 | The Case of the Hostile Hostel A talented musician tries to escape her former career as a criminal investigator by seeking her fortune in Hollywood, but finds her old skills once again in demand. |
| Contest: | Flash Fiction Challenge 2020 |
| Round: | 1 |
| Genre: | Mystery |
| Location: | A hostel |
| Object: | A toothpick |
| Results: | 1 Pt - 15th Place |
Ann Sampson moved into the North Hollywood hostel only weeks before the murder. A talented singer and songwriter, she came to Los Angeles seeking her fortune, carrying only her guitar and a suitcase. In her former career as a criminal investigator, she'd seen far too many horrors. An artist's life promised a more uplifting experience, and the hostel seemed an ideal place to start.
Ann had top bunk in a small bedroom shared by two other women. The bunk across belonged to Nancy Steward, a middle-aged busybody who earned her keep cleaning the house. Nancy came across as a rather annoying flibbertigibbet.
The bunk below was home to Tanya Monroe. Tanya came to escape an abusive relationship, along with her teenage son, David. Tanya had a cheerful disposition and worked at a local flower shop, yet struggled to pay rent for her and her son. David stayed in the common room with the other men. A devoted son, David tried his best to look after his mother.
One of David's roommates was John Brock, better known as "Ace." Once a successful film executive, Ace lost everything to drugs. He overcame his substance abuse, but far too late to save his career. He spent his days watching television and chain smoking, despite his worsening emphysema. When he couldn't smoke, he often had a distinctive gold toothpick dangling from his lips.
The most enigmatic member of the household, Theodore King was an imposing figure. As a martial artist, he eked out a humble living as a bodyguard. He practiced his martial arts regularly, often with a pair of hardwood escrima sticks. Theodore hit it off with Tanya from the start, and their relationship gradually blossomed into a romance.
The landlord, Robert Brisco, was an ex-con turned entrepreneur. After prison, he raised money by unknown means to purchase the house, turning it into a profitable hostel. Robert's business was so successful that he purchased a new Mercedes, much to the consternation of some residents. They felt the money should have gone towards desperately needed house repairs and maintenance. Their complaints fell upon deaf ears, however, as Robert secretly planned to sell the property for a hefty profit, potentially leaving some tenants homeless.
It was this very subject that Robert and Ace were overheard arguing about the night before the murder. That same night, Ann overheard Nancy speaking with Theodore in the common room. Nancy told him that Tanya had been trading sexual favors with Robert in lieu of rent. Theodore naturally became enraged.
At five o'clock Sunday morning, the house was awakened by Nancy's scream, coming from Robert's office. Within moments the residents had all gathered to see the body of the landlord slumped in his chair, blood oozing from the back of his head. A hardwood escrima stick rested on the floor.
Ann urged everyone back to preserve the crime scene as the police were called. Her investigative instincts took over, and she carefully observed the scene. Robert had clearly suffered a blow to the head. Less obvious was a small drop of blood on the side of his neck, like a tiny puncture wound. His skin had an unusual pinkish coloration. The desk was littered with papers, and the computer monitor displayed its screensaver.
When Detective Jenkins arrived, he placed Theodore under arrest. Ann spoke up. "Detective, I believe you've got the wrong person. Theodore didn't kill that man."
Jenkins smirked. "I suppose you know who did?"
"I do," she replied. She spoke so confidently, Jenkins decided to hear her out. She gathered her thoughts before proceeding. "It's true Theodore had a motive, and that's undoubtedly his weapon." She turned to Theodore. "You heard something upsetting last night, didn't you?"
Theodore hesitated. "Yes. But..."
Ann held up her hand. "No need to explain. You weren't the only one to hear something upsetting." Ann scanned the room, resting her eyes upon Tanya's son. David grimaced. Ann continued, "You must have been terribly angry indeed when you overheard what Nancy told Theodore. So this morning you took Theodore's weapon, quietly entered Robert's office, and struck him down."
David sank to the floor, sobbing. "I...how could he do that to my mother!"
Tanya, shocked, approached her son. "David...what are you talking about? What did you think he did?"
"How could you mom?" David said angrily. "How could you give yourself...to that...that creep?"
Tanya's shock turned to indignation. "Wh--what? How could you believe such a thing? I never could have...never would have..."
Ann quickly intervened. "It's okay. What you heard, David, and Theodore...was a lie. You were manipulated into doing exactly what you did."
David's mouth went wide open, "You...you mean I..." Ann nodded. "...oh my god, what have I done..."
"Yes, David. You did attack Robert. But you didn't kill him. Robert was already dead when you struck him. Poisoned. With this…" Ann produced a golden toothpick and handed it to Detective Jenkins. "I believe, detective, that if you have that analyzed you'll find traces of a deadly homemade poison."
Ace stared at his toothpick in disbelief, patting his shirt pocket. "Wait...but...how?"
Jenkins seized the moment, "Mr. Brock, does this toothpick belong to you?"
Ace started to object, but Ann intervened. "Easy, Detective. Ace couldn't possibly have killed Robert. His cough would have given him away. No. This was all the work of one very clever woman." She gazed accusingly at Nancy. "It was easy to steal Ace's toothpick as he slept. She coated it with poison, and as Robert was working, jabbed it into his neck. She wanted to be sure the deed was done, one way or another. The only remaining question is...why?"
Nancy's expression turned dark. "I hated him! He used me and tossed me aside. He was going to sell the house. I'd have nowhere to go. I'd be on the street! On the street like trash! I deserved better! I..."
"She's all yours, detective."