Chapter Text
"In order to help you understand what happened, I shall need to take you through the events of the evening, step-by-step."
Wadsworth slides into place, where Yvette had been standing earlier in the night.
"At the start of the evening, Yvette was here, by herself, waiting to offer you all a glass of champagne."
He heads for the door.
"I was in the hall." A beat. "I know because I was there. Then I hurried across to the kitchen."
As though that was the magic word, Wadsworth picks up his pace, indeed hurrying across the hall and into the kitchen, and they all follow at his heels.
"And the cook was in here, alive, sharpening knives, preparing dinner. Then-"
Wadsworth runs back out the door, nearly colliding with some of them, as they pivot and scramble out behind him.
"-the doorbell rang, and it was you!"
Wadsworth points at Mustard, who nods, and Wadsworth proceeds to rapidly re-enact the entire interaction, and then does the same for Mrs. White, whizzing between the front door and library.
Green watches with growing incredulity — and maybe a little concern — as Wadsworth flies around the ground floor with increasing speed. When he had said he was going to tell them how it was all done, Green hadn't thought he meant literally and in detail, and yet here they were. It's when Wadsworth says "-there was a rumble of thunder, and a crash of lightning!" accompanied by sound effects, that Green starts wondering what's gotten into his partner.
"And to make a long story short-"
"Too late."
"-one by one, you all arrived."
Wadsworth runs to the dining room, starts sitting in the chairs and naming who was where and that they all had a letter.
"Get on with it!"
"The point is: blackmail!"
"But all this came out after dinner, in the study." Green interjects.
"You're right!"
And off Wadsworth goes again.
They follow him to the study, where he points at different furniture and lists who sat where again, until another "get on with it!" from the group has him moving on. He shuts the door, flips off the lights, and there's a pause as everyone processes the sudden darkness. Naturally, they scream.
The lights come back on, and Wadsworth is now lying on the floor, and for one heart-stopping moment, Green thinks 'oh no'.
Then Wadsworth sits up, continues his narration, and Green takes a moment, as everyone's eyes are on the butler and Professor Plum is discussing Boddy's fake-out, to lean back and remember how to breathe.
Green tunes back in when Wadsworth slaps Mrs. Peacock, in an apparent imitation of Green earlier, pushing invisible glasses up his nose, and Green huffs a little self-consciously, pushing his own glasses up.
They're in the billiard room, Wadsworth runs down the hall, they're in the kitchen, they're back in the study, and Green's head is a little bit spinning. Sure, he experienced most of all this firsthand, but having it all laid out like this rapid-fire is a lot to take in.
Wadsworth reveals that White knew Yvette, as did Scarlet and Mustard, which Green did know from the case notes ahead of time. He holds back his snort as Wadsworth declares "you all had a motive!". Green most certainly didn't do it.
"But where and when was Mr. Boddy killed?" Mustard asks.
"Don't you see?"
Green would probably be able to see if Wadsworth hadn't chosen that moment to grab his jacket and throw him to the floor, standing in for Boddy's corpse. He grunts at the impact, but brushes it off as part of the act, assuming he was simply the closest man for Wadsworth to grab.
They move on to the cook's death, scrambling for the kitchen, and Green leads the pack, ends at the freezer triumphantly only to stop as he realizes Wadsworth isn't with them anymore.
Green blinks. Where-? The freezer door creaks open just as ominously and annoyingly well-timed as before. Wadsworth falls out dramatically and Green catches him on instinct, realizes who he's holding and with a tired sigh, drops him to the floor. Call it payback for the earlier throw.
Wadsworth gives him an affronted look, but carries on.
They go back to the study and its at this point that Green has moved from disbelief and a little concern to a little disbelief and a lot of concern, because Wadsworth is acting in a way that's not…Green hesitates to call it normal, because nothing about their lives is normal, but its certainly not what Green would consider his usual behavior, even within the ridiculous circumstances. He's just about to ask if Wadsworth is okay, and something must show on his face, because its then that Wadsworth grabs him again.
