A game most foul, p.13
A Game Most Foul, page 13
“Uh, Professor?” I said, raising my hand. “I haven’t read Hamlet since the tenth grade in high school.”
I was struggling to find any similarity between my developing manuscript and this passage. Here Hamlet was being confronted by the ghost of his dead father for the first time, so obviously the topic had to be a murder. I was pretty sure that was the route I was headed down in my manuscript—a mystery needing to be solved around an unexpected murder—but I was still remarkably undecided.
“Indeed,” Professor Watson remarked. “And this worries you?”
“Well, no,” I said carefully. “I’m just not sure that I’m familiar enough with the passage.”
“Yeah, I agree with Jules, Professor,” Suruthi chimed in. She looked a little nervous as she held up her own passage. “I can’t remember the last time I read Murders in the Rue Morgue.”
Thierry interjected then with a short monologue on the fine choice Professor Watson had made in choosing The Scarlet Pimpernel for him that left all of us rolling our eyes.
“And, er, The Princess Bride, sir?” Percy added last, looking mildly embarrassed.
“Indeed,” Professor Watson repeated. “A fine piece of literature, don’t you think?”
“Of course,” Percy said quickly. “It’s a wonderful story, but I don’t know if I . . .” He shrugged in defeat when he couldn’t seem to find the words to finish his sentence. “Alright then. The Princess Bride.”
Professor Watson spent the next few minutes explaining the finer points of the exercise. “If you’ll recall, I mentioned at the beginning of this seminar that the finest authors of our age are said to have stolen from other authors. This is what I’m asking you to do here. I want you to consider what you can draw on from these passages that you might implement in your own writing. What are the themes? The motivation behind the characters’ actions?”
I looked down at the printed sheet in my lap, skimming over the passage again.
I supposed I liked Shakespeare well enough, but the ye olde English language that was his style sometimes left me more confused than anything else. The passage was short, so I could probably pick it apart easily enough, but the prospect was still intimidating.
Professor Watson had shared with us such specific expectations that I wasn’t sure I wouldn’t completely mess up by missing some minute detail he wanted us to focus on.
“Take all the time you need,” Professor Watson said. “And do not hesitate to ask me for assistance if you should find that you need it.”
Right, I thought. Because that’s something I’m comfortable doing.
After our one-on-one conference about my manuscript outline, I wasn’t going to be asking Professor Watson for any kind of help unless absolutely necessary.
Once he’d decided we were ready to tackle the exercise, Professor Watson retreated to his desk in the corner and left us to get to work.
Suruthi snatched a pillow off the couch and promptly stretched out across the floor, highlighter in hand. Thierry went to some desk on the opposite side of the room while Percy stayed put, biting his lip as he got to reading his passage from The Princess Bride.
I made myself comfortable on the other end of the couch after I pulled a pen and my notebook out of my bag.
“Alright, Hamlet,” I whispered to myself. “Let’s do this.”
I’d gone through the passage about three times before I felt like I was somewhat understanding what I was reading. There was one bit of lines that stood out to me in particular:
Ghost: Revenge his foul and most unnatural murder.
Hamlet: Murder?
Ghost: Murder most foul, as in the best it is.
But this most foul, strange and unnatural.
Strange and unnatural. The words kept floating around my mind as I began to write my opening scene. My main character had just been questioned by the police and was left pondering what happened to her friend . . . a lot like what I had recently experienced.
The whole experience was strange and unnatural. But those types of things happened all the time. Strange and unnatural.
Strange, like Ashley’s disappearance. Unnatural, because it went against what I had learned of her character so far.
“Jules?”
I looked up, startled at the sound of my name, and found Percy leaning toward me.
“You alright?” he said quietly. “You’ve been mumbling to yourself.”
“Oh, sorry,” I said automatically. “Just . . . thinking.”
Percy grinned. “I gathered as much. A murder most foul, I imagine.”
