Murder They Wrote

June 2,, 2019 by P. Starks

Chandeliers were in every room, with a mint on top of every pillow. In every bathroom mounted to the floor was a bathtub big enough for two, if not three. But that wasn’t the best part to Hotel Caviar. No, the best part was the breakfast. A buffet, stocked with some of the greatest Belgium waffles to ever be made in Belgium, maple syrup poured all over, all until it ran off the side of a plate. That much was need.  

Ms. Jessica for all her life had worked from the time she was a little girl to now an adult. Her mother worked as a lead sewer in an old beat down sweat shop. It made descent money. At least, for a woman from that day and age anyways. Her father, on the other hand, had worked as a coal miner, where he was praised by his co-workers as the hardest working man in the world, but due to unfortunate circumstances, her father had died in an explosion on the job. And still to this day no one knows what happened. For all her life, Ms. Jessica had watched the ones she loved including herself, fall to the hands of labor and die from it. But not anymore. This time she had promised herself a break from it all. To begin a new life, that was free and just. She’d checked-in at 7:30am at Hotel Caviar.

Dr. Diego was a man born in a family of scientist. His face was always mug, for he’d always had a chip on his shoulder. I could’ve been a painter, said the voice in his head. But by pressure family he’d chosen something he had no interest in.  Dr. Diego wasn’t like most doctors, somewhat suspicious, to the people he cared for. Nicknamed the Mad science, for his reckless procedures. However, none argued that he had never gotten the job done. For as much as he hated it, he was extremely proficient. But at the end he wanted out. And so, from his long days traveled from Madagascar back to London, Dr. Diego felt the perfect place to plot his retirement would be at Hotel Caviar. And he had checked-in at 8:17am.

More and more people piled into the hotel as the morning dwindled. But Hotel Caviar was not known for holding a substantial amount of guest. There were only seven rooms, for seven guests. It was all that was allowed. And it was all that came in.

Westridge had been a guest check-in host for all his life. He’d been at the hotel for as long as he could remember. But he never once saw the manager or owner of it. As he stood behind a newly waxed pinewood table, by his right side would be a monitor that told him all that he needed to do for the night. He first, went down the list of names to familiarize himself a bit. If it was one thing he hated, it was leaving himself with the embarrassment of not remembering a guest name.  It wasn’t professional. Although, there was a name Westridge had not forgotten, Mr. Loveless Loviat.

Loveless had already made himself comfortable in his room. He’d check-in somewhere around the time Dr. Diego. He’d just finished having a cold shower. And still wrapped in his maroon shower towel, Loveless walked over and sat in an old wooden chair by a small table in the corner of the room.  He sat and then thought about all the work that he needed to catch up on. So many clients he had, and with little help. But as much as he didn’t like to admit it, it was the way he liked it. He didn’t like to get close to people, and he liked working alone. Even more reason Westridge had become suspicious of him.

Through the walls, Loveless could hear the headboard of a bed from the other room shake the building. He became irritated. So irritated that he had thrown his coffee cup against the wall. For a moment the vibrations of the walls had stopped but then not a second longer the pounding would begin again. A vision of the last woman he’d been with appeared, almost in a small cotton cloud. Why did they even break-up? he pondered. He couldn’t remember. But as he stared at the work in front of himself, it became obvious to him why. Nevertheless, to get through the night Loveless pulled out a small shot of scotch from his briefcase and let it burn down his throat. He laid in his bed and stared at the ceiling fan go around and around. At 6:45pm he’d passed out. As well the sounds.

When the morning had come, a scream pierced through all ears within its range. All who’d heard it ran down the stairs and into the lobby.

“What the hells going on here?” asked Westridge.

 “Vandal,” cried a woman. “Vandal He’s dead.”

“Who in the bloody hell is Vandal?”

“The man I checked-in with you idiot!” shouted the woman.

Ms. Jessica stood far back from everyone, shaking, still in her nightgowned. At of all the years she’d waited to take a vacation and now this. Loveless gazed across the room, green eyes and all. He was an observant man. Which was, again, another reason Westridge who was staring straight at him became now even more suspicious.

“Mam… Everything will be alright,” spoke Dr. Diego, softly. “Please take your time and tell us what happened?”

The woman was hesitant. Her shoulders shivered as well as her lips. Her eyes were strained from all the crying that she’d done. She still had no clue on how it all happened or if the one that did the crime was in the room. However, Dr. Diego for a strange reason she felt she could trust. He didn’t strike her as the hyena type of man.