Green is down on the floor, then back up, then back down again, and then its Wadsworth miming a candlestick in hand, and Green responds accordingly, exiting the study and letting a panicked expression take over his face.
"The murderer crept up behind him and…killed him!"
Wadsworth brings his hand down none too lightly on Green's head, sending him to the floor yet again, and Green's concern evaporates into annoyance.
"Will you stop that?" He snaps.
"No."
And Wadsworth throws him into the bathroom, shutting the door firmly. Ok, point taken: stay on task. With a huff, Green takes the moment alone to refocus. He flushes as he exits, just because, and hands the towel to a bewildered Mustard, before striding out to rejoin the group.
The study, the key, the front door — the motorist. There's where the key went missing, and here's where Wadsworth reveals everyone was invited, accomplices and informants. The informants are dead, the evidence is gone, and the night continues.
"And then, the doorbell rang."
The doorbell abruptly rings, and all of them jump. Peacock shoves her way forward, yanking the door open, where stands a man in a hat and trench coat, clutching a religious pamphlet. Green quells the urge to laugh at the picture of J. Edgar Hoover getting the door shut in his face, but he's relieved to know their backup has arrived.
It seems to settle something in Wadsworth too, as he straightens and picks up where he left off.
"The cop arrived next, we locked him in the library. We forgot the cupboard with the weapons was now unlocked, then we split up again, and the murderer switched off the electricity!"
Wadsworth spins towards the panel under the staircase and theatrically pulls the switch, plunging them all into darkness.
"Oh my god."
"Not again."
"Turn on the lights!"
=
Wadsworth flips the switch again and light returns to the house. He strides cheerfully away from the panel.
"Sorry, didn't mean to frighten you."
"You're a bit late for that." Green growls, White squeaking beside him.
"Then there were three more murders."
"So which of us killed them?"
"None of us killed Mr. Boddy, or the cook."
Then who-?
"Yvette."
"Yvette?!"
Wadsworth explains how she did it, able to sneak around while the rest of the group was occupied, and then comes the big question.
"Why did she do it?"
"Was it because she was acting under orders, from the person who later killed her?"
And the big answer.
"It was her employer, Miss Scarlet."
"That's a lie!"
Wadsworth details how Scarlet did it, killing Yvette, the cop, and the singing telegram girl, and Miss Scarlet gives him a dark look.
"You've no proof."
"The gun is missing. Gentlemen, turn out your pockets. Ladies, empty your purses. Whoever has the gun is the murderer."
Pockets are turned, purses are emptied, and Miss Scarlet reveals she has the revolver, not that Green doubted Wadsworth's conclusion.
"Brilliantly worked out Wadsworth, I congratulate you." Scarlet purrs, and Green tenses as she holds the gun ready.
She starts slinking toward the door though, and Green knows she'll be caught once she's outside, but he is curious, so he speaks up.
"Why did you do it? Half of Washington knows what kind of business you run. You were in no real danger. The whole town would be implicated if you were exposed."
And oh. Okay, she deals in information. She starts talking about secrets and blackmail, but then turns to look at Wadsworth and there's something almost amused in her face.
"You as a mere butler have no access to government secrets," and Green internally scoffs, because if only she knew, "so I'm afraid your moment has come."
Wadsworth looks largely unbothered, so Green makes no move to intervene, waiting to see what his partner will do.
"There are no more bullets left in that gun."
Which could be a bluff, but could also be true, and Green honestly isn't sure which, but Wadsworth certainly causes confusion as he counts the alleged used bullets. Scarlet loses her patience, ready to fire, and the doorbell loudly interrupts.
Miss Scarlet whips her head around to look and Wadsworth is quick to disarm her, as Green reacts immediately and goes for the door. Police and FBI swarm inside, and Green quickly steps out of the way, as Chief Hoover strolls in.
"Wadsworth, don't hate me for trying to shoot you…"
Scarlet pouts at Wadsworth, batting her eyes as she sidles closer, and Green scowls sharply, fighting the urge to march over and pull her away.
“Frankly Scarlet, I don’t give a damn.” Wadsworth drawls.
