Endgame (7 page)

That's just bullshit
, he thought.
Fucking ghost story is what it is
.

He was about to go back inside when he heard something crashing in the bushes behind the building. He stood and looked off into the dense brush. Everything lay in deep shadow. The wind stirred in the upper branches like a miniature fury.

He turned the corner and went to investigate.

W
hen
Spike got back to the dining room, he found a plate of wobbly custard at his place at the table. He sat with a goofy grin and picked up a spoon.

“What the hell's this? Some kind of goodies for Spike?”

“We know you still like your sticky, sugary treats, Spike. Don't deny it,” Janice told him.

“Hell no. I'm not denying it,” he said, baring his teeth. “I'm going to gobble it all up, just like the Big Bad Wolf. Grrr!”

Just then David returned and sat. He took a bite of dessert then stopped and looked around the table. “I've lost my cellphone,” he said. “If anybody sees it, it's blue. It's important, so please let me know.”

“Do you need to make a call?” Noni asked. “I've got mine right here, if you need it.”

“No, no — it's just incoming calls I'm worried about. But thanks.”

“Any time.”

“Speaking of,” Verna said to the table at large. “Are there phones anywhere in this place? There were none in the rooms.”

“I noticed that, too,” said Spike. “A bit odd for a grand place like this not to have a phone system.”

Their eyes swept the room, but there was no trace of a landline.

“It's probably wireless,” David said. “A lot of modern places are these days. No fussing about with lines and jacks and whatnot.”

Max came in through the side door and stood looking over the gathering. He seemed to be counting heads.

“Are we all here?” he asked.

“I think so,” Janice said, glancing around. “Why?”

“Nothing. I just thought I heard someone crashing around in the bushes outside the cabin just now. I looked, but I couldn't see anyone.” He shrugged. “No biggie.”

“We saved you a treat,” Sami Lee told him, holding up the bowl of crème caramel. She ran her hands over the chair beside her. “Sit, honey.”

Sandra came through to collect the last of the plates.

“Sandra, honey,” Max said, glancing up from a spoonful of pudding. The custard plopped onto the table, though he didn't notice as he put the empty spoon into his mouth. “Do you know if we happen to be alone on the island or are there other cottages somewhere?”

She looked at him with a startled expression. “As far as I know, we're the only ones. I came over this morning with the first load of guests. You'd have to ask Edwards about that.”

When Edwards entered a few minutes later, Max put the same question to him.

“I'm fairly sure we're alone here,” he said, echoing Sandra. “It's a small island. If there were anybody else around, I think we'd know about it.”

Max's face registered curiosity. “How long have you been here?”

Edwards smiled reassuringly. “Since yesterday,” he said. “I had a quick look around then, though I haven't been thoroughly over the entire island.” He turned to the group. “Mr. Keill has a special treat for you,” he announced. “If you'd all like to follow me, Sandra will bring coffee in a moment.”

The sound of chair legs scraping the floor filled the air as everyone rose and followed Edwards to the drawing room. Noni paused at the threshold. He was feeling seasick again. Or else the Kina Lillet had been more powerful than he remembered. He waited till his stomach settled and then headed in.

A large screen had been placed in front of the stage, with eleven chairs set up before it. The guests sat and waited while Edwards fiddled with the DVD player.

“So what's all this about?” Max shouted to Edwards's bent figure as he knelt to connect the apparatus.

Edwards looked up. “Actually, I'm not sure. Mr. Keill instructed me to play this DVD after dinner once you'd got comfortable. He was definitely planning on being here for this, because he clearly asked for eleven chairs to be set out and there are only nine of you.”

“He sent another text message?”

Edwards shook his head. “Just a note saying to begin the presentation after dessert. Those were his original instructions from the beginning.”

He turned to Crispin, who sat in the corner of the room. “I'm sorry you won't be able to see this, sir,” he said.

Crispin waved an arm in the air. “Not entirely correct,” he said. “Although I am legally blind, I do have minimal vision in my left eye. I can make out shapes and colours, just not very distinctly, I'm afraid. I may have to interrupt once in a while to ask what's happening on the screen.”

Just then the screen flickered to life. The title held briefly:
Ladykillers — A Tale of Sordidness and Destruction.
Max cheered. The others laughed and murmured. The word “
STARRING
” rolled past as the original band members appeared, one by one, followed by their names. There was a moment of silence when the late Kent Stabber showed up, his face captured in a youthful grimace, though he went uncredited.

“Poor bastard,” Spike said, shaking his head.

The scene cut to a live performance at a cavernous club. The grinding of Max's electric guitar was undercut by the throbbing of Pete's bass and the late drummer's energetic rhythms. The camera turned to Spike, hands wrapped around a microphone as he snarled out the barely comprehensible lyrics of a song that seemed to be about police and guns and riots.

“That's the Purple Institution,” Spike called out over the sound.

“Yeah. It was that Christmas Eve concert we played. God, were we young then,” Max said, sounding wistful.

The music pounded on as Sami Lee suddenly appeared along with her name. She looked much the same then, vampirish and seductive, her face hidden beneath garish makeup.

“Beautiful, darling!” Max called out to the screen.

How old is she, anyway?
Peter wondered, though he didn't say it out loud.
She must be about a million.

The song ended as a Ladykillers classic started up: “The Twelve Days of Shagging,” sung to the tune of “The Twelve Days of Christmas.” Another joke tune Harvey persuaded them to record, though it had caught on quickly in the clubs to everyone's surprise.

