The Dormont

The 'graveyard' shift

                                                                                                                  
It was nearly dawn, the sky was alight with the inviting colors of the sun's rays as they danced across the clouds, bouncing off so happily. I was just working the late shift at the hotel Dormont, only one of the city's longest-standing five-star hotels. Hotel Dormont isn't rated five-star without fair reason. The lobby is so elegant The lobby that shows such elegance: decorated with rich, dark reds you could use more descripted color, and beautiful mahogany. Chairs arranged to allow a certain deliberate flow, intricate rugs, and curtains, walls so exquisitely painted only a few shades lighter than the crimson chair cushions.                      
Oh, I can't wait until Selena, my daytime counterpart, arrives. Sleep calls my name, as does my soft plush mattress. I'm sure signs of fatigue are evident on my pale skin, the darkened circles set just south of my weary eyes had notified me of their presence, when I found my eyes yearning to draw themselves shut.

Selena, oh, please for once be on time! Stop with the hair and makeup and, hustle. Interrupting my pleading thoughts of sleep, a deep voice echoed from the far corner door of the lobby "Ah, hey Kitkat, Selena here yet?" Looking up I confirmed the voices' origin was none other than the handyman Luke Greywall. Of course. 
"Luke, you know I hate when you call me that," my lips set in a hard line, "and no she's not here yet," Luke Greywall has hands down the most unusual eyes, they're light gray with dark encompassing rings, giving him a mysterious edge; now his eyes have drained of mystery only to be replaced by amusement. Luke sighed, seeming slightly exasperated, and ran his long pianist fingers through his tousled charcoal black hair.
"Well Katherine, as always, you've been such a delight," sarcasm oozed out of the words as he then grinned, that devilish grin that makes most women swoon  

Luke                                                                                                                                       
That woman, Katherine Kenner, I can't get her off my mind, those bright blue eyes burning with determination, a smile that lightens the room, her brown curls wisped up into a messy playful bun, and her body, a body that could, without doubt, stop a truck dead in its' track. Even with dark circles of weariness under her eye, she looks beautiful. I often ponder asking her out sometimes, but she makes my mind go blank, makes my palms grow sweaty, and makes my heart pound. Even in khakis and a black button up, standard uniform for desk clerks, she makes me feel as though I were a sea of anxiety.
I climbed the final step of the grand stairs and headed to room 124, where there was said to have been a pipe leak. The hallways matched the lobby decorated in the same scarlet, crimson reds, and mahogany benches spaced out along the walls in between room entrances. My keys hung on my jeans belt loop, jingling as I walked, detaching the keys from my person as I came to a halt before room 124. Sifting through the keys I noticed the door wasn't completely shut. Having reattached the keys to my loose hanging jeans, and crept up to the entrance. My knuckles brushed against the cool surface of the heavy oak door, pushing it back slowly, as it groaned in protest.
Scanning the room, I saw nothing, only darkness, I took a measly step forward placing me under the doors' frame. I swiped my hand along the wall searching for the light switch, my fingers brushed a cooler surface one made of plastic, the switch. Placing one foot ahead of the other, inspecting the now dimly lit room. Everything seemed ordinary apart from the door, why was it open? The couch untouched, the television off and the bar undisturbed. I made a plan to check the room, first the living room, then the kitchen area, lastly the bedroom and its' adjacent restroom. Having checked everything aside from the bedroom I came up to the entrance, slightly more comfortable in the room.
Pushing open the door, a pungent odor hit me like a tidal wave, oddly sweet yet so very sickening making bile rise in the back of my throat. I quickly backed away from the door, covering my nose, attempting to block out the scent stench of death, horrible, horrible death.  Regaining my composure with a shaky intake of breath, pushing back the door completely, flipping the lights on, and discovering where the smell of death stemmed. Backed against the wall, my head spun wild with conclusions. 

