And Then They Were Doomed Read online

  The woman gave her an odd look. “What do you mean? There’s nothing. I want this to be a successful event—for our arts council. If I went too far, I’m sorry, but I think it’s going very well now.”

  “A lot of anger.”

  Mary shrugged and looked out the back window.

  “A lot of attacking each other’s scholarship,” Zoe said.

  Nothing from Mary.

  “And their names—they’re not real.”

  Mary relaxed. She almost smiled. “There’s nothing going on, Miss Zola. But if it makes you happy to think there’s something beyond the seen, well, go ahead. We only have a few days left. Please let me know if you come up with anything. I might use it for publicity for the series. Now, I have to cook. Emily’s out looking for mushrooms.”

  At the kitchen door, Zoe turned back to look hard at the woman she didn’t remember. “I don’t believe a word you’re telling me, you know. Are we playing out a version of And Then There Were None? Is that what you’re doing? You have cameras on us … I don’t know … A new version of the book? Oh, and the black-rimmed invitation—if you didn’t send it, who did? And your name—why do you need to be anonymous, Mrs. Lamb?”

  Mary made a gesture toward Zoe, then pulled her hand back.

  Zoe waited. Nothing. “What’s going to happen tonight?

  “A surprise. A wonderful surprise.”

  “Goodbye, Mary,” Zoe said. “I’m going to find the reason we’re here, you know. If that means you have to kill me, then I suggest you get on with it.”

  “I would never hurt you, Zoe.” Her face was sad. “I will only do what I have to do. Nothing more.”

  “And what is that—‘what you have to do’?”

  She didn’t answer.

  “Right now, I have the feeling that no one’s leaving Netherworld until whatever has to happen has happened.”

  Mary’s back stiffened, but she said nothing.

  At the door, Zoe had to ask, “Please tell me how you made it rain?”

  The woman didn’t turn.

  Zoe left her, shaking her head.

  Chapter 42

  Zoe fumbled for the handle of the screen door. She pushed and stepped over the threshold all at once, then turned, stomped across the porch and down the steps. She kept going, into a light rain, across the driveway, and out to the road she’d come in on.

  She ran her ungainly run until she couldn’t run anymore. The trees were still and dark. The leaves dripped a constant patter.

  The road was empty in both directions, but anyone could have been hiding, watching her.

  She heard the creek before she got there. Water still flowed unimpeded over what should have been the low bridge. The plank road lay beneath the fast-flowing water. She’d never make it through that way in her sandals. And if she did get across, where could she go? There’d been a house where they’d first turned in here. Maybe there were people … but what kind of people? It felt like enemy territory. No matter how far she got, it wouldn’t be far enough, not on her own.

  When Zoe turned back, she walked much slower. Maybe there were other roads or paths. That one she’d taken her first day, toward the river. There was still that one to try.

  Back in sight of the lodge, she hid among the trees to see if anyone was on the porch or standing at the front of the house—looking for her.

  No one was there. She could get back in … but …

  Keeping the lodge in sight, she moved from tree to tree, never taking her eyes off the building. No noise came from inside, and when she was around back, near the kitchen, no noise came from there either.

  She stepped out of the shadow of the lodge and ran as fast as she’d ever run for the woods beyond, along the path she’d taken when Louise—or whoever she was—had rescued her.

  When she was safe, she forced herself to calm down, to keep her mind on what she had to do and where she had to go. The river. Had to be the river. Maybe a boat.

  She couldn’t handle a boat. But she could follow the river out of there.

  The path curved, looked dangerous in places where the water had risen and lapped at both edges of the sand. Ahead of her, the path curved again and started downward.

  There was no choice but to keep going unless she hit the river and it was impassable, so far over its banks she would stumble into it—something she’d been afraid of for years, childhood nightmares of being in water, then sinking down to where she couldn’t see.

  At one curve, the path went straight again. She caught a glimpse of something large and dark ahead. Maybe a fallen tree is what she thought at first. And then she stopped because the dark thing was a house, a log house built low to the ground. The roof she’d seen from her room.