“Murder, murder, murder!” Suruthi sang from on the floor. “For once, I think I’d rather not talk about murder.” She sat up, fixing Percy with a devilish little smile. “Let’s talk about the most passionate and purest kiss in all of history.”
“That is not the passage I was given,” Percy said firmly. “So put a sock in it, Suruthi.”
She burst into laughter. “As you wish. Lucky you weren’t given Romeo and Juliet, eh?” She threw me a playful wink before she lay back down on her pillow, picking up her highlighter and the passage Professor Watson had given her.
“Please tell me you’ve taken to ignoring her just as much as I have,” Percy said to me in an undertone.
“Yeah, a bit,” I said, trying not to grin.
For the sake of staying focused, it was probably best not to think about the words kiss and Percy in the same sentence. I needed to get back to the subject at hand: murder.
I’d made decent progress—at least I thought I had—in my rewriting of the scene when the silence of the classroom was disturbed by a jaunty little ringtone that sounded like a bunch of bells.
Professor Watson stood up at his desk, cell phone in hand, grimacing at whatever caller ID must’ve been showing him. “My apologies, class. I’ll be back momentarily.”
He walked swiftly from the classroom, answering the call with a quiet, “Hello?”
Professor Watson had only just disappeared through the doorway before Suruthi leapt to her feet and quickly crossed the room. I thought she’d been off to the bathroom, but it became obvious what she was doing a second later: she was making herself comfortable at the door to eavesdrop on Professor Watson’s conversation.
“Suruthi Kaur!” Percy hissed after her. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“Oh, don’t get your knickers in a twist, Perce,” Suruthi said, flapping a hand. “He’s gone down to the end of the hallway, so I can’t hear much. I only want to watch.”
“That’s beside the point!”
“Will you two be quiet?” Thierry demanded crossly from his corner. “I am trying to concentrate here.”
I stayed put, even though I was itching to get up and do a little snooping with Suruthi. The only other time I’d seen Professor Watson take a phone call, he’d seemed to have ended up in a pretty bad mood. If he was stepping out to answer another call, I wondered if it was because he wasn’t going to enjoy speaking to whomever was on the other line.
Suruthi spent a minute peeking out into the hallway before she reported, “He looks angry now, to be honest. A bit of hand waving going on.”
I gripped my pen tightly. Here was another thing that was strange—maybe not unnatural, but still a little strange, because we didn’t often see Professor Watson angry, did we?
“Suruthi.” Percy gave an unhappy moan. “Would you just stop it?”
“Nah,” Suruthi said happily. “Gathering evidence. He’s been chatting with those detective constables for days and he’s been pretty tight-lipped about it. I want to know what they’re up to.”
“Don’t you think the police would’ve contacted us if they actually needed something?” Percy asked.
Suruthi didn’t answer, just let out a squeak and came zipping back across the classroom. “He’s headed this way!”
A moment later, Professor Watson was walking back inside, and his expression had gone from unpleasant to downright grim.
“Everything alright, Professor?” Suruthi asked casually from her spot on the floor.
“I . . . apologize, class, but I’m afraid that I must end our lesson early today,” Professor Watson said briskly as he went to his desk, gathering up his things and tucking them into his briefcase. “Detective Constables Evans and Thomas have returned and are requesting access to Miss James’s dormitory. I am to provide immediate assistance. You may remain here if you’d like to continue your writing exercises, or you may leave, but please have your finished piece ready to share tomorrow morning.”
I’d always thought the saying quiet enough to hear a pin drop was a weird one, but it was an accurate description of the silence that suddenly fell over the room. By the time my brain caught up with my mouth, Professor Watson was halfway out the door, and I was left scrambling after him.
“Wait, sir, did Evans or Thomas say if they needed to speak to us too?”
“No, they did not, Miss Montgomery,” the professor answered stiffly, and with that, he was gone.