Katherine                                                                                                         
She's an hour late! Where could she be, what's holding Selena up? I stood and stretched in a strangely cat-like manner. Finally flustered I paced around my little area behind the desk and decided a little sugar might help the situation. Retrieving a dollar bill from my wallet, I tiredly made my way to the worker's lounge, to the vending machine. Standing for a moment trying to pick Coca-Cola or Dr. Pepper. Coca-Cola, it's today's lucky winner, inserting the crisp dollar bill, tapping the button "A" followed by the number "7", and waited to receive a sugary drink.  Digging my nail under the can's tab, I popped the top and took a refreshing sip of pop, as I sashayed back to my post with a spring in my step.
Sugar kicking in giving me new-found energy, although it was short lived when I realized two shapes were awaiting assistance at the check-in desk. I took another sip then hurried to the desk only to see the uniforms, police officers. "Miss," one curtly nodded at me as I stepped behind the desk, my furrowed brow must have given way to my confusion because the taller cop looked down at me with a grim look of dismay as he then asked me to take them to room 124.                                                                                                                                               
We just reached the room, room 124, I noticed Luke standing in the hallway, his head hung low as if he were feeling guilty for something. He must have heard us coming, because his head rose and turned slightly his eyes hardly reached mine. The cops entered the room covering their noses, although I couldn't smell anything. What's going on? What's going on? The nagging question that refused to leave my mind at peace drove me to turn and ask Luke the same, word for word. I came to regret the words as they passed my lips, his once dashing mischievous features were now grim and hardened, as he looked back towards the carpeted floor. The playful man he had been nearly just an hour ago was gone; the only reason I could think that would explain his behavior would be if he had seen whatever had brought the cops here, oh poor Luke. My thoughts ran rampant with ideas of what he could have possibly seen to bring forth such state of such dismay. He straightened completely upright and moved skillfully over to one of the mahogany benches all the while maintaining the posture of a beaten animal.
Luke has always moved gracefully, panther-like, which is quite a talent when one considers his height and impressive build. I myself straightened and headed to take a seat next to him, when the taller police officer peered through the doorway, asking for me to try and identify the body. The purpose for the police's arrival, Luke's pitiful expression hit me like a tsunami. The officer's words had stilled me, unable to think of anything other than the word body, I repeated the word aloud gulping as I did hope, he had just misspoken, unfortunately, he nodded as if to somehow assure me I wasn't in some sort of trance. Before I realized it, my feet had guided me into the room, where the officer advised me to cover my nose just before pointing to where the body was. The body was covered with a sheet, sprawled across the bed. The shorter policeman stood by the bed ready to pull back the sheet upon my arrival. I stood at the foot of the bed trying to ready myself to see a dead person, one I wouldn't know but still, seeing a dead human being is a hard pill to swallow. My eyes kept focusing in on the officer's blue latex gloves, His chubby hands delicately picked up the ends of the sheet to show me the profile of the deceased, I stood in shock at the horror before me. Long curly locks, olive skin, and green eyes stuck open. Staring blankly at the ceiling as if reflecting on the betrayal that had been inflicted upon her. I was utterly wrong, if it's hard to see someone you didn't know dead what about now, I knew her, it was Selena.
Luke                                                                                                                      
Why didn't I keep them from calling her in there? I should have stepped in; I should have gone. After seeing Selena like that, strangled, left to shame, evident traces of carnal desire, I just don't know if I could have brought myself to it. You must forget what you saw. You must forget what you saw. I repeated the mantra over and over, to the realization it wasn't working came to light, I tried again with a new mantra. Telling myself to forget, however, it was useless, the moment Katherine came out of the room in tears, it was all forgotten. "Kat, I'm so sorry, I should have," her controlled sobs faded into primitive sobs of emotional pain. I would have continued to speak, but it felt like she understood so I let my half said thought fade out of existence almost as soon as it had even been born.  Her baby blue eyes reddened, I raised my hand without thought and thumbed away her tears. I tried to sound matter of fact and reassuring as possible when I told her everything would be all right. I wrapped my arms around her, encompassing the distraught woman before me, holding her firmly to me. Her arms snaked around my torso as she wept.