Eight fresh copies of Agatha Christie’s And Then There Were None had been placed on the polished red cedar coffee table in the middle of the room, and Alicia felt a wave of warmth wash over her as she stepped into the library, a sheaf of papers under one arm, a battered copy of the book under the other. She didn’t realise the lodge would provide free copies, and it was such a sweet touch! Still, they were one short, so she was glad she’d brought her own.
Then she glanced at the clock above the billiard table and got busy.
It was right on ten o’clock, but she was chairing today’s discussion and wanted to get the room in order before the meeting started. Alicia felt like a curator, putting everything in its place, making everything just right.
She already knew that Lynette and Claire were heading off for a vigorous power walk, and that Flo—or was it Ronnie?—was photographing the extraordinary murals along the corridor. She wasn’t sure where Simon or Blake had got to, but she could see Perry now, stepping through the open glass doors to the library.
“I won’t get in your way, I promise,” he said. “I just want to read up on the history of the place.”
He was pointing to the Lyle family memorabilia that also adorned these walls.
“Go right ahead,” Alicia said, reaching into her folder to produce a set of questions, which she now placed in a neat pile beside the books. “I brought spare pens and paper in case anyone wants to take notes. And of course I have the usual prompts, all neatly typed, in case we get stuck. I had so much fun creating the questions for this one. There are so many talking points! Things like vigilante justice, atonement and retribution, regret and revenge…”
Perry wasn’t listening. He was staring mesmerised at the framed image of a young man, a black-and-white portrait hanging beside the fridge.
“Well hello, handsome!” he said as Alicia stepped across. “It’s the founding father, Arthur Henry Lyle,” he told her, reading from the inscription then, mimicking Vale’s clipped tones. “Our founding father who had to ride for a hundred years in an old horse and buggy!”
Alicia slapped him lightly on the shoulder. “Be nice. It would have been very tough back then. I can’t imagine how they dragged everything up here to even build the place.”
“Probably sourced most of it from here,” Perry told her. “Would have had first pick of the old-growth forest. Green gold they called it, and I can see why.”
“Just as well it didn’t all come down in the Great Fire then. Not that you’ll read much about it in here.”
On last night’s visit to the library, Alicia had already discovered, as Blake had earlier, that amongst the many framed articles, there was nothing on the Great Fire of 1970. Yet she, too, had done her research and knew that the flames had come teeth-chatteringly close. If it hadn’t been for the “tenacity of a few good men,” the whole place would have gone up like a bonfire.
“Any closer and we wouldn’t be standing in this lovely old library,” she told Perry, who eyed her suspiciously. “Yes, okay, I already googled it before we came. You know me, I like to know what I’m up against.”
He did know her, very well indeed, and he dropped his head sideways and said, “It’s ancient history now, Alicia. Nothing to worry about.”
“I know that,” she said, chuckling as she turned away.
Yet it didn’t put her mind at rest. Alicia had done one walk. Had already seen how dry the undergrowth was, and hadn’t Vale confirmed as much last night?
She tried not to think about roaring fires as she returned to her curation.
~
Half an hour later, the rest of the group were scattered around the library, some of them helping themselves to the refreshments that Mrs Flannery had left on a sideboard—tea, coffee, pound cake and brown sugar and cardamom biscuits—others settling into one of the three deep leather lounges that encircled the coffee table. Missy plonked in the centre of one lounge and was quickly bookended by Perry and Lynette while Claire settled in beside Flo and Ronnie on another. She and Missy had enlisted the two friends, and she wanted to be close should they need some guidance.
Alicia pulled a lone side chair from against the wall and placed it in front of the group, then watched as Simon and Blake sat down at opposite ends of the third lounge, looking awkward beside each other.
They were like yin and yang those two, she thought. Like polar opposites. Blake was now sporting cut-off blue shorts and a tight-fitting T-shirt with the words I hate ironic T-shirts printed across the front; Simon was in a crisply ironed Chambray shirt and long, tanned trousers. The former looked ready for the beach, the latter for the boardroom.
“So how does this work?” Simon asked, and Alicia held up her hand.
She waited until everyone had quietened down and then said, “Hello everybody, and welcome to the Agatha Christie Book Club, Mark II!”
A loud cheer erupted from the group while Flo called out:
“Whatever happened to the first book club, love?”
Perry mock shuddered, splayed fingers at his chest. “Trust me, you do not want to know!”
“One of our early members was a total fraud,” said Missy, pushing her glossy black spectacles into place. “And then there was dishy Dr Anders. We all loved him, but he could be a bit, well…”
“Anyway!” said Alicia, cutting in with a strained smile. “That’s not important now, thanks Missy. From today we’re moving forward with a whole new group. We’ve gone from five of us to nine, and I for one am très excited!”
