Miss Scarlet in the Dining Room with the Lead Pipe

The moment Clark saw it, somehow, he knew. At first he had shoved it out of the way, along with the computer mouse and the stack of children’s books. Yet laying there next to the blender, it had just seemed too familiar. Now, as he stared at the box, he tried to convince himself that it couldn’t be. Yet, he knew it was too much to be coincidence. The words, “Can I help you, Professor Thomas?” awoke him from his trance.
“Uh…” He said pensively, “No thanks.” He stared at the young worker for a moment; vaguely recognizing him from some accounting class he had taught last semester. He realized how lost he must have looked. Yet there he stood, in the small appliance section, with a board game in his hand. He quickly put it back on the shelf. “I was just contemplating a purchase. That’s all.” He said, sounding more scholarly than ever. He always tried to impress his students.
The moment the young man was gone, Clark’s mind returned to the game. He picked it up and headed to the check stand. He gave the cashier her four dollars, and she replied with a friendly, “Clue is one of my favorites, too.” Saying nothing, Clark took his receipt and stormed off toward the car. Leaving the store, he stepped out into the damp parking lot. It had been drizzling on and off all day. Clark looked up at the sky to see a small ray of sunshine peeking its way through the storm clouds. The fact that it wasn’t raining now gave him some slight ray of hope. However, all he could hope for was that he was wrong.
In the car, he searched through the game just as he had done in the store, and sure enough all pieces were present and accounted for, except the lead pipe. He noticed the bent corner; he flipped over the card. Miss Scarlet. And then he knew. This was definitely it.
As he pulled out of the parking lot, he took a quick glance at the Goodwill sign. Nothing good will come of this, he thought. The drive home seemed to take hours. The longest three blocks Clark had ever driven. The entire five minutes filled with questions . . . Could it be? After all these years, how could she? What would he say? He planned the whole thing out in his head. He would bring the game in and set it on the table. Then he would wait.
Seeing the game as she came into the kitchen, she would say something like, “Oh honey, I have to make dinner. Maybe we can play later.”
“Don’t treat me like a child,” he would say. He was always so much crueler in his imaginary arguments. “I don’t wanna play Julie. I want you to guess where I found our game.”
Denial would of course be her first tactic. He knew her well. She would laugh and say she hadn’t a clue, thinking she was the funniest thing ever. Then she’d make a few stupid guesses like the closet or the basement. “I told you I didn’t want to play Julie! You know damn well where this came from.” Then she’d cave in. She’d cry for sympathy which she wouldn’t get. Clark wouldn’t be budging this time. She had stooped low, but never this low.
As he turned the corner on to Silver Spur Avenue, he was abruptly snapped back to reality by the sound of children playing in the park. Rain or shine, they were there every Saturday. He noticed the boys, leaping around like super heroes, and the girls, prancing about as if they truly were the little princesses they were pretending to be. He recalled the days when it was so easy to pretend, a time when it was ok to lie to oneself. Back to days like yesterday, when he still thought Julie truly loved him. He could almost smell those memories of happiness. But looking at the game, they quickly faded back to harsh reality. Those days were over, he thought. There was no excuse for this.
He turned right and let his Honda Civic slowly creep up the steep driveway. Normally he parked in the garage but at the last minute he stopped his car and parked behind Julie’s Explorer. Just in case she tries to flee the crime scene, he thought. Opening the car door, he looked down at the lawn. It was far too long. Good thing it had rained or he would have been cutting the grass instead of running errands that afternoon.
The grass stealing his thoughts, he walked to the trunk of his car, and without thinking, there he left the game. He took out the purchases of his honey do list, a new blanket for Jake’s bed, a Swiffer duster, milk, eggs, and some orange juice. He headed to the house, all the while beating himself up because he hadn’t the courage to confront Julie about the game. And it had sounded so good in his head.
As he opened the bright red door, Clark instantly smelled it. The aroma of Julie’s mustard seasoned chicken invaded his nostrils like the Nazis invading Germany. She had made his favorite. This would make it hard for him to be mad at her tonight. He went to the kitchen and, while putting the orange juice in the fridge, stared at the oven timer. Thirteen minutes and forty-two seconds until Colonel Mustard’s chicken would be ready. He couldn’t wait. When he had finished putting away the groceries, he opened the Swiffer box and began to piece it together. That’s when his French maid came down the stairs.
