The Butler Didn't Do It

An Arrowing Night

Of course, Brett would have to wait until EVERYONE was asleep before he began his search. A butler couldn’t easily disappear when there were floors to scrub, dishes to clean, articles to fetch for demanding guests, even some boots to shine. By the time Brett was free he was desperate for a cup of coffee. One in the morning was not an ideal time to be up for someone who had to be up at 6 every morning. It was a good time to avoid guests and staff. Though the police who still roamed were a problem, there were only a couple who guarded the house this late at night and Brett knew if he could get far enough from the house, he wouldn’t draw any attention.

Standing in the kitchen, drinking instant coffee Brett pondered how he could make a clean getaway to the archery area. Being followed by a cop might hinder his search. Either he’d be told to go back to the house or, worse, he’d be reported to Davidson who would find him more work to do.

“You alright?”

Almost spitting out his coffee in surprise (although it would be no waste of coffee, to be honest), Brett was surprised to see Max, wearing his pajamas, standing in the kitchen next to him.

“You are freakishly quiet,” Brett managed to say after wiping the coffee from his face.

Max shrugged. “My great-grandma had Italian ears. Good for hearing Nazis in the 1940s. Also, teenage boys sneaking out of the house. She’s probably the reason I ended up getting good grades and not getting a girl pregnant.” Max smiled ruefully. “I admit I didn’t fully appreciate her intervention at the time. Although she never told my mother when she caught me trying to sneak out.”

Brett blinked. “My mom put tape somewhere on the door frame. I only broke one piece and got punished so bad that I never tried to sneak out again.

“Moms.”

“Can’t live with them. Can't do laundry without them.”

“Hey! I can do laundry. It was just a learning curve.”

The boys were silent for a moment. Brett sipped his coffee. Max looked at his toes. You could cut the awkwardness with a knife. Finally, Max broke the silence.

“Look,” he said, “I know that we all ended things on a rough note. I just wanted to let you know that I’m here for you. I really want to help and care that you are all right.”

Brett was taken aback. “Thanks.”

Max stared at him. Brett stared back.

“Is there anything you want to say?” Max used a voice similar to a teacher trying to tell the student an answer to a question.

Brett felt a light bulb go off in his brain. “Actually, there is!” Max smiled, expectantly. “I need you to help me escape the house without the cops seeing. Or at least the one by the back doors, near the tennis courts.”

Max’s smiled dropped. Brett’s was confused. Why is he so upset?

“Yeah, why not, it’s all about how I can help you right?” Max snapped.

“Dude you asked if I wanted anything.”

“I asked if you had anything to say! Like an apology. You’ve been a jerk and now you want me to help you without any explanation.”

“It’s a lot, I can tell you later.”

“ You got angry at us for not involving you. Why are you allowed to not involve us?”

Brett felt that flush of anger. Or was it shame? “It’s more complicated than that.”

“Don’t worry about. I’m going to go distract your guard and you can run off and do whatever it is you think you need to do.”

Max turned on his foot and made his way to the back of house. Brett followed. Max’s back was stiff. He was obviously still angry. Yet here he was, walking head-first into a situation he knew nothing about simply to help Brett. The shamed Brett was contemplating what he should say. When Max came to an open doorway he peaked through. Brett did as well. One Quincy’s men stood in the room, looking bored. Brett realized that he didn’t want to, or have to do this alone. He wanted Max’s help. In many ways he needed it. But, before he could speak, Max said in an almost emotionless voice, “I’ll do what I can. While I’m getting his attention you make your getaway. Don’t call me if you get caught up in trouble later.

Ouch…

Max took a breath and ran into the room.

“Oh thank God! You need to help me! I was in the kitchen drinking coffee and when I turned around someone was standing there with a knife! I yelled and ducked as he tried to stab and ran to find you. I think he’s still in the house!” Brett heard the fast sets of feet make there way out of the backroom further into the house. The guard had bought Max’s story. Now was his chance.

Quickly Max made his way outside. He ran down the tennis court path onto the forested walkway. He stayed just within the tree line, out of sight, until he arrived at the tennis courts. It was almost pitch black. The moon was partially covered with clouds, which would change the lighting from black to eerie at a moment’s notice. Luckily Brett had his cell phone. Using the flashlight he found his way to the archery hut, where all the equipment was stored. Including personal bows, which were fitted to each person before use. He saw they all hung on the wall of the hut. With his flashlight, he looked at the names.

Didi..James…Audrey…Samantha…Paul…Martina.

With a slight twinge of sadness, Brett took Martina’s beloved bow from its hook. He thought of all the time she had spent practicing until she was a perfect shot. But had all of her time out here been to hit the target? Or to have a reasonable excuse to use the hut?

