Smart House (3 page)

She wandered for a while but did not find Gary. She tried the elevator, looked at the terrace on the roof, glanced into the kitchen, and finally she found the basement showroom with the case of weapons on display. Silly water guns shaped like dragons, a pea shooter and pellets, the “poison” discs…. Each weapon was in a section that obviously was under observation by the computer, otherwise how could the computer keep up with who took what? She could not locate cameras. She turned away from the display case and looked over the rest of the room. Here were all the Bellringer computers, from the first one—it now looked tacky, more like a toy than a working machine—to the most recent one, which cost over a hundred thousand dollars and looked it. Each system was set up on a flawless acrylic pedestal. Hanging on the walls were pictures of silicon chips magnified, blown up to four by six feet; they were very beautiful.

“Impressive, isn’t it?”

She whirled to see Harry and Laura Westerman at the doorway. Neither was carrying a visible weapon. Then she saw Alexander behind them and released the breath she had drawn in. One witness only, she remembered. They would be safe in groups of four or more.

Laura laughed. “We decided to roam in packs. It’s like finding a fourth for bridge. Have you picked your weapon?”

Beth shrugged. “Maybe. Have you?”

Alexander shuffled his feet and looked from Laura to Beth to Harry Westerman. “There’s four of us now, so let’s get the weapons and then I’m taking off. Things I want to get done tonight.”

Beth stared at him, then at Laura and Harry. They were all going along with it! Helplessly she nodded, and she and Alexander moved to the door where they stood facing the basement playroom. The central portion of the basement had been given over to Ping-Pong, pool tables, electronic games, hockey, pinball machines…. Gary really was making up for a lost childhood, she thought bitterly. No one was in sight among the many amusements. Behind her she could hear Laura tell Harry to turn his back, not to peek; then the computer voice said, “Thank you, Laura. Your weapon is registered.” The process was repeated with Harry. She and Alexander moved inside the room once more when the other two were finished.

Alexander waved her ahead and turned his back when she approached the display case. She could not tell what was missing. There had been multiples of everything she had noticed before; there still were. Since she had not made a selection on the computer in her room, she was not even certain she would be allowed to take anything now. After a moment’s hesitation she lifted the lid of the display case and picked up one of the balloons. The voice thanked her by name, as it had done all the others. When she closed the lid, she tried to lift it again; it did not budge. Okay, she thought. She stuffed the balloon in her skirt pocket.

“Your turn,” she muttered to Alexander. He was fidgeting with impatience.

“Later,” he said. “I’ll pick out something later. Look, I really have work to do…”

Laura laughed her throaty laughter again. “Hold it a second, will you? Give us a minute to get out of here. I want the dessert we missed before. Coming, Harry?”

Two were safe, Beth thought distantly, or four, but not three. She stood with Alexander until Laura and Harry had vanished, and then Alexander was galvanized and nearly sprinted across the game room, to disappear in a corridor on the far side. Slowly Beth made her way to the stairs and the first floor again. The balloon felt like lead in her pocket.

On the first floor a cluster of people had gathered in the hall near the kitchen door. As Beth drew near, Milton nodded to her, and Maddie said she had taken the tray of cakes to the kitchen. She was carrying a glass of ice cubes. She waved vaguely when Laura invited her to join them. “Watching a movie,” she said. “Good movie.” She wandered into the atrium, leaving the door open after her. The smell of chlorine drifted into the corridor. With a scowl Laura pulled the sliding glass door shut again. She looked at Milton and Beth and held up four fingers. Harry looked disgusted and entered the kitchen ahead of them.

The kitchen had a fifteen-foot oak worktable, a double-doored refrigerator, a walk-in freezer, the biggest microwave Beth had ever seen, and on and on. Wearily she stopped examining it all and turned to the table for a cookie. Laura demonstrated a cleaning robot that detached itself from the wall to wipe up milk she had deliberately spilled. Milton watched her intently, nodding now and then; Harry ignored her and went to the refrigerator for ice cubes. Self-cleaning windows throughout, Laura said, munching a cookie. You want coffee? Press a button. Milk? Another button. Harry poured himself a drink from a decanter on a sideboard.

“I’m taking this up to our room,” he said.

Laura jumped up. “You know I won’t stay here with two others,” she said. Then she laughed. No one laughed with her.

“A whole damn weekend of this,” Beth muttered, watching them leave. “I wish I could find Gary. I have to talk with him.”

“He could be anywhere,” Milton said with a slight shrug. “Swimming, in the Jacuzzi, working, sleeping, watching the movie with Maddie, killing someone, getting killed. He thinks you’re here to demand a divorce, you know. He asked me if there’s any way he can prevent it.”

Beth drew in a deep breath. “What did you tell him?”

