DECEPTION HOTEL: A Wedding, an Affair, and Murder for Hire

by Barlow, Madison

  I softly knocked on the door at the end of the corridor, and took a deep breath as I heard the lock click before it swung open. Olivia pulled me into her arms when she saw who it was.

  “Claire, I’m so glad you made it!”

  She had gotten old since the last time I’d seen her. How long as it been, three years? She was almost ten years older than me, and it showed now in the wrinkles around her tired eyes and in the creases of her smile when she held me at arm’s length.

  “It’s so good to see you,” she said, hugging me again, “look how beautiful you are! And so thin, I’m jealous.”

  She’d about doubled in size since the last time I saw her.

  “I bought a treadmill with last year’s Christmas bonus,” I shrugged, trying to make light of the subject, “I run when I have nothing else to do.”

  “It seems like you’re bored often, then,” she laughed and nudged me. I felt awkward, unsure what to say.

  We sat down on her bed. It was littered with diagrams and place cards.

  “I’m trying to figure out seating,” she said when she saw me looking, “I had it all worked out until Harry’s sister decided she’s coming after all, and she hates half the family so now I have to start over. I swear, I don’t know how I’m going to stand it in the same room as her for a full day.”

  “She’s that bad?”

  “She’s worse.”

  “Let’s have a look,” I offered, doing my best to sound bright despite the cloud of depression that was starting to form around me, “tell me who hates who.”

  She leaned over for the diagram and I nodded as she pointed. My thoughts drifted to the third floor. Was Andrew still in the room? My stomach turned a little when I tried to remember what exactly was said. He’d been so angry, and I’d just let my mouth run on. That little nagging voice of regret started up at the back of my conscience, and I wanted to run away from it. I always pushed him too far.

  “Claire, are you listening?” She had asked me something, and I hadn’t heard a word.

  “To be honest Liv, I don’t see why you should worry about it so much.” Smooth recovery, “It’s your big day. God knows you deserve it. They can suck it up for you for once.”

  “I just don’t want any fighting.”

  I swallowed, wondering if it was really Harry’s sister she had to worry about if she didn’t want fighting.

  “Stick her with her family where she belongs and let them deal with it. They’re all grown-ups and they owe it to you.”

  “Maybe you’re right…” she said, looking down at the sheet before resting her eyes on my face, “are you alright?”

  “Yes, of course,” I forced a smile, “It’s been a long journey, and we only just arrived.”

  She squinted her pale green eyes at me. They were more watered down than I remember. Or maybe it has just been too long.

  “How are you and Andrew?”

  “Oh we’re great,” I tried to sound sincere, “it’s been rough at work for both of us, him especially. He’s shooting for a higher management position so he’s been putting in the hours.”

  “I honestly don’t know how you do it,” Olivia sighed, “I’m scared it won’t work out with Harry.”

  I sunk into the warm feeling of relief that she had bought it, “Why, what’s wrong?”

  “Nothing’s wrong, he’s the sweetest thing, and he treats me like gold. But sometimes I wonder if it really is that easy to get it right. What if it all just fades away, and I’m left with nothing?”

  I looked down at my hands, feeling like a poser for not telling her I wondered the same thing about everyone else, “You won’t always get along, I mean, we have our… disagreements… too. I think you just need to focus on keeping the passion alive. That’s really all you need. Make the time to work on it together.” More guilt. I never followed my own advice. Andrew and I hardly saw each other anymore. The only time we spent together these days, we spent fighting.

  “Mom and dad never managed that.”

  I winced, an electric shock travelling in one big wave from my head all the way through to my feet. I had hoped she wouldn’t mention that. The familiar claw of terror wrapped itself around my throat and I had to concentrate again to keep calm.

  “We just have to learn from their mistakes,” I sounded too bright, “that way, we won’t ever mess up. They did us a favor, really.”