  Maybe there was a working phone inside.

  Maybe people. Renters. Caretakers.

  Maybe …

  * * *

  The old house was made of hand-hewn logs, with a moss-covered porch, a low front door so that most people, other than her, would have to stoop to get in. No rockers here. No sign of anyone.

  She ran to the porch and grabbed on to the railing. Maybe she could hide here until she was sure people from outside had come to rescue her.

  A single step. She could hide and rest and think before going all the way to the river.

  So many thoughts, she didn’t look up when she put her hand out for the door handle and shook it.

  When she did look up, Louise Joiner stood beyond the window, her hand holding the inside doorknob. Zoe heard the click of a lock.

  Her first instinct was relief. She began to smile until she realized Louise had locked the door on her.

  She stepped back until she reached the edge of the porch, then climbed down to the ground and stood a minute, waiting; maybe she’d been wrong, and Louise would fling the door open, and ask her to come in where it was safe.

  She didn’t.

  There was movement at one of the front windows; a curtain was pulled back. Leon stood there, bending forward to look out at Zoe, then hold still, staring at her with no expression on his face.

  She backed off the porch, then walked to the path, looking from side to side. Only once did she glance back to see Louise at the door, watching her.

  In a few yards, the path came to an end, and another one started off in another direction. She took that path because she had no choice. She didn’t run.

  * * *

  First she smelled the water—a cold, musky stink.

  Then the sound hit her, like rocks rolling down a mountainside. The sound grew until she saw the river ahead, water boiling over itself. Another turn in the path, and quieter water here at a bend, protected by a thicket of trees, some leaning, ready to topple.

  The path curved slightly. A blackened wooden pier was in front of her. A rising floor of old boards. It stretched out over the river, but on one side boards hung down into the water; a few of the supports on that side were gone. It didn’t look safe to walk on as the river smashed into it, and water leaped higher than the floor of old planks.

  She looked one way up the river. Rows of slanting trees hung out over the water rushing around a wide curve, turning abruptly toward the north.

  Behind her was the forest, with pools of standing water everywhere.

  There was no place to go. Her feet sank into the sand and water covered her shoes where she stood. She stepped up on to the pier; the boards held, but the whole thing groaned when the river hit it.

  She jumped back into the weeds and water and sloshed to where she’d come out of the forest. Maybe there was another path. One she’d missed that would take her out to a road where there were cars. And real human beings.

  She squished slowly back the way she’d come. One tired foot in front of the other.

  This path ended at the low cabin. No sound came from the house. No figures stood in the doorway or at the window.

  With her head down, she kept walking to the lodge, inside, then back across the reception room, with a trail of m
ud and sand and water behind her.

  She heard the door to the kitchen open.

  She didn’t look. Didn’t have to. Emily’s voice followed her up the stairs.

  “Lunch in half an hour, Miss Zola. Don’t be late.”

  Chapter 43

  Gewel stood at the top of the stairs, looking at her.

  Zoe would have stopped, but the shock of what she’d just seen made her pass Gewel by. She kept her head down and watched her feet move. There was no one she could trust. And no way to get out of there. Everything was illusion: what she thought, what she’d talked herself into, everyone she thought was normal. It was only as real as they let her believe.

  “How are you holding up?” Gewel, her hair uncombed, no makeup, said to Zoe’s back as she brushed past her.

  “A very long week.” Zoe said over her shoulder.

  “Only five days.”

  Zoe muttered to herself.

  “And this is Tuesday,” Gewel said.

  “Two days to go. We’ll never make it.”

  “Zoe!” Gewel’s voice followed her. “We have a surprise for tonight. A big one.”

  Zoe was at her door, feeling in her pockets for the old-fashioned key.

  “Zoe? Bella’s a medium, did you know that? Can you imagine? She does séances. That’s what we’re doing tonight. And who do you think she’s going to try and contact?”