Green smirks at that and settles.
“Now as I was trying to tell you, there are no more bullets, you see-”
The gun promptly fires one last bullet into the air, and Wadsworth blinks in surprise.
“One plus two…plus one…”
In the middle of the hall, the Colonel stands, slowly counting the bullets as well, looking confused. The second chandelier above him, the last victim of the revolver, falls with a loud snap of the rope, crashing just behind where he’s standing. He jumps like he’s been shocked, then stumbles for the nearest chair, clutching his chest.
Green drags a hand down his face, lets out a breath. This night has been too much.
=
=
The lights go back up and Wadsworth jumps right back into it.
“In the dark, the murderer ran across the hall to the study, picked up the rope, and the lead pipe. Ran to the billiard room.-"
"-strangled Yvette,” Wadsworth goes for Green, just to see if he’ll let him, but Green dodges, and Wadsworth grabs Mrs. White instead. She goes down pretending to be choked in a properly dramatic fashion, and Wadsworth moves on.
“Hit the cop on the head-”
Green dives out of the way, having had enough of Wadsworth’s antics, and Colonel Mustard takes the fake blow, dropping to the floor.
"Then, coming out of the library, the doorbell rang — it was the singing telegram. The murderer picked up the gun where Yvette dropped it, ran to the door, opened it, recognized the girl from her picture, shot her, and ran back-" Here, Wadsworth grabs Mrs. Peacock's hand, "-to the cellar!"
"The cellar!" they all echo.
"But Colonel Mustard wasn't in the cellar."
"No, but you were." Wadsworth turns and pins Mrs. Peacock with a piercing look. She yanks her glasses off defensively.
"So?"
"You murdered them all."
And on one hand, Green knows crime can be committed by anyone, but he's still a little surprised it was someone like Mrs. Peacock. Briefly he spares a thought to wonder how she managed to get the cook in the freezer on her own, but he's distracted with Wadsworth's next statement.
“And monkey’s brains, though popular in Cantonese cuisine, are not often to be found in Washington D.C.”
Green takes a deep breath in.
“Is that what we ate?”
On top of all the murder and stress, that's enough to make Green nauseous. Wadsworth winces sympathetically as Green stumbles past for the bathroom. He exits just in time to see Peacock pull out the revolver, and Wadsworth casually suggest they all simply leave.
“Great idea, I’ll leave first, if you don’t mind.”
Mrs. Peacock gestures sharply with the revolver, and makes her way towards the door, as the rest of them gather together behind her. Wadsworth remains remarkably unbothered in the face of a gun, though Green figures its because they both know their boss is right outside anyway.
“In fact, I think we all owe you a vote of thanks.”
And of all things, Wadsworth starts singing.
“For she’s a jolly good fellow~”
Wadsworth has a lovely voice, but is this really the time, Green thinks a little hysterically, though he joins in nonetheless by the next line, as do the others, until they have a whole little group number, with Mrs. White going off on a separate melody. They jauntily continue until Peacock is out and closes the door behind her, before letting the song end abruptly.
“I told you I didn’t do it.” Green growls, and he knows the strain in his voice is audible, but he figures he's justified in this case. He's at the end of his rope, and he's sure Wadsworth is just about the same, so its a good thing this is the end.
The other guests mutter about the authorities finding out, and Wadsworth waves them off.
“That phone call from Mr. Hoover? I work for him, of course. How else could I have known everything about you all?”
It would be nice to be able to reveal himself, though Green keeps quiet. His position as a plant means he won't say anything unless absolutely necessary, even at this point. Suddenly, they hear a commotion outside, and Wadsworth heads for the doors, all of them quickly following, still keyed up.
They hustle outside and stop under the floodlights, where Mrs. Peacock is being arrested. The Chief stands lighting a cigarette, and his gaze lingers on Green for a moment, before it swings to Wadsworth.
“Wadsworth, we got her.”
*
They all watch the proceedings, a slightly awkward silence between them, before Wadsworth clears his throat.
“Can I interest anyone in fruit or dessert?”
“Yes.” Green says immediately.