Julie had her long brown hair pulled up in a pony tail. It bounced as she gracefully skipped her way down the stairs. She was a beautiful woman, despite her simplicity, or perhaps, because of it. Still in her pajamas, she looked as cute as ever. “Oh, you got the Swiffer? I love you, honey,” Julie said, watching his unsuccessful attempts at assembling the Swiffer. She walked to the oven and turned on the light to check on the chicken. Clark leaned so far back on his barstool, he hardly caught a glance at the chicken before falling flat on his back.
“Honey! Are you all right?”
“Yeah I’m fine. It’s this Swiffer. I give up,” he said as he picked up the barstool. “I can’t put it together.”
“Well don’t kill yourself over a duster. I’d rather have a husband than be a widow with a Swiffer,” she said jokingly. Clark faked his best laugh while holding back thoughts of the
widowed Ms.White. All he could think about was Clue, and she hadn’t a clue.
“Where’s Jake?” he asked, finally noticing how quiet it was.
“He’s at the park.” Surely he had been one of the capeless crusaders Clark had seen on his way home. “He should be back soon. I told him dinner would be ready at 5:00.”
“Well good, I’m starving and it smells delicious.” He told himself to stop being nice, but he couldn’t help it.
“I talked to your mother today,” Julie said, opening a can of green beans.
Clark stared at the can opener. “Mr. Clark in the kitchen with the can opener,” he said, thinking out loud.
“What?” she said looking up.
“Nothing. What did my mom have to say?”
“She wants to fly out and visit next month,” she said, after putting the green beans in the microwave. “She said she hasn’t seen Jake in months, and we don’t seem to be doing anything about it. So she’s coming out here herself.”
“Well did she say when?” Clark asked, without thinking. His thoughts were elsewhere. He could care less about his mother right now. Blankly staring at Julie his mind was in the game closet searching, scavenging through the disorder of games, desperately trying to find it; to convince himself she hadn’t really done it.
“Around the twelfth. We’ll have to plan something fun to do while she’s here.”
“Yeah. Fun. When was the last time we played a board game with Jake? When was the last time we even opened the game closet? I bet it’s a complete mess,” Clark replied.
“What? Oh. I cleaned it out last week. Jake wanted to play Chutes and Ladders, and he wouldn’t stop whining until I tore the whole closet apart to find it.” Julie was preoccupied with dinner, and Clark decided it was the perfect time to do a little investigation.
He walked across the kitchen, kissed his wife, and went upstairs to the bedroom. He could not believe what he had just heard. She had cleaned out the game closet? There was no doubt in his mind now.
He snuck across the hall to Jake’s room. He opened the game closet, half expecting his wife to be inside, waiting there silently, ready to shoot him with the revolver. Impressed with the tidiness of the closet, he almost smiled. Then he remembered why he was there. Scanning the games, he saw exactly what he had expected; Life, Scene It?, Chutes and Ladders, Monopoly, Connect Four, hundreds of others, but no Clue.
He told himself he shouldn’t have looked. He told himself there was a perfectly good explanation for all of this. He went to the bathroom where he splashed his face with cold water. It did nothing to calm his nerves, and now he was cold.
He stopped for a moment at the top of the stairs. Watching admirably as his wife hummed and danced her way around the kitchen, preparing his favorite meal. He was still quite impressed at the game closet. As he came down the stairs he looked around, and noticed the entire house was spotless. Julie had no doubt spent all day cleaning. “The house looks amazing, dear,” he said. Again he told himself he was being far too nice. The clean house certainly did not make up for what she had done.
As he entered the dining room, it was clear that something was wrong. “Are you okay hun?” Julie asked, “You seem a little tired.”
“I’m fine, dear. I was just thinking.”
“About what?” she asked. Then without giving him time to answer, she responded for him, “Certainly not about the bathroom sink. Weren’t you going to fix that this weekend?”
In his rage he had completely forgotten about the sink. He thought of the flooded mess he would have to clean up later. Yes, later. Now he had other things to do. “Oh. I was going to get a pipe for it this afternoon. I knew I had forgotten something.”
“Well, it would be nice if you could take care of it soon.” Julie said, taking the chicken out of the oven.
“You know honey, it’s our anniversary on Monday,” Clark said.
“Yeah.”
“Well I was thinking, maybe we should do something special. Ten years is quite an accomplishment.”
“What did you have in mind?” Julie asked.
“I was thinking we could have a little re-enactment of our first date. Wouldn’t that be fun? We could go to dinner at that old Italian place. What’s it called now?”
“Signore Verde’s?”
“Yeah. And then I was thinking we could go see a show down at The Regal. I think they’re doing Taming of the Shrew. Shakespeare, just like our first date. And then after that we could come home and play a board game or something.”
