Free The Name of the Game Was Murder by Joan Lowery Nixon

at his chin as he thought about it, I was afraid the skin would come off.
    “I don’t like the idea of sharing information,” Julia announced.
    “Okay,” I said. “It was just an idea. For that matter, you have all weekend to go through every chest and trunk and cupboard and closet in this whole huge house. You might find the manuscript that way.”
    For a moment they were silent, and I knew they were thinking of all the rooms in this house—each one packed with furniture which could hold a manuscript. The hunt could still be on by the time the storm was over and the police arrived.
    “I like Samantha’s idea,” Alex said, surprising me. “But I want to put a qualifier in there. I suggest we take a short break and read our clues. If they’re not as personal as our first set of clues, then it does make sense to share them. We can meet in the dining room in about half an hour.”
    Laura hesitated. “What should we do about those first clues Augustus gave us?”
    “Let’s just see what’s in this second set before we decide anything,” he answered.
    Laura glanced at me. “If we’re going to try to figure this out together, could Sam help? She showed us how fast she was at figuring out her own clue.”
    I kept quiet. Now was no time for explanations. Besides, I wanted to be in on the hunt.
    “I think Samantha would be an asset to us,” Thea answered.
    Senator Maggio smoothed down a single strand of hair over his bald head and grimaced. “I suppose we’re all in this together. All right. I have no objections.”
    “Then let’s get out of here and get to work,” Julia said.
    They quickly filed from the room, but I hesitated, picking up a legal-sized, lined note pad and a pen from one side of the desk.
    Thea was the last to leave, and I waited for her until she’d quietly closed the office door. She paused only to glance toward the desk. There was no shock in her expression, just an agonizing mix of pain and hurt and sorrow that lasted only a few seconds.
    “I deeply regret that you had to see him like this,” Mrs. Engstrom said. She took Aunt Thea’s arm and ushered her down the hallway and toward the stairs.
    I tagged along behind them, walking a lot more slowly than I would have liked. I couldn’t wait to see those clues!

SEVEN
    O ne half hour later we seated ourselves around the highly polished table and waited. Julia cleared her throat a few times, Laura sniffled, and Buck made a kind of humming growl that vibrated around his tonsils. We were like members of an orchestra waiting for a conductor to raise his baton as a signal that we should begin.
    The senator must have decided to take the lead, because he said, “I assume that we have all read our clues. I, for one, have determined that mine is not personal in nature, as the first clue was.”
    He removed the sheet of paper inside the envelope in his hand and laid it directly in front of him on the table.
    The others—Thea and Laura hesitating more than the rest—finally followed his example.
    I had sat next to Laura on purpose, and I brazenly leaned over her shoulder in order to read what was typed on her sheet of paper. Right in the middle of this blankwhite space were the words ONE WILL BE ABOVE ALL : THE TEN OF SPADES ’.
    Laura turned so that our noses were almost touching. “Okay, tell,” she whispered. “What does it mean?”
    “I don’t know … yet,” I said, reluctant to give up my super-sleuth reputation. “We need to see the others.”
    No one else had spoken. The senator scowled at his paper as though, if he intimidated it enough, it would speak. Buck squinted hard at his clue and rubbed his chin again, while Alex and Julia glanced up from their papers to study the other faces in the room.
    “Have any of you figured your clues out yet?” Julia asked. “Mine tells me nothing.”
    “What does it say?” Laura asked.
    Julia held her paper a little closer to her chest and turned toward the senator. “Have we decided if