Wadsworth turns to face him, eyebrows raised. Green has a faint little smirk around the corners of his mouth, and Wadsworth snorts. Green is partly teasing him, but Wadsworth wouldn’t have made the offer if he wasn't prepared to follow through and Green knows that. He waves the group of them back inside, since they’ll have to wait around to be interviewed anyway, and leads them to the dining room. They all drop into the chairs in various states of exhaustion and relief and Wadsworth leaves them to it.
Green chirps out “I’ll help.” and follows Wadsworth into the kitchen. The door has only barely swung closed behind them when Wadsworth finds himself abruptly pushed up against the wall.
“Oh.” And maybe he squeaks it a little, but in his defense, its been a long night.
If the refreshments take a few minutes longer than necessary to bring out, well, that's just for Wadsworth and Green to know.
=
=
The lights go back up.
Wadsworth walks through each murder and reveals that each guest committed one of them, until the last.
"So it must have been Mr. Green who shot the singing telegram!"
And oh, not even his alias, the actual Green, was the murdering type. He has a feeling where this is about to go though.
"But I didn't do it!" Green sputters, “The gun is missing, whoever has the gun, shot the girl!”
“I shot her.” Wadsworth drawls, a sharp smirk on his face, confirming Green’s suspicion.
“You?!”
Green goes pale with the rest of the guests but for entirely different reasons. Oh no no, this was not going to be the plan, there had to be a better plan than this, but he knew there wasn’t, had half-suspected this might be it, and it all plays out in his mind.
Have Wadsworth step in and claim to be the blackmailer all along, Green reveals himself as the FBI agent and takes him out, the Bureau comes in and cleans it all up without looking like they completely lost control of the situation. Fine ok, he gets the need for this kind of cover-up, there’s only one issue.
They hadn’t been prepared to take action like this, so they only have what they already had on them. As in, Green’s concealed firearm is very much a real one with very real bullets. As in, Green is going to have shoot close enough to make it believable but not actually shoot his partner. And Wadsworth is clearly aiming to let Green "kill" him.
“You’re Mr. Boddy.” He chokes out, but he’s really asking ‘this is the plan?’
Wadsworth smirks, lets out a low sinister laugh, countenance completely different from the affable butler from before, but confirming that yes, this is apparently the fucking plan.
The other guests are talking, Wadsworth is talking, they're watching him move through the hall and head for the door, but Green doesn’t hear any of it past the pounding blood in his ears. He tries to keep up, he tries to keep selling his persona, but the weight of his gun is suddenly that much heavier at his side.
And then: “I suggest we stack the bodies in the cellar, leave quietly one at a time, and forget that any of this ever happened.”
Here it is. The pivotal moment.
“And you’ll just go on blackmailing us?”
“Of course,” Wadsworth laughs, “why not?”
Wadsworth goes still where he stands, knowing the less movement the better.
“I’ll tell you why not.” Green growls, grasping the hilt of his gun.
Green is a good shot, he’s always been a good shot, but he’s never needed to be a good shot more than in this moment.
Green breathes in, draws his weapon, drops to one knee (more stability).
Wadsworth brings his own gun up (a clearer path to shoot past him).
The gun fires; the bang, the smoke. (Please please please, Green prays).
Wadsworth yelps, jerks like he’s been hit, and stumbles back (he has to sell it, he’s just selling it…right?).
His back hits the wall and he slides down to the floor, eyes wide and wild.
“Good shot, Green.”
He reaches inside his jacket and his hand comes away bloody. Green fights back the flinch at the streak of bright red (not his, that’s not his).
“Very good.” Wadsworth gasps, and his head tips back, his limbs go slack, and for all appearances, dies there on the floor.
Green exhales. (He’s not dead.)
He stands. (He’s not dead.)
He faces the other guests and their questions, pulls out his own badge. (He’s not dead.)
“I told you I didn’t do it.” He says briskly, and strides over to the door, yanking it open.
The other agents and officers flood into the hall, weapons raised, the Chief behind them.
“Alright, whoddunit?”
