"Mystery At The Shady Inn Hotel"

Mystery At The Shady Inn Hotel | Story by Butch Leake

Lady Boston Detective Sachel Drummond had heard rumors about the Shady Inn Hotel for years. The old building had a reputation for being a haven for all manner of misdeeds and questionable activity. From smugglers to kidnappers, the inn had seen its fair share of nefarious characters. But it wasn't until Sachel received a call from the hotel's owner herself that she paid the place a visit. 

The owner, Mrs. Whitaker, appeared to be a respectable woman. Her wrinkled face showed a life of experience, and she carried a sense of dignity with her that spoke of hard-earned success. But her tone when she called Sachel betrayed her worry. "Detective Drummond," she had said, "I'm afraid there's something strange going on at my hotel. I've had some guests disappear over the past few months, and I'm not sure why." 

Sachel had listened intently, her nose already picking up the faint scent of danger. She agreed to come to the hotel as soon as possible. Mrs. Whitaker promised to have a room waiting for her, paid in full. "I can't thank you enough, Detective. I'll do whatever it takes to get to the bottom of this." 

And so, Sachel found herself pulling up to the Shady Inn Hotel in the middle of the night. The air was damp and cold, the kind of night that made you glad to be inside. She hefted her suitcase out of the car and made her way inside. 

The lobby of the hotel was dimly lit, and Sachel had to take a moment to let her eyes adjust. The walls were decorated with faded portraits of long-dead aristocrats, and the carpet was threadbare and shabby. A small desk stood to one side, where a young woman with nervous eyes waited. "Can I help you, ma'am?" she asked, her voice shaking slightly. 

Sachel introduced herself and explained that she had a room reserved. The woman checked her ledger and handed Sachel her key. "Room 203," she said, her eyes darting toward the door. 

Sachel raised an eyebrow but didn't say anything. She thanked the woman and made her way upstairs. The air was musty, and Sachel had to stifle a sneeze as she entered her room. But it was clean, and the bed looked comfortable enough. As she unpacked, she thought over her plan of action. 

She knew she had to move quickly. She'd have to start questioning the staff and guests, looking for any clues that might help her solve the mystery of the missing guests. But first, she needed some sleep. The events of the day had worn her out, and she sank into the mattress with a sigh. 

She was awoken in the middle of the night by a sound at her window. Her eyes flew open, but she didn't see anything in the dark. She heard the sound again, a soft tapping against the glass. Sachel rose from the bed, grabbed her gun from her bag, and crept toward the window. 

Just as she reached the curtain, a figure leapt from the ground and pressed a hand to the glass. Sachel nearly jumped out of her skin but quickly regained her composure. "Who are you?" she demanded, pointing her gun at the figure. 

The figure stepped back, and Sachel saw that it was a woman, pale and wide-eyed. "Please, Detective," she said, her voice trembling. "Don't shoot me. I'm one of the guests. I...I heard someone outside my door, and I was afraid." 

Sachel lowered her gun, keeping her eyes on the woman. She had a gut feeling that this was more than just a frightened guest. "Who are you?" she repeated. 

The woman hesitated, biting her lip. "My name's Jenna," she finally said. "I'm staying in the room next to yours." 

Sachel narrowed her eyes but didn't press the matter. "Is everything all right?" she asked, her hand still on her gun. 

Jenna shook her head, tears glinting in the corners of her eyes. "No. It's not," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "Someone's been following me. Watching me. I don't know who it is." 

Sachel felt a chill run down her spine. This was exactly the kind of thing she had been expecting. "All right," she said, motioning for Jenna to sit on the bed. "Tell me everything you know." 

Jenna recounted a series of strange occurrences, from hearing footsteps outside her door to finding odd objects left in her room. Sachel listened patiently, taking mental notes. "Do you have any idea who might be behind this?" she asked. 

Jenna shook her head. "No," she said. "I don't know anyone here, and I'm not sure what they want." 

Sachel nodded, her mind racing. She knew she would have to look into Jenna's story more closely, but for now, she needed to get some rest. "Try to get some sleep," she said, standing up. "I'll keep an eye out for anything suspicious." 

Jenna looked up at her, a glimmer of gratitude in her eyes. "Thank you, Detective," she whispered. 

Sachel made her way back to her bed, still clutching her gun. She lay down but didn't dare close her eyes. She stared up at the ceiling, listening to the sounds of the hotel. It was eerily quiet, with only the occasional creak of the floorboards to break the silence. 