“He was in the bathroom when I found him,” cried the woman. “He was all bloody and battered, as if he’d been through 30 rounds in a boxing ring. It was…”

“There, there mam… No need to explain anymore. What room were you guys staying in?”

“103 V, up the stairs and to the left of the hall” the woman replied, drying the tears around her eyes.

Dr. Diego then excused himself and made his way to the room. Loveless had become distraught.

“Pour girl,” he whispered.

“Yes, pour indeed, Mr. Loveless,” said Westridge, leaning over his shoulder.

“Hey, what’s your deal man?”

“My deal is with you,” snarled Westridge. “You were the one who did this weren’t you? You’ve been sweating ever since you walked in.”

“Yeah, that’s because it’s fucking hot you…”

“Alright! Calm down everyone!” interrupted a man.

He had hair like a porcupine. Tattoos traveled all around his neck down to his toes. His jacket was leather, and his pants were leather, and the scent that came from them was a combination of musk and nicotine, old spice included.

“And who exactly are you?” Westridge asked. “I don’t recall checking you in, especially one that is without question a heathen.”

The man smiled and then laughed awkwardly to the ceiling, holding his stomach. Ms. Jessica stepped even further back. She didn’t like the man one bit. He was weird.

“Figured an incompetent man like yourself wouldn’t remember my name. Hell, I doubt you remember anyone. You don’t even remember you checked-in the miss and her mate. How the hell would you know if you checked me in or not.”

Westridge sweated profusely as he shouted. “I beg your pardon! But…”

Westridge then walked over to the monitor that told all what to do. He pulled up the list of guest.

“And your name is?” he questioned.

“My name incompetent one, is Axl Romaine. And I am one of the best dam guitarists you’ll ever lay your eyes on. But I’m not about to go into detail about. What I want to talk about is the person in the room that killed this poor womans, husband?”

“No…we weren’t married, not yet…” the woman sobbed.

Westridge then turned his attention to Axl Romaine. “Far as suspects go, you would definitely be one  on my radar,” he said. And then he pointed towards Loveless. “And especially that one over there.”

“Piss off!” replied Loveless, aggravatingly.

“Stop it! Just stop it! All of you!” shouted Ms. Jessica.

She emerged herself from the corner that she was in and then made her way towards the woman that was drowned in tears.

“Mam… What is your name?” she asked.

“Cheri. Cheri-Kares…”

“Well come with me Ms. Kares. Sir, do you mind telling us where the breakfast will be? I think the lady might want something to eat after all of this.”

Westridge smiled. “Of course, right this way ladies.”

Before the other men could follow in behind, immediately there were put to a halt.

“You two stay right there!” demanded Westridge. “Until Dr. Diego gets back. There will be no food for any men in the room.”

“The hell with that,” Loveless responded. “And what about you?”

“What about me?”

“Your gonna eat with them,” pointed Axl Romaine.

Westridge smiled again, cynically. “Well, I never said that I was a man.”

“Then what the hell are you then?” questioned Loveless, with veins popping from his forehead.

“I am just a mere butler. Remember,” smiled Westridge.

Westridge and the two women then went inside dining room area. Meanwhile, Loveless and Axl Romaine stood in awe and pissed off. They looked each other up and down. Both were suspicious of one another.

“So, what’s your story?” asked Axl Romaine.

“I’m just here to get away from work. Heard this was the best hotel in the city,” replied Loveless. “And you?”

“Got lost during the rock tour, me mates just left me behind. But I’ll catch up to them, just making a pit stop,” said Axl Romain, as he beamed his eyes the floor in uncertainty.

Footsteps then clumped down the stairs. It was Dr. Diego.

“Welp gentleman, looks like whoever did what they did was a professional. I’m talking MMA fighter. I’m talking a true born killer,” he said, wiping the blood from his hands.

Both Loveless and Axl Romain swallowed. “Killer?” they questioned.

“Yes, a killer. Now where is that butler and the others?”

“There in the dining room eating breakfast. But we weren’t allowed to go in with them until you came back,” said Loveless, rolling his eyes to the walls.

“That’s ridiculous!” shouted Dr. Diego. “Just Ridiculous. Come with me, we will further discuss all of this over a nice plate of breakfast. Ugh, I do love waffles. Have you heard about the Belgium waffles.

