9

After lunch, Zander stood in front of the painting on the far wall, studying it. Titled, Jack’s House, it contained a large olde worlde farmhouse, like the one in the nursery rhyme book he’d had as a child. Which made sense, since this painting was based on the rhyme itself. The farmer stood, pitchfork in one hand, straw hat on his head, faded denim dungarees clinging to his plump figure, surrounded by the animals. The cat being chased by the dog, who in turn was in mid-air having just been tossed by the cow. The rat lay dead against the bags of malt stacked against the side of the house.

The buzzer sounded and the tannoy echoed. “All housemates report to the lounge.”

“Least we don’t have far to go,” Hank muttered. “No doubt it’s time for another one of the stupid games the public want us to do.”

“Could be worse,” Liz commented. “It could be a bush tucker trial and you’d have to eat all manner of things we can’t mention before the watershed.”

Hank rolled his eyes. “I’d refuse. Even I have my limits.” He looked at Zander as Paul went to answer the door. “Word of warning. This will be going out on TV tonight. Unedited. They like us making fools of ourselves.”

Zander noticed Warren and Erin holding hands. He averted his gaze. That was something else which was forbidden, but it seemed rules were made to be flouted here.

Paul came back with a large box. “Shall we see what we’re doing?” He set the box on the coffee table. “OK, new guy, you get to open the box and spill the beans.”

Zander limped over to the lounge area, following the others slowly. Not all for show now as his leg really ached, but then he’d walked farther today than he had in a while. Least his physio would be impressed at the next appointment. He sat and undid the box.

“By the way, Mr. Author,” Warren began. “Do you have a website?”

Zander nodded. “Yeah.”

Warren grinned. “So tell the viewers at home, so they can look you up and find out all about your new book. That’s why you’re here, after all.”

“Jay Zed King dot com.” Zander knew no one would ever see it, but was still grateful Is had told him earlier. “All one word and lower case, of course. Not much there yet, but it’s a start.”

“Jay Zed King?” Kate asked.

“My pen name is Joe King after my great grandmother. Only she didn’t have the ‘e’ on the end of Jo.”

Everyone laughed. “Love it,” Kate managed.

Zander opened the box. “OK, we have a collection of duck hats, all different colours. And a sheet of paper.”

Clearing his throat, he opened the paper and began to read. “Housemates, your challenge this afternoon is to play duck, duck, goose. The winner will choose your evening meal which will consist of take out, choice of ice-cream for dessert, and a drink. Take care not to choose something that will cause an allergic reaction in any of the other housemates.”

Paul glared at the nearest ceiling camera. “So we make total idiots of ourselves, playing a kid’s game for ice-cream? What are we? A bunch of five-year-olds?”

Kate shrugged. “At least it’s not the talent show. I don’t have to sing, and we don’t have to listen to fifteen minutes of Hank’s jokes.”

Zander glanced at her. “They can’t be that bad, surely?”

Liz snorted. “Worthy of a Christmas cracker bad. Go on Hank, tell him some.”

“OK.” Hank duly obliged. “A ham sandwich walked into a pub and ordered a beer. Bartender stares at him and says ‘sorry, we don’t serve food in here.’ What do you call a can opener that doesn’t work?”

Zander shrugged. “No idea.”

“A can’t opener. What do you get when you teach a wolf to meditate?”

Kate shrugged. “Mind’s gone blank.”

“Aware wolf. And do you want to hear the joke about the piece of paper?”

“No, because it’s tear-able,” Paul said.

Zander groaned. “OK, they are really bad.” He took the hats from the box. “So we put these on, go into the garden, and play a game I’ve never heard of.”

Hank took a hat. “Don’t take this the wrong way, mate, but it involves running so you’ll be out first.”

“I’ve played, but only with a group of kids where there isn’t a winner. Maybe musical chairs would be easier.” Liz glared at the hat. “Orange clashes with my dress.”

Paul snatched her orange hat and gave her his green one in exchange. “For goodness sake, have mine. Are there instructions as to how someone eventually wins?”

Zander turned over the paper. “Yeah. Make a circle of chairs in the garden. One less chair each time. Whoever is It walks around the outside of the circle tapping people on the shoulder saying duck, duck until they are tired of saying duck. When they say goose, the person tapped has to chase It around the circle. If the goose catches It, It is out and has to sit on the floor in the middle of the circle. If It claims goose’s chair first, the goose is out and play starts again.”

“Don’t get it,” Erin moaned. “And that’s no pun intended.”

Kate sighed. “OK. Someone go and get some straws and make one of them short so we can decide who’s It.” She turned to Erin. “For example. I’m It and Paul is the goose. I get back to the empty chair first, Paul is out and I’m still It. If Paul catches me then I’m out and Paul becomes It.”

Erin tied back her long blonde hair. “Maybe I’ll get it as we play.”

“Pigs might fly,” Warren muttered.

Paul came over with the straws in his hand. “OK. Sooner we do this, the sooner I get to pick dinner.”