Just as she was starting to drift off, she heard a scream from somewhere down the hall. She sprang from the bed, gun at the ready, and dashed toward the door. She threw it open and found herself face to face with a man who looked like he was in his sixties. He was panting, his face red with exertion. "Please, Detective," he gasped. "You've got to help me. It's my wife. She's been murdered." 

Sachel didn't waste a moment. She ran to the man's room, gun still in hand. The man, whose name she learned was Mr. Johnson, led her to a small sitting room where his wife lay on the floor, blood pooling around her. 

Sachel knelt down beside the body, trying to keep her cool. She knew that the next few moments were crucial. She needed to assess the scene and find any evidence that might help her solve the murder. 

But as she looked around the room, she realized something strange. There was no sign of a struggle. Nothing had been knocked over, and there was no indication of a break-in. It was almost as if Mrs. Johnson had just lain down on the floor and died. 

Sachel's mind was racing. She had never seen a murder scene like this before. She knew she would have to confer with the coroner, but for now, she needed to gather as much information as possible. She asked Mr. Johnson if he knew anyone who might have wanted to harm his wife, but he shook his head. "She didn't have any enemies," he said. "Everyone loved her." 

Sachel nodded, making a mental note. She looked around the room once more, her eyes scanning for any signs of struggle or forced entry. But there was nothing. No indication of what might have caused Mrs. Johnson's death. 

This was the kind of mystery that Sachel loved. It was like a puzzle, and she was determined to solve it. She made her way back to her room, her mind whirling. She knew that the killer was still out there, somewhere in the hotel. And she was determined to find them before they struck again. 

Over the next few days, Sachel interviewed the staff and guests, looking for any information that might help her crack the case. She soon discovered that many of the guests had reported odd occurrences, just like Jenna had. Footsteps outside their doors, strange objects left in their rooms, and a general sense of unease. 

Sachel knew that all of these incidents were connected, but she didn't know how. She began to make a list of suspects, whittling it down until she was left with just a handful. But every time she thought she had the killer pinned down, something else would happen to throw her off the trail. 

One night, as she was getting ready to go to bed, she heard a noise outside her door. It was a soft tapping, just like the night Jenna had visited her. Sachel grabbed her gun and approached the door cautiously. 

As she opened it, she saw a dark figure standing in front of her. It was a man, tall and thin, with a mischievous grin on his face. "Detective Drummond," he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Fancy meeting you here." 

Sachel recognized the man immediately. He was one of the guests, a man who had been hanging around the lobby every time she passed through. But she didn't know his name, and she didn't like the look of him. She raised her gun, keeping her eyes trained on him. "Who are you?" she demanded. 

The man just laughed. "Oh, come now, Detective. You're supposed to be the clever one. Can't you guess?" 

Sachel's mind was racing. She had a feeling that this man was the killer, but she needed to be sure. She lowered her gun slightly. "What do you want?" she asked. 

The man took a step forward, his grin widening. "I want to play a game, Detective," he said. "A cat and mouse game. You're the mouse." 

Sachel didn't back down. "I'm not playing any games," she said firmly. "Whatever you think you're doing, it's over now. You're under arrest." 

The man's eyes flickered, and his grin disappeared. He took another step forward, and Sachel raised her gun once more. But just as she was about to pull the trigger, the man was suddenly tackled from behind. Sachel spun around, her gun still raised, and saw Jenna standing behind the man. 

She had a bloody lip and a wild look in her eyes. "He's the one, Detective," she said, her voice shaking. "He's the one who killed my friend and has been following me." 

Sachel nodded, lowering her gun slowly. She had a feeling that this was over, that they had caught the killer at last. She motioned for Jenna to go back to her room and placed the man under arrest. 

A few days later, Sachel stood outside the Shady Inn Hotel, watching as the police carted away the killer. His name was Wayne, and he had been a guest at the hotel for months. He had been stalking Jenna, and when her friend tried to intervene, he had killed her. 

Sachel sighed, relieved that the case was finally solved. But she couldn't help but feel that there was something else going on, something she couldn't quite put her finger on. The mystery of the Shady Inn Hotel had been solved, but the puzzle of her gut feeling lingered on. 

As she drove away, she couldn't help but wonder what other strange things were happening in the world, waiting for her to solve them. But for now, she knew that she had done her duty, that she had helped bring justice to the victims of the Shady Inn Hotel. And that was enough for one day.