  Olivia laughed, but it didn’t go further than her smile. I could see in her eyes that she felt what I was feeling. The terrible doubt had found her just as soon as love had, and if I had to be honest, she had every right to be scared. I didn’t wish anyone to end up the way our parents did, but even worse, I didn’t know how not to, and it haunted me. Andrew and I had been married just over five years, and even though I would never admit it to her, I was still petrified of losing it all.

  “Has Harry arrived yet?” I asked, hoping to change the subject.

  “No, he has a building to finish. He won’t be able to come until the day of the wedding because he took so much time off for the honeymoon.”

  I was happy for her. My sister had waited almost her whole life to finally find someone she could spend it with, and she deserved to be happy. She had been through her fair share of bad relationships. Harry was a good guy, and he treated her the way a man should treat a woman. I felt a pang of jealousy. Andrew and I used to be happy, when things were still simple and we were just two people in love.

  Chapter Three - Andrew

  I couldn’t stand it in the hotel room any longer. The more time passed the tighter my chest became again, and I felt trapped. Claire had been gone for hours, and thoughts of what they might be saying about me were driving me mad. I really wasn’t such a bad husband when it came down to it; they were blowing it all out of proportion. I just knew it.

  Dusk had fallen and colored the creams, oranges and greens in the room to varying shades of grey. Everything had taken on a subdued air, and it didn’t feel as homey as it had when we’d arrived. It felt strange and lonely and empty.

  I made my way down stairs, keeping an eye out for Claire but she was nowhere to be seen. I half-hoped I would run into her, and also half-hoped I wouldn’t. Her leaving always left me feeling stranded, but I wouldn’t really know what to say to her. After the dust had settled again it just all seemed so pointless.

  I popped my head around the archway that led to reception, and breathed out in relief to see that the young man behind the counter had been replaced by an older woman. I didn’t want any trouble now. All I wanted was a drink. I could really use a drink.

  “Can I help you, sir?” she asked with a smile that didn’t look like she meant it, and I wondered if it was because of our fighting.

  “I was wondering where I could get a drink around here?” my voice was raspy when it came out and it sounded a little foreign to me.

  “The Riverview Restaurant is right here on the premises and has an excellent wine list…” she started but I shook my head. I didn’t want to sit in the stiff restaurant, alone at a table. I might have felt like the stranded husband but I wasn’t about to look like one. “Otherwise there’s Cole’s Adirondack,” she slid her glance over my clothes and back up to my face, “it might be something more suited to you.”

  I rolled my eyes up, but left it at that. I wasn’t about to start with the second receptionist; to be honest, I didn’t have the energy.

  “Half a mile down the road, sir,” she added with the same empty smile when I didn’t leave.

  The moment I walked through the front door the fresh river air hit me. It was cool and crisp, and I could feel it travelling all the way into my lungs. The smell of water and something forest-like lingered in the air, and the cool night stretched out around me, giving me a sense of freedom.

  I decided not to take the car. Half a mile was nothing. I followed the winding drive way that led through the dark tree trunks, rooted in the solid earth and disappearing into the inky black above. It was much further on foo
t, and soon the wind stopped nipping at my neck as I warmed up from the exercise. The canopy formed by the branches above was dark now, and the wind rustled through the unseen leaves.

  I finally reached the gate and followed the road back down the way we came. I hadn’t noticed a pub when we’d arrived earlier, but when I rounded the bend in the road it was illuminated by dim yellow lights, the name painted on a sign in an old scrawl, probably from decades ago.

  I walked in through the door. The pub was old and smoky and the hum of conversation greeted me over the mellow music that drifted around from speakers hidden somewhere. It was warm and cheery, and I walked over to the dark-wood bar, feeling a lot more at home suddenly in this blue-collar place than the chic carpeted corridors of the hotel. The bartender nodded at me and brought me a beer. It was cold on my lips and the bitter taste spread across my mouth before it bubbled down my throat. What a man’s drink.

  I looked around, and almost immediately looked into the black eyes of a face I recognized. And not only recognized, but hoped I wouldn’t have to see again. My stomach felt like it was plummeting towards the floor, and I turned my face away. He’d already seen me.

