The Extra Guest

Janet

It rained like this on the night my sister was murdered, Janet thought to herself as she slicked the plastic coral lipstick on her lips and scrutinised her wrinkled, grey reflection in the dressing table mirror. The colour didn’t suit her.

The bedroom still smelled like her, like Anna, and a faint whiff of white musk and face powder lingered in the air, as it mixed with the mouldy damp odour which permeated the whole house. Wind rattled the door frames like an unwanted intruder trying to break in whilst raindrops played percussion on the single glazed windows.

What a night for a party! Would anyone come on a night like this? It seemed like a morbid idea with death still so fresh in their minds and Anna’s corpse not yet buried. Everything seemed out of kilter and Janet tried to guess what her sister may have felt during her last moments. Had she looked into this mirror on her last night alive? Had she worn this lipstick?

A twinge of guilt stabbed Janet's gut as she thought again how long it had been since she'd seen her own sister, or since she’d spent any time in the sombre grey walls of the mansion they'd both grown up in. Truth be told, they’d lost touch. They'd still sent each other cards at Christmas and birthdays, meaningless tokens of the affection that’d once felt as sisters. But it had been months since they’d even spoken on the phone.

Now Janet would never speak to her sister again.

When the phone finally rang last week it had been Colin’s voice, Janet had heard from the other end of the phone instead, his usual calm and softly-spoken lilt racked with guttural sobs as he explained what had happened. Anna had been found bludgeoned to death on the cold stone floor of the dining room with one of the oversized, ornate candle-stick holders. Her skull caved in like a broken Easter egg, leaving a hideous splash of blackness and blood seeping into the stone slabs of the floor.

‘Murder!’ His voice was hoarse from crying. ‘The police say that someone must have broken in and she unwittingly surprised the thief. But that’s a lot of nonsense. We all know better than that.’

‘But what else would have happened Colin?’ Janet asked. She was still in shock. ‘My sister didn’t have any enemies.’

There was a pause on the end of the line.

‘When did you last speak to Anna?’ he asked. The familiar feeling of guilt washed over Janet. She couldn't remember.

‘Well… I think it was just before Christmas,’ she lied. It had been much longer than that.

Colin took a deep breath. ‘Janet. Did Anna ever mention anything to you about her husband?’

Janet nearly dropped the phone in shock. Since her youth Anna, had staunchly maintained she’d remain a spinster until the day she died. Both sisters were in their sixties, Janet widowed a few years ago whilst Anna had inherited their childhood home, rattling around on her own in the large empty house filled with shadows.

Well not quite on her own – Anna had a solid group of loyal friends, who were just as eccentric as she was in their own way and who all enjoyed a touch of the theatrical. Anna, Colin, Bunty and Mae; the four friends had been inseparable since their tearaway adolescence. Janet, with her more conservative tastes, had never quite fit in. The four friends were known for holding weekly dinner parties in the echoey, high-ceiling dining until the early hours of the morning.

Although often there’d be more wine than dinner. Sometimes there would be no dinner at all.

‘Janet, are you still there?’ Her stunned silence was the only answer Colin needed.

‘Look I think you need to come home. We need to talk.’

Colin

Colin let himself in with his spare key and eased off his wet boots in the hallway, leaving puddles on the diamond floor tiling. The rain showed no sign of abating and the wind had grown stronger as it whistled through the dripping trees.

He didn’t mind the weather too much. In fact, it suited his purpose. It would be a dinner party to remember.

‘Anna would have been proud’, Colin thought sadly. She had loved anything theatrical or overdramatic. He tried to ignore the niggling feeling that he was being ridiculous and that he would just end up looking like a fool. His conversation with Janet earlier today hadn’t reassured him. Janet was almost a carbon copy of her old sister in terms of appearance and colouring but the similarities ended there. She was a nice enough woman, but she lacked Anna’s independent nature and spirit of fun. Whilst Anna would have toasted the idea of a dinner party in her memory, and have knocked back a hearty gulp of wine to mark the occasion, Janet obviously found the whole scheme highly inappropriate.

‘Really Colin? Do you honestly think this is a good idea?’ Janet had asked with raised eyebrows.

