by Roach Spell
Miss Rose walking sturdy, downstairs from her room. The permanent resident siblings, Mary and her strange-acting brother Stan, were sitting at the reception. The two of them used the hospitality at one of the biggest ground floor rooms for many years already, placed, right next to the staff homes by the far end of parking lot.
Speaking to no one in particular, Miss Rose said; “Did you know that right where we are standing now, was once a gas station? It was busy with all the Hollywoodland celebrities and their luxury cars. They would fill up their Cabriolets with gasoline, and then they would have a nice meal over at the restaurant. Some would even rent a room for the weekend. Maybe it is why it floods here so often. The reason could be the hollow space from below, where the tanks used to be in the early years of this very popular motel by the sunny beach.”
Stan and Mary, both smoking cigarettes right down to the filter, looked skeptically at each other. Spencer always felt a bit sick to his stomach when he saw them, with their yellowish-brown fingers and wrinkled lips and faces.
Esperanza says, “Miss Rose, maybe this is why I cannot clean the mess up sometimes. It feels all so oily.”
“That could be the reason, Esperanza,” Spencer not smart about it answered and said. “It’s hard to get rid of oil once it’s in the ground and elsewhere.”
Stan circled around Miss Rose, his hair greasier than usual. “Have I seen you before?” he asked.
At that very moment, Jim stomped in with his clunky cowboy boots on. Interrupting them all and urging Spencer to help him with the underground pipeline in front, lifting the gully in the parking lot, and stirring the smelly sewer water to go in that direction.
Rose walked away slowly, holding a cup of tea, which was always available in the morning at the reception. She returned to her room as it appeared and Stan’s question remained unanswered. He would have forgotten all about it anyway, since he was obviously a bit handicapped, like he would overdosed on some sort of drug and had not completely recovered. Mary however, was different, with a devilish look of survey.
Jim was able to shut the gully in the meantime, after pushing down all of the water. He and Spencer used some somewhat flat wooden shovel. Jim looked at Spencer and said in his Texan voice, “You know, strange things have been happening in the parking lot at night. Many of the regulars who go to the Mexican place no longer park the wrong way, and as one of the Mexican cooks told me, there are fewer guests because there is a car plate thief going around.
People are scared now and park across the street or along the road. You must have heard about it, boy, didn't ya?” Spencer was busy picking up some smaller pieces of washed-up leaves caught in the waterline.
“Really,” he said, “it sounds like justice has found its way, reducing trouble with those rowdy folks.”
”Yeah, beats me,” said Jim, spitting out the sweet roots he was constantly chewing. He had not smoked in years, but from time to time, he mentioned that he would give anything to get his hands on some tobacco.
“Those California Yankees sure are a rowdy weekend bunch, huh?”
“Jim?” asked Spencer. “How long have you been here? Is there anything I should know about? I mean, about more than just water trouble and an old gas station. People who come and go here, is there anything I should know about them or be aware of; sure you can tell me about everything.” Jim, who was holding up the end of the pluming snake, laughed out loud and said, “Well boy, ya know, this is a place with a long history and it has many stories to tell. Once, in the early thirties, it was a known place to be robbed; it was an easy drive and easy to get in and out of the restaurant. At the gas station, people were putting guns to others’ heads and taking lots of money, so they say. It was also a getaway place for rich people cheating on their wives and husbands from Los Angeles and many came here to gamble. I think this place has more stories on its grounds than either of us will ever know.” Spencer, still listening to Jim, could not believe what he saw beside of Bertha’s car, where Jim could not see. He knelt down and pretended to look at the car tires. Quickly lifting up something red, Spencer went shaky and told Jim he needed to check the cleanliness of the rooms. Esperanza was in Room 7 just ahead, vacuuming. Spencer opened the door to Room number 5 and closed it behind him. Holding up a big red slip, he looked at it and hesitated.