  I scolded myself for not looking around before sitting down, when I saw reception-desk-kid get up and walk over to me from the corner of my eye. I tried to think what I would do if he started a fight, but my mind went numb and I couldn’t feel my fingers anymore. I tried to tell myself it was from the cold beer. The truth was I couldn’t really fight. I was a furniture salesman. Or the manager of furniture salesmen, rather, but that just proved it. I had no business being violent.

  “Escaped from the wife, have you?” he said with a crooked grin, and I wasn’t sure if I was meant to take it as a joke or an insult. He sat himself down on the stool next to me, his beer only half-full, and clenched and unclenched the fist closest to me. I stared at it a little, trying to imagine what it would feel like if it connected with my jaw, and failed.

  “Sorry about that, earlier,” he said and chuckled when he saw my eyes on his fist. His casual apology caught me off guard, “I just couldn’t help myself. You understand, don’t you? Didn’t mean to step on your toes.”

  He spoke with a bit of an accent I couldn’t place, and his dark eyes made me leary, but his apology seemed sincere enough so I took the coward's way out.

  “It’s alright, I got a bit too worked up anyway.”

  “No hard feelings then?”

  I had the courage to face him full on now. His black curly hair looked like it hadn’t seen a barber in a while, and his dark eyes and black mustache completed the sinister look that he pulled off with that crooked smile of his. He lifted his beer to me, and I lifted mine as well, assuming that meant we were okay.

  “You’re off work now?” I asked, feeling like I should make small talk.

  “Yeah, only do the day shift. No way I’m giving up my nights for work. I’d rather hang out here.”

  I looked around, wondering if I would be able to spend every night here. A beer now and then was great, but I had never really been much of a pub crawler, not the type that would become a regular. I didn’t enjoy the type of guys that were either. I worked with one, and they didn’t do much besides drink and talk about all the other people that were regulars too. It was almost a women’s thing, but not quite. Women minus the drama and mood swings.

  “How long have you been working at Caldecott?”

  “Not long, couple of months. I don’t like to settle, I get an itch pretty quick. I worked in Ohio for a while, Arizona, Georgia… I like to stay on the move.”

  “Those are some distances apart.”

  “I’m on the run often,” he shrugged and took another sip of beer.

  “On the run?”

  “Yeah,” he chuckled, “damn security camera in the parking lot this time, caught my face. Cops were after me so I had to scram.”

  “You stole a car?”

  “Oh all the time. I was just stupid, got cocky, you know? You think this is because I think it looks hot?” he ran a finger over his mustache, “you should see me without it and a shaved head, wouldn’t believe what I look like then,” he grinned that crooked grin of his.

  Much more like a convict, I imagined.

  “So, you having lady problems, huh,” he mumbled into the beer mug and I nodded, not even trying to deny it.

  “I heard you guys shouting. You really give it a go, don’t you?”

  “Were we that loud?” I knew everyone had been able to hear us. Why couldn’t we ever be civil about it?

  “Nah, my room is just above yours and the floor is wood. Sound travels up, you’ll hoot if you knew the things I get to hear. I got the lucky draw on servants’ rooms.”

  I took another sip of my beer, not really knowing how to respond to that. He probably wouldn’t get to hear much else besides fighting this time round.

  “Lady problems are a lot worse than getting in trouble with the cops, I’ll tell you that much,” he carried on. He was probably right. The police had to be a lot more straightforward than Claire ever was. I sighed.

  “Cheer up man, you’re here now, have another beer. This is the local man cave where we can be raw, disgusting men,” he gestured with his hand across the room, “those ladies at the back there don’t count. Ladies that can drink beer are never trouble.”

  Claire never touched beer.

  It turned out his name was Gavin, and he made sure my mug stayed full. He turned out to be good company too. My head started feeling light, and I relished the feeling when the room started spinning a little, that light, out-of-control buzz that pops through your veins. Gavin was arrogant and full of himself, sure he knew everything there was to know about the world, but he was still young, and it would be good for him if he could hold on to that. The last thing I thought before I stopped trying to think altogether was that I wished I could still feel like that about the world.