“And then there were nine!” called out Missy proudly, like she’d been rehearsing the line all morning and waiting for just such a moment.
Perry groaned, Lynette rolled her eyes and Missy erupted into giggles.
“Anyway,” Alicia said again, shooting Missy a smile this time. “As you all know, we’re not just here to discuss one of Christie’s mysteries but also to get to know each other better, and I really hope we get a chance to do that. Now, before we start, and at risk of sounding like Vale, I have a little housekeeping of my own.”
Perry groaned again, pretending to stab himself, and now Alicia was rolling her eyes.
“Settle down, it’s nothing dramatic. I only want the new members to know that there are very few rules in this club. We want everyone to be relaxed and comfortable, so speak up as much or as little as you like, and feel free to help yourself to refreshments at any time.”
“Alicia had a dreadful experience at a previous book club,” Claire whispered to the two women beside her. “Way too stuffy and regimented.”
“I don’t mind things a little regimented,” said Simon, and Claire smiled back at him. She didn’t mind it either, if truth be told.
“The key is to be yourself and let the conversation flow,” Alicia explained. “I have jotted down some questions, but they’re a guide only, so if we scoot off in a different direction, that’s perfectly fine too.”
What Alicia didn’t realise as they reached for the questions and settled in to begin discussions was that those words would come back to bite her.
~
And Then There Were None turned out to be a contentious choice.
It’s earlier racist title had evolved over time, but Perry, for one, was not in a forgiving mood.
“She might have been a wonderful writer, but the Dame was a tad bigoted, wasn’t she?”
Claire gasped. While this book was darker than she normally liked, she would not stand for any Christie bashing.
“It was just the times, Perry. There was a lot of unchecked bigotry back then.”
“Yes, I’m afraid there was,” said Ronnie.
“Oh well, that’s all right then.” He sniffed, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
“No, it’s not right,” Simon said, “it’s appalling, but Claire is quite correct. We have to take the context into consideration. This book was written back in the forties I think.”
“Actually it was 1939,” said Missy, her voice barely audible as a phone in the foyer began ringing.
Alicia jumped up to close the library doors, hoping to block out the sound, while Flo said:
“It really was a very different time, you know. Ronnie and I could tell you stories! You spring chickens have no idea how good you’ve got it. Back in my day…”
And off she went, telling of the hardships of growing up in rural Australia with an alcoholic father, a downtrodden mother, five siblings and barely “two pennies to rub together.”
Alicia found her story fascinating, but it wasn’t the story they were here to discuss. She smiled and discreetly checked her watch, wondering whether the relaxed rule should be a little less, well, relaxed. The closed doors did little to muffle the ringing phone, and she could feel a headache coming on.
“That’s not even the worst story I could tell you,” Flo said, and Alicia held her hand up.
“If you don’t mind, Flo, we really need to return to this particular story.” She tapped her book cover. “Or we’ll never get through it. Did you know this is Christie’s best-selling book?”
“I did!” said Missy. “It’s actually one of the world’s best-selling mysteries. Still! Can you believe it? After all this time. And did you know, kittens, that Dame Agatha said it was the hardest book she ever sat down to write?”
Lynette smiled and turned to the newcomers. “We’re not sure there’s anything about the queen of crime Missy doesn’t know.” She frowned. “But I’m surprised it’s her best seller. I mean, it’s a gripping tale—ten people stuck on a private island with a madman bumping them off, one by one—what’s not to love about that? I just missed the meddling Miss Marple and the fastidious Hercule Poirot.”
“They’re not in it?” said Blake, glancing at the book in his lap. “So who investigates the murder?”
The golden-haired businessman had been silent until then, and now Alicia had an inkling why.
“You mean murders, plural,” she said, wondering if he had read the book. “And there’s no investigator as much. At least not until the epilogue. And even then, it’s a couple of unknown detectives from Scotland Yard.”
“The author couldn’t very well throw Mister Parrot or Jane Marple into the mix, could she?” said Flo, also looking at him aghast. “Everybody carks it by the end of the book, in case you don’t remember.” She gave him a pointed look. “Agatha couldn’t bump off those two. Her readers would never forgive her. I know I wouldn’t.”
Blake’s eyes widened, and he turned the book around to scan the back blurb.
Alicia shared a frown with Flo and brought up the next question—one on retribution and whether everybody deserved what was coming—but she couldn’t help wondering what Blake was playing at. He clearly hadn’t read the book! Why would he beg to be part of the group and then not do his homework?
“Don’t know about racist,” Lynette said, “but Christie was certainly no feminist, that’s for sure. Did you notice how around the middle part, after the cook has been bumped off, the two female guests promptly take over kitchen duties and the men get to swan about and smoke cigars?”
“They helped clean up!” Missy said.
“Plus it was the times,” Flo added. “Women did do the cooking duties in those days. Like it or lump, that’s just the way it was. And I for one didn’t mind a jot. I’m a very good cook, I’ll have you know.”
