Chapter Four

Time dragged at an agonizing pace. I selected a book from one of the shelves and mindlessly flipped through it, the words failing to capture my attention. The others busied themselves with the pool table and a deck of cards someone found in a drawer, but little conversation occurred. I assumed their thoughts sounded similar to mine. Which one of us is a killer? Who will be the next victim?

Adam shuffled the deck on the coffee table, not far from where I sat in an armchair. "So, Isabel, what kind of law does your firm practice?"

"Personal injury," she said.

He dealt the cards. "That must be interesting."

"Sometimes."

Sighing, he picked up his pile of cards. "I'm just trying to make conversation to pass the time. If we're all stuck here, I figured we might as well get to know each other."

Her shoulders hunched as she examined the hand he'd dealt her. "Sorry, but I don't really want to get to know anyone who might be a criminal or a murderer."

"Fair enough." He turned his attention to the maid, who had also joined in the game. "Brittany, what are you studying in school?"

She lowered her hands, inadvertently offering the others a glimpse of her cards. "The basics for right now. I haven't chosen a major yet."

"You've got time, I'm sure." Adam picked up a card from the deck and put it back down. "Any ideas so far? What are you interested in?"

Blushing, she shrugged.

This was painful to watch and listen to. Before I could come to Adam's rescue, Ruth, who had been watching the billiards games and sipping her tea, stood. "I should clean up from breakfast and get started on lunch."

I needed a distraction. "I'll help, if you don't mind."

She raised her eyebrows.

"I'll come, too." Laura returned her pool cue to the rack. "I don't think these guys can handle losing to me again."

Adam set his cards on the table. "I'll join you." He grinned at me. "The more, the merrier, right?"

Those dimples made my heart flutter, but I didn't respond.

The tension eased out of Ruth's shoulders. "I suppose more hands will help the work go faster. Let's go into the kitchen, and I'll tell you what you can do."

We followed her out of the library to the door at the back of the foyer. She opened the dishwasher and directed us to bring in the plates and glasses from the dining room. Laura moved all the leftover food to one tray while Adam and I carried in the used dishes and cutlery. Although we worked in silence, I felt better being productive.

"A nice, hot meal will improve everyone's spirits, especially with this terrible weather," Ruth said once we finished. "I'll get the water boiling for some pasta." She pointed to Laura. "Then you'll help me with the sauce."

"Sounds good to me."

She turned to Adam and me. "You'll find lettuce and other vegetables in the refrigerator. Can you two get started on the salad?"

He nodded. "Sure thing!"

Ruth showed me where to find the necessary equipment before rounding up the ingredients for her main course. I pulled a large bowl and some cutting boards out of the cabinets, and Adam returned with the produce he'd taken from the fridge. When he slid a long, sharp knife from a block on the counter, I flinched, but he grabbed a cucumber from his pile and started slicing it.

Exhaling, I reached for a second knife and a bunch of tomatoes. We settled into a steady rhythm of chopping and dicing.

"You know," he said, "I wanted to tell you before, but not in front of the others…"

I swallowed. "What?"

"I think it was very brave of you to confess you weren't who you appeared to be. Or were supposed to be. Or whatever it is."

I pushed the first sliced tomato to one side and picked up another. "Well, thanks, I guess."

"I don't know what I would have done in your situation. This is all so crazy, it's hard to know who or what to believe." His gaze flicked up at me for a moment before returning to his cutting board. "Some of the others might have found your story suspicious, but you just appeared more honest to me."

The knife clacked against the wooden surface. I didn't answer.

He cut a few more pieces before looking at me again. A trace of a smile teased the corners of his mouth. "I suppose it's too much to ask for you to trust me now."

"Yup." I pretended to focus on slicing the tomato into equal-sized wedges. "I don't trust anyone. I want to get out of here alive."

"Understandable." Adam glanced at where Ruth and Laura stood by the stove and lowered his voice. "Putting aside the fact you haven't ruled me out as a suspect, what's your read on the others?"