There’s a cacophony of voices, arguing and accusations, and Green doesn’t have time for this nonsense, with his partner sprawled mere feet away. He can’t check on him until they’re all gone, and he’s already nearing the end of his rope.
“They all did it.” He snaps, quieting the room immediately. “But if you want to know who killed Mr. Boddy, it was me, in the hall, with the revolver.”
He reflexively crosses his fingers where they can’t see, just another lie among the many told that night.
“Ok Chief, take ‘em away. I’m gonna go home and sleep with my wife.”
*
Green stays standing in the entryway, tensely lighting a cigarette, and watching as both the living and the dead are removed from the house and packed away in cars. They move quickly and efficiently, and it really doesn’t take much time, but it feels like an eternity. The other officers clear the scene, and the Chief claps a hand on his shoulder. Green can see him glance over at Wadsworth, before he turns and exits the house, closing the doors behind him.
There's a firm click of the latch and Green breathes out a stream of smoke in a heavy exhale.
“We're clear.”
There's a rattle of umbrellas as the stand is jostled. A squeak of a shoe on the tile. The shift of fabric. Green keeps his gaze ahead, some part of him still too terrified to look, terrified that he didn't miss after all. It's only when there's a low groan that he can finally turn his head.
Wadsworth is sitting up, face pulled into a slight grimace, trying to push himself up, but his hands are slick with blood. Blood lifted off one of the corpses, Green assumes, but decides he doesn't want to know and abandons the thought.
Green strides over, offers a hand, and Wadsworth looks up at him, their eyes meeting. Alive, Green tells himself, alive and staring back at him and not dead on the floor by his own hand. Something on Green’s face must give his feelings away though, because Wadsworth's expression melts into something soft.
“I'm alright.”
Wadsworth takes Green's hand, lets Green pull him to his feet and doesn't comment when Green doesn't let go. That had been close, way way too close, and only by virtue of their experience and their experience together, could they pull off a plan like that with so little preparation.
Green hands Wadsworth his pocket square, already bloody, to wipe his hands, while he grabs both their coats. But as he goes to hand Wadsworth’s over, Wadsworth stops him. He makes a questioning noise, and Wadsworth nods his head at the wall beside the door.
Green peers closely at the area, then sees what Wadsworth was indicating.
“Ah.” he mutters, eyeing the bullet hole where his shot landed. It would’ve zipped right past Wadsworth’s side.
“That really was a very good shot.” Wadsworth murmurs, and Green huffs out a laugh that quickly gets throttled as he feels his throat close up.
He doesn’t cry, but he kind of wants to, drags a hand down his face and takes a steadying breath, keeps his eyes closed. Wadsworth steps in close without a word, plucks his coat out of Green’s hands, then helps Green into his. He can’t help that they had to do this, but he can reassure that they both made it out the other side.
Green nods, calm regained, and opens his eyes again. They open the doors together and step out into the night, closing the doors and simply standing there for a moment, absorbing the whole affair. There’s a beat, then Wadsworth snorts.
“”Go home and sleep with my wife.” I hope you meant me, though I can't recall us marrying.”
He gives Green a sidelong look, coy and teasing.
“We're as good as, I’d say.” Green mutters, “Though with how you were throwing me around earlier, that might be grounds for divorce.”
Wadsworth laughs, and it's the best sound Green has heard all night. They step off the stoop where it all began, and Green gives one last look up at the manor.
“Game over.” Green says with finality.
“Thank god for that.” Wadsworth sighs.
They look at each other, smile. They both made it through, in the end, even with all the ways things went sideways, and they can make their way far away from this awful house and its awful crimes, back to somewhere warm and familiar and safe. They make to separate for their respective cars, but pause, and Green reaches out, but Wadsworth is already moving towards him.
They meet back together in a kiss both firm and a little desperate, the leftover anxiety from a harrowing night, before pulling apart, a promise of later. They walk away for real this time, and glance at each other as they unlock car doors, slide behind the wheel, grinning.
“I’ll see you at home, Agent Lockwood.”
“Not if I see you first, Agent Goodman.”