Then he thought, Oh, wtf, and buried his nose in it. Bertha, oh, you do not smell bad at all, he thought, taking in the sweet taste on the seam – pungent and light cream. It reminded Spencer of the song ‘Simply Irresistible’ by Robert Palmer. Esperanza was by the door, turning the key, so Spencer pretended to fix the TV stand. He felt terribly guilty, caught like a thief, but terribly horny too, so he looked at Esperanza’s working feet – the most fleshy, wrinkled feet he had ever seen – and he calmed down. No longer horny, he left room 5, saying; “good job Esperanza and the TV works fine” he went on, to go buy bourbon and cigarettes, as ordered by Miss Rose.
7
“Please come on in.”
The entire walls covered with photos, and there were books nicely sorted on the nightstand. Miss Rose smiled at Spencer gratefully and said, “It’s so nice that you could make out time for me.”
“No problem,” said Spencer. “I have Jim watching the front desk, and it’s usually quiet on Sunday nights. Here is the Jim Bean and some Marlboro Lights for you, Miss Rose”.
“Please sit down and kindly fill our glasses,” she said. “We shall enjoy this time; for there is a lot I’d like to tell you.” She sat down on the sofa. Her room was bigger than most, and it had enough space for a king-size bed with an entire living room area. Spencer saw that his companion was wearing a white summery dress and heeled shoes with butterflies in the front. Her legs covered in pearly-white nylons, perfectly shaped, released an illusion of young delicate art.
Spencer thought about Bertha’s red panties and the smell of them and heard the melody of “Every Rose Has Its Thorn” playing in his head.
“Young man?”
“Yes, Miss Rose?”
“Let’s have a toast to this wonderful motel that has given me so much, and that will reveal its most precious secret, which I will explain to you tonight, my young lover.”
Two hours later, Spencer was drunker than he had been when he went out to the Rainbow Bar on Sunset Boulevard. Back, when he rocked the dance floor and ended up, licking speed covered girls for their pleasure. Now he felt tickle-pink all over again, and the bourbon was dripping down to his tongue. The spirit added more miracles. Miss Rose felt like she was in heaven and spoke softly about everything she knew, everything she had lived through all her life. Spencer heard most of it soft through the nylon touched by his ears while he pleasured her. “You are so wonderful and tender to me,” she said. “I feel so young again. Come look at my necklace, will you, lover? Up here, come and circle my corpus.” Spencer was in a trance, drunk, and could hear many songs playing in his head. He would have married Miss Rose that night, if only he could.
8
“Wake up! Spencer!”
It was Terry, the motel owner, standing above him on the floor in the hallway. Spencer had not made it to his bed, and he had no idea, how he wound up in the hall before he passed out.
“Here’s some orange juice,” said Terry. “And now, get going. Jim was so good to watch the reception all night,” Terry utters “Especially, after you stumbled across the parking lot drunk as hell at four a.m. You would not let Jim move you and insisted to sleep in the hallway. Now it is your turn, Spencer, and do not let this happen again. I do not pay you to drink and look after old ladies.”
The reception was getting crowded. It sounded like there was an entire group of people out there. Spencer rolled over and used the wall to stand up. He walked toward the reception desk, his hair looking like the fur of a stray cat, short and sticking straight up. Terry walked by and both nodded in agreement.
“Good day, Sir,” greeted one of the bunch at the reception. “We are the Anderson family, a
nd we are looking for a big accommodation. Would you happen to have anything, long term for three adults and four children?” Spencer looked at each of the family. They must have been scared or astonished by his appearance, although they themselves looked like hicks to Spencer, the father dressed like Michael Landon from Little House on the Prairie.
“May I ask who the parents of these three children are?” said Spencer. Two of the adults replied, identifying themselves.
“And this gentleman is your brother, I assume?” They looked at each other and responded slowly. “No, he is here to watch the children while we are at work.”
Spencer, still numb, wrinkled his nose and looked at the four kids. They seemed scared, and Spencer had already made up his mind about the filthy-looking person who was apparently taking care of those innocent children. He arranged for the family to stay in a three-bedroom suite on the second floor for five hundred and fifty dollars a week. Afterwards, he showed the Andersons around. Esperanza fixed the suite for the seven-person group. Spencer went out and stared at that person again, deciding that he would watch him closely in case he was a pervert.