"You mean do I think those two are poisoning the pasta right now?"

He laughed. "I'm curious whether your perceptions are similar to mine or not."

I pondered his question and cut into a third tomato. "That's the thing. Nobody stands out to me as having the potential to be a cold-blooded murderer. All the other guests seem like regular, everyday people. People I might run into anywhere and not give it a second thought."

"I agree." He peeked over his shoulder again. "So, what about the staff?"

"What, you think Brittany's ditzy comments are an act and she's secretly plotting to kill us all?"

A grin spread across his face. "Maybe. She could even actually be French, for all we know."

I put down the knife and raised an eyebrow. "Are you serious?"

"No." His smile disappeared and he resumed chopping the cucumbers. "What about Victor? He seems to know the most about this place and would have the easiest time carrying out his plans. Besides, don't these stories always end with ‘the butler did it'?"

I shook my head. "I saw his reaction when the lights came back on and Jeremy was dead. He appeared genuinely shocked."

"Okay. So that leaves the other guests." Adam moved his cutting board over and opened a bag of pre-cut lettuce. "If you had to guess, who would it be?" The corners of his mouth turned up, and I saw a hint of dimples. "I promise my feelings won't be hurt if it's me."

I tore open a second bag and contemplated everything I'd seen and learned about my companions. "Dylan's kind of a jerk, but it doesn't necessarily mean he's violent, right?"

"Like would The Savage Sniper, or whatever his internet name is, grow tired of mowing down faceless enemies in a game and want to experience the rush of a real-life kill?" He shrugged. "It's possible."

"Anything's possible, as we've established." I emptied the lettuce into the salad bowl. "Who's your pick, if you had to narrow it down to one person?"

"It's a tough decision, I won't lie." He used the flat end of his knife to scrape the sliced cucumbers on top of the lettuce. "But I'll play along and say, if I had to choose, I'd go with Paul. He's no stranger to death, working in the medical field, and I'm sure he's seen plenty of gunshot wounds in the ER. Plus, I doubt it would have been much of a struggle for him to toss Mary over the railing."

"Those are good points." I added my tomatoes to the salad. "But he seems so nice."

"Doesn't everybody?" Adam chuckled. "Maybe with the exception of Dylan, as you've already noted."

"Like Isabel's been saying, we're basically back at square one." A chilling idea pierced my thoughts. "What if it's not one of us?"

Confusion furrowed his brow. "What do you mean?"

"Have you been inside every room in this place? I haven't." My palms grew clammy, and I spoke in a whisper. "What if there's someone else here in the lodge? Someone hiding, watching, waiting…"

"I suppose we can't ignore that theory." He set his knife on the cutting board. "Should we mention it to the others?"

"I don't know. If there is another person here, I don't want to tip them off. And if the killer is, in fact, one of us, then I don't want the rest of us to let our guard down."

"Makes sense to me." His charming smile reappeared. "We'll keep it between us for now."

My cheeks flooded with warmth, and I turned my attention back to the salad. "I'll see if I can find some dressing. Anything else you think should go in here?"

"Might as well keep it simple."

I crossed the room to open the refrigerator and study the shelves. "How does balsamic vinaigrette sound?"

"Perfect." Adam held the bowl while I poured the dressing in, and then gave it a good shake. "I think our salad is a success," he said. "I'll clean up over here if you want to go see how they're doing with the pasta."

When Ruth deemed the sauce seasoned to her liking, she summoned the others from the library. We took our places at the dining room table. Some of the tension had lessened since the morning meal, and the conversation didn't feel as forced. Were it not for the two missing guests, I'd almost believe we had come here under the original premise of a fun get-together. My stomach had stopped twisting in knots, and the food tasted delicious.

Spearing a slice of cucumber, Adam leaned toward me. "We do make a pretty good salad," he whispered, as if hearing my thoughts.