He missed Anna. He tried not to think of his oldest friend as he up the florid stone staircase to her bedroom. He needed to focus on the plan.

The plan would work – it had to work.

Janet

‘Home,’ Colin had said. ‘Come home.’ Only it wasn’t home really. It never had been. For Anna maybe, but not for her.

Even though Janet had grown up in the jaded splendour of the mansion, and had run along its corridors laughing with her sister as a child, it had never been a happy house. She hated the dank, chill of the place which refused to warm even during the midst of summer. When Janet met her husband, she’d jumped at the chance to escape the toxic imprisonment of the house and forge her own path, whilst Anna had stayed and slowly became consumed with the isolation and gloom that the house drew into itself like a vacuum.

Nevertheless, Janet still couldn’t believe that her sister hadn’t mentioned her marriage. Had their relationship really have become so distant as that?

‘It was a whirlwind romance – very sudden,’ Colin had told her that afternoon as they’d sipped coffee on the terrace. He was trying to reassure her. ‘You know what Anna was like once she had an idea in her head. Of course, she knew we all disapproved terribly.’

‘And you think he was after her money all along?’ Janet knew that the house, despite its dilapidated state, was worth a fortune.

A ferocious expression flitted across Colin’s usually gentle demeanour. ‘I don’t think so… I know so. Burton – that’s what he calls himself – is a complete rotter. That’s why she didn’t tell you about him. She knew you wouldn’t approve.’

Janet shrugged. It was probably true, she reflected. The sisters had always possessed a tendency to disagree.

‘But murder, Colin? Do you really think so?’

‘I know so,’ Colin repeated with resolution. The grief was palpable from his faded, red-rimmed eyes and hunch of his shoulders.

Poor Colin. Janet knew he’d secretly been in love with her sister for years, but Anna had always refused him swearing she would never marry. Suddenly marrying another man when Colin had been her devout slave for so many years must have been a shock for him. Janet couldn’t help but wonder whether Colin wasn’t being completely objective about the whole affair.

‘If you’re so sure it was Burton then why don’t you go to the police?’ Janet asked.

Colin’s buried his head in his hands and momentarily looked ten years older.

‘I already have. Apparently Burton has some kind of alibi for that night. Some woman’. His voice dripped with meaning.

‘But I have a plan,’ he said, curling his lips as he gazed into her eyes. ’The only thing, Janet, is that you’re part of the plan. Are you game?’

Janet paled and took another sip of her coffee, uncertain whether she wanted to be drawn into one of Colin’s schemes. Her sister was dead – no amount of flimflam was going to bring her back.

‘What did you have in mind?’

Colin grinned.

‘It involves a party’.

Colin and Janet

Colin knocked on the door to Anna’s bedroom as he had done a thousand times before. Of course, he knew Anna wasn’t there, that she was dead, but as the door creaked open his mind played tricks on him.

He saw an image of Anna, bathed in the bedroom light, as she sat at the dressing table applying make-up in an elegant green evening dress. The white musk scent filled his nostrils, addling his senses.

‘Anna?’ he whispered. The spectre turned around to face him, and the illusion shattered.

‘Janet… of course. I knew,’ Colin said. He shook his head as though trying to clear his head. ‘It’s just you look so much like her. That was her favourite dress.’

Janet stood up, the green dress spreading out like an emerald carpet at her feet. ‘Colin. I really feel very uncomfortable about the whole thing.’

‘It’s all set,’ he said, ignoring her. ‘Burton will be here in any minute. And Bunty and Mae are coming too. Do you remember what you have to do?’

Janet nodded, her rabbit-like eyes, cavernous and frightened. ‘I do remember, but Colin–'

‘The lights are scheduled to go out at 11pm,’ Colin continued as he paced the bedroom floor. ‘I ought to be able to build the appropriate atmosphere before then. All you have to do is enter the room when the lights go out and point a bloody finger at Burton. He’s never met you before and so it won't even cross his mind that you're not Anna. He’ll think that the devil has risen to drag him back to the hell he belongs in.’ He gritted his teeth with determination as he spoke.

‘It’s frightful,’ Janet said, her brow crinkled with worry. ‘Do any of the others know about this? What do they think?’

