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 Two
Fan fiction By Ronin S. Oath
They unpacked in a rush, and Rachel flung open the door of their new bedroom. She stopped with her hand on the knob, the cold brass key touching her fingertips, and for a moment Conan stared at her, a peculiar chill shivering around the back of his neck.
'Stop that!' Rachel told herself. 'It's not just a key. It's an ornament... maybe an interior decorator's attempt to try to carry out a theme in this yucky castle. Big deal. Nobody locks doors inside a house.'
But it didn't matter what she told herself. Rachel grasped the key and turned it in the lock, feeling it grind and grate until there cam a deep and final click, then shoved the key into the hip pocket of her jeans and, smiling at Conan, took off down the winding stairs. She had to talk to someone... She needed to hear a human voice.
Now, as they made their way down the staircase to the landing, their footsteps muffled by the thick carpet, they took their time, listening for the sound of another human begin, but the house was silent.
For the first time, Conan paid attention to his surroundings. From his vantage point on the landing he could look down on the immense entry hall and get a good view of part of the living room as well. And he was amazed to see that the house was cluttered with museum-like stuff. Besides all the heavily framed paintings on the walls, there were wood carvings or animals and people, all kinds of big and little statues, glazed pottery bowls, china plates, and even a crystal bear which sat on a table near a window. Souvenirs from their travels? Gifts from royalty?
As they turned away from the railing Conan's attention was caught by a pedestal which was tucked into the deep angle of the landing. A burnished gold vase with a rounded lid stood on the pedestal, and he stepped closer to examine it as Rachel kept going. The vase was close to two feet high and about ten inches in diameter, with a wide base. It was graceful, curved and heavily ornamented with designs and markings that looked like scrunched-up little faces.
Conan reached out his hand to touch the lid, but someone spoke close to his ear, startling him. He jumped and the vase wobbled, but he caught it in time.
"Are you looking for something?"
Conan turned to see a tall man dressed in dark pants and a white jacket. He was staring down at him with a bland, noncommittal expression, and Conan easily recognized him as a butler.
"I'm Conan," Conan said, playing the 'little kid' act. "I'm here with Rachel! I was looking at this vase."
"That's not a vase, Mr. Conan," he said. "It's a burial urn."
"Oops." Conan took a step away from it. "Someone's in there?"
"Not to my knowledge," he said. "Considering that the urn dates back quite a few centuries and has undoubtedly traveled though many hands, I would assume that by this time it is empty."
That was not a pleasant thought... Someone thought their ashes would be tucked away in the urn forever, and what happened? Someone carrying the urn tripped? Opened it in a windstorm? Dropped it through an open door? Gross! If his ashes had been lost so carelessly, Conan would be angry enough to come back and haunt the urn.
Conan took another uneasy step away from the urn... After all he if could return to his child body, who's to say that their aren't ghost? "Mr. uh-uh-"
"My name's Walter," he said.
"Walter, that urn isn't haunted, is it?" Conan asked like a scared little child.
"I believe there is some sort of legend to that effect," Walter answered, "but you will have to ask Mr. Augustus about it. I do not believe in ghost." He became more businesslike as he added, "Is there anything else that I can do of you?"
"Yes," Conan said as he shot another uneasy glance around the empty room. Where had Rachel gone? "Can you tell me where Mrs. Augustus is?"
He gave a slight nodded and answered, "I'll take you to the sun-room."
Conan trotted down the stairs after the butler and followed him across the entry hall towards the back of the house.
The sun-room was formal and just as over decorated as the rest of the house, but it had large windows framed by sheer curtains and heavy drapes. The windows overlooked and uneven landscape of grasses, low shrubbery, and wild-twisted oaks which led steeply down to the sea. Thea was seated in a heavy wicker chair, her back to the window and facing Rachel.
As Conan came in the two looked up and Thea placed a delicate china teacup on the silver tray which rested on the low table in front of her. "Hello, Conan dear," she said, "I'm sorry you had to meet Mr. Augustus as abruptly... He can be a little frightening if you aren't use to him."