When he returned to the reception, he immediately recognized the two faces standing by the entrance.
“Buenos dias senores, what can I do for you?”
Shit, realized Spencer. Speaking to them in Spanish was not smart, especially since Miller had advised him to keep a low profile. ‘Well, anybody could see that they were not American.’ Thought Spencer.
“Hombre,” Scarface said, “we need a simple room, cheap, only for sleeping, and for taking a dump.” The man chuckled, and Spencer grinned without opening his mouth. “Let me see, amigo,” said Spencer. “Sure, I found something. Yes, right over there, see, and you can see it perfectly from the reception. The lucky Room 8!”
“Perfecto,” Scarface said. Spencer gave them a great special price, making sure they would accept the room and move in right away. They carried two sports bags and nothing else.
“We are very tired from our travel”. Said, he, who Spencer named Scarface. The other one-he discreetly nicknamed, Shadow. They walked out towards 8. “Have a good rest,” Spencer said, and he saluted them off with a cool military wink, pressing two fingers straight to his forehead. What an exciting day with a room full of criminals, he thought to himself. Spencer started humming, a bit of Bon Jovi ‘I’m a cowboy, on a steel horse I ride…and I’m wanted, dead or alive.’
He pretended to grab a gun from his imaginary holster and aim it at…
“Who is up there?” Spencer asked himself. “Oh, it’s Harper. However, what is he doing next to Rose’s room? Yes, right, he is arranging the new flowers. It looks just fine that way.”
Spencer gave Harper a thumbs-up. The gardener was staring at him funnily. He must have seen his gun act.
9
“Detective Miller, please.”
“Yes, Detective,” said Spencer into the phone. “I’ve got some good news for you. Your drug dealers are here at the motel. I put them in Room 8. It is the perfect room to observe them from my apartment. So, how shall we go about it?” Spencer paused. “Okay,” he said. “I’ll keep an eye on them and write down the times they come and go. Yes, I will give you feedback in two days. Bye now.”
With his hand in his pocket, Spencer felt a soft texture. He sensed an itch on his nose, and suddenly he remembered. He still had Bertha’s red slip!
He quickly put it away just as a familiar couple walked in.
The woman was skinny with short, dark hair, and the man was about the same height as she was. He wore a business suit, and had his dark hair combed to the right. It was the fourth time Spencer had handed that couple a key. They never stayed at the motel for longer than three hours. “Let me give you Room 5,” said Spencer, “since Room 4 and 6 are empty.” The man said, “You know, our love is very much a secret. We have wanted to end this so many times, but we are in love. We continue to experience butterflies in our stomach, for over a decade now. We won’t endanger our families out of deep respect, but we also can’t deny the soulmate that entered our life eventually.”
Spencer narrowed his eyes and said, “Destiny, its destiny. Please, never give it up, and come back to our motel as often as you wish.” When he handed over the keys, he felt a bit like Peewee Herman.
10
Mary and her brother Stan were sitting outside by their room at the far end of the parking lot, where they put up some chairs, a table, and a big ashtray piled with old cigarettes. ‘They are the people others should look at if they want to give up smoking; those two are so disgusting’, Spencer thought as he walked by, on his way to Esperanza’s room. She was resting after having a late lunch.
“Hola Mr. Spencer,” she said. “I made everything for the new family there. They have a strange man with them.” “Yes,” agreed Spencer. “Esperanza, do big favor, please, comprender?”
“Si, senor. What is it?”
“Look closely for anything out of the ordinary when you clean there. Knock and try to disturb the Andersons when you clean, and tell me later if you find anything suspicious. You know what I mean.” Spencer continued, “You are a Mama and your intuition is as good as mine.” Spencer and Esperanza understood each other very well, and she was a solid house cleaner. Only her feet were undesirable to Spencer. Terry, who had his house in the far back, came out with his dog and drove off in his Range Rover, rolling down the window.
