I’ve heard gunshots before, but there’s nothing quite like a single shot ringing out in a silent dining room.
No one moved in the seconds after Fawn pulled the trigger—save for our eyes, which moved in unison to Forrest’s chest, looking for any sign of blood blossoming from that spot across from his heart.
But, none came.
Fawn unclenched her tightly shut eyelids, and examined the revolver, a curious expression on her face. Her skin paled as she saw what we all soon did—
Instead of a bullet, protruding from the barrel of the gun was a tiny flag. It was red, the same scarlet as the letters in the jars. It read, in stark white lettering:
BANG!
It was like something out of an old cartoon, which was disturbing on its own, even amidst the relief of discovering that the final shot had been a blank.
Fawn stared vacantly as William gingerly removed the cold metal from her trembling hands. As he turned it over, I could see that there was smaller writing on the back of the flag.
“Let grief Convert to anger,” William read, “blunt not the heart, enrage it.”
“Macbeth,” Wendy said softly, and William nodded. We let the quote reverberate throughout the room, the full sentiment of it sinking deeply into each of us.
“How do you even know that?” Ander asked incredulously, but Wendy didn’t answer. Perhaps she was busy considering the same unfortunate truth that had only then come to me:
Whoever was orchestrating this knew how the game of roulette would end—that one of the twins, in the wake of learning the full truth, wouldn’t be able to resist spending the last bullet on the other.
It was reassuring, at least, to know that Fawn hadn’t broken the rules after all.
But still, knowing secret information about each of the party’s attendants was one thing—but being able to correctly guess how their minds would react in a tense situation is something else entirely.
Unless, of course, the twins were behind all of this.
Forrest, clearly shaken, raised a hand, and pressed it against the spot on his chest where we had all expected a wound to be. He looked at his sister. His voice was quiet and empty. “You would have done it."
Fawn slowly started to shake her head. “No, I—I wasn’t...” she started, but, realizing there was no real defense she could make for herself, instead fell silent.
William, however, wasn’t listening to the words being exchanged. Instead, he absentmindedly took a seat on the side of the table, his attention focused on the revolver and flag in his hands. “It’s interesting,” he said, “that the perpetrator would choose to quote Macbeth.”
“I thought so too,” Greta said, taking the seat next to him.
“Why is that?” Wendy asked.
William smiled softly. “Regis loved Shakespeare. He has a complete anthology of his work in his study.” I felt a pang of sadness at William’s sudden tenderness—it was easy to forget, amongst all of this, that he was closer to Regis than anyone. Even after all this time, it can’t be easy to be here, with a group of mostly strangers, rooting through his things.
“And a bust,” Greta said suddenly. “A bust of Shakespeare. It was always such a pain to dust, the rare few times I’d been allowed to clean in Mr. Hannigan’s study.” Somehow, I had completely forgotten that Greta had been Regis’ housekeeper.
“It could be a coincidence,” William said, “but I have the overwhelming feeling that nothing this person does is unintentional. I suggest we search the study.”
Wendy nodded, as did I. The twins remained at either end of the table, both still shocked at what had transpired between them. “Fawn, Forrest,” William said quietly. Neither twin turned their attention towards the man, their gazes locked on each other. “I suggest you stick with the group.”
Though they seemed mentally detached, they got up from the table with the rest of us, and followed as we made our way to the study.
They seemed to be in shock, and to be honest, I was sort of glad.
I knew I was distrusted in this group, and I frankly didn’t trust any of them either. It felt best to keep my knowledge of the tape I had received as close to the chest as possible. And if Fawn and Forrest were too distracted with their own drama to speak out about it, then that may buy me some more time to figure things out.
Although the rest of the house was clean and precise, like a movie set from a Victorian period piece, the study was a bit different. It looked as though it had been used by a madman—papers covered every surface, open books with extinguished candlesticks balanced on their pages—even though Regis had been dead for decades, it looked as though he could still be doing work at his desk this very evening.
William let out a heavy sigh when we entered the room. “I’ve kept this room closed off since Regis’ death. As long as I could. I knew whoever inherited the place would open the door eventually, I just...” He trailed off.
“There’s the bust,” Greta said, pointing to the half-hidden marbled profile that was only slightly visible through an open newspaper that covered its face. She dug it out and held it. “What now?”
“Check around where it was,” Wendy said, moving towards the desk and rummaging through the papers, causing William to wince. The twins stood in the doorway, neither offering to help, nor speaking to one another.