Julie, who was now setting the table, looked up, surprised and confused. “A board game? What?”
“Yeah, you remember don’t you? Our first date, we went to dinner, saw Twelfth Night at The Regal, and then we went over to George’s and played games until three in the morning.”
“That’s right. I remember. We played Parcheesi and I beat you. I was so proud of myself,” she said, placing the chicken on the table.
“And we played Clue, too. Remember?” Clark said, trying his best to pay close attention to Julie’s reaction; however, she had distracted him with her chicken. He couldn’t think clearly. The sweet aroma of mustard was far too much for him to handle.
“Yes dear, I remember. How could I forget? You loved that game!”
“We still have the same game around here somewhere. We could play a little game of Clue. What do you think, sweetie?”
“Well if we can find it,” Julie said tensely, cutting up the chicken.
“But you just cleaned out the game closet. Didn’t you?”
“Well I guess it’s in there somewhere. I think it sounds wonderful, honey.” Changing the subject she replied, “We’ll have to get a sitter for Jake. Maybe I can take him over to Michelle’s, and he can play with Hayden.”
“It’s really coming down out there. Should I go get him?” Clark said, noticing the pouring rain. He watched it drip down the window. It reminded him of the blood he felt trickling down his back where his wife had just stabbed him. He stood up and started to put on his coat. That’s when everything went black. For a moment, Clark wondered whether he was conscious. Then he realized he was overreacting as usual. “Power’s out,” he said, mostly to convince himself.
As Clark fumbled his way back across the dining room, his eyes slowly adjusting to the dark, he took several deep breaths to calm himself. The front door flew open and a small, dark shadow crept its way into the house. After struggling to close the door, the shadow made its way down the hall. At the end of the hall it stopped. Wrestling with the light switch, it let out a shrill cry. “Mom? Dad?”
“The power’s out Jakey,” Julie said. She walked up and took his hand. “How was the park?”
“So much fun!” the enthusiastic four year old replied, his eyes lighting up. “We got all wet and we were throwing mud at Nicky, and she started crying. It was awesome!”
“Well, you be nice to Nicky. Now let’s take off your coat, and then Daddy will help you go wash up for dinner.”
Clark took his own coat off and put it back on his chair at the dining room table. He walked into the kitchen and opened the cupboard above the fridge. He groped his way through the cupboard, pushing aside bowls and pans, finally wrapping his fingers around a candle. Opening the drawer to his right, he found the matches. On his third try, he struck the match, and as he lit the candle, it gave off a dim glow of light casting eerie shadows across the kitchen.
Julie finished with Jake’s coat. “There’s a candlestick on the living room coffee table Clark. I’ll go get it.”
Jake jumped at the crash of thunder. He clung to his father’s leg for protection. Protection Clark could not give, for he himself, was twice as frightened at the sound of the word candlestick. He took several more deep breaths as he tried to digest the irony of the situation. He had been fine with the mustard; the knife was merely coincidental; but now, a candlestick? He was now quite convinced that he wouldn’t get out of this alive.
Giving him little time to think, Julie quickly returned with the candlestick and two more candles. Handing Clark the heavy, brass candlestick, she took his candle to light the others.
He felt the weight of the candlestick in his hand. Staring at his wife, he thought of how innocent she seemed, even with her little candlestick and her knife. Yet, Clark knew the crime she had committed. His anger multiplying by the minute, he reminded himself that her innocence was all an act. Heavier than the candlestick, he felt the weight of what she had done.
Getting his candle back, Clark turned to Jake, “Okay come on, let’s go get you cleaned up.” He took his son by the hand and led him up the stairs. When they arrived at the bathroom, Clark noticed the puddle of water on the floor in front of the sink. “Maybe we’d better wash you up in the laundry room sink, huh?”
“Yeah Dad, the bathroom’s broken. Duh!” Jake said, laughing at his dad. “Daddy, what’s for dinner?”
“Chicken,” Clark replied. “Are you hungry?” he asked as they came back down the stairs and crossed through the dining room to the laundry room.
“Yes. But I want Spaghetti-Os,” Jake said as Clark picked him up so he could reach the sink.
“Well your mom has been working hard all day on her chicken. And I know she made a special little piece without mustard just for you.”
“Can we have Spaghetti-Os tomorrow then?”
“We’ll see Jake. Here, dry your hands buddy,” he said, handing Jake the towel and picking up the candlestick he had set on the washing machine.
Julie was sitting at the table waiting for them when they came back. They sat down and ate their dinner by candlelight. The entire night, Clark couldn’t keep his eyes off the candlestick or his mind off the game.

