The Westing Game: Chapter 3 Summary & Analysis

Upstairs in 3D, the beautiful 19-year-old Angela Wexler is being fitted for a wedding gown by Flora Baumbach, a dressmaker who lives and works in an apartment on the second floor. Grace Windsor Wexler, Angela’s haughty, judgmental mother, supervises the fitting from a velvet couch in the corner. As Angela spies smoke coming from the Westing house, she cries out in shock. Mrs. Wexler, delighted, announces her intention to bring a housewarming gift to their new neighbors. Turtle bursts in with the news about the smoke—again, she is too late. Mrs. Wexler is decidedly unexcited to see Turtle, her “other” daughter—Turtle always feels like second-best to the angelic Angela.

Turtle asks Flora if Flora can hem the witch costume Turtle has selected to wear tonight for Halloween. Grace chides Turtle for trying to distract Flora from her work on Angela’s dress with her own silly, ugly costume. Turtle points out that the wedding dress—and Angela’s upcoming marriage to a “marshmallow-face” doctor—is what’s ridiculous. As Grace pulls her hand back to strike Turtle, Turtle begins running downstairs to tell her father about the smoke, but Grace reminds Turtle that her father operates in the afternoon. She sends Turtle to her room. As Turtle retreats to her small closet of a room, Angela offers to hem the witch’s costume. 

Downstairs, in Jake Wexler’s office, a pale and strict-looking woman named Crow, dressed all in black, looks out the window as the podiatrist cuts out a corn on her toe. Crow exclaims “Smoke!” as she sees the column of smoke rise from the Westing manor. The doctor asks Crow to be still. Noticing a bruise on Crow’s shin, Jake asks her about it. Crow replies that his daughter, Turtle, kicked her the other day for touching her braid. Such things happen, Crow declares, when there’s no religion in a home. She speculates that Westing isn’t rotting alone in his mansion—he’s roasting away in hell.

When Doug Hoo tells his father the rumor about Westing, Mr. Hoo retorts that the man’s corpse can’t be rotting on an “Oriental” rug—he suggests maybe the man is laid out on a Persian rug or a Chinese rug. He chides Doug for listening to the rantings of his neighbors instead of studying. The athletic Doug leaves the restaurant and retreats to his family’s apartment, where he does sit-ups to prepare for track practice the following day. In the restaurant, Mr. Hoo worries about the slowness of his business—he has only two reservations for tonight. Mr. Hoo looks over at his young new wife, Sun Lin Hoo, who is gazing out the window longingly. Mr. Hoo wonders if she misses China—she immigrated from Hong Kong less than two years ago.

As Judge J.J. Ford’s red Mercedes swings into the Sunset Towers driveway, Sandy opens the car door for her with ceremony and points out the smoke coming from the Westing house. As the tall black woman slips out of the car, she looks at the house on the hill without interest. Sandy asks the judge if she believes in ghosts, but the judge insists that there must be a rational explanation. Sandy tells her that he heard the rumors about a ghost in the house from Otis. The judge retorts that Otis is a dull man, then apologizes for her cruel words. She has had a long day. She asks Sandy to keep what she said between them, and Sandy promises he will—she is the biggest tipper in the building, after all, he thinks to himself.

Upstairs, Theo Theodorakis tells his brother Chris, who is having an episode of spasms, about the legend he’s heard about Sam Westing rotting away on a rug inside his mansion. Chris’s spasms relax—he loves his brother’s stories. Even as Theo relays grisly improvised details about the corpse, Chris delights in hearing the spooky Halloween tale. Chris tries to tell Theo that he saw somebody going into the mansion, but his spasms prevent him from getting the words out.

Downstairs, Sydelle Pulaski struggles out of a taxi. Sandy is driving a red Mercedes to the parking lot—he is never there, Sydelle thinks, when she needs him, and he hardly ever notices her. No one, Sydelle feels, ever notices her. Moving to Sunset Towers hasn’t allowed her to meet any exciting new neighbors—only the sweet boy in the wheelchair and the bratty girl with the long braid have been nice to her. Sydelle shuffles up to her apartment and unpacks the things she’s lugged home: paint, brushes, and wooden crutches. As she readies her supplies, Sydelle hopes that soon people will start paying attention to her.