I Know What You Did Last Wednesday by Anthony Horowitz Read Free Book Online
Authors: Anthony Horowitz
for days, or even weeks. It all depends on when Captain Randle comes back. And by then it could be too late!”
“I’d like to make a suggestion,” I said. Everyone stopped and looked at me. “The first thing is, we’ve all got to keep each other in sight.”
“The kid’s right,” Mark agreed. “So long as we can see each other, we’re going to be safe.”
“That’s true!” Tim exclaimed. “All we have to do is keep our eyes open and everything will be fine.” He turned to me. “You’re brilliant, Nick. For a moment there I was getting really worried.”
Then all the lights went out.
It happened so suddenly that for a moment I thought it was just me. Had I been knocked out or somehow closed my eyes without noticing? The last thing I saw was the four of them – Eric, Brenda, Mark and Tim – sitting in their chairs as if caught in a photograph. Then everything was black. There was no moon that night and even if there had been the stained glass window would have kept most of the light out. Darkness came crashing onto us. It was total.
“Don’t panic!” Eric said.
There was a gunshot. I saw it, a spark of red on the other side of the room.
Tim screamed and for a horrible moment I wondered if he had been shot. I forced myself to calm down. He’d come first in needlework. Nobody would be aiming a gun at him.
“Tim!” I called out.
“Can I panic now?” he called back.
“Eric…?” That was Mark’s voice.
And then there was a sort of groaning sound, followed by a heavy thud. At the same time I heard a door open and close. I stood up, trying to see through the darkness. But it was hopeless. I couldn’t even make out my own hand in front of my face.
“Tim?” I called again.
“Nick?” I was relieved to hear his voice.
“Eric?” I tried.
Silence.
“Brenda?”
Nothing.
“Mark?”
The lights came back on.
There were only two people alive in the room. I was standing in front of my chair. One more step and I’d have put my foot through the coffee table. Tim was
under
the coffee table. He must have crawled there when the lights went out. Eric was on the floor. He had been shot. There was a flintlock pistol, still smoking, lying on the carpet on the other side of the room. It must have been taken off the wall, fired and then dropped. At least, that’s what it looked like. Brenda was sitting in her chair. She was dead too. One of the organ pipes – the largest – had been pulled down on top of her. That must have been the thud I had heard. Brenda had sung her last opera. The only music she needed now was a hymn.
There was no sign of Mark.
“Are you all right, Tim?” I demanded.
“Yes!” Tim sounded surprised. “I haven’t been murdered!” he exclaimed.
“I noticed.” I waited while he climbed out from underneath the coffee table. “At least we know who the killer is,” I said.
“Do we?”
“It’s got to be Mark.” I said. “Mark Tyler…”
“I always knew it was him,” Tim said. “Call it intuition. Call it experience. But I knew he was a killer even before he’d done any killing.”
“I don’t know, Tim,” I said. It bothered me, because to be honest Mark was the last person I would have suspected. And yet, at the same time, I had to admit … it would have taken a fast mover to push the globe off the roof and make it all the way downstairs in time and Mark was the fastest person on the island.
“Where do you think he went?” Tim asked.
“I don’t know.”
We left the room carefully. In fact, Tim made me leave it first. The fact was that – unless I’d got the whole thing wrong – it was just the three of us now on the island; Mark could be waiting for us anywhere. Or waiting for Tim, rather. He had no quarrel with me. And that made me think. Tim had come first in needlework. Following the pattern of the other deaths, that meant he would probably be killed with some sort of needle. But what would that mean? A sewing needle dipped in poison?
“I’d like to make a suggestion,” I said. Everyone stopped and looked at me. “The first thing is, we’ve all got to keep each other in sight.”
“The kid’s right,” Mark agreed. “So long as we can see each other, we’re going to be safe.”
“That’s true!” Tim exclaimed. “All we have to do is keep our eyes open and everything will be fine.” He turned to me. “You’re brilliant, Nick. For a moment there I was getting really worried.”
Then all the lights went out.
It happened so suddenly that for a moment I thought it was just me. Had I been knocked out or somehow closed my eyes without noticing? The last thing I saw was the four of them – Eric, Brenda, Mark and Tim – sitting in their chairs as if caught in a photograph. Then everything was black. There was no moon that night and even if there had been the stained glass window would have kept most of the light out. Darkness came crashing onto us. It was total.
“Don’t panic!” Eric said.
There was a gunshot. I saw it, a spark of red on the other side of the room.
Tim screamed and for a horrible moment I wondered if he had been shot. I forced myself to calm down. He’d come first in needlework. Nobody would be aiming a gun at him.
“Tim!” I called out.
“Can I panic now?” he called back.
“Eric…?” That was Mark’s voice.
And then there was a sort of groaning sound, followed by a heavy thud. At the same time I heard a door open and close. I stood up, trying to see through the darkness. But it was hopeless. I couldn’t even make out my own hand in front of my face.
“Tim?” I called again.
“Nick?” I was relieved to hear his voice.
“Eric?” I tried.
Silence.
“Brenda?”
Nothing.
“Mark?”
The lights came back on.
There were only two people alive in the room. I was standing in front of my chair. One more step and I’d have put my foot through the coffee table. Tim was
under
the coffee table. He must have crawled there when the lights went out. Eric was on the floor. He had been shot. There was a flintlock pistol, still smoking, lying on the carpet on the other side of the room. It must have been taken off the wall, fired and then dropped. At least, that’s what it looked like. Brenda was sitting in her chair. She was dead too. One of the organ pipes – the largest – had been pulled down on top of her. That must have been the thud I had heard. Brenda had sung her last opera. The only music she needed now was a hymn.
There was no sign of Mark.
“Are you all right, Tim?” I demanded.
“Yes!” Tim sounded surprised. “I haven’t been murdered!” he exclaimed.
“I noticed.” I waited while he climbed out from underneath the coffee table. “At least we know who the killer is,” I said.
“Do we?”
“It’s got to be Mark.” I said. “Mark Tyler…”
“I always knew it was him,” Tim said. “Call it intuition. Call it experience. But I knew he was a killer even before he’d done any killing.”
“I don’t know, Tim,” I said. It bothered me, because to be honest Mark was the last person I would have suspected. And yet, at the same time, I had to admit … it would have taken a fast mover to push the globe off the roof and make it all the way downstairs in time and Mark was the fastest person on the island.
“Where do you think he went?” Tim asked.
“I don’t know.”
We left the room carefully. In fact, Tim made me leave it first. The fact was that – unless I’d got the whole thing wrong – it was just the three of us now on the island; Mark could be waiting for us anywhere. Or waiting for Tim, rather. He had no quarrel with me. And that made me think. Tim had come first in needlework. Following the pattern of the other deaths, that meant he would probably be killed with some sort of needle. But what would that mean? A sewing needle dipped in poison?