Disclaimer: Case Closed and its characters is not mine and will never be mine. I don't have any money so don't sue!

Murder Game

Chapter One

Fan fiction By Ronin S. Oath

Rachel clung to the heavy oak door for support, terrified of the old man seated behind one of the cluttered desk. His Gargoyle eyes- magnified by thick lenses- were huge, wet shimmers in a pale, shiny-bald head, and he hunched into a tight, stoop-shouldered ball as though at any minute he'd fling out moldy wings and swoop toward her and Conan. "What do you think you're doing here?" he snapped.

As long as Rachel could remember, Mr. Augustus had been famous as one of the country's greatest literary novelist, and was almost as well known for his well-publicized socializing with emperors, kings, presidents and a lot of people with tons of money. She had expected to meet the Mr. Augustus with the charming smile and elegant manner- the one she'd seen in so many photographs- but the Mr. Augustus who glared at her and Conan from behind his desk was a much older, scowling, mean-tempered person, and she was clearly shocked.

Conan tried his best to smile but couldn't make it, and began to sweat. Whether it was from the nervous feeling in his gut or because of the heat from the smoldering fire in the huge fireplace behind him, he didn't know.

"I... I'm Rachel and this is Conan," Rachel stammered.

"I didn't ask who you are," he snapped. "I asked what you're doing here."

'Good question,' Conan thought as he looked up at Rachel.

Rachel was beginning to wonder herself, but she took a deep breath and started over. "I'm here because I'm Detective Moore's daughter." His scowl didn't waver, and Rachel wondered if he knew what she meant. "Thea's niece... I suppose I should have waited for her to introduce us, but I couldn't wait to meet you. You're the reason I'm here. I mean, I've heard a lot about Catalina Island and Avalon, and the great beach and the music, and 'island of romance' and all that." His face was crinkling like a dark purple prune, so Rachel quickly added, "but the main reason for my coming is you, Mr. Augustus. I asked Aunt Thea if I could come for a visit before school begins again, because I'm pretty sure I'm going to be a writer, but I don't think I can do it without help, and I brought some stories... I'd be so grateful if you'd read them and tell me if I really have any talent and give me some advice..."

Mr. Augustus exploded from his chair and scuttled around his desk. "Stop that foolish prattle!" he screeched.

Conan realized that he was short, too, and that surprised him. It was hard to think of a literary giant as short, but Mr. Augustus was definitely short. The man was hardly 5'6!

Still maintaining a tight grip on the edge of the door, Rachel mumbled, "I know I talk too much when I get nervous, and I'm really nervous meeting you, Mr. Augustus."

"Then go home," he said.

"We can't," Rachel told him, although at the moment she wished with all her heart that she could. She hadn't been asked to come... She begged her father... She pleaded.

"Young lady," Mr. Augustus said, "I invited you to leave. The correct response would have been 'I will,' not 'I can't.' What do you mean by saying 'I can't'?"

"I mean that because we were coming here my father decided to take a trip he's always wanted to go to the Grand Cayman Islands. That means no one's home, and Dad would be really mad if we went home and lived there alone for two weeks, only we couldn't anyway, because we've got one of those nonrefundable airline tickets and not enough money to get another one, and then there's the matter of food, because all I've got is spending money and..."

Mr. Augustus grimaced as he reached out and grabbed Rachel, his bony fingertips digging into her arms. "I have better plans than entertaining you," he said. "I'm hosting a house party this coming weekend for some very important people, and you'll just be in the way."

"Aunt Thea didn't tell me of a party," Rachel answered.

"Thea didn't know about it."

"Maybe you should've have told her," Conan suggested helpfully, and tried to smile. "You can't blame her for telling us to come and visit, if she didn't know you'd be planning something else."

Rachel quickly added, "Look, we'll stay out of the way while your party's going on. I promise. You won't even know we're here."

Augustus let go of Rachel's arm, and she rubbed it as he stood there silently, looking as if he were thinking over what she'd said. Finally his pupils, swimming like fat fish in goldfish bowls, focused on Rachel. "What room did Thea put you in?"