# # #

Monday morning came, and found Clark less than anxious to go to work; however, more than anxious to get out of bed. His alarm sounded at 6:45, an hour earlier than usual. He turned it off and immediately got up. Julie was still sound asleep. Sunday night, after finally calming himself down, he had decided on a plan.
The garage floor was cold against his bare feet as he tiptoed his way to the trunk of his car. Taking out the game, he placed it on top of his car and opened the box. He took out the revolver and the blue game piece. He opened Julie’s explorer and placed them on the driver’s seat. “There we are, Mrs. Peacock,” he said.
Quietly closing the car door, he returned to his trunk. He then removed the pipe which he had, in fact, not forgotten to purchase on Saturday, but had simply not brought inside. Not quite lead but it’ll have to do, he told himself as his fingers wrapped themselves around the cold, steel pipe. With the game in one hand and his weapon in the other, he was ready to solve his mystery. He returned to the kitchen. Setting the box on the counter, he took out his friend Colonel Mustard along with the knife, which he set on top of the microwave.
He stepped into the dining room, removed the candlestick from the table, and in its place, he set the candlestick from the game. Alongside it, the red pawn, Miss Scarlet. In the laundry room, on top of the dryer, he placed Ms. White with the rope. Admiring his own cleverness, he left the pipe and Professor Plum in the bathroom. Then, putting the wrench and Mr. Green in his pocket, he took the box back to his trunk.
Silently he hiked back up the stairs to the bedroom. In Julie’s closet, he put his last suspect, and his weapon, on the bottom shelf, next to Julie’s favorite pair of shoes. Then he got back into bed and went to sleep.
The alarm clock read 7:45 when it again screamed bloody murder. Clark got out of bed, showered, and got ready for work. Most days, Julie would get up to make him breakfast, but luckily, never on Mondays. At 8:15, he woke up Jake and got him dressed.
“What do you want for breakfast, kiddo?” he asked as Jake tried desperately to pull his sweatshirt over his head. Clark helped him and soon they were in the bathroom combing through Jake’s blonde hair.
“Daddy, what’s that?” Jake asked, pointing to the green pawn sitting next to the toothpaste.
“Just a little present for Mommy,” Clark said and with that he picked Jake up, put him on his shoulders and carried him down the stairs. In the kitchen Jake was surprised to see other presents for Mommy. “It’s a secret so don’t tell,” Clark told him. “Today’s me and your mom’s anniversary.”
“What’s that?”
“It’s like a birthday, only for the day we got married.”
They ate a nice homemade breakfast of cereal and milk. Then they split a banana. At 8:45 they went back upstairs to say goodbye to Julie.
Before they left, Clark took a small envelope out of his briefcase and left it on the kitchen counter.
When they arrived at school, Clark told Jake the plan. “Now Hayden’s mom will pick you up from school today okay, little buddy? You’re gonna sleep over at his house tonight.”
“Is it because it’s your wedding birthday?”
“Yes,” Clark said with a smile.
“Why can’t I come to the birthday party? Will there be cake?”
“No Jake, there won’t be cake. So don’t worry. You won’t miss out on anything. I promise.” Clark said assuredly. “Now have fun at school.”
“Bye, Dad,” Jake said as he got out of the car. Clark watched until his son was safely inside the school.
When he got home from work, Clark was glad to see Julie’s car in the garage. He couldn’t wait to get inside and hear her confession. As he took off his coat, he was surprised to see that Colonel Mustard was still in the kitchen with the knife. He passed through the dining room, and found the red pawn, still sitting right where he had left it on the table.
Then he realized it was dead quiet and there were no lights on. “Julie?” he shouted. There was no response. Slightly worried now, he made his way back to the laundry room. He opened the door and just as he suspected, there sat Ms. White on the dryer, right where he had left her, impatiently dangling the rope between her little fingers, waiting for her victim which had never arrived.
Upstairs he found both suspects still armed and sitting in their assigned positions. There had been no murder here. What happened? Had Julie not seen them? Then he remembered the envelope; he had forgotten to look for the envelope. He ran back downstairs to look. He came downstairs and there she sat. His beautiful Miss Scarlet, at the dining room table, dressed to kill in a bright red dress. She held in her left hand, a clue card with all four corners intact. In her right, a miniature lead pipe.
A shiny, new game board laid spread out on the table. Next to it sat a large tin. On top of the tin, Clark read the words ‘Clue: 50th Anniversary Edition.’ Julie smiled and mischievously winked at her husband. “Hello Professor,” she said, and Clark knew he was a dead man.