I could feel myself opening and closing my mouth, like I was trying to speak, and no words were coming out. I looked over at Suruthi for some sort of backup, but she looked just as confused as I felt.
Thierry, on the other hand, had no issue sharing his thoughts on the matter.
“Well, what did you expect?” he said, coming over to the circle of armchairs to grab the rest of his things. “Obviously they were going to look through her things sooner or later.”
“Yeah, but . . .” I forced out, my voice sounding hoarse. “Don’t you think they would’ve gone through her things the first time they came to Ashford?”
“Agreed,” Percy said unevenly.
Suruthi was gnawing on her lip, occasionally glancing back toward the door. “Well, the police are incredibly short-staffed most of the time. Perhaps they hadn’t the time.”
“Well, it’s good they are looking now, yes?” Thierry said, heading over to the classroom door once his possessions were in hand.
“I thought you didn’t care that Ashley is missing, Thierry,” Suruthi reminded him helpfully.
She’d used Professor Watson’s preferred armchair to push herself up off the floor and had taken a seat, watching Thierry curiously.
“That’s correct. I feel nothing at all,” Thierry said. “Au revoir.”
The moment Thierry left the classroom, Suruthi was on her feet and went to stick her head out into the hallway again.
Percy groaned. “Oh no.”
“What?” I muttered. “What’s wrong?”
“I really don’t like that look she’s got on her face.”
“What look?”
Percy was right to have been wary. When Suruthi turned to face us, still standing in the doorway, she was twirling a small gold key ring around her index finger with a devious little grin.
“Oh no,” I said.
“Oh yes!” Suruthi said excitedly. “Obviously we are going to need to return the professor’s key ring and obviously the safest place for them would be in his office.”
Percy was on his feet in a flash. “Absolutely not, Suruthi. I seem to recall us having a conversation the other day about breaking and entering being frowned upon in this country. How’d you get those anyway?”
“Ah, don’t be a spoilsport, Percy!” Suruthi said, now bouncing on the balls of her feet. “Besides, it’s not breaking and entering if I’ve got a key, is it? Maybe the professor left them behind for us to find.”
“More like they fell out of his pocket,” I said dryly.
“We are not about to break into the professor’s office,” Percy said, moving around the couch to confront Suruthi. “Forget it.”
Suruthi’s face turned exasperated. “I’m not suggesting we steal anything, just return his keys!”
I took a step back when Suruthi looked to me for backup, palms up. “Don’t drag me into this.”
“Oh, come on, Jules!” Suruthi whined. “You’re American, aren’t you?”
“What’s that got to do with anything?” I said, now thoroughly confused.
“You’re from the home of the brave!” Suruthi said, like this should’ve been obvious to me.
“You’re talking about committing a crime, Suruthi!” Percy exclaimed before I had the chance to answer.
I couldn’t help it at this point; I slapped a hand to my forehead, unsure if I wanted to start laughing or cry out of frustration. First, a writing exercise that made me want to bang my head against a wall. Second, the police were now requesting Professor Watson let them do a search of Ashley’s dorm. And now Suruthi wanted to sprinkle in a little B&E on top of it all.
What on earth had this day turned into?
“Listen, you lot,” Suruthi said, her tone abruptly serious. “We all want to know what’s going on with Ashley’s disappearance. If the professor isn’t going to tell us and the police aren’t going to give us the time of day, then we’re going to need to push back a little, aren’t we? Maybe Professor Watson’s taken those detective constables back to his office for a chat first and maybe we just so happen to overhear their conversation on our way to return the professor’s keys to him.”
“That’s still a bit of a stretch, don’t you think?” Percy said nervously. “We can’t just—”
“Fine then,” Suruthi said loudly, speaking over Percy. “I’ll just go return the professor’s keys myself.”
And then she turned on her heel and went from the room in a flash.
“Do we just . . . let her go then?” I said, glancing at Percy.
Percy’s answering sigh sounded a lot like someone who was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. “Of course we’ve got to stop her.”