“You reckon?” Liz tugged a straw. “Think again.”

Everyone took a straw, Roj ending up with the short one. Once they were all outside, seated in a large circle, Roj began playing. “Duck, duck, duck, duck. Goose.” He tapped Paul and set off running fast.

Paul gave chase, but didn’t manage to catch Roj at all. Roj dropped into Paul’s empty seat. “Out.”

Paul sulked. “Not fair. Can we do it again?”

“No, we can’t.” Hank pointed. “Get in the middle.”

“Duck, duck, duck, duck, goose.” This time Roj tagged Erin, and again easily beat her around the circle and back to her seat.

Hank raised a hand. “Are you some kind of sprinter in your spare time, Roj? You’re a CEO right?”

Roj smirked. “And the current county one hundred metre champion.”

“What?” Everyone chorused almost at once.

“You never said,” Hank was more than a little put out.

“You didn’t ask.” Roj laughed. “Duck, duck, duck, goose.” He tapped Hank and set off running.

The game continued until everyone bar Kate and Zander sat in the middle, no one having caught Roj. Zander just hoped the bloke was tiring now.

Roj tapped Kate and set off running. Of course he beat her and grinned at Zander, still holding on to Kate. “Just you and me, new boy. Shall I just choose dinner now?”

~*~

Kate pulled free of Roj. “That’s not exactly fair.”

“How so?”

“Leaving Zed until last. It’s cheating. You know you’ll beat him.”

Hank stood. “Want me to run in your place, Zed?”

Zed gripped the cane firmly, tapping his feet on the grass. “Nah, I’ll do it.” He looked steadily at Roj. “Ready when you are.”

Roj smirked and walked around Zed several times. “Duck, duck, duck, goose.”

Zed rose, making sure he tripped Roj up with the cane, tapped him on the shoulder, and then sat down again.

Kate cheered. “Zed wins.”

Roj sat up. “What? Now who’s cheating? That’s so not fair.”

Zed grinned. “Rules said I had to tag you, which I did. Didn’t say anything about me running anywhere.”

“He’s right,” Hank agreed. “You win, Zed.”

“Well done, Zed.” The tannoy boomed to life. “Please go to the diary room to tell us your choice of dinner, ice-cream, and drink.”

Zed gripped the cane and pulled himself upright. “What haven’t you had to eat in here?”

“Junk food,” Liz said quickly. “Burgers, pizza, that kind of thing.”

Zed grinned. “So how about burgers, chips, choc ices, and apple cider for dinner.”

Kate smiled. “Sounds good.”

“What about my figure?” Erin moaned.

“Oh, hush woman. Little bit of fat ain’t going to kill you,” Warren snapped. “That sounds like a feast, thank you.”

Roj scowled and muttered as Zed headed inside the house.

“If you can’t say anything nice, then shut up.” Kate pushed her hair back as it began to rain. “Should get this lot back inside.” Lightning flashed, sending everyone except her running inside. “Or not.”

No one helped her as she carried all the chairs back into the gazebo. By the time she came back for the last one, she was soaked.

“Hey, you shouldn’t be doing that,” Zed called from the doorway.

“Maybe not, but no one else is.” Lightning flashed again, and thunder echoed two seconds later, making her jump. She scurried inside, lugging the last chair behind her, and closed the door. “That’s a bit close.” She shivered.

Zed handed her a towel. “Just a tad. Here.”

Paul ran his gaze over her. “You’ll catch your death.”

“That’s not funny or appropriate.” She rubbed her hair and arms with the towel. “Doesn’t it bother you that one of us is a murderer?”

“No, because I know who it is.” Paul sounded more smug than usual.

Zed turned to him, a serious expression crossing his face. “Oh?”

“There’s only one of us here with experience. The apple never falls far from the tree.” He tilted his head across the room at Hank.

“You don’t need experience to kill someone,” Ginny said quietly. “It just happens.”

“She’s right,” Erin agreed. “All you need is motive and opportunity. And there’s only one of us here with that.”

Kate tossed the towel over her shoulder, tired of the conversation and the direction it was headed. “I’m going to go and change.”

“Be quick, sweetheart,” Paul’s stare lingered on her wet clothes. “Dinner will be here soon. Do you need a hand changing?”

“Not since I was three!” she shot back. “I’ll be fine.” She strode across the room, pausing as Zed’s cane tapped behind her. She glanced at him. “You following me, as well?”

“No, ma’am. I’ll stand guard outside the door,” Zed said.

“My door?”

He grimaced. “No. This one. None shall pass without my permission.”

“Thank you.”

He lowered his voice. “Is he always this bad? Or just showing off for my benefit?”

“He never knows when to quit.” Kate shivered, not just because of the wet clothes this time. She took off her duck hat and studied it. “Silas was worse. Way, way worse.”

Before he could ask any more questions, she trotted into the hallway and towards the room she shared with the five other women. She wished she could say she was sorry Silas was dead, but the truth was, she wasn’t. Not in the slightest.