“So am I,” snapped Lynette. “It’s my profession. But that’s not the point.”
“I’m pretty handy in the kitchen myself,” said Simon, smiling at Claire. “In my line of business you have to be a jack of all trades.”
“And what business is that?” Blake asked, squinting at him now.
“Bit of this, bit of that,” he said, his smile dissolving.
“Shall we get back to the book?” Alicia said again, trying to keep the impatience from her tone. It was almost lunchtime now, and they were only up to question three. Besides, the phone was still ringing off the hook and her head was beginning to throb.
“I’ll get back to the book,” said Claire. “Did you notice there was some violence towards women too?”
“Oh for heaven’s sake,” said Flo.
“That’s right!” said Perry. “When young Vera gets upset about all the murders—as you would, frankly—Dr Armstrong walks up and belts her across the face!”
He stared at Flo as if waiting for her to defend that, but Missy was now doing the honours.
“It was more of a slap,” she said, “and only because the poor thing was hysterical.”
“Well, it’s hardly best practise is it?” said Perry, and Missy shrank back in her seat.
Alicia’s hand was up again, but now she was waving an invisible white flag. “Let’s break for lunch, shall we?”
She hoped a full stomach would slap them all back on track.
~
As the group dispersed—some to their rooms to freshen up, others helping themselves to premade sandwiches, quiche and mineral water they’d found in the back fridge—Alicia wandered out to the foyer and straight to the front bell this time. She didn’t want to be caught eavesdropping again, but she really needed something to alleviate her headache.
The phone was blessedly quiet as she tapped the gold bell. She waited a few minutes, then tapped it again. There was no response. She then leant across the desk to the room behind and called out, “Hello! Anybody there?”
There was only silence.
Surprised, Alicia turned and stepped towards the internal staircase from which Vale had appeared the day before, noticing a small sign that read Private: Staff Only. She wondered if there was another office up there and if Vale was so busy he hadn’t noticed the phone, which had started up again and sounded increasingly like an angry toddler.
Glaring at it, Alicia considered snatching it up, then shook her head. It wasn’t her job to answer their calls. Maybe Mrs Flannery could help.
She made her way back down the corridor, past the library and bar, to the dining room and, once inside, noticed the morning’s breakfast had been cleared away but the tables were still separated and had not yet been laid for dinner.
“Hello!” she called out again, crossing to the kitchen at the back and pushing the swinging doors wide.
That’s when she got the first inkling that something was not right.
The place looked like a bomb had hit it. The dirty breakfast plates were piled high in the sink, and the leftover buffet was still spread across the bench tops and beginning to attract flies. She noticed what looked like a scribbled shopping list, lying near the stove, and beside it an almost empty bottle of red wine.
“Mrs Flannery?” she called out to no avail.
After glancing around one more time, Alicia turned back, the strange fluttering in her stomach now drowning out the throbbing headache.
~
Back in the library, most of the group had returned and were now gathered around the buffet table, chatting idly.
Watching them from the library doorway, Alicia felt her heart lurch. Everybody seemed happy. Everybody seemed relaxed. Why couldn’t she do as she had instructed and relax too? Why was that always so hard for her?
After failing to locate Vale, Alicia had returned to her room to scrounge for paracetamol. She eventually found an old packet at the bottom of her handbag and quickly swallowed two, then added some gloss to her lips and returned to the library.
Like Missy, she had been so looking forward to this weekend yet couldn’t shake the dread that was creeping through her veins.
Perhaps it was yesterday’s rock fall and the ghostly image of the man on the ridge. Perhaps it was the blasted phones that had been screaming all morning like they had the answer to some question nobody had thought to ask. Perhaps it was just her imagination up to its usual tricks…
Ever since she could remember, Alicia’s mind was like a disaster movie on high rotation. Where others saw a car driving innocently down a road, Alicia saw a madman about to climb the pavement and take the pedestrians out. An overhead plane was a Spitfire, and a dragging wave a devastating tsunami.
It’s not that she lived her life trembling, it’s more that Alicia’s brain lived a life of its own, and it was probably the reason she had turned to Agatha Christie in the first place. Cosy mysteries fed Alicia’s imagination without taking her anywhere too dark.
Still, that didn’t always stop the dark thoughts from descending…
Alicia gave herself a quick shake, slapped a smile to her lips, and stepped into the library to resume proceedings.
~
The second half of the session was a little more productive as the club waxed lyrical about their favourite clues and red herrings. Missy was particularly in thrall to the character called Mr U. N. Owen—Mr Unknown—she thought that was a hoot! But now Alicia was the distracted one. She simply could not focus.