Looking closer at the hook that the bow had hung on, Brett noticed the board was looser than the ones near it. He knocked on it.

Hollow, he thought triumphantly. Taking the hook he pulled. Nothing happened. He pulled harder. Still nothing. Then he tried to twist the hook. There was a click and the board opened like locker, revealing a storage space with some papers inside. Pulling out the papers he used his phone to read.

“They are letters…from Lynn.” Brett breathed a sigh of relief. Martina must have found something out. Something about the missing girl. Maybe that’s why her life had been cut short. Now he had to---

SHWUSS, SHHWSHH.

Brett’s ears perked up. Someone was moving through the trees. Close to him. They were coming to the archery court. Were the police searching the ground? He needed to get out of here fast.

Gathering up the papers and folding them into a tight square that he stuffed into his pocket, Brett ran out the hut’s door. He ran only aided by the almost nonexistent moonlight, tripping a little here and there. He just had to get to the forest---

Whoosh—DUT!

Brett stood stock still, looking at the arrow that had pierced the target in front of his face. Had he been even a step farther the arrow would have been through his head. just in time. At first, his shocked brain thought it might be an accident. But, based on how well it stuck to the target, this arrow hadn’t been tipped with a safety tip.

“Who’s there? “ He looked into the darkness from where the arrow had come.

Well, that’s stupid., he thought to himself. It’s probably just someone who is innocently out shooting arrows. In the dead of night. Alone… Brett also felt the creeping realization that if that were true that person would still be risking getting caught and in trouble with the Manor. I’m pretty sure that whoever is lurking out there is intent on hitting a target tonight, Brett thought. Me.

Just as he thought it another arrow whizzed by and hit the grazing the sleeve of his shirt.

Time to run.

When he had taken a job at bowers manor the last thing he imagined he’d be doing was running blindly while being shot at by a madman (or woman) with arrows while he tried to prove his friend innocent of not 1 but 3 murders. My English teachers always did say I lacked imagination. Brett felt tired but desperate. I can’t die this way. James will totally never let me live this down. Or die this down, you know what Brett, be clever later. Right now, just live.

He had one way to avoid certain arrowy death. The forest. Whoever was shooting at him had a good shot. But no one could shoot him through a tree. Another arrow whizzed past his ear, he felt a sharp pain.

Or at least I hoped not.

“AGGHHH!”

He tumbled to the ground, in pain. Clutching his arm. An arrow had pierced his arm and it was streaming blood and throbbing with pain. He looked at it, contemplating how easy it would be to just let the next arrow hit his brain, so he could finally rest.

Whoosh!

The next arrow whizzed above his head as if a guardian angel was saying “oh yeah?”

Right.

Tightening his jaw and resolve, and doing his best to ignore the pain, he sprinted, zigzagging slightly, to the forest. He was going faster than he had in his life; driven by pure adrenaline He was inches from the tree line. He was there! He put a hand on a tree to propel him into a dimly lit opening---

PLUNK!

An arrow landed just where his hand had been a millisecond before, tearing wood chunks from the old tree.

NO time to think how close his assailant was. He stumbled through the forest. Without a flashlight, he guided himself by feel. He knew that if he stayed in the clearing areas of the forest he would be spotted, either my flashlight or moonlight. Using his hands he began to feel his way through the thick part of the woods off the path. He had to be quick, and he certainly wasn’t being silent. If he could find somewhere to--

“Ouch!” Brett said, as his toes hit a large root, and he went tumbling into a hole near the base of the tree.

Looking around Brett realized he had somehow found a potential hiding place. His hands and knees were scratched up and his head ached where it had grazed against the branch. He was under the tree, safe unless the killer looked down here directly. He remained silent as his hands, arm, and knees stung. He pushed himself back against the wall of dirt, farthest from the opening that he’d fallen through. He lifted himself up slightly so he would be completely out of view. Then he waited.

He didn’t have long to wait. He heard the slow crunching of the forested ground. Twigs snapping had become the most horrifying sound he could imagine. Soon there was a light. Coming closer to his hiding spot. His heart stopped. He did his best to not even breath.

The light penetrated into the spot where he’d fallen. It stretched farther, inward, attempting to see if he’d crawled farther back. Had he not put himself up higher he would have been spotted. Perhaps this hole will be my grave? After what felt like an eternity he was once again plunged into darkness as the attacker continued his search elsewhere. He could still hear the crunching though. While he let himself lower to the ground he stayed as close as possible to the wall, in case he had to lift himself again. He knew he couldn’t leave yet, he couldn’t walk in the dark silently and he didn’t have a light. And even if he did it would have been stupid to use it.

Well, he mused, no time to go over all your shortcomings while being stuck in a hole in the forest pursued by a murderer. And so Brett settled down to wait for help or death. He was so tired at this point that he almost didn’t care