Spike sang along to his recorded voice: “On the first day of shagging, my true love gave to me a love song full of hate. On the second day of shagging, my true love gave to me two silver bullets, and a love song full of hate. On the third day of shagging, my true love gave to me …”

The music continued as faces flashed across the screen. Suddenly it was like the old days again: there was Harvey Keill, stoned on something and smiling deliriously, followed by a clip of Crispin LaFey talking to someone off-camera, obviously unaware he was being filmed. Their names appeared in dark script beneath the shots.

“It's you, Crispin,” Max called out. “Good old Crispin.”

“Really?” Crispin seemed a little awestruck to hear this. “What am I doing in this video?”

“Haven't a clue,” Spike said. “Still don't know what the point of it all is.”

More faces crowded the screen. Next came Janice, a thinner version of her more fleshy counterpart today. The on-screen legend identified her as “Sarah Wynberg.” A shot of Noni Embrem followed, standing in a courtroom. His name, too, flashed onscreen.”

“Where did that come from?” Noni wondered aloud, without expecting an answer. In fact, he was more worried about containing the contents of his bowels, whose gurgling was becoming a little too insistent to ignore.

A party scene followed. A scrawny young man with a ten-inch Mohawk and safety pins piercing his eyebrows looked out from the screen as he tapped lines of cocaine onto a mirror. The lens zoomed in and he broke into laugher. He spoke to the camera operator, though his words went unrecorded.

“I think he just told us all to fuck off,” Janice said, laughing.

David shrank into his seat as the name “Newt Merton” faded in and out on-screen.

“Newt was our supplier,” Spike said. “That's the guy who went to prison. I haven't seen him in years. What's going on here?”

But no one had an answer.

The song continued as a much younger-looking Edwards appeared, serious and unsmiling, his thick black hair gelled and combed straight back.

“Hey, Edwards! Isn't that you?” Spike called out.

“I … yes, it is. What in the world …?” Edwards's real-life counterpart watched his former self in mute silence before slumping into one of the empty chairs. He sat there, shaking his head in bafflement as his name, “Jack Edwards” appeared.

Sandra entered the room with a tray of coffee and tea. She'd just begun to pour the first cup when she looked up in time to see her younger self flash across the screen, followed by her name: “Sandra Goodman.” She stifled a gasp, dropping the cup and saucer. It shattered on the tiles. With a murmur of dismay, she crouched and began to pick up the broken pieces.

The video continued. Another face flashed on screen — that of an effeminate-looking young man — and the name “Werner Temple.” Meanwhile, the song and its lyrics ground on. By the twelfth verse, nearly everyone had joined in:

“On the twelfth day of shagging, my true love gave to me twelve suicides, eleven stabbers stabbing, ten stranglers strangling, nine wasps a-stinging, eight poisoned needles, seven crystals shining, six bombers diving, five tongues of fire, four oceans to drown in, three evil Jujubes, two silver bullets, and a love song full of hate…!”

As they reached the song's climax, the room was abuzz in a roar of combined voices when the word “
MURDERERS
” appeared briefly then faded out again. On-screen, the band's instruments thrashed but, except for Crispin's, the singing in the room died instantly.

“What the hell is this?” Spike demanded.

A new face suddenly appeared on screen, that of a vivacious, smiling young woman. Sami Lee screamed.

“What the fuck is going on?” Max shouted.

“What's happened?” Crispin asked, startled by the sudden outburst.

“It's that girl!” Pete said, gasping for breath.

“What girl?” Crispin said. “Is someone here?”

The face, friendly and young, faded along with all the others. The words “
THE VICTIM
” appeared on screen and held a moment before fading out again. A final phrase followed: “
ALL THE MURDERERS WERE FOUND GUILTY AND SENTENCED TO DEATH
.” The song ended and the screen went black.

For a moment there was absolute silence in the room, then everyone started talking at once.

“What is going on here?”

“… who was that?”

“Is this some sick joke?”

“… a ridiculous game.”

“Will someone please tell me what the fuck is happening?”

“This is preposterous …”

“… in very bad taste.”

“Everyone shut up NOW!”

The final voice was Max's.

The chattering died. Holding the shattered pieces of the cup and saucer, Sandra sank into the last empty chair. The eleven people seated in the room looked at one another in bewilderment.

After a moment, Edwards stood and went to the DVD player. He looked at it as though it might yield some clue to the video they'd just watched. Then he flipped the switch and the screen died. He sat back down, holding his head in his hands.

“Where's Harvey?” Max demanded. “I want an explanation for this!” He turned to Edwards. “Where is your fucking boss?”

Edwards shook his head. “I don't know. He said he was coming. I haven't heard a word from him since he instructed me to start the video.”

“Well, when did you last see him?” Max insisted. “Was he in the village on the mainland?”

Edwards looked up with a strained expression. “I don't know. I … I've never met him.”

“What?” Max was incredulous. “You mean he hired you without meeting you in person?”

Edwards nodded.

“Why were you in the video?” Spike asked.

“I have no idea,” Edwards replied with a stunned look. “That footage was taken at a private party years ago. I didn't know Harvey Keill then, either. I have no idea how he got hold of it. I just applied last week for a job as a general handyman, cook, and boat driver. The ad was in a local paper that was left in my mailbox. It's the sort of job I've been doing here for the last few years. I sent off a letter with my resumé and got word by phone that I'd been hired and was to report immediately for Shark Island.”

“What about you?” Max said to Sandra. “Have you met him?”

The timid-looking woman shook her head fearfully. “Never,” she said in a whisper. “I was hired over the phone, too. Someone called to say I'd been recommended.”

“Who by?” Max asked.

“I don't know. He never said.”

Spike turned to the group. “I think Harvey's playing one of his very bad jokes on us …”

“It's not a joke if he's accusing us of murder,” Janice said in a subdued voice. “That's what I think.”