Murder by the Book (A Chloe Boston Mystery Book 15) Page 12

  I grabbed the knob, not in compliance with the Game Master’s order but to see if I could lift the box off the table and possibly use it as a bludgeon. The box was solidly adhered to the table. I left my hand on the knob and awaited the first question.

  “Let’s begin. Today’s questions are all about mothers.”

  I wiped a dab of sweat from my forehead with my free hand and waited.

  “Would you feel sad if you lost your mother?”

  So, this was going to get personal. I pressed the button labeled “Yes” and the box beeped.

  “Very good. Next question. Would you feel abandoned if your mother left you at an early age?”

  I knew the answer the Game Master was after. Fortunately, it happened to also be the right answer for me. I pressed the “Yes” button and the box beeped again.

  “Would you condemn a woman for abandoning her newly born sons?”

  That all depended upon the circumstances. Again I pressed “Yes” and received my beep.

  “Did Agatha Rankles give birth to the twin Eddie Rankles?”

  The volume of the Game Master’s altered voice had been increased and an echo effect added. The sudden change startled me. Again, I knew the answer my interrogator was after, but at the same time I knew what Agatha had said. Before I could consciously guide it, my hand reached out of its own accord and pressed the “No” button. The electronic jolt that was sent through my body nearly knocked me from my chair. My teeth crashed together and my body tensed in response to the minor electrocution.

  “Last question,” the Game Master said in his normal voice. “Do you want to live?”

  My mind was still jumbled but I knew the correct answer to that question. I slapped my hand down emphatically on the “Yes” button. The box beeped and I heard a metallic click as one of the wall panels lining the room popped open.

  I rose shakily to my feet and had to steady myself against my chair. Once my legs started responding to my requests, I passed through the open panel. A single spot hung from the center of the next room, revealing the body of a man lying on the floor. I walked forward and bent down beside the body to confirm the man was dead.

  “Your next challenge is to find out what killed this man. You have three minutes,” the Game Master said and then went silent.

  I had several questions for the Game Master but decided not to waste my time asking them right now. Instead, I directed my attention to the corpse.

  The body was lying face down. The man’s face was tilted to the side. I didn’t recognize him from what I could see. There was no blood in evidence anywhere. The body was cold and rigor mortis had set in. By the stiffness of the limbs I guessed the man had been killed within the last twelve hours. I rolled the body which was difficult since it insisted on retaining its original awkward shape. I rifled the pockets. The man turned out to be an FBI agent named William May. I had no doubt that I’d found Stillwell’s missing partner.

  “One minute has expired.”

  I quickly checked the body for wounds and found nothing other than some pooling of blood, which was to be expected. The body’s nails were clean and showed signs of leukonychia. There was no skin under the nails or any other sign of a struggle. It required all my strength to pry the corpse’s mouth open. I sniffed at the opening.

  “Two minutes have expired.”

  I didn’t need the last minute. The diagnosis was obvious.

  “This man died of arsenic poisoning,” I announced.

  There was a long pause before anything happened. During that time I pondered what the consequence might be for giving a wrong answer. I looked around me, wondering where the attack would come from. I tried to prepare myself both physically and mentally for what was coming. All I heard was a loud chime and the click of a wall panel opening.

  “Enough of this, Eddie. I refuse to examine any more of your murder victims,” I insisted.

  “Please move to the next room,” the Game Master urged.

  “I won’t go, Eddie. Do what you have to do.”

  It didn’t take long for him to do what he felt he had to do. I first heard the hissing before I saw a visible vapor being pumped into the room through pores in the wall. I was being gassed. I got barely a whiff of the noxious cloud that was forming in the center of the room before I ran to the open panel and made a speedy exit. The door closed behind me. I began gagging before I was able to look up.

  The next room was much like the last two, with the exception of what was in it. There was another table. Sitting on the table was what I could only describe as a miniature guillotine. The device had a hole through it that would comfortably accommodate an arm. A diagonal razor-sharp blade was suspended at the top of the machine. There was a metal knob on the other side of the hole and another mounted to the table. I shivered at the mere sight of the thing.

  “This game is called don’t break the circuit,” the Game Master announced. “Please have a seat at the table.”

  I found it difficult to move my legs. Rather than heading for the table, I walked to one of the partition walls and began looking for a crack or some sign of an opening. I tried digging at the wall and pressing on it, finally throwing my weight against it. It remained smooth and solid.

  “Please have a seat at the table,” the Game Master repeated.

  I eventually walked over to the table and resignedly fell into the chair.

  “Place your arm through the device and grab onto the knobs.”

  I blanched at the thought of obeying. Could I actually bring myself to place my arm into such a device? Was I going to allow a madman to cleave off a limb right in front of my eyes? Then I remembered the vapor that had been pumped into the previous room when I failed to obey the voice. I closed my eyes and groped across the table for the device. I slipped my arm through the hole and grabbed onto the knobs with sweaty hands.

  “Whatever you do, don’t let go of the knobs. If you fail to obey this single rule of the game, your arm will be severed and you will quickly bleed to death. This game will measure your tolerance for pain. The game will begin now.”