“Are you sober, Spencer?” he asked. “No more rock ‘n’ roll, all right?”
Spencer offered Terry a military salute. “Yes, sir.”
11
It was after six p.m. when Bertha left work. Spencer waved to her while he was talking to one of the neighbors outside his office. This neighbor sometimes came over to bring him Korean Kimchi, a spicy healthy cabbage.
The neighbor, her name Yuki, was originally from North Korea, but she had fled and come to the United States as a refugee many years ago. She was extremely attractive, and Spencer had an eye for her. Her brother wanted him to hook up with her so badly.
However, he was not ready to settle for Kimchi only, although he had nothing against eating it occasionally. In the meantime, he was worried about something else.
Where was Rose?
He wondered. She had not shown up all day. Now, this had him worried, and he immediately told Yuki, that he had to excuse himself as more work came up. He wanted to fix Room 5 so he could rent it out twice that day. He rang up Esperanza in order to have that room cleaned again. In the meantime, he went up the second floor and noticed that the flowers looked nice, but they needed more water. Have to tell Harper, he thought.
Then, knocking softly on Bernadette Rose’s room door, he said, “Miss Rose, are you there?”
There was no reply, so he yelled down. “Esperanza, can you please come up here and bring the keys. The key ring is there by the TV set.” Esperanza stood in shock for a moment before fainting right in his arms. Spencer instinctively caught her and set her gently on the floor, as he needed both hands to cover his face. There was a dried up stream of blood on the carpet, trailing from the spread legs and corpse of Miss Rose. Spencer recognized a knife in her chest. Her eyes were open, and most of her body was exposed. There was even more blood around her neck. The poor old woman was definitely dead.
“Oh God,” said Esperanza, who had just woken up. “Fuck, fuck…dios mio.”
“Let’s not touch anything,” said Spencer. “Let me call the police.” Not. No, I have to. He thought. Spencer all too aware of his recent night with Miss Rose – his night of booze and sex.
“I will call Detective Miller now,” he announced, running off. Esperanza was still sitting on the floor, under the doorframe, crying and looking at the dead person.
“Just close the door, Esperanza, and follow me,” yelled Spencer as he ran down the stairs. Before long, the police had arrived, and investigators in white coats, gloves, and masks stood around Miss Rose’s cold body. Miller was looking at every cor
ner and staring at the ceiling in the middle of the crime scene.
Spencer followed his gaze. Wondering what he saw, besides the spider web and the struggling, not escaping fly in it.
Cursed to die, as a meal.
12
“Can I get you a coffee, Detective?”
Asked Spencer. He was already holding a metal cup; he loved to drink coffee from old metal cups. “Would you like it black with no sugar?” Miller looked surprised. “Yes, that’s exactly how I like it, sir.” Spencer watched Miller blink, smiling softly with a cigar in hand. He enjoyed that Miller was wondering how he knew the way he liked his coffee. Spencer was a quick learner, and although he had never learned to sing in the right key, he was very intuitive, especially when it came to the character of Columbo – that is who Miller probably was, only in disguise. I bet he also loves chili, thought Spencer.
Miller put his hand to his face and closed his eyes. “This is a strange situation,” he said. “Somehow it does not appear that she was scared or attempting to scream for help. It looks like she was sleeping when the killer came in, and it looks like he had enough time to aim exactly for her heart. It must have been someone who is very familiar with human anatomy.”
Approaching Spencer, Miller continued; “You know, most people think that the heart is here.” He placed his finger on Spencer’s chest. “But in fact, the heart is located lower than that, right about here. Moreover, something else caught my attention as well. Around her neck, it looked like Miss Rose must have had a necklace on and the killer or someone ripped it off. Do you recall a necklace, Spencer?”
They were both silent for a moment. There was a lot of noise outside in the parking lot. Several people had gathered to discuss the crime. Some had already begun accusing other people and spreading rumors about this unexpected crime that took place at the Villa Motel. Some of their eyes wandered toward the reception, watching Miller and Spencer.