"The best." I did the same and popped it into my mouth.

Paul took a swig of water and set his glass down with a bang. "Hey, Victor, I have a question for you."

"Yes?"

"What was supposed to happen last night and today?" He wiped his mouth with his sleeve. "I mean, with the game and the mystery and the characters and everything."

"Oh, that." Victor nodded toward his colleague. "Later in the evening, Ruth would have been discovered as our ‘victim.' Pretending to be killed the first night frees up the chef on duty to work in the kitchen uninterrupted." He chuckled. "For the rest of the weekend, we suspend our disbelief when the wonderful meals turn up on the table, ready to go."

"You're too kind." Ruth refolded her napkin beside her plate. "Though I wish the circumstances were different, it has been nice spending time with other people here for a change."

"Afterward," Victor continued, "I set up clues and puzzles for the guests to solve throughout the day. Most people claim to have fun when they're here."

"Gotcha." Paul propped his elbows on the table and leaned forward. "Are they usually successful?"

"If a group is struggling, I can help guide them in the right direction. One way or another, the mystery is always solved by the last day." He tugged at his bowtie and frowned. "Now, unfortunately, it seems we're playing a new game, and I'm not sure of the rules."

Once we finished eating, Isabel, Paul, and Brittany volunteered to help clear the table and assist Ruth in getting the dinner preparations underway. Back in the library, I accepted Adam's invitation to join his game of gin rummy. I sat beside him on the couch like I had the previous night, and Dylan and Laura took the armchairs across from us. He shuffled the deck and dealt the first hand. I marveled at how easy it was to pretend we didn't have a killer in our midst.

After I lost the fifth hand in a row, the others returned from the kitchen. "The ham's going to take a couple hours," Isabel said, sitting in the chair next to Laura. "Ruth said she'd keep an eye on it. Mind if I join you in the meantime?"

"Not at all." Adam collected the cards. "I'll deal you in."

The rain continued its steady assault outside the window, yet the driving rhythm didn't seem so ominous anymore. Under different circumstances, I saw how the lodge would provide the perfect cozy weekend getaway. The pleasant atmosphere lulled me into a state of serenity, and I wondered if we'd been overestimating the threat of danger. Two people were dead, but since we'd discussed the murders and were being more cautious, would the killer really risk striking again?

"Maybe this place isn't so bad," I said. "I'll admit I was skeptical at first, but I bet the regular mystery weekends were a lot of fun."

"I know what you mean." Isabel picked up a card and exchanged it with one in her hand. "Sometimes, it's easy to forget how…you know…"

I made another attempt at amiable conversation, hoping I'd fare better than Adam had earlier in the day. "Do you coordinate a lot of community programs at your library?" I asked Laura.

"Oh, tons." She rifled through her hand. "Gone are the days of simply checking out books and putting them back in the right places. We try to make the library an inviting, exciting place for everyone." After exchanging a card, she adjusted her glasses. "It's nice, because I do like meeting new people. Just in…safer circumstances."

"Same here." Adam picked up the card she'd put down. "We're lucky, we don't have a lot of problem clients. Some can be a little difficult at times, but it's great going into work and seeing different faces every day. Keeps things interesting."

I studied my cards as I waited for my turn. "Most of my communication with clients is done via email from my apartment. Don't make fun of me, but this is the most human interaction I've had in a long time."

"I would never dream of doing such a thing." Adam flashed me a smile before finishing his turn. "Besides, it sounds like Dylan works the same way."

"Hmm?" He glanced up through the strands of hair that had fallen over his brow. "Oh, yeah, I guess."

"I deal more with paperwork than people," Isabel said. "But I don't mind it."

I pulled a card out of my hand. "There's a happy balance for everyone somewhere."

We switched over to poker, where I proceeded to lose worse than I had before. I enjoyed the light competition and friendly chatter, however, and continued to play. Late in the afternoon, Victor set up the bar with Paul's help. Despite our insistence otherwise, Brittany volunteered to serve us. I remembered I'd never gotten my second glass of wine the previous night and decided I felt comfortable enough around my companions to have a drink. "It might help improve my card game skills," I joked.