  As soon as the Game Master stopped speaking I began to feel a tingling sensation in the palms of my hands. This sensation soon enveloped each hand and then began to move up my arms. My hands started to sting within seconds. I wanted to pull them off the knobs and rub them together, but I quickly remembered the single rule to this game. My arms and then my entire body began to shake. In turn the table shook with me. I watched in horror as the blade of the guillotine bounced and wobbled in its frame.

  I didn’t hear the beep that signaled I had won this game as I fell out of my chair to the floor. I had let go of both knobs but my arm had slipped back through the hole in the guillotine rather than being sliced off. I lay on the floor bunched in a ball hugging my throbbing arms and hands to my chest. I fought back the tears as I forced myself to my feet, not wanting to display one ounce of quit to those who might be watching. I spotted the door into the next room and began walking.

  “Alas, we must bring this game to a conclusion sooner than I had hoped,” the Game Master announced as I walked through the next door.

  Again, the room was almost empty. A spotlight in the corner highlighted a table and two chairs in the center of the room. On the table was a simple wooden chess set on an ornate board.

  “Your final challenge is a simple game of chess versus the reigning champion, me, the Game Master. I call this game sudden death. If you succeed in beating me you will be set free. If you lose, the punitive response system will respond swiftly and decisively. Play will proceed according to the rules set down by the United States Chess Federation. You will play white.”

  I didn’t believe a single word of the offer to set me free but also knew that I had no choice but to play. I approached the chair on the white side of the board. I looked above my seat to see a formidable apparatus suspended from the ceiling. This was undoubtedly the punitive response system. I didn’t examine it closely nor for long since
I didn’t particularly want to know what it was going to do to me when I lost. I took my seat.

  “The game will now begin.”

  A digital clock embedded in the tabletop began ticking off the seconds. Beside the display was a large button labeled “Resign.” I had no doubt what would happen if I pressed that button. Fortunately, I was playing white and got to move first. Also, I had spent some time in my youth memorizing the first several moves of the Ruy Lopez opening. I began to play the opening by advancing my king pawn.

  Though I knew the opening well I didn’t rush my play as my opponent did. After I made my first move, the Game Master immediately called out his response. Lights appeared in the face of the chessboard indicating the piece to move, the path to move it upon, and the ending square. I moved the black piece to the indicated square and my clock resumed ticking. I then took my time examining the board.

  The game proceeded smoothly and methodically until I began to reach the limits of my memory, which is substantial. Rather than killing time between moves I now had to spend that time trying to remember the next move. It didn’t help that the Game Master continued to taunt me during the lengthier pauses.

  “Hurry up and move already.”

  Finally reaching the end of the opening, I entered the middle game on shaky ground. It didn’t take long before I made a mistake.

  “Bishop to queen’s rook four, bishop takes pawn,” the Game Master said in response.

  Suddenly I was down a point and felt the full force of a frontal assault coming after my king. I made another foolish move.

  “Queen to queen’s knight six, check.”

  I could sense gloating in the mechanical voice. I started to panic and things went quickly downhill from there. I rushed a series of ill-conceived moves in an attempt to turn the tide.

  “Queen takes rook, check.”

  And suddenly the game was over. I could see that my opponent would have me in checkmate in no more than a handful of moves. I looked to my clock and saw that I still had time. Having nothing better to do with my time I decided to try to irritate the man who was about to kill me.

  “According to United States Chess Federation rules, I have to make fifty moves every two hours. By my estimation, I don’t need to make another move for one hour. I think I’ll wait for the time to expire.”

  “Wait for the time to expire?”

  “Yes. I think I’ll wait an hour before I announce my next move.”

  “Come, Chloe, remember that we are in a time crunch,” the Game Master insisted.

  Sitting on the losing side of the chessboard I realized that I’d come to the end of the game. There were no more moves to make. I reached for the “Resign” button.

  Chapter 21

  I was about to make what I was sure would be the final decision of my life when to my surprise I heard one of the wall panels behind me disengage. I turned to see a large portion of the wall swing into the room to dispense Eddie who was dragging Agatha by his side. The light from the office beyond lit the game room brightly causing me to shade my eyes. Against the glare I saw the silhouettes of two men standing guard on the other side of the door.

  “Time’s up, we’ll have to settle this the old fashioned way,” Eddie announced, casting Agatha toward the center of the game room.

  “The FBI and the local police have arrived,” Agatha announced as she rubbed her wrist where Eddie had had hold of her. “They’re entering the building en force. Apparently Eddie is alive and talking.”

  “Yes, it would appear that my kid brother awoke before I had a chance to visit him in the hospital,” Eddie announced. “Still, all I really need to do is dispose of the two of you.”

  “Eddie wouldn’t do that,” Agatha countered. “My son wouldn’t do that.”

  “Yes, Agatha, but as we’ve already established, you’re not my mother. So, shall we pipe down now and get on with it? After all, I have a helicopter to catch.”

  “What do you plan to do, shoot us?” Agatha challenged.

  “Yes, that is exactly what I plan to do, Mother, beginning with you,” Eddie snarled, pointing his gun at Agatha’s head. “Now, down on your knees,” he demanded.

