s minds even though the clock was slowly ticking. In just several short hours, they would have to gather in the grand hall where they would have to guess the identity of the killer. For now, however, everyone seemed content to just eat their morning meal in peace.

“Guys, I can’t believe you haven’t asked me yet,” Eric suddenly spoke, his mouth half-full of food.

“Asked you what?” Alana decided to take the bait.

“How I’m gonna celebrate when I win today,” the NFL star replied with a satisfied grin, drawing out groans and eyerolls all around the table.

“Stick to your day job, babe. Comedy’s not for you,” Samson replied. “Anyway, I think…”

Before he could finish his thought, the door opened and Nicholas Stone entered the room.

“Good morning, ladies and gentlemen. How are we feeling today?”

“Feeling great, Nicky… for a dead woman,” Alana said. “You know how it is.”

“Of course, being dead is hard work,” the host agreed. “Anyway, I have an announcement for you all. You have half an hour to finish your breakfast, and then please gather in the grand hall.”

“We’re voting already? But… but I’m not ready yet!” Tiffany’s voice went an octave higher as she grabbed her trusty notebook and started flipping through it. She had so many notes, but no clue what to make of them yet.

“No, not yet. There’s one final thing we need to do before the vote,” Nicholas replied, making one of his unnecessarily long dramatic pauses. “You’ll all be in character, answering questions… from our audience. And you must tell only the truth.”