The Murder Games

CHAPTER 8

When Cara and I arrive in the dining room, Simon and Isabel are sitting on the other side of the long table, leaving one last spot for a guest next to them. Not long after we take a seat across from them, the lights dim to a comfortable level, somewhere in the neighborhood of not-so-bright. Kinda gives the room an inviting atmosphere, that is until the butler enters from the kitchen and stands guard by the door. As he surveys the arriving guests the feel of the room takes on a more ominous air. It has everything to do with his beady eyes and pinched brow, as if he's concentrating on passing the vibe on to us, to let us know he's watching.

Next to arrive, the younger man and the redhead enter the dining hall, their eyes peering around the room, checking out the setting, the butler, and of course, those of us already sitting. Before he takes a seat on the other side of the table next to Isabel, the man rolls up the sleeves of his white button-up and surveys each of us in turn, his dark eyes asking questions I'm certain none of us know the answer to. I can't help but notice his black hair, which is gelled into a perfect wave. He's handsome—something else I can't help but observe—and he seems a little arrogant by the way his bottom lip sags and the way his eyes seem to be judging each person in turn.

The redhead sits across from him next to Cara. With everyone present, three on each side of the table, I suspect it's time for the festivities to begin. But first...

I look across at the young man, who has to be the same age as me, and clear my throat to get his attention. "What's your name?"

"Excuse me?"

"I'd like to know what everybody here goes by—that way I can stop thinking of you as that guy. Or that dude."

His eyes flick up to the butler's. He seems about to give an answer when his mouth locks up. I mean, it looks like his blood runs as cold as ice and his tongue forgets how to form a word. He squirms in his seat and mutters under his breath, "Maybe later." He clutches his hands together and hides them under the table, peering straight ahead, making eye contact with the redhead. I'm surprised he managed a reply at all.

Cara shrugs. "That's odd."

"I think it's disturbing." I lean in and catch the redhead's eye on the other side of Cara. "How about your name?"

"After dinner. Maybe..." She glances away.

"Okay. I guess there's more going on here than what everyone is letting on. I just wish I could figure it out."

"Don't worry," Cara says. "The truth will come to light sooner or later."

I wish I had her optimism. Before I have a chance to say or do anything else, the server pushes through the swinging door with a tray full of salad plates. With evident skill, she moves our dinner plates aside and replaces our empty salad dishes with full ones. The table settings are for display until each course is brought out. Makes sense if the people behind our abduction want to create the proper illusion. Huh. That word, illusion, sets off a spark in my brain. I can't put my finger on what's going on yet, but maybe that's what all this is, a carefully orchestrated...

I look up when Tom, the copilot and handyman, enters through the archway coming from the rear relaxation room. His fingers clutch an envelope with a wax seal on the back, but from where I sit, I can't make out the symbol that had been molded into it.

"Good evening, everyone." His mouth forms a welcoming grin. "I hope each of you makes yourself at home. After all, this is a vacation getaway of sorts, and you are guests who are fortunate enough to be here."

Tom seems to be a spokesperson for his employer, to go along with his other duties. I glance across the dinner table at Simon and Isabel, who might be married, or at least in a relationship with each other, and notice their body language doesn't add up. They don't catch each other's gaze or draw close to each other, or offer reassuring touches like lovers do. They seem edgy like they're uncomfortable around each other and with the situation they find themselves in. Their names strike me as familiar and their appearances too, but I've never met them in my life. Upon seeing me observing them, Simon reaches over and grabs Isabel's hand, places it on the tabletop, clear for all to see, and gives her fingers a gentle squeeze. His significant other flashes her eyes wide at him, nodding with a nervous smile at his sudden display of affection. Despite her attempt to appear at ease with his touch, I can tell she's anything but comfortable, which strikes me as suspicious.