Delphiniums and Deception Page 10

  I looked around, hoping for someone else to step forwards but no one did. I was the sacrificial lamb. “I’m really not that experienced…” I muttered, stepping towards the screen with dread in the pit of my stomach. Whatever forfeit I’d face if all the lives were lost, I was sure it would be something worse than a glitter explosion. That had been this morning’s challenge when the day had been starting on a lighter note (murder aside). There was something about this task that felt like the consequences of failure would be much worse.

  I took a deep breath and studied the flowers in front of me. The ones I’d been sure of had already been sorted when I’d staked my reputation on their placements. Now I was left with a whole bunch of maybes.

  I got the first three right.

  The fourth one got the buzzer and another life vanished. The fifth one followed. We were down six lives with four remaining. I tried some more combinations, and got a few right, but two more lives went down the hatch. I had two more chances before my luck ran out.

  I felt a drop of sweat drip down the back of my neck as I sensed all eyes watching me, willing me to get it right. I moved the worryingly generic ‘ornamental grasses’ into October’s bouquet and breathed a sigh of relief when the progress bar showed 100% for that particular arrangement. I was left with two bouquets - March and December, that needed finishing and a whole raft of options. Some of them were false friends. I knew that a lot of the fancier orchids were imported and never grown in the UK without copious greenhouse help and manipulation. Anything that needed to be forced or coddled was not in the running on this challenge. The flower arranging we were learning was definitely geared towards what our native country could produce - something which I approved of when it came to sustainability and good business morals.

  I took a deep breath and sorted them the best way I could using logic and guesswork. The buzzer sounded on the first, and I quickly moved the second, knowing it could result in disaster. March’s bouquet was complete. With that small jolt of success under my belt, I made the final selection, praying that I was right and mahonia x media was a December option.

  The sound of the fanfare nearly made me fall over in shock when my ears wrongly interpreted it as the buzzer. The door clicked open and the group cheered and patted me on the back. Whilst everyone filed through into whatever lay beyond the door, I hung back by the screen, feeling my heart rate return to normal.

  “Good thing you got it right. It probably wouldn’t have been too dramatic, but before I was dragged away, I spotted wires that look like they might have belonged to some kind of flash and bang device,” Rich said conversationally.

  “Flash and bang?” I asked, looking skeptically to where he was pointing.

  “I also used to mess around with pyrotechnics in my misspent youth,” he said with an easy shrug. Growing up in Cape Town, it paid to be handy with all kinds of things. Mostly people live sheltered lives in compounds out there, but with the crime and employment rate not exactly brilliant, it paid to have some extra skills to hand.”

  I silently observed that when he said ‘pyrotechnics’ he wasn’t talking about the kind you saw on stage at a music festival. Rich was an enigma and not one I was certain I wanted to unwrap.

  I indicated that we should probably follow the others into the second room. For just a moment, Rich seemed to want to hang back and even took a step closer to me. When Fergus stuck his head back through the door and told us to get a move on as the next challenge couldn’t start until the door shut I felt a flutter of relief. Rich was certainly focusing a lot of his attention on me. While I could appreciate that he was an attractive man, and a far cry from boring, the situation hardly leant itself to us building any kind of trust. In any case, I was happy with my current situation and didn’t want to have a man potentially interested in anything more than friendship.

  I willingly walked past Fergus and flashed him a grateful smile. Across the room, Tanya scowled at me, but I ignored it. We had a challenge to focus on. Whatever else was bouncing around was simply not a concern.

  Not unless it led to a second murder anyway.

  The door clicked shut behind us and the lights went out.

  Plunged into blackness there was panic as people moved and others shouted at everyone to stay still. I felt a stab of fear that the darkness was dangerous. If a killer did walk among our ranks, no one wanted to be alone in the dark with them. And what if this whole thing was a set-up, as some had suggested? Even with these doubts running through my head, I kept my cool and backed up, so that I had the solid surface of the wall behind me. Fewer people would run into me, and if anyone was sneaking around, they’d have a hard time getting behind me.

  “I think I’ve had enough surprises for a lifetime. How about you?” Rich’s accented drawl came just a few centimetres away from my ear. I wondered how he’d found me in the darkness and came to the conclusion that he’d sought the wall the same as I had. I felt the vibration of someone joining us on my other side.

  “Our money is totally on Rich being the killer, isn’t it?” Fergus whispered in my other ear.

  “He’s right next to me!” I hissed back, knowing that the South African would have to be deaf as a post to have not overheard Fergus’ accusation. So much for any remaining subtlety as to where suspicions currently lay.

  I made a silly ‘ooph’ sound when someone ran into me and the air exited my lungs.

  “Sorry! Fergus? Is that you? I hate this. It’s really scary. Do you mind if I just stand here next to you?” Tanya’s voice came from the inky blackness.

  “Not Fergus,” I managed, utterly bemused by the fake ‘little girl’ voice Tanya was using.

  “I think he’s over the other side of the room,” Fergus said in a passable impression of Eamon’s voice.

  “Oh, right. Thanks,” Tanya said. We all heard her tripping off as she tried to travel through the blackness searching for Fergus.