“That it’s not my field. But you should have an attorney represent you, Beth. Don’t take him on alone.” He went to the door. “See you tomorrow. Good night.”

Beth finished her milk, thinking about Milton and the disquieting feeling that he was not at all concerned about her, but that he simply did not want a scene this weekend when he was part of the captive audience. Nothing had changed, she thought wearily; they were all still afraid of Gary and his tantrums. She put the glass in the dishwasher. Gary was still up, she knew. He never went to bed until two or even three in the morning. He never got up until after noon and was barely human until 2 p.m.; if she did not talk to him that night, she would not see him until late in the day tomorrow. She felt tired enough to fall asleep standing up. Five minutes, she told herself. If she didn’t find him in five minutes, she would give up and go on to bed. But if she found him, they would have it out. She smiled grimly; she and Rich, she thought, the only two with nothing to lose.

She left the kitchen and headed for the television room. Before she reached it, she heard Maddie’s voice raised angrily.

“I told you to count me out! I meant it! Leave me alone!”

Beth stopped at the door to look inside. The room was lighted by an oversized screen where Ginger Rogers and Fred Astaire were dancing; the sound was off.

“You saw it! I got him and you know it!” Gary yelled. Bruce shoved him out of the way and stamped to the door; Beth moved aside. He continued, with Gary at his heels. “You son of a bitch! Don’t you walk away from me! I got you!”

“Gary!” his mother wailed.

“You got nothing, you asshole!” Bruce’s voice rose to a screech.

Beth clamped her hands over her ears, turned, and fled to her room. By the time she got inside it with the door closed she was shaking, not with fear, but with a rage she hadn’t known she was capable of.

Chapter 3

Beth could not sleep
until she draped a towel over the computer monitor, and even then she fantasized that she heard footsteps for a long time, first on the balcony, then in the corridor, in the room next to hers. She knew all this was due to an imagination working overtime, but she strained to hear again and again. When she woke up shortly after seven, she was headachey and sore. She emerged from the shower to hear the four notes of the Bellringer Company, and snatched the towel away from the monitor. There was a message:
Good morning, Beth. Breakfast will be served in your room in a few moments. The highlighted items have been chosen for you. If you would like to make changes, please select from the menu.

She was looking over the menu when the drapes opened behind her; she whirled around. It was a sunny morning, with a bank of fog or low clouds out to sea. Closer, the ocean was brilliantly blue and appeared calm. “What’s the forecast for today?” she asked aloud.

Do you want me to use the audio mode today, Beth?

“No.” Just testing, she thought, and turned to look at the monitor. It was showing the forecast—sunny with late-afternoon clouds, high sixty-eight, low forty-five, wind out of the northwest at ten miles an hour, gusting to twenty. She turned back to the window; when she glanced at the screen again, it was cleared. Watching, she thought. It was watching, recording every motion. She decided to eat and get out, and stay until afternoon.

It was after one when she returned to Smart House. Her face was windburned, and she was ravenous. She washed and followed the sounds of voices to the dining room where a buffet was laid for lunch: salads, sliced meats and cheeses, a chafing dish with something steaming…. Rich Schoen and Alexander Randall were at the table eating, Jake Kluge was serving himself. Everyone looked up when Beth entered; there was a momentary lapse in the talk; then Rich shook his head and speared a bit of ham on his plate.

“Not a good weekend for ulcers,” he said. A large roll of blueprints was on the table; he moved it closer to him as if to make room for someone else.

“Sorry,” Beth muttered, joining Jake at the buffet. She was instantly aware of his size again; she tended to forget it when he was seated, or standing across a room. He was over six feet, broad through the shoulders, with a deep chest, but he didn’t use his size as a weapon, she realized suddenly. That made the difference. She felt a little confusion about what it meant to think that, and couldn’t sort it out at the moment, but it was important, she knew. God, what if Gary had size like that to go along with his ego? The thought alone was enough to bring a shudder.

Jake grinned at her, made room, and then looked over his shoulder at Rich and resumed speaking. “At least four modes, so far. It’s pretty damn impressive. Security. Housekeeping. Maintenance. Plants? Sure, why not? Automatic watering, fertilizing, creating a dozen different microclimates. Rich, Alexander, my God! Hat’s off!”

Rich was grinning widely and Alexander was twitching with embarrassment and pleasure. Jake could do that to people, Beth thought. He was lavish with praise and apparently did not have a trace of jealousy concerning the accomplishments of others. She had watched the end of a chess game between him and Gary once. Gary had won, and crowed over his victory until it had been ugly, but Jake had reconstructed the last ten moves to show her the beauty of the final trap. Naturally he would go along with the insane game and find it exciting and fun, just like Gary, but she realized, watching him, his exhilaration now was over Smart House. Again she was struck by how much younger he appeared with contacts than with the thick glasses she had become used to. That change and his excited animation made her feel almost as if he had become a stranger, no longer the avuncular guest who never quite saw her. His excitement and pleasure enveloped Alexander and Rich now, and she felt out of place, unable to share it with them.