"It's a big room," Rachel told him. "It's got a huge bed with a dark red spread and a canopy and red carpeting and French doors that open onto a balcony."

"I suppose you'll have to remain on the island, but you can't sleep in that room. It's reserved for Buck Thompson."

"Buck Thompson? You mean the network sportscaster? The guy who does all those shoes commercials with little kids?" Rachel asked with shock.

Mr. Augustus's only answer was a sneer of disgust in her direction. He strode towards the fireplace and yanked on a long, thin piece of tapestry that hung on the wall next to it.

Suddenly a voice spoke up behind them. "Yes, Mr. Augustus?"

Rachel and Conan hadn't heard anyone approach, and both jumped, Conan whirling around to face a slightly plump woman who wore no makeup and whose streaked grey hair was pulled back tightly and knotted at the base of her neck. She was dressed in a navy blue cotton dress with a high neck and long sleeves and looked exactly like what she probably was- a housekeeper.

"Mrs. Engstrom, this is the daughter of Detective Moore and her friend," Mr. Augustus said, leaving off Rachel's and Conan's name as though it weren't important. "Due to Mrs. Augustus's carelessness in not asking my plans, this young woman and child will be our house guest for a brief period of time. They have wrongly been assigned to the Red Room, so please escort them to the tower room at the end of the south wing."

Rachel smiled at Mrs. Engstrom, but she didn't smile back. She gave them the briefest glance and said to Mr. Augustus, "The tower room is quite small and off to itself, sir."

"The other bedrooms will be occupied. Take her things to the tower room," he said with emphasis. "That will be all, Mrs. Engstrom."

She nodded and turned, and Rachel quickly followed, followed by Conan.

Mr. Augustus was the most disagreeable, obnoxious man Rachel had ever met! And it made her angry that people read his written words that rippled and tumbled and fell like beautiful waterfalls one on top of the other, and thought that because he wrote such wonderful stories he must be a wonderful person. It wasn't fair!

Conan had to trot to keep up with Mrs. Engstrom and Rachel as he followed them across the massive entry hall with its large black and white diamond-shaped tiles, careful not to trip on the edges of the oriental rugs that were scattered over the floor. They went up the sweeping, carved stairway, the sounds of their footsteps lost in the heavy carpeting, and turned left, hurrying down the hall to the Red Room. There was no sigh of Thea.

"Which is Aunt Thea and... Mr. Augustus's room?" Rachel asked Mrs. Engstrom.

"Your aunt's room is the one nearest the head of the stairs," she answered. "Mr. Augustus's is directly across the hall from the one we are in."

Rachel and Conan gathered up their suitcases and backpacks, glad that they hadn't unpacked, and again followed the silent Mrs. Engstrom down the hallway, which held clusters of small, low-watt light bulbs.

Mrs. Engstrom stopped outside the last door and threw it opened then stood to one side. Instead of the room they expected, they saw a narrow, curving flight of stairs. "It's just a short flight," she told them, "but the stairs are steep, and my knees aren't what they used to be. If you don't mind, I won't follow you."

"I don't mind," Rachel said, and smiled at her again. "By the way, my name is Rachel and this is Conan."

Mrs. Engstrom nodded, but she didn't smile in return. What a household! At least Aunt Thea would be glad that they were here.

Conan shifted his suitcase into his other hand and edged into the stairway.

"I'm sorry," Mrs. Engstrom murmured. When Rachel shifted around to tell her not to be, she was already down the hall.

The stairs made only a half circled and ended at an equally narrow door that was arched on top. A large brass key protruded from the key hole. Feeling something like Alice in Wonderland and hoping that she wouldn't shrink, Rachel turned the key, pushed opened the door, and entered the tower room.

It was perfectly round, including the part of it that was partitioned off for a tiny bathroom. Inside the room there was only enough space for one twin-size bed, a small chest of drawers, and a chair. They dropped their suit case and backpacks on the bed and Rachel walked to the narrow windows that ringed the outer curve of the room. Beyond, in the distance, laid the sea, but the view was marred by the bars set into the stone.

To Be Continued...