All three men entered the dining room. Immediately, they could all smell the aroma of bacon and eggs in the air. At the table across the room sat Westridge and the two women, Ms. Jessica and Cheri-Kares. They’d already stuffed their faces with as much as they could, leaning back in their chairs holding bellies big enough to believe they were pregnant, well… at least for the woman that is.

 “Who do you think you are letting these men starve?” yelled Dr. Diego. “Explain yourself.”

Westridge smiled. “I’d say that I am quite the gentleman. I mean, it is still ladies first isn’t it?”

Dr. Diego gritted his teeth and bit his tongue. He wanted to say something but deep down he knew that Westridge was right. It was ladies first. At least for those who had still followed the code of gentleman.

“The hell with that,” spat Axl Romaine. “Equal rights mean’s equal time to eat.”

He grabbed three biscuits, stuffed down his throat, and chased it back with a cold glass of orange juice. Loveless grinned. For once, there was something that he and Axl had had in common. He too would stuff his face afterwards. As Dr. Diego had taken his first bite of Hotel Caviars famous Belgium waffles, he stared at Cheri-Kares with pity, and she didn’t like it one bit.

“What are you looking at freak?” she said, eating the last piece of her bagel. It was slightly burnt, although, well buttered.

“Nothing at all my dear. Nothing at all,” replied Dr. Diego, stirring the honey in his tea.

“But… I do need to get to the bottom of this… situation. I need to know. What time did you all go to bed last night? And I don’t care who speaks first. I just need to know the time that’s all.”

Loveless looked across the table at Cheri-Kares. I know what the hell time she went to bed, I could hear it from the climax all the way to the resting point, said the voice in his head.

“I went to bed around 11:55pm,” said Westridge.

“I went around 9,” said Ms. Jessica.

Loveless rolled his eyes. “I went to bed around 10 o’clock I think, but I kept getting woken up by someone’s moaning, I mean, snoring,” he said, staring straight at Cheri-Kares.

“Ugh! Go to hell you pig!” she yelled. She stormed away from the table. But before she did, to finish her glass of orange juice, she threw into Loveless’s face. It was a love less learned.

“Nice going there,” said Ms. Jessica, sarcastically.

No one moved or said a word. Ms. Jessica followed Cheri-Kares. And Loveless cleaned himself off with the napkin in front of him, smiling.

“And you Mr. Romaine?” whispered Dr. Diego. “What time did you go to sleep?”

“Well… I didn’t. I couldn’t. I’ve been up the whole time. You see… I got this thing called Insomnia. And I got it bad man… Have you heard of it?”

“Of course, I have. I’m a doctor,” Dr. Diego grumbled.  

“I knew it!” yelled Westridge. “I knew you were the one! I’m calling the police.”

“Oh, piss off, ya smelly butler! I didn’t do nuthin! I Just told you I have fucking Insomnia! But keep talking and you’re going to start wishing I did sleep.”

And then Dr. Diego turned to Westridge. His eyebrow was raised as high as it could’ve. And his eyes were bulging out of their sockets. It was as if he was trying to read his whole entire life story.

“No…” he paused. “Westridge is it? How long have you worked at this hotel?”

“All my life, so what of it?” he snarled.

“Well for a someone who has worked here for all of their life. I would think they would have called the police by now… Why have you waited until now?”

Westridge sweated at the collar of his tux. Instantly, it became damp.

“Well… I mean, I was waiting for you,” reacted Westridge.

“For what?”

“To see who bloody did it! Don’t you dare start turning this around on me. You should be looking at the men beside you.”

Axl Romaine for reasons he did not understand was beginning to choke. He massaged his neck. But then his knee hit the floor. He rolled to his back, his face was blue. He wrapped his hands around his neck, trying to squeeze out whatever was stuck, but nothing came up. His lips were becoming black and what had come out of his mouth was all the same, black. And then his eyes became discolored, tuning as solid white as an hardboiled egg. Right before everyone’s eyes he’d died right there on the spot.

“What the hell just happened!” yelled Loveless, sliding his chair from the table.

Dr. Diego had already begun investigating. He pulled Axl Romaines cold lips back and checked his gums. They were covered in blotches of black.

“He’s dead,” said Dr. Diego. “Poisoned.”

Dr. Diego then looked at Westridge. And Loveless as well did the same.

“Well don’t bloody look at me!” he guarded.

“You’re the only one that cooked it you…”

“No…” interrupted Dr. Diego. “Then its definitely not him. Think. Why would a man be so silly to do the obvious that would be tied back to him? No, this was someone else.”