They were all experiencing Smart House, in their own peculiar ways, just as she was, Beth realized, making a sandwich, listening but paying little attention to the words.

“So,” Jake was going on, as he joined the other two men at the table, “you have to have both boards in tandem. The good old BOS and the new arsenoid celsium, and that costs a mint, but my God, it’s worth every million!” His laughter was genuine, unaffected. Rich chuckled in a low rumble.

Beth finished assembling her own lunch and left them talking. At the door she glanced back, trying to tell by looking if any of them had been killed yet. Not Rich, she knew. She had his name, and upstairs in her skirt pocket she had a murder weapon, a balloon.

For a moment she stood uncertainly in the corridor, then went into the atrium to eat. It was peaceful there, and coffee was available at the bar. She took her lunch to a small table off to one side.

Now she could appreciate the glass dome on top of the building. It allowed the sunlight to enter and light up the stone wall behind the pool. The stones were varied, some gray, some black, obsidian she guessed, a pink that might have been sandstone…. Mosses and lichen grew on the rocks, and the waterfall trickled, vanished, reappeared to make the plunge into the pool. She finished eating and stretched out on the chaise, watching the shifting light at the far side of the atrium.

She had slept, she realized, and felt disoriented, unsure where she was. Then she heard a man’s deep chuckle and a curse. Gary’s curse.

“I think your computer called this a blunt instrument. You’re dead. Harry? Witness?” It was Rich speaking.

“Sure thing,” Harry said. “We can use the computer at the bar.”

They moved into her line of sight. Gary was scowling. One by one they keyed in something on the computer; it thanked them by name.

“Now, off to collect a new victim, new weapon. Fun game, Gary. See you guys.”

Rich sauntered toward the rear door. Harry followed after a moment, and Gary began to move in Beth’s direction. He stopped when he saw her.

“I want to talk to you,” she said, joining him near the bar.

“Next week.”

“Now, Gary. Let’s sit down a minute and talk. You’re out of the game.”

He shook his head. “The only thing that matters is that you came home again. I knew you would. They’ll all be gone again by Monday evening. We’ll have all the time you want then.”

“I’ll be gone, too, Gary. I’m not staying. We have to talk!”

“Not now!” he yelled shrilly. “Why do you do this to me? You won’t be gone, damn you! Haven’t you looked around Smart House? Don’t you understand what I’ve done here, you idiot? I’m putting you to work. Everyone’s going to be working from now on. No more free lunches for you or anyone else. Monday!” He wheeled and left.

She leaned against the bar weakly. Her hands were clenched, her entire body felt clenched. Suddenly something was wrapped around her throat and she clutched at it reflexively.

“Sorry, Beth. I’m afraid you’re dead.”

Her heart was crushing thunder in her chest; her knees were giving. If she had not been supported by the bar, she would have fallen. The thing at her throat was taken away again, and she turned to see Jake Kluge looking at her anxiously. He held up a ribbon with Velcro at both ends. “Garrote,” he said. “Harry?”

“You got her,” Harry said in a voice charged with irritation and even anger.

Beth had not heard them enter. She felt her neck, then nodded. “My God,” she whispered, “this is an insane game!”

Jake nodded, at first glance apparently as upset and unhappy with the game as she was, but then she realized that his face was too rigidly set and that behind his show of concern, he was laughing. He was having fun with the crazy game. She looked at Harry; at least his anger and impatience were visible and honest. For the first time since she had met him, she felt more allied with him than with any of the others in the company. Jake moved around her to the other side of the bar and keyed in information to the computer. When he motioned to her, she went to the keyboard silently and confirmed that he had strangled her with the garrote. Harry confirmed the kill. The computer thanked them all in the nice low female voice. It congratulated Jake and told Beth it was sorry she had become a victim. All of them by name.

She read in her room until she was too restless to sit still. She had explored the entire house and had no wish to meet any of the others, and she felt too wind-scoured to go down to the beach again. Finally she left by way of the balcony and made her way to the greenhouse. When she entered, Jake and Gary scurried out the other end.

The greenhouse was forty by sixty feet with rows and rows of vegetables, strawberries and melons, ornamentals. There were glass-walled rooms within the structure that simply baffled her. Little greenhouses inside a big greenhouse? Why not? No one else was there now. Slowly she wandered up and down the aisles. Summer fruits, ripening tomatoes, cucumbers. A room without a season, controlled in every way. She spotted a misty area and went to investigate. Watercress in a tray of circulating water.

