John Manning - The Killing Room

“I don’t know why Uncle Howard doesn’t keep any of the same servants,” she said as she headed toward the house. “They’re always different every time we visit.”

She threw open the front doors. “Helloooo!” she trilled, her voice echoing across the marble. Ryan shuffled along behind her.

“Where the hell is everyone?” Chelsea asked.

Then she spotted a woman she didn’t recognize emerging from the study. At first she took her to be another new servant, but the woman had an air of authority. She was an attractive redhead with sharp green eyes. She smiled as she approached Chelsea and Ryan.

“Hello, I’m Carolyn Cartwright,” she said. “Your uncle is in the study.”

They all shook hands. Chelsea realized her brother really was out of it, because he simply grunted a hello. Usually when he met a pretty woman he was falling all over himself to be charming.

“Mr. Young is very glad you’ve come early,” she said as they headed into the study.

“And you are?” Chelsea asked, a little put off by the familiarity this outsider was showing toward Uncle Howard.

“Mr. Young has hired me to help him with a project,” Carolyn explained.

Chelsea nodded. “I guess he can’t do everything himself anymore. He’s certainly getting up there in years.”

“Oh, but he’s really quite remarkable,” Carolyn observed. “I mean, at ninety-eight, still doing all that he does…” She smiled. “He’s not slowing down any time soon.”

This time it was Chelsea’s turn to grunt. How long were they going to have to wait for the old man to kick the bucket and leave them all his billions?

But then she grinned as she caught sight of Uncle Howard sitting in a chair by the window, a book in his lap. Not quite yet did she want him to kick the bucket. She needed a little more time to make sure she was in the will.

“Uncle Howard!” she called, sugary sweet. Rushing ahead, she threw her arms around him as he sat in the chair, planting a big kiss on his mottled old cheek.

“Hello, princess,” the old man said, patting her hair. “How lovely that you came early. I’m very pleased you did.”

She moved aside so that her brother could shake Uncle Howard’s hand. Ryan stepped forward, his eyelids drooping, a wan smile on his face.

“Good to see you too, Ryan,” Howard Young said. “A bit under the weather?”

“Oh, he’s just tired from the long ride up here,” Chelsea said.

“That’s right,” Ryan said, trying to summon some of his usual bravado. “A quick shower and change of clothes and I’ll be fine.”

Uncle Howard just looked at him strangely.

But another voice piped up with an opinion. “If you ask me,” Douglas said, sitting up from the sofa where he had been stretched out, hidden from view, “you look better than I’ve seen you in a long time.” He hopped to his feet. “Welcome, dear cousins!”

Chelsea stiffened. Douglas was barefoot, wearing ratty jeans, and it looked as if he hadn’t washed his hair this morning. He was disgraceful.

“Hello, Douglas,” she said. “Glad you’re here. How nice that we’ll have a chance to spend a little more time with you than usual.”

She knew her voice sounded phony, and she knew that Douglas knew she was being totally insincere. But she hoped Uncle Howard didn’t pick up on it.

Ryan hadn’t even bothered to say hello. He just excused himself so he could go wash up and change his clothes. Chelsea hoped he would come back downstairs more like his old self so that they could put Douglas in his place.

“So what are you doing now, Douglas?” Chelsea asked cheerily. “You’ve always had such an interesting, if brief, series of jobs.”

“True,” he said. “One of the few I haven’t tried is Slacker Child Living Off Wealthy Daddy.”

“Now, now, Douglas,” Uncle Howard said, his voice raspy.

“It’s okay, dear uncle,” Chelsea said. “Douglas and I just enjoy teasing each other, don’t we, Douglas?”

“We adore it,” he said, and Chelsea caught the little look he exchanged with that woman, Carolyn. What was their relationship?

“Well,” Chelsea announced, “I think I’ll go wash up as well, and then we can have a wonderful talk and catch up, dear uncle.”

“I look forward to that, Chelsea,” the old man said. He hesitated, as if trying to think of exactly how he should phrase something. “I’m glad you’re here early, because we need to talk. You and I and your brother.”

Chelsea’s ears perked up at this. “Really? Well, of course, Uncle Howard.”

It had to be about the will. What else would he want to discuss with them?

“But perhaps I should wait until your father is here as well,” Uncle Howard said. “He should be here for that.”

It has to be the will, Chelsea thought. Why else would he want Daddy here, too?

“I’ll call him and have him come up early as well,” she assured her uncle.

“That would be good,” he said.

She bent down and gave him another kiss on his cheek. His dry, flaky skin always grossed her out, but she forced herself. Chelsea smiled over at Douglas as she prepared to exit the room.

Her cousin ignored her. “So, Uncle Howie,” he said, sitting down on the armrest of the old man’s chair, “how about if we have a conversation, too?”

“All right,” Uncle Howard agreed.

Chelsea almost spit. How dare Douglas? Trying to worm his way in before Uncle Howard had a chance to talk to her and Ryan?

She was aware that Carolyn had positioned herself close to the old man’s chair as well. What business did she have listening in?

Unless she was the lawyer drawing up the will…

“Oh, Chelsea,” Douglas called sweetly as she left the study and headed into the hall, “will you be so kind as to shut the doors behind you?”

She seethed, but did as he asked. It wouldn’t be good to upset Uncle Howard now.

She stood there in the hallway staring at the closed double doors of the study. What did her uncle want to speak to her and Ryan about? Either to tell us we’re in the will…or we’re out. She gulped. What were they talking about inside the room at that very moment? Was Douglas brainwashing Uncle Howard against them? That woman…there was clearly a connection with Douglas. She was his girlfriend. That must be it! The little sneak had gotten his girlfriend to act as the old man’s lawyer!

Chelsea wished she could hear what was taking place inside, but the doors were too thick. But then she remembered something.

Upstairs, the room she always stayed in was directly above the study. One night, sitting on the floor leaning against the bed reading a copy of Cosmo she’d stolen from her cousin Paula, she made an exciting discovery. There was a grate on the floor of a heating vent that led down to the study. If you pressed your ear to the grate, you could eavesdrop on the adults below. Chelsea often lay there on the floor listening to the adults in the study below her discussing things she had no clue about. They always seemed to be talking about the lottery. Why, Chelsea didn’t know. Her family never played the lottery. They were far too rich for that.

The recollection of that heating vent brought a smile to Chelsea’s face. There was no time to waste. She bolted from the spot, taking the stairs two at a time. Flying down the upstairs corridor to her room, she closed down the door behind her and nearly threw herself onto the floor. She pressed her ear up against the grate.

Her smile widened.

She could hear them, plain as day.

“It’s just that you haven’t been very available since we came back from seeing Jeanette,” Douglas was saying.

Jeanette? Why did they go see that crazy old lady? Chelsea frowned. She assumed the old man was obliged to leave poor Jeanette something in the will, some kind of perpetual care. Maybe a trust. She assumed Carolyn, as the lawyer, was setting that up.