William Bernhardt - Final Round

The room inside was dark; the only light streamed in from the open window, and that wasn’t much. As far as Conner could see, it was a bedroom, and a magnificent one at that. Why would they have a bedroom in a country club? he wondered. And why would Freddy be in it? Surely he had more important things he needed to be doing at the moment.

Conner saw a passage at the opposite side of the room. Leading to a bathroom? he speculated. Or another room altogether? He didn’t know, and once again, the only way he was going to find out was by creeping over and taking a look-see…

Conner had almost made it to the passageway when he heard footsteps. Fast footsteps, from inside the room. Freddy was returning the way he came.

Conner leapt out of the passage, out of sight. He glanced back at the outer door. It was too far away. He’d never get there in time.

Damn! How’d he let himself get into this mess? How would he ever explain to Freddy why he’d been sneaking around behind him? Worse, if Freddy really was the culprit, this would be a sure tip-off that Conner was onto him.

Conner spotted a closet an arm’s reach away. Without even thinking, he pulled the door open and ducked inside.

It was dark in the closet, no big surprise. Though Conner couldn’t see anything, he could feel what he suspected were coats all around him, crowding him. He had to brace himself against the frame to keep from falling against the door and blowing his cover.

Conner heard the footsteps stop, somewhere just beyond the closet. For some reason, Freddy wasn’t leaving, wasn’t going back to the party. Damn! What if he decided to lie down and read Gone With the Wind or something? Conner might never get out of here!

An instant later, Conner heard a familiar creaking noise. Someone was opening the door to the outer corridor. He felt certain it wasn’t Freddy, though. Freddy hadn’t budged from his spot just outside the closet.

It seemed there was going to be a meeting, after all.

Conner pressed his ear against the door. He could hear voices, two of them, both low and hushed. He thought one of them was Freddy, naturally, but he couldn’t make out the other one. And he couldn’t understand what they were saying, either. Although, as the conversation continued, it became progressively clear that they were arguing. Their voices gradually rose and became more agitated. After a few minutes, they were loud enough that Conner could pick up some of what was being said.

“Why’d you come here?” He was almost certain that voice was Freddy. Even muted, it had Freddy’s distinctive squeal. “Do you want people to know?”

There was a muffled reply from the other person.

“What? Here? Surely you don’t think I’m going to do that.”

Do what? Conner thought, gritting his teeth. What were they talking about?

A few moments later, he heard Freddy say: “I tell ya, that’s not enough. I need more. Much more!”

Conner heard more arguing, then sounds of a scuffle. What was going on? He desperately wanted to break out of the closet and look. But how could he explain what he was doing here? Besides, if he kept quiet, he might actually figure out what they were talking about. Thus far, he couldn’t prove anything. Revealing himself would accomplish nothing, except to embarrass himself and tip off the combatants that he was onto them.

Conner heard footsteps rapidly moving away, then more footsteps following close behind. They were leaving-both of them!

As soon as he heard the outer door slam shut, Conner burst out of the closet. The coast was clear. Whoever had been here before was long gone. He raced to the door and slowly opened it. No Freddy-or anyone else. He flung the door open and dashed down the corridor. He winged past the interior offices and hit the landing, then started down the long central staircase. Where could Freddy have gone so quickly? And what happened to the person with whom Freddy was fighting? Surely if he kept running he could catch up to them. How far could they have possibly gone?

Conner hit the bottom of the stairs and kept running. He thought he caught a glimpse of Freddy toward the front doors, although it was difficult to be certain when every man in the immense room was wearing the same black tux. Conner bolted across the room, pushing people aside, knocking over waiters, spilling champagne.

He was almost halfway across the ballroom when he felt a hand grab him by the collar. Propelled by his own momentum, Conner whirled around…

… to face Barry Bennett, his nose engorged and his breath thick with booze. “Hey,” Barry slurred, “you shouldn’t be runnin’ in here. This’ss a classy place.”

Conner tried to remove Barry’s hand, but unfortunately, the tottering inebriate had a tight grip. “I’m busy, Barry. Let go.”

“Man, did you see those fireworksh?”

Conner felt certain he could break Barry’s grip, though possibly not without breaking Barry’s arm. “I’m sure it was magnificent, but-”

“Fabuloush. Just fabuloush. Lit up the whole lagoon.”

“Barry, let go of me.”

“And when the glittery lights spelled out the bride and groom’s names-I thought I was gonna cry.”

“Barry, I’m giving you one last chance to avoid major surgery. Let go .”

“Did you know Freddy’s girl spells Karen with a C ? I didn’t.”

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” Conner brought up his foot then jabbed the heel down hard on Barry’s toes. Barry was apparently too snockered to cry out, but he felt it. His eyes went wide and he dropped his glass. And let go of Conner’s collar.

Conner whirled around, searching to see if he could find any trace of Freddy and whoever he had been with. Unfortunately, Freddy was nowhere to be found.

Damn! In just a few precious seconds, he’d lost what little he’d gained.

Cursing himself, he started looking for O’Brien. At the very least, he could tell her what he’d heard. Maybe she could figure out a way-

All at once, the ballroom was split apart by a piercing scream. The shocking sound echoed and reverberated through the hall, rattling the chandeliers. The cry was picked up by others; soon the entire room was shouting and yelling and running every which way at once.

What the hell was going on? Conner wondered. He didn’t know, but there was an aching hollow in the pit of his stomach telling him that when he discovered the answer, he probably wasn’t going to like it.

A crowd was gathering at the front of the ballroom, swarming toward the front doors. Conner headed in that direction, pushing people out of the way with impunity. “Excuse me,” he bellowed. “I need to get outside! Move!”

When he finally made it through the doors, it was immediately clear that everyone’s attention was focused in one direction-toward the technicolor fountain in the center of the front patio.

“Let me through!” Conner shouted, shoving past the spectators. Women were holding their faces in their hands. A few people looked sick. Some were even crying. What the hell was happening?

Finally, he made it to the base of the fountain and peered inside. It didn’t take him long to see what all the commotion was about.

Her body was still floating, rocking back and forth with the gentle currents and ripples, and her gown was like a kaleidoscope when illuminated by multicolored lights. A casual observer might suspect that a party guest who’d had one too many had decided to take a dip in the fountain with her clothes on. But Conner knew that wasn’t what had happened. He knew, because he saw the steady stream of blood oozing from her throat.

Steeling himself, Conner reached into the water and turned the body over so he could see her face. And when he did, his jaw fell open, gasping.