by K. T. Tomb
“Miss Thyri Ragnarsson, ladies and gentlemen. One of my most noteworthy investors,” Masterson said, indicating to the woman. “Miss Ragnarsson, very lovely to see you again.”
“Mr. Masterson, I invested extensively into the same projects of yours that Mr. Connolly put his money in, but I believe that there is something about taking risks that sets the adults apart from the children. Based on what you’ve shown here today, I will make an investment in this hotel. Should we agree to reconvene in a few days and things are as you expect them to be, my company and I will be onboard.”
“I think Miss Ragnarsson has made a reasonable point,” Masterson said, smiling much too broadly, “I’ve presented all my information, delivered my sales pitch and I have all the confidence in the world in my project. Have a relaxing weekend; I will allow the wonders of Samsara to amaze you and we can gather here at 9 a.m. on Tuesday morning for the commitment meeting.”
This could be a good thing, Karl thought. He stood up. As he opened his mouth to speak he caught sight of the Head Concierge, slipping out of the room through a door at the back of the stage area.
Strange, he thought.
“Mr. Masterson, I’m a science professor from the States. From what I’ve heard you saying here today it’s obvious to me that your main concern is for us to understand that there is nothing better than a good investment that shows results. It’s clear that you think a hotel that’s as revolutionary as Samsara will be able to show these results and from what you have presented here today, I’m almost convinced myself. Let’s see what happens over the weekend; if all goes well I’m going to put up my money for this too. Count me in.”
Others around the room buzzed with excitement over these announcements. Sitting down, Karl sensed the energy fostering around him. He smiled, as it built steadily and more and more people were raising their numbered paddles so the assistant seated in the corner could record them as interested in the investment opportunity.
“Let’s celebrate later tonight. We’re going to make a killing on this,” Karl whispered to Rebecca.
As they filed out of the room, Rebecca couldn’t help but notice that Thyri Ragnarsson hadn’t left her seat. She was busy making notes on a tablet before unceremoniously raising a cell phone to her ear.
Chapter Four
“This sucks. This absolutely sucks!” Rebecca ranted as soon as she and her husband reached the fifth floor of the hotel.
“Rebecca, keep it down. People will hear you.”
“Good, let them hear me. I’m sure they’d all agree with me that investing in a hotel that one man claims could withstand the apocalypse is an awful idea, like something you’d see them promising in a late night infomercial or something straight off the pages of a fantasy novel!”
Karl had a difficult time keeping up with Rebecca, but she didn’t care. After winding through the corridors, they reached their room.
“You’re a scientist as well. I suppose you can appreciate some of the contingencies Masterson’s people have in place to fortify the resort. It all sounded plausible to me. You know everything is going to be okay. With your knowledge and your intuition, you can figure out that, when all is said and done, nothing bad is going to happen.”
Rebecca opened the door with the keycard and switched on the lights.
“You promised me this would be a stress-free week; that we’d have a great time, fun in the sun, visit the beaches, parasailing, diving and jet skiing. Now, it seems that not only have you lied to me and brought me here under false pretenses but you’ve already gone ahead and made arrangements to invest in this place when we can’t even go outside because of a goddamn hurricane!”
Karl shut the door, and it clicked.
“I didn’t lie to you. We’re on vacation in the Caribbean. There are still things to do, at least until the beaches are closed and we have to stay inside. You’re missing the point: this hotel provides all the leisure activities that we’d regularly find outdoors. It’s the whole premise of the place, residents can continue as if nothing was going on outside. The place is foolproof!”
“Artificial sun? Artificial beaches? Whoever heard of such preposterous crap anyway?”
“You know what your problem is?”
Rebecca glared at Karl and folded her arms across her chest.
“I’m sure you’re going to tell me.”
“You have no vision.”
Rebecca turned her back on Karl.
“Here we go again with this lack of vision bullshit. This is what you’ve been telling me every other time we’ve gotten into an argument for the last year. What vision am I supposed to have? A vision of you pissing our money away on half-baked schemes? Or of letting our marriage crumble with lie, after lie, after lie? To have you basically ignore me while you’re going off to work and I’m sitting at home every night wondering why you’re out so late?”
Rebecca made her way to the mini-bar and opened the refrigerator.
“That’s weird,” she said, faced with a refrigerator full of liquor bottles. “I thought I told them not to bring up any more booze.”
She turned to Karl and gave him a look of disgust.
“Did you call housekeeping?”
Karl’s eyes widened. He put both hands up in defense.
“I swear, I didn’t.”
Rebecca observed the contents, then looked back at Karl.
“Whatever! I’m calling the concierge and have him send up someone from maintenance. If the dumb housekeepers can’t understand how not to stock it, then they can remove it altogether. We don’t need it in here.”
She picked up the phone on the nightstand.
“Hello? Yes, Paulson. This is Rebecca Winfred in 5623. There seems to be a huge misunderstanding. Yesterday, I asked that they shouldn’t bring us any more liquor. I really did mean it, you know?”
“I do remember that, Ma’am. Housekeeping is aware of it.”
“Then why are there fresh bottles here?”
