Quizzical

Kevin went through the double-doors of the pub. The place was packed. As he moved through the crowd, heading for the bar, people greeted him warmly, shaking his hand, patting him on the back, some even hugged him. All his friends were here. 

‘Are you here for the quiz?’ asked an old friend whose name he couldn’t recall.

‘Absolutely! You can’t beat a pub quiz.’ said Kevin.

The barman smiled as he handed Kevin his pint of beer. Kevin took a long swig of the cold beer and sighed. Perfect. He turned to look around the packed bar-room.

The atmosphere was amazing. It felt like Christmas Eve. The air was thick with chatter, laughter and anticipation for the quiz.

There was something special about a pub quiz. Draught beer, good friends accompanied by trivia and general knowledge. A pub quiz just seemed to tick all the boxes. Kevin had been on pub quiz teams for ages, and was a regular at all his local quiz nights. 

Kevin had just returned from the bar with his second pint when the quiz master, a stocky guy with glasses and a check shirt, grabbed the microphone and perched on a stool at the front of the room. The way the host sat there reminded Kevin of a 1970s comedian, sitting on the chair, microphone in hand, holding court, as the crowd looked on. 

‘Good evening, everybody. I’m Paddy McNulty, and I’ll be the host of tonight’s quiz. Are you guys all ready?’ Paddy asked.

Kevin and the rest of the revellers cheered enthusiastically. He joined the group huddled round the table, they would be the members of his team. Paddy’s first question was the name of the author who wrote The Godfather.

‘Mario Lanza.’ The guy next to Kevin said.

‘The opera singer? Are you sure?’ Someone else replied.

‘Puzo. It was Mario Puzo.’ Kevin said.

‘Yeah, that’s what I said.’ 

Kevin’s team laughed and wrote down what they hoped was the right answer.

As the quiz went on the questions were on various topics, films and TV, sport, music. There was even a picture round, where you had to guess who the faces were on the photo-copied sheet of paper that was handed around. Kevin pointed to one of the pictures.

‘He looks like my friend, Paul.’ He said.

Paddy announced there would then be a short break before the results would be revealed. He told the crowd that in the event of a draw, the team captains would be called to answer a series of tie-break questions. Once those questions had been answered they would have their winner. 

After the break, as Kevin sipped another pint, Paddy went through the scores in the room. He called out that there was in fact a tie-break situation. Kevin’s team had tied with another team.

‘Could I have a representative from each team, please?’ Paddy called.

Kevin’s team all pointed at him. They all wanted him for their team captain.

‘Go on, Kev.’ 

Kevin took a swig of his pint, then rubbed his hands together. He knew his stuff, he had a decent grasp of general knowledge. Let’s see if he could complete the tie-break questions and win the quiz over-all.

He was ushered to the front of the room, like a boxer on his way to the ring, people clapping and slapping him on the back. He joined the captain from the other team. Kevin gave his name. The other team captain, a woman in her mid-thirties with dark hair and glasses, introduced herself as Jayne Bartlett. 

They were positioned either side of the quiz master. The crowd cheered and applauded.

‘I am now going to ask a series of questions, the first person to answer as many questions correctly will win. Do you both understand?’ Paddy said. 

Jayne nodded, yes, I think so.

‘Yes,’ Kevin said, ‘let’s do this.’

‘Good luck.’ Jayne said.

‘Can you tell me where you were on the night of 15th October?’ Paddy said.

‘I was at home.’ Kevin said.

‘Correct.’ Paddy grinned. ‘Who was there with you?’

‘There was a party, there were a few of us. There was music and drinking, a lot of drinking.’

‘What happened then, Kevin?’ asked Paddy.

‘After most of my friends had left, one lad stayed behind. We were going to watch the boxing. There was a championship fight on in the early hours, live from Las Vegas.’ Kevin said.

‘Correct. Can you tell me what happened next?’

‘There was just me and Paul, we cracked open a bottle of whiskey. It was a lovely single malt. I’d been saving it for a special occasion.’

‘And Paul, that is Paul Bradbury?’

‘Yes, that’s right.’

Kevin paused. Why were the tie-break questions so personal? What kind of quiz was this? What was going on?

‘Go on, Kevin. You’re doing really well. What happened then?’ Paddy asked. 

‘I can’t remember who started the argument, or what we were even arguing about, but suddenly we were screaming at each other.’

‘And then?’ Jayne said.

‘I needed some space, I went through to the kitchen, to get some ice for the whiskey. Paul followed me, goading me, pushing me. He was right in my face. He was calling me all sorts of names. I lost it. I grabbed a knife from the block on the counter. I told him if he didn’t leave me alone, he’d be sorry. He charged at me. The next thing I knew, he was bleeding to death on my kitchen floor.’

Jayne turned to Paddy and nodded.

‘We have what we need. Please end the virtual simulation?’ Paddy called out, in a loud voice.

Kevin felt the heavy goggles being removed from his head. The pub and the surroundings faded away. He blinked hard, trying to figure out what he was seeing.

He was now sitting at a table across from the two people from the quiz. There was the quiz master and the woman he had been competing against in the tie-breaker. They were now dressed in police uniforms, with silver numbers on their shoulder epaulettes. 

‘Kevin, I’m Officer Jayne Bartlett, and this is Officer Patrick McNulty. I am charging you with the murder of Paul Bradbury.’

By Chris Platt

From: United Kingdom