Dinner was a dismal affair that night. Everyone was edgy, even the dead ones, Beth realized. Gary snapped at Maddie and Bruce, and Harry told Laura to shut up when she laughed and started to say something. Gary glowered at Beth. Bruce muttered to Jake and Rich and ignored everyone else. Milton looked pained, as if there were at least a million other places he would rather be; he said nothing and ate little. Maddie was drinking steadily. Even Laura became subdued and her stunning beauty suddenly seemed painted on, and not a very good paint job at that. She would look old suddenly, Beth thought, studying her. The lines would start, the flesh sag, and it would happen all at once. She was that type. Beth poked her food around on the plate with no interest and was relieved when Gary jumped up and left the dining room abruptly. No one else lingered after that.

“Some of us are watching movies,” Maddie announced. “We’ll have coffee in the television room.”

“What movie?” Laura asked.

“Who cares?” Maddie said with a shrug. She took her glass out with her when she left.

And that was right, Beth knew. No one cared. If they could get through this evening, all day tomorrow, it would be over. Anything on the screen would serve.

The problem was that no one could sit quietly and watch a movie, no matter what it was, she thought a while later. They had argued at first about
The Yellow Submarine
or
Topper
. They would watch both, they decided, but then people kept getting up and going to the bar at the end of the room, or leaving altogether and returning. One of the times it was Laura who left her chair, and Beth heard her stifle a scream, then laugh too shrilly. Killed, she thought. Another victim bites the dust. She did not turn to see anything going on behind her. Maddie left and came back. Rich drifted in, then drifted out. Beth went to her room and paced a few minutes. When restlessness drove her out again, she saw Jake closing his own door, and she hesitated a moment. He appeared as self-conscious as she felt, and apparently had as little to say as he caught up with her and they went down the stairs side by side in an awkward silence. She was relieved when they parted in the wide corridor and she returned to the television room. Bruce muttered something that she did not catch, and she looked away from him, closed her eyes. A moment later she heard Gary’s laughter and a vacuum-like silence when he stopped. There was the odor of chlorine and popcorn, she thought without wonder. Why not? Press a button,
voilà
popcorn! She wandered to the kitchen for no real reason and got a drink of water that she did not want.

When the Beatles came on singing, Maddie left again. “Save my chair,” she said in a loud voice. “I’ll be back, just not soon. Maybe they’ll get that out of their system. I didn’t know it was cartoons!”

Maddie heard Laura say something unintelligible as she walked out, no doubt something snide or crude. She was tired, tired of them all, of the silly game, of Gary’s tantrums and Bruce’s sulks. Just tired, she thought. Getting old maybe. Used to be able to stay up as long as anyone, drink as much as anyone, joke, laugh, tease. But this was a hellish weekend and she was plain tired. She waited for the elevator. Lie down a little while, rest. Too early to actually go to bed, but rest a little, that would be nice. The door slid open silently, and she started to enter the elevator, then stopped.

“For heaven’s sake!” she muttered. That damn game! That goddamn game! Rich Schoen was lying on the floor, taking it too far, too damn far. “Rich, get up. Stop that.” Then she knew. She took a halting step backward, another, and she screamed again and again and again.

Things happened, too many for Beth to track. He couldn’t be dead, she wanted to explain to anyone who would listen. That thing on his head was an open weave net bag; it couldn’t hurt him, not really. Milton told them all to go to the living room and stay and no one argued with him, and that would make Gary furious, she thought. He couldn’t bear for anyone else to give orders. That was his prerogative, no one else’s. Bruce took Maddie to her room because Maddie would not stop yelling, and that was silly. It was a game, Beth thought at her, just a game. Rich was playing the game. Then someone was shaking her slightly and she focused her eyes to see Jake.

“Hold on, kid,” he said. “Just hold on. Okay?”

She nodded, and she was okay suddenly. His face was ridged, with hard lines down both sides of his cheeks, like a wood carving, she thought, as if he had put on a mask. “Is there something we should do?” she asked then. “Call the police? An ambulance? Where is everyone else?”

“Milton’s trying to find everyone now. He called the sheriff’s office already. Can you help me get some coffee? I’m afraid we’re in for a long night.”

She nodded. Laura was on one of the couches looking like a zombie. Bruce was there, and Harry.

“We’re going to get coffee,” Jake said to them. “Milton wants everyone to wait here. We’ll bring it back when it’s ready.”

Milton Sweetwater was the company attorney, Beth thought distantly. Perry Mason taking charge. She followed Jake from the room. They had barely got started searching for the coffee when Milton appeared at the kitchen door and asked them to come back to the living room.