‘No one but you and me, Janet.’ Colin clasped his hands together in glee. 'No one else knows you're here.’

‘Colin, I really don’t think I want to–’

‘Nonsense, Janet. It’s for Anna remember. Just one more thing. I nearly forgot.' Colin reached into his pocket and pulled our a small vial of stage blood. He dabbed the red paste on to Janet’s forehead. ‘Behold. The look is complete!’

The doorbell rang, echoing sing song chimes incongruously throughout the empty house. The guests had arrived.

Colin sprinted for the staircase. ‘Remember,' he said, as he swung himself around the brass finial of the bannister, 'stay hidden until the lights go out.’

‘Colin?’ Janet’s voice was choked as that of a drowning woman. 'Wait!'

‘Don’t worry dear. You look sublime.’

And just like that he was gone, leaving Janet alone looking out on to the landing with its peeling wallpaper and faded patterned carpet. The wind continued to whistle through the hallway in mockery.

Colin

‘What an awful night!’ Bunty, said batting her thickly mascaraed eye lashes, heavy with blue eyeshadow at Burton, who was brooding at the end of the mahogany table.

Shadows menaced in the cobwebbed corners of the room and occasionally the sudden movement of the faded velvet curtains blowing in the wind would cause one of the guests to flinch and look up in surprise. Thunder rumbled into the night and every so often a flash of lightening would illuminate the dining room wall. Burton hadn’t said a word all evening, he seemed particularly withdrawn even for him, as he stared at the untouched glass of wine in front of him.

Anna’s chair, in which she used to sit next to Burton at the head of the table was, of course, empty.

Looking at the vacant chair, Mae’s eyes brimmed with tears which did not fall.

‘I just hope they catch whoever did it,’ she said. She showed a row of tiny white teeth stained pink with wine as she raised a glass to her lips.

‘Oh I’m sure they will…’ Colin said casting a malevolent glance at Anna’s husband. ‘Crimes have a way of catching up with people.’

‘Do you really think so Colin?’ Bunty said.

‘I do.’                                        

Burton grunted and went back to staring at the glass of wine which he'd been nursing since he arrived.

‘In fact, I have a surprise for you,’ Colin said. ‘You know how we all used to joke about and say we’d come back to haunt each when we died. Well I thought we could hold a seance.’

There was an immediate outcry.

‘Oh no Colin!’

‘Bad taste!’

‘Don’t be so ridiculous, man!’ Burton said, coming back to life.

‘Why ever not? Unless anyone has any secrets they’d rather not share with the rest of the group?’

The other three exchanged awkward looks with each other but no one said anything. Colin reached into the bag next to his chair and drew out a flat oval board. The alphabet was painted in shiny black letters on the surface, and attached was a triangular planchette with a circular hole cut through the middle.

‘This is what you might know as a Ouija board.' Colin's expression was alight with the feverish zeal of a fanatic. ‘Anyone game?’

‘I’m not sure…’ Mae’s tiny frame was tense and hunched. ‘Although I guess if Anna has something she wants to tell us then this might be a good way to communicate with her.’

Colin nodded and looked pointedly again at Burton. ‘They say those who met with a violent end never rest until they’ve been avenged. She died in this very room. In cold blood.'

‘It’s a terrible idea!’ Burton’s sleepy expression from earlier had transformed into one of fury. ‘And appalling bad taste. I’ve just lost my wife and you’re playing about with gimmicks like this?’

'Worried about what might come to light?’ Colin asked his nemesis.

Burton picked up his glass of wine, holding it so tightly his fingers turned white and blue, raised it to his lips and drained the contents. 'If it shuts you up for the rest of the night then – hell – let’s just get it over with.’

Colin laid the board on the table so they were all in reaching distance of the planchette.

‘Bunty?’ Colin asked. Lightening flashed, briefly illuminating her powdery complexion and then disappeared casting her in darkness again. A few seconds later the inevitable thunder growled in the distance. 

Bunty placed a perfectly manicured hand over the planchette in response.

‘Sure – it might be fun. Anna would have loved it.’

