Chapter Seventeen
At nine the followingday, Lucy dragged herself into the dining room and found the other players already there. They all looked up from their plates as she shuffled through the oak double doors.
“Sorry,” she said. “Jet lag.”
“Of course,” Andre said. “Help yourself to the spread.”
She got coffee with milk and filled her plate. There wasn’t much conversation. Everyone looked as exhausted as she felt. She’d had trouble getting back to sleep after her run-in with Markham and her fight with Hugo. Luckily the coffee had cooled just enough that she could gulp it down.
“That’s coffee, Lucy,” Dustin said. “Not beer. You’re not supposed to chug it.”
“Long night,” she said over the top of her mug.
“Was it?” Melanie asked. “You got out early. We were up past midnight.”
“Who came in second?” she asked.
An awkward silence followed. Andre cleared his throat. “We all gave up finally.”
“Oh,” Lucy said because she didn’t know what to say that wouldn’t make them want to throw butter knives at her.
Dustin got up to refill his coffee off the sideboard. “Anybody else see any strange characters on the island? Men in suits?”
“I may have,” Andre said. “You?”
Melanie moved a half-eaten sausage around her plate. “Maybe.”
“Markham,” Lucy said. “I met him too. He tried to make me an offer I couldn’t refuse.”
“Same, same,” Andre said, nodding. “What did you do?”
“Refused him,” she said. “I mean, the book has to be published, right?”
“Definitely,” Melanie said. Andre agreed. Dustin just shrugged.
Suddenly the doors opened again, and Jack walked in wearing a wide smile. “Good morning, kids.”
They all greeted Jack with as much enthusiasm as they could muster, which wasn’t much.
“I know, I know. Harder nights for us all. Lucy, you’ll be pleased to know we’ve secured the docks. No more late-night shark attacks.”
“Shark attacks?” Melanie asked.
“The lawyer guy came to my room in the middle of the night,” Lucy explained. “Thanks, Jack.”
“My pleasure. The only sharks I like are the ones in the ocean. That is why I tend to throw my lawyers off the pier. Anyway, let’s talk about our next game.”
Everyone sat up a little straighter, eyes bright and ready.
“Look for the king of Clock Island. Under his crown, you will find the instructions for our next game.”
“Say that again, please?” Andre asked. He had out a notebook and pencil and wrote down every word Jack said.
Look for the king of Clock Island. Under his crown, you will find the instructions for our next game.
“There are no points,” Jack said, “so feel free to work together or separately. But until you find the instructions, the next game can’t begin. Good luck.”
Jack smiled benevolently at them all, then left the dining room.
