Night Auditor

Damian (2)

It was still dark when I woke up.

Camie was fast asleep on her side, facing the hotel window still drenched in rainwater. The clock on the bedside counter told me it was 12:37 a.m. In the hallway I could hear the commotion that had awakened me, the muffled whispers of a woman trying to calm down another who was either angry at someone or sad about something.

I got up from the bed, wrapped a towel around my waist, and looked through the peephole. As I stood by the door, the women were louder now (and for a moment I felt like I was in Taft's usual shoes) but they were out of sight from the limited space I could see.

"No one was here," one of the women murmured, her voice undisturbed by whatever spooked the other, as if this was an incident that happened many times before. "The door was locked and I'm sure I'd hear if there was anyone else in the room."

"You don't understand!" exclaimed the other woman. I didn't need to press my ear against the door to hear the shakiness in her voice which was more evident up close. "He--it was here! Right in there just staring at Gale!"

"Abby," said the quieter woman firmly. "I looked too and no one's in there. You're freaking Gale out."

"I need to talk to the woman working downstairs. Fuck, what was her name? Marilyn, I think."

"Now? Do you realize what time it is? Let's just go back to bed and talk about it in the morning."

"No!" snapped the woman called Abby. She said something else but her voice had lowered, sounding like she was stomping towards the staircase down the hallway. A door closed.

"Everything okay?" Camie asked, half awake.

"Yeah, I think I'm gonna go downstairs and get some coffee."

Camie let out a soft moan before falling right back to sleep.

I didn't really want coffee. And I didn't know if it was my sudden insomnia, or my curiosity over what upset the woman next door, that urged me to follow the woman downstairs.

Coming to Lagro to celebrate Dirty Feasts was a tradition I would later miss. Much of my primal adulthood I spent rewatching the film and speculating the murder of Lola Stevens along with the other Diners. Loida was sure it was the housekeeper who seemed unbothered by the recent deaths. But Taft and I agree it was most likely the newcomer in town, whose arrival perhaps triggered the series of murders. And as much as I enjoyed having sex with Camie on the iconic bed (the original bed used in the film was auctioned for a whopping $78,500), the Lagro visits admittedly needed a bit of spicing up.

The woman, Abby, was long gone by the time I put on a robe and got out to the hallway. The hallway was brightly lit with sconce lighting, almost blinding considering how pitch black it had been outdoors.

Again I heard the familiar out cry of my next door neighbor, her voice echoing down the hall on the ground floor. The fear was still there, only now she sounded as if she was masking the panic she previously displayed. I was invested. Last time I was this curious about something, I was secretly following Taft to Camie's ex-boyfriend's house the night he helped her move out. Not that I was concerned about Camie finally sleeping with Taft. But I was curious.

The lobby was a bit more crowded than I expected past midnight. A man in striped pajamas and furry slippers was fixing himself a cup of something, probably tea from the way he hovered over the tea section, his face curled into a frown. He reminded me of Scrooge.

Scrooge suddenly looked up, turned to my direction as if he was surprised by my presence. He turned back to his cup and said, "You're not down here to freak out too, are you?"

"Nah. But I came to check it out." I said before walking towards the lobby, leaving the grumpy man to his tea options.

Finally I matched the voice from the fourth floor hallway with the woman panicking at the front desk. This woman was beautiful. Thick strands of her red hair fell freely on the side of her freckled cheeks, her breasts only seemed to get larger from the comforting embrace of her arms, her slender legs, freckled with faint imperfections, made her pink nightgown look straight off a mannequin.

Yes, she was beautiful yet clearly in distress.

Not too far from the front desk was a pearl white loveseat matched with thick beige pillows. A perfect spot to eavesdrop during an otherwise boring night.