There was a hushed, clotted stillness in the air, whilst the rain continued to beat against the window panes.

‘Anna are you there?’ Colin asked first. The planchette rotated the board slowly, looping round in large circles before settling decidedly on ‘Y’.

Mae gasped.

‘Y’ is for yes.’ Colin hadn’t really needed to explain.

‘Anna - are you at peace?’ he asked next.

This time the planchette moved faster and more violently around the board.

‘N’.

All four players were rigid with anticipation, hypnotised with horror.

‘Colin – are you pushing it?’ Bunty asked.

‘Of course not! Anna – who killed you?’

Lightening flashed dramatically in the night sky and a gust of wind rattled the windows with renewed vigour. The planchette moved to ‘B’, and then to ‘U’. It started to move on.

‘This is stupid’, Burton said his face flushed in anger. He pulled his hand away from the planchette as though it had bitten him. ‘I know you’re pushing the glass Colin. You’ve always hated me and I know what you think. Well I’ll tell you the answer to what you’re thinking, I—'

Suddenly the lights went out and the table was plunged into darkness. Someone screamed.

As the guests’ eyes slowly adjusted to the gloom of the candlelight and they became aware of a figure of a woman in a long green dress sat upright in Anna’s vacant seat.

Bunty gasped. ‘Anna?’

Colin had to admit Janet had done an excellent job with her hair and make up. Her lurid coral lips, contrasted magnificently with her alabaster skin to give an authentic impression of unreality. The blood, which dripped from the wound in her head, had seemed like something out of a bad Hammer horror in the cold light of the bedroom, but had spectacularly sinister effects in the candlelight. He watched in awe as the apparition stood up and pointed a bony finger towards the group.

‘Murder,' she croaked. The pungent scent of white musk perfume filled the room.

The spectre started to move, gliding slowly across the floor towards the group.

As she drew towards them, Bunty put her hands up making an 'x' across her face as a shield and tried to rise from her seat. Her limbs jerked awkwardly as she stumbled in her haste to escape.

‘No…. no,’ Bunty cried. 'Leave me alone’. But the dead woman continued to move forwards.

Bunty became hysterical, and having finally succeeding in standing up, crouched backwards towards the wall. 'No Anna! Leave me alone.’

She started sobbing, her legs and arms quivering with agitation. ‘It was an accident. I didn’t mean to.’ She sunk to her knees as limp as a doll, whimpering. ‘I’m so sorry Anna. I’m sorry. Forgive me.’

But there was no forgiveness in the phantom's face as she stretched her arms in front of her, and tried to clutch her victim with cold, dead fingers, her face twisted in vengeance.

There was no longer any doubt who the real murderer was. Bunty screamed.

And then the lights came on.

Janet

Janet wondered what was going on downstairs – she’d heard some sort of commotion after the lights went out. When the electricity returned, someone thumped rapidly up the stairs. Colin pushed the door open triumphantly.

‘Bunty!?’ he said. ‘Who would have thought? Can you believe it? Apparently the silly woman thought she was in love with Burton. There was some kind of argument between them and it went too far.'

‘What?’ Janet asked in confusion.

‘Yes apparently so. I’ll concede Burton may not be a murderer but he’s still a rotter and a cheat.’

Colin was flushed with jubilation. He was delighted that his plan had worked, even if it hadn’t quite panned out the way he’d expected.

‘Incredible performance, Janet! I didn’t know you had it in you old girl. You should be on the stage. You were the star of the show! And the white musk perfume too – what a fabulous touch!’

Janet’s shiny coral lips crumpled into a frown. Her brow wrinkled in puzzlement.

‘I’m sorry Colin – I don’t understand. Are you making fun of me? I'm sorry but I just couldn’t do it. It felt so wrong wearing Anna’s clothes like that. Bad taste.’

‘But Janet what do you mean? You were there… you pointed at us all. You reduced Bunty to a shivering wreck. You made her confess. We’re just waiting for the police to arrive now.'

His legs suddenly felt like jelly and threatened to buckle beneath him. Janet shook her head, and his blood ran cold.

‘No Colin. I didn’t. I didn’t want to go – so I changed my mind. I haven’t left the bedroom all night.’