  “So… this is awkward,” Rich said, breaking the silence that had descended amongst we three wall dwellers. “I know you guys aren’t going to believe me, but I really didn’t kill her. It’s like I told you already… Christine had enemies. I’m not saying she deserved to die, but I am saying that she probably gave plenty of people plenty of reasons to want her out of the game.”

  “Plenty of people is not specific enough, Rich!” I countered. “That kind of motive would mean it is someone who knows her… someone here who is covering up the truth. The only person who seems to have any connection whatsoever with Christine is you.”

  “Don’t be so dense. I’m the obvious choice! I’m probably the exact reason that whoever it is picked this moment to kill Christine. I’m the one being framed.”

  “I don’t think that’s true,” Fergus countered from my other side. “It seems to me like everyone is being framed… and I think you were hoping to push suspicion that way to keep any from landing on you. But you forgot the pen. We weren’t supposed to find the writing on the snapdragon.”

  “Don’t be so sure. If everything else is a setup, why not the flower and the pen, too?” Rich pushed back.

  “Fergus! I knew you were over here. What do you think’s going to happen to us?” Tanya simpered, having clearly overheard the conversation. I wondered how everyone else was faring in the dark.

  “We’ll either be stuck in the dark until someone fixes the power cut, or the lights will come back on,” Fergus said with a complete absence of humour.

  “You’re so smart,” Tanya told him.

  Fergus cleared his throat. “Actually, I think I can see something now. It’s glowing, look…” I could only assume he was pointing, but seeing as none of us could see a thing, I looked in all directions before I noticed it, too. Somewhere off to the left, there was a definite glow… and it was getting bigger.

  “Is that… fire?!” Rich said, sounding just as alarmed as I felt.

  All at once, the glow grew brighter and speakers blared to life.

  “Happy Birthday to you, H
appy Birthday to you, Happy Birthday dear Diana, Happy Birthday to you!” an unseen chorus sung. In the next instant the glow was gone and the screen lit up, allowing us to now see that the fire had been on the screen all along and was in fact merely candles on a chocolate cake, held by our virtual teacher, Damien.

  He smiled and placed the cake down. “Now, this is a last minute addition, but we heard it was somebody’s birthday today.”

  In the dim light of the screen everyone turned to look at me. I shook myself and remembered that he was right. In all of the drama, I’d forgotten about it.

  “As you have a birthday, we have a birthday challenge for you.” The lights rose up as he spoke and revealed flowers in pails. There were also various adornments including ribbons, bows, stickers, ornamental bugs on sticks and other interesting items that were all clearly supposed to be used in this challenge. There were even a few pots of glitter that I hoped no one would think about using after this morning’s glitter attack. It was the bane of florists for a good reason. I privately thought that the old adage of the customer aways being right should never apply when it came to glitter requests.

  “As you already know, a florist is required to create flowers for all occasions. They must also know what the client likes. Diana… you will be excluded from this challenge beyond the initial questioning and you will only answer the questions asked and not provide any further help. Diana’s floral preferences have been logged into the system ahead of time. You may ask her three questions to establish what she may or may not prefer in a bouquet before she will leave the room and you will get to work. I will judge when you have completed the challenge.

  I looked wildly around. No one had asked me any questions about anything! What was this simulation talking about? How could it possibly know my preferences? I glanced at Fergus, who was studiously avoiding making eye contact. Oh. Well that could change a few things. I shot him a look that said ‘I can’t believe you!’. How was anyone going to pass this challenge when Fergus was the one who’d clearly supplied the answers?

  “I guess we should start!” Eamon announced, stepping forwards. “Let’s start with something simple, shall we? What are your favourite colours?”

  Good question, I silently thought and looked towards the back of the room where Fergus was mouthing something at me. “Yellow…een,” I said when Fergus shook his head frantically. “Green,” I corrected, receiving mystified looks from the group. “Purple and… brown?!” I finished, incredulous. Those were the worst colour choices I’d ever heard.

  Most of my listeners looked dismayed, but Rich was already starting to laugh at my ridiculous choices.

  “What sort of decorations do you like?” Lady Isabella said, looking hopeful that this was an area that might give us some clues.

  Fergus was miming something by flinging his hands around wildly. “Big bows? Lots of frills?” He shrugged, apparently that was close enough.

  “Lovely,” Lady Isabella said, her tone telling me that she thought the opposite. “Anything else?”

  I raised my eyebrows at Fergus who nodded and pointed at the most atrocious pot of fake fairies on sticks. “Fairies. Love them,” I said, any good humour almost completely vanished. The group was so focused on getting this challenge right no one seemed to have noticed I was being led by a complete moron at the back of the room. Only Rich looked amused to the point of laughter by my ludicrously out of character choices.

  Fergus shook his sleeve and pointed at the shower that fell to the floor. I sighed out loud. “And glitter. I absolutely adore glitter,” I finished, hating the words that passed between my lips.

  There were groans all round. I hung my head in a silent apology. I would get Fergus back for this one way or another. It just added to my suspicions that Fergus wasn’t what you'd call thoughtful. I knew I was always going to look at anything suggested by him with a healthy dollop of suspicion from now on.