I was surprised at how quickly I was on board with this. Going after Suruthi seemed like the more exciting option compared to working on my pitiful attempt at a rewrite of a scene from an old play.
We snatched up our things and dashed out of the classroom after Suruthi in enough time to see her disappearing around the corner at the end of the hallway with a swish of her skirt. I was suddenly thankful I’d decided to wear slip-on shoes today instead of my sneakers, otherwise I would’ve tripped on my laces and fallen flat on my face as Percy and I took off running.
It wasn’t even that long of a distance from Room 217 to the end of the hallway, but I was just about gasping for air by the time we rounded the corner. Suruthi was already skidding to a stop in front of Professor Watson’s office door, fiddling with the key ring.
It was impressive the way Percy zipped past me with his much longer strides and managed to reach Suruthi just as she was beginning to try the first key in the lock.
“You are going to get us in trouble!” Percy huffed, trying to snatch the keys from Suruthi. “Give me the keys, Suruthi.”
Suruthi easily slipped out of Percy’s grip and jabbed him in the stomach with her elbow when he turned around to reach for her again.
I was wheezing by the time I reached the two squabbling right outside Professor Watson’s office. “Seriously, you guys,” I struggled to say between gasps for breath. “We’re going to get caught!”
Suruthi must not have heard me. She somehow located the correct key without even trying and had the office door unlocked a second later.
I watched Suruthi’s face fall as she stood in the doorway to the office. She’d gone from excited to confused in a heartbeat, and Percy looked the same as he peered over Suruthi’s shoulder.
When a raspy, deep voice suddenly joined in the foray, causing us all to freeze right where we stood.
“Well, I say. I was beginning to wonder whether you would ever cease the inane chatter and unlock the blasted door.”
Chapter 16
Your Scheduled Programming Will Return After These Brief Messages
Sometime in the future—decades from now, probably—I was going to be impressed with how quickly I managed to pull myself together once I saw what, or rather who, had been holed up in Professor Watson’s office.
The man was sprawled in an old, winged armchair that sat opposite a small black-and-white television perched on a folding table, slippered feet propped up on the narrow windowsill. The armchair was surrounded by empty teacups, a bunch of candy wrappers, and cigarette butts. There was barely any space left for the one bookcase and desk stuffed in the corner of the office. The overall effect was alarmingly claustrophobic.
Possibly strangest of all were the stacks of coins everywhere—lined up neatly on the windowsill next to the man’s feet, in a circle along the edges of the bookcase, some copper or silver, some smaller than a dime, and others that looked the size of my palm. If there was some kind of treasure chest hidden away in here too, the professor would have himself a decent replica of the Pirates of the Caribbean ride at Disneyland.
“Do come in,” the man said, gesturing at us with a spoon. He was halfway through a carton of ice cream and his gaze hadn’t once left the television. “And shut the door if you would, please. I’ve found you students make far too much noise always stomping up and down the hallway like a herd of elephants.”
Suruthi opened and closed her mouth several times like she was trying to say something, but nothing was coming out. I wasn’t fairing much better.
“Sorry, what?” Percy blurted out, his voice several octaves higher than normal. “You want us to—hah?”
The man sighed heavily, finally dragging his attention away from the TV to look at us. “I said, do come in. And I might recommend you close your mouth before you attract every insect in the country.”
That was when my brain seemed to catch up with the rest of my body and I was suddenly shouting, “You!”
Just a few nights ago we had discovered someone snooping around after hours in the antique shop, intent on stealing an old microscope, and now that someone—the man Adele had called William—was frowning at me with a rising sense of contempt. “Have we met, young lady?”
Had we—?
“Yes, we’ve met!” I exclaimed. “You’re William, right? You’re the one who’s been breaking into my aunt’s antique shop trying to steal old science stuff! By the way, would you like your lock picking kit back? Thought you would’ve come back for that once you realized it was gone.”
