Member
Fetzen
Kirah
Morose
PatientBean
Legend
Location: Château de La Lune: Lavender Room -> Rec Room
Skills: N/A
After a couple minutes of staring at the lavender ceiling in thought, Tony got up from the bed and continued looking around the room. On the desk, he noticed there was a stack of papers. Curious, he went to take a closer look. On top of the pile was a card providing the wifi information, which he promptly logged into. Beneath that was the itinerary for the weekend, which looked straightforward enough. Attached to it was the list of meal options for tonight’s dinner, from which he chose the steak, trusting that people as sophisticated as the La Lunes wouldn’t deign to serve a steak at anything past medium rare. Next was a document outlining the history of the vineyard, which he quickly concluded had no information that he hadn’t found in his first few minutes of research. The last item on the pile, very out of place compared to the rest of the items, was a manila folder with nothing on the outside that might hint at its contents.
Curious, Tony opened the folder, revealing a stack of papers that all looked very similar. Looking at the first page, the first thing he noticed was the letterhead of Cornell University. Raising his eyebrows, he continued to the header:
TUITION & FEES - RECEIPT
Semester: Fall, 2005
Student: Stronzetto, Anthony
Semester: Fall, 2005
Student: Stronzetto, Anthony
At this point, Tony was alarmed, and that alarm quickly turned into outright panic when he noticed that at the bottom of the page, beneath the section that itemized the rather substantial costs, a few lines had been neatly highlighted… those containing the details of the payment received to cover the full amount. The check number, the name associated with the bank account… and the name of the individual who signed the check. Quickly shuffling through the rest of the papers, he found that they were all the same: one for every semester of both undergrad and medical school.
What.
The.
FUCK.
How do they have this? Why do they have this? Do they know who that is? What else do they know? How long have they known? Why did they bring me here? Why do they want me to know that they know? How do they have this?!?!
All these questions and more rapidly flashed through his mind as Tony struggled to calm down enough for rational thought. This is a huge fucking problem. Worse, actually. This is an I-COULD-FUCKING-DIE problem. His panic giving way to anger, he began shredding every single page into tiny pieces. Tony knew it was a futile effort, that whoever had put the folder here to begin with would undoubtedly have other copies, and that even if they didn’t, the mere knowledge was enough to bury him. But he wouldn’t risk anyone else stumbling across this. He needed to eliminate this problem, and the last thing he needed was creating more problems. After a couple minutes he was done shredding, so he piled all the shreds onto the folder, carried it into the bathroom - which fortunately was not occupied by the resident of the Gold Room - and flushed every last shred down the toilet. He had to do it in three batches to make sure it wouldn’t clog, which he was sure his neighbor would probably draw embarrassing conclusions about; but since that was far better than the truth, so be it.
With the evidence safely disposed of, Tony left his room, passing some bickering servants on his way downstairs to the Rec Room. He had a huge problem to solve, urgently… but first, he needed a drink.
Making it downstairs without incident, Tony turned to the door on his right and opened it. Inside, he found what appeared to be by far the most modern room of the house he had seen so far - which wasn’t saying much, since the room still looked decades old. The clear centerpiece of the room was the wet bar, with seating for four. Behind the bar stood a bartender, who was absently cleaning a glass while chatting with a middle-aged male whose beer belly seemed a formidable challenge for the bar stool on which he was sitting. On the wall behind the bartender was an impressive array of wines and spirits.
The bartender looked up and nodded. “Good evening, sir. Can I get anything for you?”
Following the bartender’s gaze, the large man looked at Tony. “You’re one of the nominees.” The man had a strong French accent, but his voice was well trained. It was easy to understand and deep.
Tony nodded at each greeting in turn, approaching the bar and taking the seat furthest from the man, who he presumed must be one of the La Lunes. “Correct, although of course you already knew that,” Tony replied, forcing a smile. “Nevertheless, I am Dr. Stronzetto, but feel free to call me Tony.” Turning to the bartender he added, “I’ll have a glass of whatever is the finest scotch you have on hand, if you’d be so kind.”