“There are?”
“Yes,” Rebecca retorted, snatching a vodka bottle from the refrigerator and studying the label. “There are many new bottles of alcohol here, in fact, it looks like it’s been better stocked today than it was yesterday.”
“My apologies, Mrs. Winfred. I will guarantee that this won’t happen again.”
Rebecca pointed to the refrigerator.
“That’s good news, Paulson, and here’s how you’re going to accomplish that. I’m going to need you to send maintenance to remove the fridge from the room, we don’t need it here. My husband is an alcoholic.”
“Rebecca!” Karl hissed.
Rebecca ignored him.
“I’ll arrange for that, Mrs. Winfred.”
“Thank you, Paulson. I just want to avoid any further mix-ups. I’m sure it’s no fault of yours and I wouldn’t want you implicated if I had to get in touch with upper management about it.”
“I appreciate that, Ma’am.”
“Good.”
Rebecca placed the receiver on the hook. She turned to face Karl. She was shocked to catch him with his hand in the refrigerator.
“Are you—were you about to take out a bottle of that vodka?”
Karl reeled.
“No, I …”
Rebecca stood from the bed to face him fully and gave him the sternest look he had ever seen on her.
“Karl, get the bin from the bathroom and empty all those bottles out of the refrigerator, right now.”
“Here we go again.”
She stood there and crossed her arms.
“I’m not kidding,” she reiterated.
Before she could say another word, he retrieved the bin and reached into the refrigerator, pulling out the first few bottles and tossing them into the trash.
“That’s it Karl, get rid of those. It should be therapeutic to literally dump the booze!”
Suddenly, he took up a couple of bottles and twisted off both tops at once. When she saw that, her eyes widened in disbelief
but she didn’t move towards him, she just stood there daring him to drink. He backed away from her steadily as he lifted the two miniature vodka bottles to his mouth and gulped every last drop before tossing them into the bin with the others.
“I’ve wanted to do that ever since our stopover in Miami; every minute being asked by the flight attendants if I wanted something to drink!”
Rebecca watched speechlessly as he finished taking the bottles out, and stood facing her with the loaded trashcan in his arms. She strode over to him and snatched it.
“Give me that you weakling. I’m gone.”
Rebecca turned for the door and departed, slamming the door behind her. A housekeeper was in the hallway busying herself around her cleaning wagon, fussing with room amenities and cleaning supplies. Rebecca dumped the trashcan filled with bottles into the garbage and turned on her angrily.
“If you dare place one liquor bottle in that room, I’ll personally see to it that you’re fired today.”
Before the frightened woman could reply, Rebecca resumed her walk to the elevator. On her way there, she saw a young couple emerging from their room. They couldn’t have been any older than 25 years old. The woman was dressed in a tiny green bikini, barely hidden by the sheer matching cover-up, and the man wore swim trunks and a tank top.
They look like newlyweds, Rebecca thought. Why don’t I buy bathing suits like that anymore, I certainly still have the body for it.
Rebecca approached the couple.
“Excuse me, I don’t mean to bother you.”
The couple looked up with curious, somewhat dazed expressions. They waited for her to continue.
“Did you two just get married?” Rebecca asked, cutting off with an awkward silence.
The couple glanced at each other.
“Yes,” the woman said. “We’re actually on our honeymoon.”
Rebecca nodded.
“And how long are you staying here?”
“About two weeks.” The man shifted with discomfort. “Listen we have to—”
“I’m sorry for prying, but I’m only asking all these questions because my husband and I are here and I’m not sure if this trip is a good idea. Have you checked out the beaches yet?”
“Oh yeah,” the woman said.
She grinned at her husband.
“I’m not a beach girl myself; I’ve got too vivid an imagination and unfortunately I saw all the Jaws movies, but Rhys convinced me to come here purely for the indoor beach. There’s no wildlife in there. The beach deck up on the roof is out of this world—I mean, the sun, the golden tans. I got a tan up there that was better than if I had been outside. The dome is still in use of course since the storm isn’t on us yet, but Paulson says that when it is, the shutters will be closed and the sun lamps will go on. There’s nothing more awesome than knowing I don’t need the actual sun to be out in order to get the best tan of my life. It’s so relaxing up there too. They have everything you can dream of; you don’t need anything else in the world, no need to worry about anything at all.”
The woman got Rebecca’s attention.
“That’s great. Well, I’m sorry to disturb you. Congratulations, you two.”
“Thank you,” the couple said at the same time.
Rebecca continued down the hall.
Maybe I should give this place more of a chance and check out this beach on the roof.
She thought about going back and getting Karl for the adventure but instantly changed her mind. Instead, she followed the signs and asked hotel employees for directions. Somehow she missed the elevators and ended up at the staircase.
It can’t be that far up, she thought.
Rebecca climbed for what seemed like forever. As she was about to lean on the door to the rooftop, someone opened it for her and she stepped through.
“Oh my—it’s like paradise!” Rebecca whispered.
