Killer. Beauty. Queen

Chapter Five: A Deadly Game: Bloodstains and Ballroom Secrets.

Some have called him a mad man. Some referred to him as a genius. Some would argue both. Gabriel Ember investigated the twisted minds of murderers, sometimes to the detriment of his own mental well-being.  It was truly a trait that both defined and haunted him. This obsession was not just a mere professional curiosity but a consuming force that drove his every action and thought. Each victim represented an unsolved puzzle to him—a life extinguished prematurely, a story left incomplete. Murderers didn't go unpunished— not on Gabriel's watch. Say whatever freakish rumor you want about him but everyone knew deep down that Detective Ember was a determined man.

As he stepped out of the elevator into the twenty sixth floor of White hotel, he saw many people gathered in the hallway. Curious faces peered from doorways because of the commotion. The guests, some in disheveled bathrobes and others in evening wear. A group of female teenagers, likely on a vacation, exchanged wide-eyed glances with their youthful curiosity. Hotel staff in crisp uniforms tried their best to maintain an air of professionalism, directing guests back into their rooms. Obviously, everyone was in a frenzy. It was not everyday that a murder occurred a few rooms from yours.

In one fluid motion, Gabriel Ember pulled out his badge, holding it up as he strode forward. "Clear this area. Go back into your rooms, people." Gabriel's voice carried the rich blend of an Idris Elba and Harry Styles accent, a unique melodic fusion that captivated those who heard it. Yet, beneath his charismatic exterior, dark circles under his eyes hinted at restless nights and irregular sleep patterns. What set him apart was his effortless and casual charm, an aura that drew people in without him even trying. His smile was magnetic, lighting up any room he entered. His hair, a natural and beautiful mess, added to his appeal, falling in waves that seemed perfectly imperfect. But he didn't care about what he looked like. There were more problems to worry about — murder.

"Who's the security chief here?" Gabriel directed his question to the uniformed men, slicing through the tension, and demanding action.

"I am, Detective." A tall slender man with albino skin, wearing an oversized shirt stepped forward. "They call me Sir James," he stammered.

"I need your help, Sir James," Gabriel said as he gestured to the locked door.

"Oh, yes. I have the master key," Sir James affirmed, reaching for the key in his back pocket.

As the door swung open, Gabriel stepped into the suite, scanning every nook and cranny thoroughly. A pale light filtered through half-closed curtains, casting long shadows across. The scene was deceptively serene.

Extravagant and fancy, the suite had a library, a gym, a game room and a full bar set up. There was a huge closet but only one shiny dress was in it.

Where's the victim?" Gabriel inquired, steering his attention back to the task at hand.

"In the master bedroom, to the right."

Lying on the crisp, white hotel sheets was the lifeless form of a young woman, her features frozen in an expression of terror. Her chestnut hair cascaded in disarray across the bed. The pillow rested atop the victim. The white fabric bore faint indentations where fragile fingers had grasped desperately for air. There were fibers from the pillowcase, scattered around on the bed and the carpet. On the mahogany bedside table, a half-written letter lay open. The victim's trembling hand had left ink smudges on the stationery as she'd scrawled her thoughts. The pen, now discarded, seemed to have fallen from her fingers mid-sentence. The content of the paper seemed like some sort of code or secret language.

"Sir James, who found the body?" Gabriel's words held an urgency.

"It was Mrs Smith, a housekeeper."