17

Kate sat on the edge of the chair, waving her feet back and forth. Not sure why they were being kept here. It’s not as if any of them would flee the country if they were sent home. Well, she wasn’t as she didn’t possess a passport.

Zed, clean and in fresh clothes, but sporting an even louder pair of socks if that were possible, pushed a cup towards her. “Coffee.”

She smiled. “Thank you. Anyone know if they really want us to do this thing this afternoon? I’m really not in the mood for anymore stupid games.”

“Not the only one,” Hank groused. “I’d rather go home but we can’t even do that. Not even sure there was a public vote last night as nothing was said. Still I can always tell you more of my jokes.”

“No, ta.” She sighed. She wasn’t in the mood for jokes. Two people were dead, one injured, and she was just sitting here waiting for the cops to decide which one of them was responsible. “I don’t have a talent, except the puzzle cube thing in under four minutes.”

Zed grinned. “Impressive. It takes me half an hour, and then I throw it across the room and admit defeat. I can juggle.”

Hank raised an eyebrow. “How many balls?”

“Five.”

He shoved a box of eggs across the counter. “Show us.”

Zed grinned and juggled first two, then three eggs, before working his way up to five with ease.

Roj clapped slowly. “OK, that’s the talent show done. Zed wins again.”

Zed put the eggs back. “Then how about we play whodunit, solve the murder, and go home?”

Paul laughed. “Well, as you like being the cop, you can ask the questions.”

Kate and Liz exchanged a puzzled look. “Huh?”

“He broke his leg playing cops and robbers. He failed to scale the fence properly.”

Zed shook his head. “OK, so I make a rubbish cop. Maybe someone else wants the job.”

“You’ll do,” Hank said. “Besides, you’re the only one we know for sure didn’t commit any of the ‘crimes’, so it makes sense for it to be you. How do we do this?”

“Start from the beginning,” Kate said slowly. “Be honest about things. Maybe blank out the cameras so we can talk in private.”

Paul snorted. “Oh, come on. I know we all sneak down the crew passage at times, but you can’t just turn the cameras off.”

Kate rose. She knew exactly how to do it. “Sure you can.” She dashed across the room to the picture of ‘the house that Jack built’ along with all the characters from the rhyme. She removed the painting, dumping it on the floor, revealing a control panel behind it. She typed in the code and all the lights went out. Biting her lip, she pressed a few more buttons, resetting the entire system. That should buy them enough time to sort this once and for all. “See, no lights and no cameras. I just cut the power to the entire house.”

“They’ll put it back on.” Zed told her.

“They can’t. No one can get in or out. Not until the code is punched back in from this side.” She held up her hands. “So I suggest you all sit down, shut up, let Zed be a cop, and find out which one of us killed Silas and Erin. And caused all the other accidents.”

“Kate.” Zed’s voice had an edge to it. “This isn’t the way to do things. Put the code in, let the cops come in and do this properly.”

“No. It’s the only way. One of us is a murderer. And I want to know who before someone else gets killed. We’re being whittled away in here, stuck in this creepy house.” She dropped the painting on the table. “All of us sitting snugly in the house that Jack built. See this creepy painting? I bet we’re all tied into it somehow.”

Zed rubbed the back of his neck, tapping the table with his other hand. “Fine. Kate, sit down and drink your coffee. If we’re doing this, then we do it my way. Like grown-ups.”

Kate sat and looked at him, smug and challenging him with her gaze. “So long as you get to the truth. Because until we get answers, no one is getting out. I’ve changed the code.”

He frowned. “You’ve what?”

“I changed the code. No one can get out or in here until I tap the correct sequence into the control panel. And they will never, in a million years, work out what it is.”

Liz snorted. “And this is how a Christian behaves, is it?”

Kate shrugged. “I’m not perfect. I just want to get out of here, and as no one is co-operating I’m forcing the issue. So, let’s just hope you’re a good detective, Mr. Author, or we’re staying here. For good.” She eased back in her chair, crossed her arms and legs, and tried to work out who looked the most guilty.

Problem was, they all did.