The phones had finally stopped ringing, and that was a blessed relief, but she hadn’t heard anybody moving about in the corridor or seen any cars pull up through the library window that faced the driveway. There was not so much as a flash of Mrs Flannery or Vale, and that didn’t feel right. Did they always vacate the lodge during the day? Or was there some emergency she hadn’t thought of?
“Sorry everybody,” she said suddenly, desperate to calm her brain. “I just have to find Vale. Please, keep going, I’ll be back in a minute.”
Making her way out to the lobby again, Alicia noticed it was still empty, so she retraced her steps to the dining room and then the kitchen. Nothing had changed there either. The tables were still in breakfast mode, and the kitchen was still a shambles.
Feeling disgruntled now—they might be getting a discount, but it didn’t mean they shouldn’t get some service!—she swept back to the reception desk and smacked the front bell several times.
“Gone AWOL has he?” said Simon, and she started. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“No, it’s fine.” She patted her beating heart. “I can’t find Mrs Flannery either. I already checked the kitchen; she’s vanished.”
“Well, they can’t have got far.”
He opened the front door, and they both stepped outside and glanced about. There wasn’t so much as a gardener in sight.
“Wasn’t there a lodge van here yesterday?” Simon said, pointing to the empty car space in front of Blake’s white Mercedes.
She nodded. Yes, there was.
“Everything all right?” came Claire’s voice behind them, Perry beside her, eyebrows high.
Alicia explained the situation, and Perry waved a hand dismissively.
“Oh, Mrs Flannery’s gone into town. I saw her van take off this morning, just before book club started.”
“There you go!” said Simon. “Probably getting supplies for dinner.”
“So where’s Vale?”
That had them all stumped.
“Did anyone see him at breakfast?” Simon asked, drawing them back inside. When they all shrugged, he said, “Maybe he’s caught up somewhere on the property, doing some maintenance. I wouldn’t worry too much.”
Except it was too late for that. Alicia’s worry was now a whirlwind, and images of Vale in distress were whizzing through her brain. She peered up the private stairwell, her ears craning.
“Could be having a nana nap,” said Lynette, who’d also appeared and was following her sister’s gaze.
“Yes, but who could sleep through all those phone calls?” said Perry, eyebrows still high.
Who indeed? thought Alicia.
“Do you need him for anything in particular?” Simon wanted to know, and she shrugged.
“I’m just curious, that’s all. It feels like we’ve been deserted or…” She glanced upwards again. “What if something’s happened? What if a filing cabinet’s fallen on him or something and we’re blissfully unaware?”
Claire turned to Simon and said, “Alicia has a very active imagination.”
“Radioactive, you mean,” said Perry.
“There is one way to find out,” said Simon. “Shall we go up and check? Put your mind at ease, Alicia?” She nodded, and he waved towards the stairs and said, “Ladies first.”
~
That was all a bit of a debacle, thought Flo as she watched most of the group slink out of the library. Claire and Missy had promised her a slick operation, but this mob was clearly distracted and they’d barely had a good discussion about anything other than all this politically correct nonsense.
“I’m heading back to my room,” she told Ronnie, who also seemed very distracted.
Ronnie nodded vaguely and watched her go, then her face lit up like Christmas. Good, she had the place entirely to herself! She got to her feet and took the opportunity to do a little scouting of her own. Earlier, she had noticed a glass cabinet full of what looked like vintage guest books, various years scribbled on the front, and she wondered, gleefully, whether her own signature might be in there amongst them. She didn’t exactly remember signing the book in her day, but she must have, surely? Didn’t Vale say it was tradition?
Ronnie glanced through the glass doors and spotted one tagged “1969” and smiled. She was sure that was the year she had come. Or was it 1968? The problem was, the blasted cupboard was locked. She rattled the doors and then reached a hand upwards, looking for a key.
“What are you up to?” Blake asked, making her jump. He was standing behind her, a wicked glint in his eyes.
“Goodness! You could give a lady a heart attack, creeping up on her like that.”
“Looks like you’re the one doing the creeping,” he said, glancing at the locked door pointedly.
“Am not! I just… Well, I wondered whether my name was in one of the old guest books, that’s all. Thought I’d have a skip down memory lane.”
He rattled the locked door. “Why don’t you break in?”
Ronnie looked horrified at the suggestion, and Lynette didn’t look too impressed either. She had returned to the library while the others headed upstairs. She wasn’t keen to find Vale in flagrante, so she left them to it.
“Don’t listen to him!” Lynette called out as she scooped up her iPhone. “I’m sure if you ask nicely, Vale will give you the key.” Maybe he’d give her the Wi-Fi password while he was at it.
“Yes, except no one can find Vale, can they?” Blake called back.
“How do you—?” began Lynette before she was interrupted by a bloodcurdling scream that sounded like it was coming from above.
The three book club members all stared upwards, and then Lynette’s eyes widened as she said, “I think that was Alicia!”