  The walk home was light and airy, my skin numb to the cold wind swirling around me. The brick paved driveway that led to the hotel kept moving under my feet and I stumbled often, even falling once. It was further to the ground than I remembered and I felt offended at the pain that shot into my palms when they forced down onto the rough bricks.

  The hotel was dark and quiet when I pushed the door open, and for moment I wondered if I should worry about what time it was. I found the stairs and our floor easily, and the third door I tried turned out to be the right one.

  I stood in doorway, looking into a room drenched with the milky grey of the moonlight. I wondered at how a room could have so many moods. Claire was curled up under the covers with her knees almost all the way to her chest. Her athletic body was taught, like she was defending herself against an unknown danger, and her delicate eyebrows were pulled together in a slight frown. My insides melted until it had the same consistency as the liquid light, and I wondered how it was ever possible for such a fragile creature to be so very dangerous. I kicked off my shoes and walked to the bed, slowly feeling my way under the covers.

  The glowing clock on the nightstand told me it was after two and my stomach turned. Claire moved, and I stiffened, waiting for the rain of accusations. But her brilliant eyes found mine in the darkness and she whimpered. She threw her arm across my chest, and buried her face in my neck. The warmth that was Claire travelled through me. Her cheeks were wet with tears. Something inside me buckled, and I wrapped my arms around her, the quiver of her tense body reminding me how alive I was when she loved me.

  Her breathing was uneven, and as the minutes crept by, the moon quietly watching, I slowly felt my worth as a man restore. She needed me.

  Chapter Four - Claire

  My eyes felt gritty when I opened them, like I hadn’t slept for a whole night, or like I’d been crying for most of it. Andrew was stretched out on his back next to me, mouth open, snoring. He’d had a lot to drink. I’d known he’d had a lot to drink when he’d come in God-knows-what-time last night, but I hadn’t minded it so much
then.

  I’d been lying in the dark room, seeing nothing. Andrew had disappeared and I had been petrified that this time it would be for good. The walls and the ceiling had been somewhere in the dark, and it had felt like I was in the biggest space, an eternal stretch of nothing, failing to anchor me down.

  And then he’d come in long after what was appropriate, and I felt his knees push against the back of mine, the waft of alcohol blowing over my neck, and I had just been so relieved he’d come home.

  I got up and padded softly to the bathroom. The hot shower water ran over my body in rivulets and I let it drown everything else out, the left-over emotions of yesterday that had somehow gone stale, the question of today that tugged at my gut, the blur that was tomorrow that I had started to accept will forever rule my life.

  I was ready and collected. By the time he opened his eyes, I was almost annoyed at how much time he had wasted by sleeping in. There were better things to do with time than to sleep it away. He groaned pathetically and rolled out of bed, squinting his eyes at the bright morning light streaming in through the windows with a scowl.

  “Morning, dear,” I said, trying to sound brighter than I felt. His squinting eyes turned to me.

  “Hey…” he started and sat up, then sunk in on himself. “My head is killing me,” he groaned, and then stomped into the bathroom and closed the door. I looked at myself in the mirror. An elegant woman was staring back at me, a woman with cold eyes, lips squeezed into a thin line. A woman that was likely to find fault again, now that the day was bright and the dark of night had taken all her insecurities away with it. I sighed.

  I watched him at breakfast. We’d gone down to the hotel’s Riverview Restaurant. It was every bit as chic as it sounded, with big windows looking out over forests and a bend in the river a couple of miles away. The tablecloths and chairs were all a cream color, with silverware neatly polished and a buffet laid out just for us.

  “Where were you last night?” I asked carefully after I was sure he’d eaten at least half his meal. I hadn’t dared ask him before he’d eaten something. Hung-over-Andrew was much worse than any other Andrew.