"It was my fault," Rachel told her. "I couldn't wait. That is, he's so famous, and he's such a great writer, and I know you would have made the introductions easier." Rachel shrugged and added, "Dad keeps telling me that I jump into things without stopping to think."
Thea smiled. "Impulsive is the word."
As Conan sat in a chair, Rachel stretched out her legs and sighed. "Impulsiveness says it all. I guess that's something I'll have to watch out for in my writing."
Thea reached over and patted her knee. "Be patient with yourself. Becoming a published writer takes years and years of practice and experience. Do you think that Mr. Augustus had immediate success?"
Her question caught Rachel by surprise. "Why, yes," she said. "He did, didn't he? His first book won that literary award and boom!"
"His fourth book," Thea corrected. "The first three were rejected many times." Then, suddenly, Thea changed the subject- "I'm sorry, too, that Mr. Augustus moved you to the tower room. I know it's small and unhandy, but since he's assigned the other rooms to his guest-"
"Please don't apologize," Rachel interrupted. "The tower room is a really- uh- interesting room. I like it."
Thea paused; accepting the polite fib, then picked up a teacup in one hand and a sliver teapot in the other and asked, "Would you like a cup of tea, Conan?"
"Huh? Oh... yes, thank-you," Conan answered. He'd rather have a soft drink, but he supposed that tea was ok. Thea handed him a cup and saucer, and Conan noticed that there was another cup and saucer on the tray. "Is Mr. Augustus going to join us?"
Thea took a sip and went on to explain, "The extra cup is for Laura Reed. She arrived this morning, and she'll be joining us at any minute."
"Laura reed?" Rachel nearly dropped her cup. "You don't mean the movie star, do you?"
"The very same," Thea answered.
"Hello, Thea."
Rachel rose to her feet as Laura Reed glided into the room. Maybe she expected flashing lights and little twinkle stars and a mink coat and a sparkly dress... She didn't expect what she saw: a pretty but quite woman who wore no makeup. Her blonde hair hung straight and heavy around her face, and she was dressed in a simple white blouse and navy blue jeans.
Thea introduced them and Laura took both of Rachel's hands and looked into her eyes as she smiled shyly. Shyly? A movie star? She reminded Rachel more of a mouse! "I'm so very pleased to meet you," Laura murmured in a voice all sleepily whispery and throaty.
"Thank-you," Rachel answered. "I'm pleased to meet you, too."
Laura had seated herself, so Rachel quickly sat down too, picked up her cup, and tried to sip as nonchalantly as Laura and Thea... and Conan.
They chatted for a few minutes, mostly about old friends and old parties. Conan didn't know most of the people they were talking about, and was a little more disappointed that things we're turning out to be as exciting as he'd hoped they'd be. His attention began drifting away, but it quickly returned when Laura put down her cup and asked, "Thea, you must tell me... Why am I here?"
Thea's eyes widened. "Why are you here? I don't understand, Laura. You were invited to Mr. Augustus's weekend party, and you came."
Laura shook her head impatiently. "Party? I'd hardly call it that!"
"But Mr. Augustus said..."
Laura Reed sighed and leaned back against the plumply cushioned sofa. "Obviously, you don't know either."
"Know what?" Now it was Thea's turn for impatience. "Laura, please explain what you mean."
"Very well," Laura said. "Mr. Augustus wrote, asking me to be here. No... He didn't ask. He told me to come. He said there would be a game in which I'd be one of the chief players. His exact words were, 'If you don't take part, you'll soon regret it.'" Laura leaned forward, her golden eyes trained on Thea like Piercing spotlights. "I came because I was afraid to ignore his threat."
"You must be mistaken, Laura," Thea said, paling. "Surely, Mr. Augustus would never threaten his friends."
"Friends?" Laura whispered. "I'd hardly say we were friends."
Conan thought about what Laura told them, and he had to agree with her and not with Thea. What Mr. Augustus had written to Laura Reed sounded like a threat to him...
To Be Continued