The Murray Mansion Floorboards

Nasty Secrets II

RICK and ROY

"What is it?" Rick asked, noticing Roy's sudden stillness. Although he was mad, he could still tell when something was wrong with him.

Roy snapped out of his daze and shook his head. "It's nothing," he said, trying to sound casual. But he didn't fool Rick.

He made a grab at the piece of paper, but Roy pulled back just as fast. "Let me see it!" Rick snapped impatiently. He reached for it and missed again.

Roy stepped out of the circle of people, shielding the scrap of paper as if his life depended on it. His eyes flicked back and forth between them. "It's nothing," he repeated, his voice catching in his throat. "It's just an old newspaper article. I...was in a school spelling bee. It was in the newspaper. Nothing important."

Nobody seemed to believe that. Rick's eyes narrowed in suspicion. "You've never been in a spelling bee. You're dumb as dirt."

Roy frowned. What used to be an old kidding remark that he and Rick had often exchanged in the past now turned into an insult that cut into him sharply. He almost crushed the newspaper clipping in his hand.

Rick didn't back off. "Give us the article, Roy," he said slowly, his voice low. "You're hiding something."

Roy backed up further. "I won't show this to you!" he cried, his voice rising to a stressed squeak. "Not to any of you, especially not you, Rick!"

"Why not?" Rick shouted.

"Because I can't trust you!" Roy exclaimed. "I ask you to let me keep one secret. And what do I get?" He pointed angrily to his face. "A black eye!"

The students who were watching, confused, backed up slightly as Rick stepped forward. "You're the one who started that fight, not me!" he yelled. "You sat on me! I think that gave me the right punch you in your stupid face!"

"Oh yeah?" Roy challenged. "Want some more rights? I'll give you some—right in your stupid nose!"

The crowd instinctively stepped away again, but one person stayed. Before Rick and Roy had a chance to throw any punches, Dwain stepped between them and held his hands up. "Stop it!" he yelled. Both boys relaxed, but they still eyed each other menacingly over Dwain's head.

Dwain fixed a fierce gaze on both of them. "What is the matter with you two?" he demanded. His usual comical smile had vanished. "You're best friends."

"We were," Rick growled, never moving his glare from Roy.

Dwain turned to Rick. "I can't believe it," he stated simply.

"Can't believe what?" Rick returned, stone-faced. "That we hate each other's guts? What's so unbelievable about that?"

Dwain shook his head. "I can't believe you would get so worked up over nothing. It's pathetic."

Rick almost said something back, but the words wouldn't come. His mouth hung open stupidly.

Roy was not so affected. "It wasn't nothing," he argued. "It was a big secret, and I wanted him to keep his nose out of it."

Rick's mouth started working again. "Really?" he exclaimed. "A big secret? What's so big about painting? Nothing. Nobody cares." His voice trailed off. "I bet you're not even that good," he muttered vehemently under his breath.

The comment didn't have the effect that Rick had been expecting. Instead of exploding with anger and attacking, Roy stood still. "You don't know that!" he cried. "You don't know...." His voice cracked. His eyes were red and moist. Was he crying?

Rick wondered if he had gone too far.

Before anyone had a chance to say anything else, Roy ran, leaving nothing but a swinging door behind him and the sound of his footsteps retreating down the hall. The rest of the students stood frozen, too shocked for words.

Dwain turned to rejoin the ring of people. "I can't believe it," he repeated.

STEWART

Stewart had quietly watched the events along with the rest of the students. Although outwardly he had been silent, a million words rushed through his mind. This mansion is pulling people apart, was his first thought. But then he reconsidered. It's not the mansion; it's what's happening inside it.

Strange things were happening very quickly. The jokers, the papers that Amanda had found, the birth certificate of J. Q. King's son, and the death of J. Q. King himself—none of it seemed to make sense. But it has to, Stewart reasoned. Something must be going on here that explains everything.

Probably not something good.

Stewart wasn't paying much attention, until something that Rick said pushed Roy to run out of the room before another word could be uttered. He took the article with him, Stewart couldn't help but notice. What was it?

Dwain moved between the stunned students and took a seat in an armchair, looking grumpy. Rick stood where he was, staring at the door. Finally, to break the silence, Kathryn spoke.

"I think we all know what's important here," she said, stepping forward to be in front of everyone except Rick, who wasn't listening anyway. "Someone was murdered, but here we are, fighting each other. We need concentrate on the more immediate problem."

"And what exactly is that?" Star asked sullenly.

Kathryn looked at each of them slowly. Stewart shifted uncomfortably when her eyes met swept over his. "Someone was killed," she said, "and I think the murderer is still in the mansion. Maybe even one of us."

The students looked at each other doubtfully. But Lara refused to believe such a thing. "That's impossible," she said, then shook her head until her green bow nearly flew out. "I don't believe it. No one here could have killed someone."

Kathryn's brow creased in concern. "Your faith in everyone's character, while sweet, is not safe. For all you know, any one of us could have done it, and for all we know, you could have."

"But the maids could have, too," Lara pointed out.

"Yes. We can't trust anyone, but we still have to work together to find out what exactly is happening. Don't ever let yourself be alone. Never travel in anything less than threes. The killer could be anyone, and they could strike at any time."

Stewart's eyes widened. He was at the door before anyone noticed him running, and out of the library before anyone could say anything. Kathryn's right, he thought as he raced through the halls, his heart pounding with both the exercise and the fear that was boiling inside him. A sick feeling clung to his throat. The killer could be anywhere. He swallowed. And Roy is alone.

His feet nearly flew out from under him as he rounded a bend in the hall. Roy had probably headed for his room when he left, so that was where Stewart was going. It had been several minutes since Roy had separated from the group. Was that enough time for something bad to happen?

He reached the students' hall. It looked normal, but that didn't tell him anything. He located Roy's room.

His stomach did a flip.

There was something on the floor just outside Roy's door. He could tell what it was from a distance, but he picked it up to make sure his mind wasn't playing a horrible trick on him. In his trembling hands he held the article that Roy had protected so stubbornly. Attached to it with a paperclip was a joker. Scrawled messily upon it in red pen were the words, "Your move, Stewart."