  Zoe didn’t turn from her door. “Noah?”

  “No. Seriously. She’s going to try and reach Agatha Christie. Won’t that be exciting?”

  “Wow. Can’t wait.” She leaned her forehead against the door.

  “And for tomorrow, our last night, we’ll have Anthony’s Murder Games.” Gewel said, then asked, “What’s wrong, Zoe? Something happen?”

  Zoe hesitated with her key in the lock. “Nothing wrong, Gewel. I wish all of you a wonderful night—an amazing time. I’ll be asleep. I’m too tired.”

  “Zoe? What’s happened to you?”

  She closed the door behind her.

  She lay on the bed, closed her eyes, and fell asleep. Then someone shook her.

  * * *

  “Zoe.” Betty Bertram’s worried voice said as the hand gripped her. “It’s time for lunch.”

  Even the thought of being awake hurt. She opened her eyes to a long face, surrounded with streaked blond hair, hanging above her. To avoid being seen, Zoe covered her eyes with her arm.

  “Come on, Zoe. Bella sent me to get you.”

  “I’m not hungry.”

  “Then don’t eat. But you have to come to the table. You signed a contract.”

  Zoe moved her arm enough to see Betty, leaning above her. “Contract? I signed a contract that I have to eat? Crazy.”

  “No. No. You have to take part in all the planning. Things are being changed, and you have to be there.”

  Zoe thought back to anything she’d heard about change and remembered Gewel yelling something at her.

  She moved her arm and looked up. “Gewel said something about a séance tonight? Okay. I’ll be there.”

  “That’s not the way it works here, Zoe. You know that.”

  Zoe forced herself to roll to the side of her bed and sit up.

  “Never signed such a contract.”

  “But you have to get up.”

  She felt an arm around her waist and tiny Betty pulling at her.

  When she stood on her small, bare, cold feet, she shivered.

  “Ten minutes, Zoe. Emily said no more than ten minutes. They’re holding lunch until you get down there.”

  The woman was gone. Zoe found her suitcase on the closet floor and opened it. She dumped the clothes to the floor and pawed through her things until she had a clean white shirt with a big red heart embroidered on the back. Jeans—not too clean, but she’d only brought two pairs with her. Underwear. No socks. She would wear her sandals.

  After dressing, she took her brush from her makeup case and ran it over her hair. When she was ready, she took a deep breath. With no car she couldn’t get away. With no Jenny, no Lisa, no Tony coming for her, all the forest beyond the window was as wide and impenetrable as the strongest fence.

  She had to go to lunch and then to the webinar. She would take part in everything they ordered her to take part in. Two days to go, and she knew things the others didn’t. Or didn’t want to know.

  All of them? she asked herself as she very quietly stepped into the hall. The sound of voices—indistinct—came from below.

  * * *

  One step at a time until she got to the Copper Room.

  Someone laughed. “You sure can sleep, Zoe.”

  It was Anna Tow, laughing at her.

  “I went for a walk this morning.” She smiled and talked until she got to her end of the table, hoisted herself into place, and looked from face to face close by. Her eyes were still bleary, seeing only eyes and then noses and moving mouths.

  She was soon in conversation with first Anna, at one side of the table; then Nigel, who wanted to know what she thought of the séance idea; and then Mary, who was saying nobody had approved it yet. And then, in the middle of all of that, an argument grew until Aaron stood angrily and said he wouldn’t have agreed to come here if he’d known it was to be about such nonsense.

  “I don’t …” Zoe started but was then unsure of what she was against.

  “Look.” Anthony was on his feet too. “We all have some concerns with things going on here. We’ve had people come up missing. Been without the internet. Anna and Betty swear Agatha Christie is haunting them. Bella says she’s done séances before and offered to contact Agatha’s spirit.”

  “What if we don’t like her?” Gewel asked.

  Gewel and Anthony were giggling when Bella entered with the first of the lunch dishes, a platter of mashed and buttered squash.