  “Don’t I get to make my final move?” I interrupted, rising and walking across the room to stand between them.

  “How’s that?” Eddie asked.

  “In our chess game.”

  “No. You don’t get your final move. All that’s left to do is resign. Besides, we don’t have the time.”

  “It’s just that I have checkmate in one,” I tossed casually over my shoulder as I strolled back to the opposite side of the chess table where I had been sitting.

  “You do not have checkmate in one move,” Eddie clarified.

  I took a seat at the table and Eddie reluctantly took the seat across from me. He kept his pistol pointed at my chest the whole time.

  “Alright, let’s see your brilliant last move,” Eddie scoffed as he leaned forward to reexamine the board. “See, I told you. There are no more moves for you to make, Chloe Boston.”

  I looked up into Eddie’s eyes. We were both leaning forward across the chessboard ready to observe my last move. Our faces were so close that we could have kissed. His breath smelled strongly of mint tea. I leaned even closer so I could brush my cheek against his and position my lips close to his ear. I exhaled a ragged breath and could sense his male hormones instinctively react.

  “I have two things to say to you, Eddie Rankles,” I purred into his ear.

  “Yes, what are they?” he responded excitedly.

  “First, you should always disarm your traps when you’re done playing with them.”

  “And?” he offered, sounding skeptical.

  “And second, I resign!” I declared as I pulled my head away from his and slapped my hand down hard on the resignation button.

  The punitive response system was indeed swift and decisive, and most importantly it had been left armed. Eddie barely had a chance to sit up straight and recognize that he was on the wrong side of the table, the victim’s side of the table, the side of the table that was beneath the loaded trap. I had just enough time to look away before the thing mounted in the ceiling unfolded to take him. I closed my eyes and kept them shut against the crunching sounds. Only when the sounds subsided did I trust my sight judiciously. I exhaled a heavy sigh of relief when I saw that there was far less blood in the room than I’d expected.

  Agatha lay passed out on the floor not ten feet from where I stood.

  I looked to the doorway leading back into the office. The guards were gone, apparently having run out of time to wait for their leader or just too rushed to deal with his demise. Besides, they had a cool fifty-four million dollars they needed to divide.

  I ran to Agatha’s prone body to kneel by her side. I quickly determined that she was still breathing and that her heart rate was good. I assumed she had only fainted. In only a matter of moments her eyes fluttered open and she smiled up into my face.

  “I had the most wonderful dream,” she announced. “And you were in it.”

  Not wanting to relive the finale from The Wizard of Oz and equally determined to avoid causing Agatha any more heartache, I held her head in my lap, doing my best to block the body, and made a brief suggestion.

  “Close your eyes, Agatha,” I whispered. “This is nothing but a bad dream that you don’t want to witness.”

  I knelt on the floor with Agatha in my arms until the FBI SWAT team stormed the game room. The Chief and Agent Stillwell were close behind them. After they’d cleared the room the SWAT team gathered in a circle with me and Agatha in the center. I handed Agatha over to their medic who knelt beside us. The Chief stepped forward to catch me in his arms as darkness overtook me.

  Chapter 22

  I sat alone on the sofa in Agatha’s living room watching her TV and crying my eyes out. I was watching the DVD her videographer had produced chronicling the wedding ceremony and the reception afterward. It was as if I was witn
essing both events for the first time even though I had actually attended the wedding.

  The wedding ceremony was beautiful. The gazebo had been strung in gardenias, Agatha’s favorite flower. The videographer had edited out the awkward part in which I confiscated the wine goblet. Agatha looked beautiful and happy and I frankly looked like I was stoned rather than struggling with my ANALYTICO engine. Lawrence and Alex both looked smart in their black suits with tails. The camera panned to the audience and it appeared as if all of Hope Falls was in attendance. Many of the celebrants were crying, including my father.

  Everyone looked happy at the reception which appeared to have been quite a party. The video included Lawrence and Agatha’s first dance which they performed expertly to the tune of Raindrops Keep Falling on my Head by Burt Bacharach. Then the film cut to Alex dancing with Agatha. I had to laugh because Alex is a terrible ballroom dancer, but somehow Agatha managed to make him look good. What is it they say, Ginger Rogers did everything Fred Astaire did, only she did it backward and in heels.

  Next came the personal messages and well-wishes from those in attendance. I watched with delight as Ida Walcott told the camera in a very serious tone that she’d had her gallbladder out recently but still wished Agatha the best. Mr. Jenkins warned against rushing things on the wedding night and suggested that Lawrence stop by to refill his Viagra prescription should the need arise. Little Henry Winston warned that his brother Larry was a big stinker and he was going to get it. The video included my cousin Althea reciting a poem she’d written just for the occasion.

  Memory Nuts by Althea Gordon

  Just as the squirrel gathers and stores nuts

  You must gather and store memories

  In your cheeks and later in your hole

  Where you’ll find the one you love

  Just as the crow gnaws on week-old carrion

  You must gnaw on your partner’s words

  Making sense of the nonsense and screaming