just gone through that way a few minutes earlier.
âEddie-boy gone out?â Spike asked.
âOh, I donât â¦â Sandra looked over with a startled expression. âSorry. He was just here a minute ago. Do you need him?â
âNo worries,â Spike said, heading toward her. âMore drinks. Iâll help myself.â
Sandra quickly stepped aside as Spike approached. He caught a whiff of fear. Was she afraid of him? He opened the fridge and looked in. The labels looked expensive, though he knew nothing about wine. He grabbed two bottles closest to the front and let the door slam shut.
âTheseâll do,â he said, heading back to the dining room.
Chapter 9
U pstairs , Edwards kept his ear tuned to the goings-on in the dining room. If any of his guests got restless, he might find himself in a very tricky position. Mr. Keillâs instructions had been explicit: he was to gather everyoneâs cellphones without arousing any suspicions whatsoever. He hadnât said why he wanted this done, only that he would square it with them all upon his arrival. A joke of some sort, no doubt. Until then, Edwards knew he had to be careful.
He carried the ring of master keys carefully, trying not to jangle them as he slipped first into one room and then another. Heâd managed to get Sandraâs cellphone when they first arrived and he got Vernaâs next when she was busy with her makeup kit. He hadnât been able to find where Spike Anthrax kept his, but then remembered the message said Spike probably wouldnât carry one, not being technologically inclined. Heâd let it rest at that, but watched to see where the others put theirs as he showed each of them to their rooms. Most had left them on dressers or bedside tables, but the lawyer, Noni Embrem, had slipped his into the pocket of his jacket. It was going to be difficult getting it from him.
Max Hardcoreâs red cell was sitting on the dresser beside Sami Leeâs purple phone. Peteâs was on the table next to his bed, right where Edwards had watched him leave it. The hardest one to locate belonged to the critic, Crispin LaFey. It had been zipped into the lining of his computer bag, but Edwards found it eventually. The laptopâs keyboard was in Braille, he noted, slipping the phone into his pocket. So he was truly blind after all.
It was all over in five minutes. By his reckoning, Edwards had every phone on the island except for the lawyerâs. He removed the batteries, bagged them all, and slipped downstairs via the back stairwell in time to hear Spike ask Sandra where he was. He heard the fridge open and close again as Spike left the kitchen. If anyone asked, heâd say he was in the bathroom. What could they say to that?
He waited till Sandra was busy gathering dishes in the dining room before pulling out the footstool. He climbed up, pushing the bag into the cupboard over the sink as heâd been instructed, then locking it once he was done. It would be easy enough to find if anyone wanted to search the entire premises, but without batteries the phones were useless. He was about to step back down when he noticed a tin container. Curious, he opened it. It was filled with a vile-smelling white powder. A cleaning agent of some sort, he decided, pushing it farther back. Had it been there earlier? He couldnât recall.
Edwards thought again about his new employer. He wasnât quite sure what to make of this Mr. Keill. Everything had been so specific â the man had made copious notes telling him each guestâs food and drink preferences, which rooms to put them in, as well as where to seat them at dinner. Heâd been very particular about all of it. In fact, it seemed that nothing had been left to chance except for his arrival. And now Mr. Keill was going to be late.
Edwards hoped the guests wouldnât blame him once they realized their phones were gone. It had all seemed fine at
âEddie-boy gone out?â Spike asked.
âOh, I donât â¦â Sandra looked over with a startled expression. âSorry. He was just here a minute ago. Do you need him?â
âNo worries,â Spike said, heading toward her. âMore drinks. Iâll help myself.â
Sandra quickly stepped aside as Spike approached. He caught a whiff of fear. Was she afraid of him? He opened the fridge and looked in. The labels looked expensive, though he knew nothing about wine. He grabbed two bottles closest to the front and let the door slam shut.
âTheseâll do,â he said, heading back to the dining room.
Chapter 9
U pstairs , Edwards kept his ear tuned to the goings-on in the dining room. If any of his guests got restless, he might find himself in a very tricky position. Mr. Keillâs instructions had been explicit: he was to gather everyoneâs cellphones without arousing any suspicions whatsoever. He hadnât said why he wanted this done, only that he would square it with them all upon his arrival. A joke of some sort, no doubt. Until then, Edwards knew he had to be careful.
He carried the ring of master keys carefully, trying not to jangle them as he slipped first into one room and then another. Heâd managed to get Sandraâs cellphone when they first arrived and he got Vernaâs next when she was busy with her makeup kit. He hadnât been able to find where Spike Anthrax kept his, but then remembered the message said Spike probably wouldnât carry one, not being technologically inclined. Heâd let it rest at that, but watched to see where the others put theirs as he showed each of them to their rooms. Most had left them on dressers or bedside tables, but the lawyer, Noni Embrem, had slipped his into the pocket of his jacket. It was going to be difficult getting it from him.
Max Hardcoreâs red cell was sitting on the dresser beside Sami Leeâs purple phone. Peteâs was on the table next to his bed, right where Edwards had watched him leave it. The hardest one to locate belonged to the critic, Crispin LaFey. It had been zipped into the lining of his computer bag, but Edwards found it eventually. The laptopâs keyboard was in Braille, he noted, slipping the phone into his pocket. So he was truly blind after all.
It was all over in five minutes. By his reckoning, Edwards had every phone on the island except for the lawyerâs. He removed the batteries, bagged them all, and slipped downstairs via the back stairwell in time to hear Spike ask Sandra where he was. He heard the fridge open and close again as Spike left the kitchen. If anyone asked, heâd say he was in the bathroom. What could they say to that?
He waited till Sandra was busy gathering dishes in the dining room before pulling out the footstool. He climbed up, pushing the bag into the cupboard over the sink as heâd been instructed, then locking it once he was done. It would be easy enough to find if anyone wanted to search the entire premises, but without batteries the phones were useless. He was about to step back down when he noticed a tin container. Curious, he opened it. It was filled with a vile-smelling white powder. A cleaning agent of some sort, he decided, pushing it farther back. Had it been there earlier? He couldnât recall.
Edwards thought again about his new employer. He wasnât quite sure what to make of this Mr. Keill. Everything had been so specific â the man had made copious notes telling him each guestâs food and drink preferences, which rooms to put them in, as well as where to seat them at dinner. Heâd been very particular about all of it. In fact, it seemed that nothing had been left to chance except for his arrival. And now Mr. Keill was going to be late.
Edwards hoped the guests wouldnât blame him once they realized their phones were gone. It had all seemed fine at
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