The Boarding House Horror

11. Water Hieroglyph

I'm a poor hero, but by some primeval instinct the scream pulled me out of my chair and flung me down the dark stairs as if my name were Lancelot. I bounced off the kitchen wall and skidded into the common room. The orange light from the fireplace overwhelmed the wan grey luminance of the windows. Somewhere above the storm the sun westered, gliding on its noiseless path. Soon, it would dive into the sea and pull smothering darkness over den Haag.

Firelight outlined Trevor Brashear's haunted face as he added a stick to the fire. Daria clung to Mariam, face buried in the Tunisian's shoulder. Her muffled voice quavered. "This horrible day. This horrible day."

I counted. Alice Bree sat at the chessboard. That made three women and Brashear. Costa I had just left. My eyes darted here and there. Finally, I saw the motionless silhouette of Lazar Yankov by the French doors. He stared fixedly into the storm.

Six people. My shoulders relaxed. I'm not sure what I was expecting, but to sum up to the correct total comforted me.

"There, there," cooed Mariam.

"'Tis a frightful day, indeed," Brashear watched the fire rise between glances at Daria's back.

I said, "Does anyone know where Groot might keep candles?"

I got no answer except from blind Alice Bree, whose orange-outlined shape lifted empty palms ceilingward. With a grunt I trudged to the kitchen and began opening drawers and cupboards and squinting into the shadowy interiors.

The cupboard closest to the hallway jingled metallically when I opened it. On a nail inside the door hung a big ring of keys.

None saw my aghast expression as my finger extended in slow motion to hook the ring off it nail.

My face closed tight. I palmed the keys and padded from the kitchen, past the common room heedless of prying eyes, and to room number one. Even in the near-darkness it did not take long to locate the correct key. An engraver had dug a deep "1" into its metal.

With a twist of the wrist, I locked room one. With a reverse twist it unlocked. Anybody. Any of them. All of them had the means to interrupt George Raptis's sleep if they had known about Groot's spare keys.

Her sure fingers switched positions of rook and king. I had half-expected the move. Immediately, I said, "I will also castle." I took my time moving the pieces. They were carved out of soapstone, I thought, though I'm no rock hound. I liked the weight of them.

Most of the guests were in the kitchen. With the electricity out and the telephone dead we all reached a quick consensus that Madame Groot would not be appearing any time soon. Mario Costa soon howled about his stomach and the lot of them were busy making and discarding menus for supper.

The chess game had gone another dozen moves, and I thought it was an even struggle so far. The game should have distracted me completely, but my mind wandered. "You're well-read, Alice. What does the ancient Egyptian hieroglyph for water look like?"

"A zig-zag. About six zigs and seven zags."

"So many? And ... sharp corners?"

"Yes. Like a Jack-o-lantern grimace."

"Oh."

"You sound disappointed."

I was disappointed. I had been sure about the water hieroglyph, but now that was evaporating like all my other stratagems. I huffed, "Well, I thought it was curvier, and only about three zags, as you say."

"Dare I ask why this is on your mind?"

During the silence that followed, Bree moved her bishop. I did some accounting. Mario Costa and Trevor Brashear had known George Raptis from the Donna Fortunata casino. Mariam Saab and Lazar Yankov had known him from the war. Daria was his daughter. That left Alice Bree, who remembered the name but had never met him. And she was blind. But Mario Costa had fingered her and she knew about poisons, which could indicate ...

Oh, to hell with it. I need help.

I exhaled through my nose. "It appears that as Raptis realized he had been poisoned, he took a candle and drew a symbol on the floor. I had been thinking it might signify water."

"But it curved. Left, right, left?"

"Yes, that's about right." I had someone to talk so. Relief flooded through me, warm and freeing. And, as if floodgates had released, my mind engaged with the chess match. In a flash, I saw possibilities. A temptation could be set, perhaps. An invitation to move a pawn. I said, "The pawn at G7, I move it forward two spaces."

"All right." Bree said distractedly. She pursed her lips. "Cats. There are cats, yes? They want inside?"

"Yes, the spooky things. Why do you ask about cats?"

"Well, I agree that the wax wavy line does not closely resemble a true Egyptian water symbol. But it does resemble a snake."

"What? I don't follow."

"Cats hunt snakes. Some snakes have cytotoxin venom. And Raptis might have drawn a picture of a snake."

I spluttered. "It ... I ..."

"Without the cats, I would have hypothesized some mechanical delivery of the toxin. With the cats, I think it more likely that there is an actual snake involved."

"A snake bit him? What sort of snake?"

"Viper, perhaps. Asp. Cobra."

"His death could have been an accident?" I rubbed my temples.

"Not likely. No snake native to the area is so venomous. It would have to be an exotic snake. Barring some unlikely chain of events where an escaped pet slipped into the boarding house, I'd say someone brought the snake – or snakes – with them. The tricky bit would be to direct the snake to the correct target, rather than just anyone." Bree spoke quietly but animatedly, with a smile playing around her words.

Slowly, I formed a reply. "Raptis was the only sleeper on the ground floor."

"Excellent. But he may also have been doused with an attractant. A scent to lure the snake. If you could find out who sat next to him at dinner last night, you might narrow down your suspect list."

"Or find out who has a snake in their bag."

"Mm, difficult. I'd imagine that any overt evidence was immediately destroyed. Also, snakes are not loyal pets. The snake is still loose in the house. Or snakes."

My face hardened. "This is crazy. It's all story-telling. Besides, there are plenty of mice in this house to attract cats."

"Are there?"

"I see their mouse holes. Or I did see, back when we had light."

"Snakes hunt mice. Move my H2 pawn forward two spaces."

"All right." I made the move she requested. It was a superficially cheeky move, sure to spoil the equilibrium. But a quiet triumph buoyed me. She had fallen for my gambit. In a few more turns she would realize it, but for her the game was lost.

But perhaps she had a more diverting game in mind. Like a hound on a scent, she said, "And then help me find an empty coffee tin or something. I want to trap a mouse."