The room had a looming dome overhead, the blue sky was clear and visible through it; surprisingly clear considering a storm was on its way. There was sand at her feet and in between her toes. The ocean whooshed in the background and lounge chairs were scattered everywhere along the expanse of beach. A palm tree-dotted it here and there; lush vegetation gave life to a space that would have otherwise been stale. Rebecca stepped further into the room and looked around her; even the temperature and humidity were just right.
No one was at the beach as yet; she was alone in the luxurious surroundings of the open space contained underneath the dome.
“It’s a shame I’m not dressed right,” Rebecca said.
She moved to the first beach chair she saw, but then spotted a group of beach umbrellas. She grabbed one, opened it and staked it into the sand over the chair. She sat in the chair and indulged in the artificial nature.
Maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad idea for us to invest in this, she thought. I could fall asleep here.
A few minutes later, she did.
Chapter Five
“Don’t you dare clean any of this up! I’ve got to figure out what to do with this body!”
Paulson moved around the room stealthily, making sure he didn’t step in anything that might amount to being evidence. He put his hand in his pocket and pulled out his cell phone; pressing the speed dial button for La Isla Samsara emergency services.
“Emergency services,” the lady said in the distinct island drawl that the natives on the island had. “What’s your emergency?”
Paulson took a deep breath and exhaled.
“This is Paulson from the Samsara Hotel,” he began. “I need an ambulance here right away. It seems one of my guests has passed away in his room.”
“Oh dear, Mr. Paulson, you talking to Dispatcher Maxine. The hurricane has everybody evacuating the island now. I don’t have a police car, fire truck or ambulance to spare. You sure him dead? How you know that?” The woman’s island accent was pronounced but her English was quite proficient.
He cracked all ten of his knuckles and breathed out slowly again.
“Maxine, he’s hanging from the four-poster bed. He isn’t breathing and I didn’t feel any pulse either. He’s definitely dead.”
“Suicide. Alright then, Mr. Paulson, here’s what you going to do: cut him down, leave the rope or sheet around the neck for the investigators, please. Send me a copy of his identification over the fax before the lines go down. I will get the coroner to start a preliminary death report. You have a medical center there, so get your doctor to pronounce him dead and if you don’t got a morgue, tell you chef to clear out one of the walk-in freezers. That is the best thing cause if this storm is as bad as they say, is a real possibility you going to have more dead people before it pass.”
“Okay, Maxine. Thank you,”
“Is no problem, Mr. Paulson, but whatever you do don’t allow you other guests see you move that body; nothing worse than panic breaking out in a locked up place. Good luck.”
He hung up the phone and looked at the maid who was standing with him in the middle of the room. Thank goodness they were on the penthouse floor. It had its own private elevator so no one needed to see them take the body downstairs. Paulson felt so stupid, he took the few steps towards the window and flopped down in the armchair. Carla came to his side and sat down too. This was what he had been training for all these years, and at the first sign of adversity, he had caved like a sixteen-year-old schoolgirl. Of course, the first move was to call Dr. Anderson; that was ‘Guest Emergencies 101’. The guest services staff were never to shoulder the burden beyond the appropriate point of passing off to the relevant department; it had a negative impact on how the next guests’ problem would be addressed.
“Alright, come on now, Carla. You know what the procedures are for just such an occurrence. I’ve notified the authorities, so now we have to move him to the medical center; call the doctor while I wrap him in the bed linens. We have to make sure the body is well contained in one set of sheets. When Mr. Masterson finds out that Mr. Connolly has died in his room, I’m
sure he won’t think twice before he figures out some kind of media spin to use it to create publicity for the place.”
With her gloved hands, Carla handed Paulson a pair and picked up the telephone beside the bed.
“Nurse Burnham? This is Carla. Is the doctor there?... Oh, good. Could you tell him we had a guest die in the penthouse and Paulson and I are bringing him down to the center? ...Okay. Umm, Paulson wants to know if the morgue was completed; if the coolers are working…. Excellent. Thank you, Nurse Burnham.”
When Carla turned back to Paulson, he already had Mr. Connolly neatly mummy wrapped in the white cotton sheet. He dragged the body to the end of the huge king size bed. Paulson brought the corpse out of the bedroom, trying to find the shortest route to Carla’s cleaning cart. At the door, she picked up the legs to help Paulson heave the bundle onto the cart.
“My God, he’s heavy!” Carla shouted.
“Keep it down,” Paulson said. “And why are you leaving behind such a mess. This is the presidential suite. We have to keep it decent.”
Paulson came around the cart and repositioned the body so it wouldn’t fall off it. He looked over his shoulder at the disheveled room. The bed was almost completely stripped and the carpet was marked with a distinct impression from the weight of the body as they had dragged it to the door. Something about the scene in there ruined the elegance of the suite
“If word gets out that Samuel Connolly, the best investor of Masterson’s projects, died here, we could be ruined,” Paulson said. “We have to get him downstairs quickly so no one sees. This is so not what I signed up for; I don’t even know how I’m going to tell Mr. Masterson.”
Carla opened the elevator door.
“How can he have a proper burial when we’re going to stuff him in a morgue drawer for God knows how long? How’s he going to get home?”