Adam chuckled. "Mine would get worse."

Brittany brought over a tray of filled glasses, and I continued my struggle to wind up with anything higher than one pair. Victor turned on the lights when the room grew dark and closed the heavy shades, muffling the sounds of the storm outside.

After folding his hand, Dylan laid his cards on the table and looked around. "Hey, whatever happened to dinner?"

Laura pursed her lips. "If you're so concerned, why don't you go into the kitchen and check?"

"I'm just saying." He pushed his hair out of his eyes and jerked his thumb toward Isabel. "Didn't she tell us it would only be about two hours?"

"So it's taking a little longer." She put down three cards. "I'm sure you won't starve, even if someone isn't waiting on you hand and foot."

"Whatever." Slouched in his seat, he picked at his shoelaces while we kept playing.

After I lost yet again, a funny feeling crept over me. "You don't think there's anything wrong, do you?"

"Wrong?" Isabel's nose scrunched up. "How so?"

"It's most likely nothing." I shook my head. "We ate around five o'clock last night, and now it's after six. But the ham's probably taking longer than expected."

Anxious glances were exchanged around the table. "Maybe one of us should check on things in the kitchen," Laura said, setting down her wineglass.

Dylan stood. "I guess I'll go. You did say it was my turn, right?"

He mumbled something to Victor on his way out of the room. Hands trembling, I put down my drink. Adam collected my cards, his hand brushing against mine. "Should I deal you in for the next round?" he asked.

I shook my head.

My worst suspicions were confirmed when Dylan reappeared in the doorway. "Uh…Paul?" he called out. Eyes wide, he ran his fingers through his messy hair. "I think you should come in here."

I rose from my seat, and the others did the same. Although I could guess what had happened, I needed to see for myself. Moving together, we trudged out of the library and into the kitchen.

Ruth sat on a stool beside one of the counters, her upper body slumped against the smooth granite. The ham sat in a tray next to the oven, covered in a slimy sheen from being out of the refrigerator for too long.

Bending his knees, Paul touched the cook's shoulder and peered at her face. As he had earlier in the day with Mary, he checked for a pulse, but we all knew what the answer would be.

"Shit," he said, straightening.

"I swear I found her like this when I got here." Dylan crossed his arms over his chest. "You can tell by the state of our unfinished dinner."

Laura looked at him with disdain. "Is food really all you can think about right now?"

"Don't try to pin this on me!" He returned her angry glare. "You were in here with her before lunch!"

Isabel closed her eyes and rubbed the sides of her head. "All of us were in here at one point or another. Or at least most of us."

"Great," he snapped. "That's helpful."

"Stop fighting." Adam put his hands up. "It's not contributing anything useful." He turned to Paul. "How did she die?"

"Oh." He shrugged. "Good question."

I looked around the room, searching for clues. My gaze rested upon a kettle at the front of the stove. I walked toward the counter, trying to keep a safe distance from Ruth's body, and gestured toward her empty cup and saucer. "The tea," I whispered. "She'd been drinking it all day."

"But she made it herself," Brittany said.

Paul opened and closed some of the cabinets, rummaging through the shelves. "Someone could have tampered with it this morning, or last night, or even when we arrived." He pulled out a plain metal tin and opened it to reveal a pile of unmarked tea bags. Pulling one out of the box, he held it up, gave it a sniff, and frowned. "I'll be honest, I don't know what I'm looking for here."

"Don't touch it, just to be on the safe side," Victor said.

Paul shoved the tin back into the cabinet and slammed the door. "It doesn't matter, anyway. She's definitely dead."

We stared at each other, fear and distrust washing over the faces of everyone in the room. My previous feelings of contentment vanished as I was confronted with a reminder of our predicament.

No one was safe.