  “What kind of container do you tend to go for?” Sylvia asked, arching her eyebrows behind her glasses. Somehow I sensed this was going to be the final nail in the coffin in terms of any remaining shreds of good taste the group may have once believed I had. It was a good thing I wasn’t trying to sell flowers to any of them.

  I looked hopefully in Fergus’ direction, praying that he’d redeem himself with this choice. He pointed towards the corner of the room. I followed his finger.

  I shut my eyes and then opened them again. “I can’t get enough of those horrifically kitsch glitter-twig things over there,” I informed them, nodding towards the pots Fergus had chosen for me.

  He crossed his arms and pouted. Apparently my level of effort wasn’t high enough for his liking. He’d just have to deal with it. His bad choices could have been the ruination of everyone, if I’d been honest about my preferences.

  “The questions are complete. With your new knowledge, you will craft your birthday bouquets. Diana, please step through the door,” the man on the screen said, smiling as if I hadn’t just spouted the most ridiculous list of preferences ever. I supposed in a way it was perfect. People did make some horrible choices when it came to what they liked, but in the end, it was your job to give them what they wanted - no matter how poor their taste was.

  You just probably shouldn’t ever post it on social media… or admit it was your own work.

  I shot Fergus one last scathing look and then walked through the doorway. It shut behind me and I was left alone in an empty room with my thoughts.

  I was still thinking everything over and feeling that there was something I was missing when the door opened again and Fergus practically jumped through.

  “What happened?” I asked, confused as to why he was the only one who’d finished.

  “It’s an ‘everyone for themselves’ type of challenge. I was hoping it might be. I did my arrangement, got it judged without anyone seeing it, and got through.”

  “You preplanned it?” I knew I was frowning, wondering if there was anything else Fergus had preplanned… like a murder. Although I couldn’t see a single reason why he’d have wanted Christine Montague dead. He hadn’t even known about her before this trip, and I genuinely believed that. Watching Fergus on this course over the past couple of days had reinforced my feeling that he was not remotely interested in anything horticultural. The only growing things he cared about were plants caused by strange soil or crop circles.

  “I didn’t know anything was going to happen. To be honest, when I gave the guy who called up your preferences for a challenge I was supposed to keep secret, I was as honest as I could be about what you liked. He thought I already had it written down because we’re so close and all that.”

  I nodded and then frowned. “Wait. You honestly think I love glitter and bows and… brown flowers?!” I wasn’t sure which one was the most offensive.

  “Of course not. That’s why I’m through and the others aren’t. I told them pretty much the exact opposite of what you liked. To be honest, I just thought it would be fun to be the first to win a challenge for once, but when the door opened for me I walked right on through and it shut behind me.” He shrugged. “It’s kind of useful when you think about it. We’ve got some time to talk about the mystery we’re bang splat in the middle of right now.”

  “Won’t the others be through in a few seconds?” I asked.

  Fergus shrugged again not meeting my gaze. “My final arrangement may have landed on the floor on my way out. I’m sure they’ll piece it together and figure out the truth, but I reckon it will take at least ten minutes before anyone else gets through that door. Plenty of time to conspire and eat cake.”

  I looked at the table and discovered that Fergus was right about the cake. His entry into the room must have triggered some hidden mechanism that had allowed a sticky chocolate cake with candles burning on top to rise up from where it had been concealed.

  “Are you gonna blow them out, or am I going to have to cut around them?” Fergus asked.

  I blew air across the candles,
using it in lieu of a sigh. I sighed a lot when I was around Fergus.

  “What if it’s poisoned?” I asked (halfheartedly).

  Fergus looked at the cake and then back at me. “Is it?”

  “Probably not,” I concluded. Unless someone had managed to tamper with it - the same way someone had interfered with Christine’s tea - then I didn’t see why the cake would be poisoned. We’d already been thrown that curve ball. I believed this genuinely was a birthday cake that everyone was supposed to share with me. I reflected that, unless the group got their act together and figured out that they’d been fed some false information, there wasn’t going to be a lot of cake left by the time they arrived.

  I wasn’t sure there was going to be a lot of Fergus or myself left either when they did make it through.

  “So… who killed her then?” Fergus asked me in-between mouthfuls of chocolate cake.

  “How should I know?” I batted back, silently debating and then deciding to have some cake myself. I had basically missed lunch after all.

  “You’re a scientist. You’re good at working things out. You see things that other people miss. Who else is better placed to get to the bottom of the mystery? Plus, you’ve been asking all of the right questions. You must have something figured out by now.”

  I opened my mouth and shut it again. “I was just trying to see why someone might want Christine Montague out of the way. It was curiosity, not any big investigation. That should be left to the police.”

  Fergus rolled his eyes and swallowed his mouthful of cake. “You keep saying things like that, but at the same time, you’re asking questions about Elliot Harving and joining the dots together. You’re Sherlock and I’m your Watson, the cheerful companion, whose quirky characteristics and unpredictable actions are what really causes the mystery to be solved - only they allow the credit to be taken by their intelligent, but egotistical, friend.”

  “I don’t think that’s how those stories go…”