  “I don’t have to do it, ya know,” she said while setting the platter down with a thump. “Don’t have to do anything. It’s just that, since I was born, I’ve had this gift, and I’m willin’ to use it if ya need me.”

  “Imagine if she is here.” Betty’s face was pale. “What a story it would make. Newspapers. TV. This place would be famous. People would flock to the programs. We’d be known worldwide.”

  “And we could ask her directly if we were right about that second husband. Max. And if she ever loved him or just wanted to travel through the Middle East, writing her stories.”

  “And what about when she got amnesia, or whatever it was, after her first husband left her for another woman? We’d have firsthand research.” Anna’s eyes were big.

  “Do you women care about nothing but gossip?” Aaron sniffed. He crossed his arms.

  “What does it matter?” Zoe smiled from one to the other. “Two days and we’ll all be gone.”

  The others took her remark as agreement. They laughed and talked as they dug into Bella’s stuffed meatloaf with the buttered squash, which did nothing for Zoe’s rolling stomach, so she sat, listened, ate nothing beyond the first forkful, and kept nodding.

  * * *

  First they had to help Nigel through a rehearsal. He was nervous about this webinar thing, getting his talk down; then they discussed what they could bring in to back him up and then their questions.

  “Better questions than before, I hope. Solid questions that will lead our online guests to be more interesting. I can’t do everything, you know.” He looked away.

  It would be an interesting event, they assured him.

  “Don’t forget your notebook, Zoe,” Nigel reminded her as the webinar was about to begin. “You’ll have plenty of my quotes for Thursday.”

  * * *

  Nigel wasn’t boring, as she’d expected. His talk on “The Lost People of Soldier Island” plodded through a series of interesting facts on Soldier Island and then about a train trapped by snow in the wilderness.

  Zoe made a few notes, then doodled in her notebook. She hoped for good questions from their audience. One young man named Arizona John alw
ays gave her decent quotes and would again

  She doodled circles with faces in her notebook when she thought there was enough to say about Nigel. Her first circle was Gewel, wearing a veil, her distinctive, almond-shaped eyes flirting. Anna, with an unhappy look, staring at Nigel. She drew a blue bow in Nigel’s mustache. A red bow taped to the bald spot on Aaron’s head. Emily Brent in a helmet. Mary Reid was sad.

  When Emily Brent frowned her way she quickly filled in each circle, feeling spied upon.

  A séance ahead, gathering for a happy hour with Agatha’s ghost.

  Cocktails. One of them would drink too much.

  Later, at dinner, someone would start an argument, probably over the séance.

  And tomorrow? Aaron Kennedy would tear into poor Agatha Christie then—ah yes, murder games. Thursday morning she would tie the webinar all together, make sense of it, and they would all say goodbye and be on their way—as if it never happened.

  A shame. An end to all the good times they’d been having.

  Chapter 44

  Zoe was tired and in no mood for a silly séance, but they’d given her no option except to attend. Anyway, she felt more and more that she had to keep watch.

  If they had anything planned for her, it had to happen soon.

  She didn’t change her clothes. Didn’t wash her face. She brushed her hair, put on her shoes, and went down to find join the others on their way to the séance.

  In the hall, Betty came from behind, took Zoe’s arm, and squeezed it. “I’m so excited. Can you imagine? What if Bella contacts her?”

  “Agatha will probably disapprove,” Anna Tow groused, from ahead of them.

  “Why? There’s been nothing but homage here.” Betty pulled a long face.

  “You’ve heard Aaron. He makes fun of her. Can you imagine what she’ll say to that?” Anna said. “Talk about a woman’s wrath!”

  Gewel knocked into Zoe’s small body on the way to a seat, almost tipping her over. “Sorry. I’m so excited.”

  * * *

  The floor-to-ceiling curtains were pulled across the windows, making the room dark except for one floor lamp lighted in a corner. The table was pushed to one wall, the chairs placed in a circle.