“Wait,” Greta said suddenly. She shook the bust in her hands. “I think... I think it might be in here.”
We gave her a wide berth. Then, she smacked the edge of the bust against the ground.
The bottom of the marble crumbled away with a sharp crack. Then, a gleaming, brass canopic jar slid out of the bust, and onto the floor. We all stared at it for a moment, the question hanging heavy in the air—who’s jar would this be?
Greta used her hand to wipe away some of the rocky dust that had obscured the photograph on the jar’s surface. Then, when the face came into view, she quickly jerked her hand back, as though something had bitten her. And it was clear to see why.
Greta’s picture was on the jar.
She let out a small sound, like a whimper of fear, or else disappointment. The rest of us looked at her with a pity, and from Wendy, Ander, and William, a bit of relief.
“It’s a shame about the bust,” she said shakily, nudging the broken pieces with her foot. It seemed as though she was stalling, no doubt dreading whatever the things contained within the jar would reveal. “One less part of the inheritance.”
To my surprise, Ander gave out a short, involuntary laugh. “That’s so weird. I had actually forgotten why we had come here in the first place.” Then, he looked to William. “You never told us who inherited Uncle Reggie’s property.”
“It won’t matter if we’re all dead by the end of tonight,” Wendy said bitterly.
William shook his head. “I’m afraid I don’t know myself. That information is in a sealed envelope in the parlor. I was instructed by Regis to open it at this very party, after the unwrapping, and no sooner.” Then, his eyes widened a bit. “Actually, someone better go fetch that. It’s the only copy I have. Someone could tear it up, and then Regis’ final will would be lost.” He turned to me, and the two figures beside me. “Sam, why don’t’ you, Forrest and Fawn go look? Maybe give them a chance to cool off."
“Safety in numbers,” I said back, though I had an uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach.
I walked in silence back to the parlor, the twins trailing behind me. My eyes kept flitting to check each corner, to ensure that they hadn’t reconciled just in time to plan my murder.
Back in the parlor, I started looking around, searching for the envelope that William had described. Fawn began to search too, but Forrest didn’t move.
“I don’t see anything,” I said, after checking the surfaces of the tables.
“Me neither,” Fawn answered. She glared at Forrest, who appeared to be staring into the fireplace, at the last bit of goo that hadn’t been scraped up and served to Graham. “You’re no help,” she said to her brother, in a low, malice-filled voice. Still, the other twin said nothing.
I moved over to the sarcophagus, and knelt down. William had been standing right beside it, it wasn’t too far of a stretch for it to have fallen from his person and under the podium that held the golden casket.
As I peered into the small crack of darkness between the piece of furniture and the carpet, I did something I’d been trying to avoid—I thought. I thought about what was going to happen if we didn’t find the jars in time, what sort of terrible punishment this lunatic would have waiting for us at dawn. We had found Jar #1, which had been Graham’s, and Jar #4, which had been Forrest and Fawns—they’d just found Greta’s, so we’d see what number hers is when she was done opening it in the other room—
Uh oh.
Just then, it hit me.
The note that William had read said that there would be seven jars we would need to find over the course of the night. Seven jars, with each jar being attributed to one of the seven guests that were also included on the list: William, Graham, Greta, Fawn, Forrest, Ander, and Wendy.
Except, Fawn and Forrest shared a jar that was assigned a single number, Jar #4.
Meaning that there was going to be one for a guest that wasn’t on the original invite list.
In other words, I’d realized that I might very well have some atonement in store.
I stayed on the ground, staring deep into the empty chasm. There was no envelope there, but I wasn’t ready to come up yet. I certainly wasn’t sure if I should tell anyone, but the total number of secrets I was keeping from the rest of the group was piling higher and higher.
“There’s nothing under here—” I started to say, but I was interrupted by a strange series of noises.
Schleck.
There was a soft, wet sound, followed by the gust of air being sharply exhaled.
I brought my head up.
Forrest was still standing by the fireplace, but I could see now that he hadn’t been staring at the residue of Graham’s last meal coagulated in the ash—no, he had his gaze fixed on the fire pokers that stood in a stand next to it. The same stand that I had tripped over at the beginning of all of this, that led to me finding the first jar.
Only, not all of them were in the stand.
Instead, one was in Forrest’s grasp, his arm pointed straight out, and the tip emerging scarlet from the right side of Fawn’s back.
---
Credits
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