“Would a Glenfiddich twenty-one be to your liking? I have that or some Kikori if that is your speed.”
“No one wants the weird rice scotch.” The man bellowed. “Pleasure to meet you Doc. I’m Lawrence. You’ll find that Leon likes strange things. But he’s good at his job.” Lawrence winked at Leon, the bartender. Obviously hinting at some long standing in-joke.
“The Glenfiddich would be perfect,” Tony answered, chuckling lightly at Lawrence’s dismissal of the Kikori. Turning to Lawrence, he replied “I would expect no less from a bartender working at one of the most famous vineyards in the world. I’m just glad to see he leaves some room on the bar for anything other than wine.”
“We do have a wide selection of wines from all over the world,” Leon said as he busied himself with pouring the requested glass.
“Gotta know the competition,” Lawrence said, raising his glass slightly. “So, you said you were a doctor. I’ll be honest here but I don’t know who all are in the nominees this time. Hopefully some cuties, though.” He chuckles. “What type of doctor are you?”
Thinking again of the folder he’d found in his room, Tony wondered whether this was a rhetorical question. “A surgeon,” he answered carefully. “I may be young in my field, but I have completed more than my fair share of successful surgeries so far. Hopefully nobody will be needing my services during this trip, but if the need arises, you can rest assured that they will be in good hands,” he vowed with a slight smile.
“Good to hear.” Lawrence nodded. “Between us two. This year is a mess. I saw there were two youtube personalities this year. Who even thought that was a good idea?” he shakes his head.
To play nice, or to tell the truth? Tony wondered. “I’m sure they’re good at… whatever it is they do,” he started, taking the middle ground, “but I must confess that they certainly are not what I was expecting.” By this point Leon had finished pouring the scotch, setting the glass on a coaster in front of him. Tony took a sip, nodding his thanks.
“Enjoy sir,” Leon said.
“Oh, everyone is good at what they do if they are here,” Lawrence replies, waving his hand dismissively. “You can’t be bad at what you do and be invited here. Vorace made sure of that.” He turns and raises his glass to the painting of the old man on the wall.
Tony simply nodded, taking the moment to look around the rest of the room. A few seating areas occupied much of the space, although there was a section dedicated to recreational activities, offering a billiards table, an air hockey table, and an ornate chess board. He also saw a bookshelf containing what seemed to be board games, although from here he could not discern any of their identities. On the back wall were two paintings: the portrait of Vorace that Lawrence had saluted, and another that depicted what he suspected was a younger Elenore, and what he assumed was the rest of her family. At a secluded table in a corner of the room, Tony saw a young woman hunched over a laptop, seemingly ignoring everyone else in the room. “She seems chatty,” he remarked, taking another sip of scotch.
“Only if you’re an internet friend.” Lawrence rolled his eyes, sipping his own drink. “She hasn’t spoken to most of the family in probably a year. Went to college and got smart. More like smart ass,” he said the last part loudly, mostly at the woman in the corner. She flipped him off, without looking up from her laptop.
“And respectful towards her elders,” Tony ironically added to his previous observation. Glancing down at his watch, he saw that it was already 4:30, thirty minutes before dinner. “Well, thanks for your company, Lawrence, but I suppose I should get ready for dinner.” Turning to Leon, “And for the scotch,” he added, tilting his head back and downing the rest of the glass in one shot, then setting the glass down on the bar.
“See you at dinner,” Lawrence said. “Maybe you’ll get a better look at Lena’s face away from her computer screen too.” Leon gave a nod.
Tony nodded, in lieu of a response. Exiting through the foyer, he headed back up the stairs towards his hideous Lavender Room, reflecting on his conversation with Lawrence as he walked. Neither of the La Lunes he’d just met were quite what he’d imagined this family to be. I signed up for an award ceremony, not a bunch of mysteries, he thought grumpily.