And then both Dr. Diego and Westridge looked at Loveless. The room was quiet. Just three of them and a cold body on the floor.

“Quickly. Let’s move his body before the girls see it,” said Dr. Diego. “It’s the last thing any of them need right now.”

Loveless stopped them both. “Now wait a minute. What about the police? Are we ever going to call the police?”

“Well that’s the thing… I tried that earlier when me and the girls got something to eat… And well, the phone is dead.”

“Why didn’t you tell me that from the beginning then!” yelled Dr. Diego, slapping Westridge on the back of the head.

“Shit! You know what screw this, I’m getting out of here. I’m going home,” said Loveless heading for the door.

“Can’t,” said Westridge. “The Gates broken and wont open.”

Loveless then grabbed Westridge by the collar. It was still wet. He smelt of sardines and god knows’ what else, but still, he’d held Westridge in the air for as long as he could. Until he explained himself. Footsteps made their way around the corner before entering the room. It was Ms. Jessica and Cheri-Kares.

“Get it together you idiots!”  Dr. Diego whispered, loudly.  “Grab the bloody body and hurry!”

Loveless for the time being had put Westridge down and helped moved the body, although, while he did so his eyes never left him. The false accusations, the poisoned food, the gate. It all didn’t make any sense. Being haste for time the three hid Axl Romaines cold body in a pantry.

“What are you guys doing now?” asked Ms. Jessica.

Her eyes squinted with suspicion. To the right of her was Cheri-Kares. But she wasn’t squinting with suspicion at all, instead, she for once had a smile on her face. What had they been talking about? said the voice in Dr. Diego’s head. He never wanted to suggest it or assume it, but it was then he started to wonder if it was Cheri-Kares that had done it. Killed her own boyfriend or fiancé, whatever he was, all for the sake of something that would benefit her maybe. But what? Dr. Diego also questioned.

“Dr. Diego,” said Ms. Jessica, sternly. “May I have a word with you?”

Dr. Diego snapped out of his evaluation of the situation and responded. “Y-yes. Of course.”

He followed Ms. Jessica back out into the hall.

“What did you want to talk about?” he asked.

“Doctor… Would you call yourself a scientist of some sort?”

Dr. Diego swallowed and wiped the subtle sweat from his forehead. “Yes. Yes, I guess so. Why do you ask?”

“Then would you say that you are a believer in time travel?”

“Time travel?” chortled Dr. Diego. “Impossible. No, I would say I am not a believer at all. I mean, have you traveled from the future or something?”

Ms. Jessica smiled. “No none in particular.”

And then it was Dr. Diego who squinted his eyes.

A big thump then hit the floor and a blood curling scream echoed throughout the hotel. Both Ms. Jessica and Dr. Diego ran towards the sound. And then they found, Westridge. He was still alive, although, not himself. He was humping the floor like a mad dog, saliva hanging from his mouth.

“What in the hell is going on now?” asked Dr. Diego.

“I don’t know,” said Cheri-Kares. “One minute we were all talking, and he just started humping the floor.”

Not long after Westridge would pass out, hard on the floor.

“That’s it! I’ve had it with all this mystery! Where is his room?”

Ms. Jessica pointed towards the direction it was. Dr. Diego went inside his room. He rambled around cabinets, closets, and then Westridge’s bathroom that of which he’d found an empty bottle of Viagra,

“This! This is what did it!” shouted Dr. Diego, stepping out of the room. “He must’ve overdosed. Just surprised we never noticed. He either had his pecker tucked away or it was shamelessly to small to show any results from the pills. Nevertheless, this is highly embarrassing though.”

Loveless laughed, held his stomach and fell to the floor. Cheri-Kares chuckled a bit but then thought about who the hell he was planning on using them with. Instantly she felt uncomfortable. She then walked back to Ms. Jessica for security. Unlike herself, Ms. Jessica was a stronger woman. More than what she’d believed herself to be. And Cheri-Kares somewhere in heart wanted to be just like her someday. Although, she probably should be more careful of what she asks for.


Thank you all for reading “Murder they wrote.” Really hope you all enjoyed!

Please stay tuned for PART II to “Blind Inheritance,” this coming Sunday! I know I’m excited!

Also, don’t forget to grab your copy of ~Pacharc Stories:Volume I~ on Amazon!

Have a wonderful evening dreamer’s! 😊