An Unwanted Guest by Shari Lapena
She walks quietly into the bathroom, leaving the door open. She doesn’t want to turn on the light—she doesn’t want to wake Ian. It’s damn cold. She brushes her hair quickly. Her illuminated watch face says it’s just before six. She wonders what time the staff gets up and starts their day.
She glances back at Ian snoring in their bed, only his head showing above the covers. He won’t be up for a while. She opens the door quietly. It’s dark in the corridor; the lights in the wall sconces are out. She slips out and walks down the third-floor hall to the main stairs in her thick socks. She doesn’t want to wake anyone. She turns toward the staircase to the lobby, wondering how long it will be before she can get a cup of coffee.
Saturday, 6:03 a.m.
Riley wakens suddenly, sitting up abruptly in bed, eyes wide open. She thinks she’s heard a scream—loud and piercing. Her heart is pounding, and she can feel the familiar adrenaline surging through her body. She glances quickly around the dim hotel room and remembers where she is. She turns to the other bed beside her, throwing aside the bedcovers, and is immediately accosted by the cold. Gwen is awake, too, and alert.
“What’s going on?” Gwen says. “I thought I heard something.”
“I don’t know. I heard it too.”
For a moment they remain perfectly still, listening. They hear a woman’s voice, shouting.
Riley throws her legs over the bed and pulls on her robe against the chill, while Gwen scrambles to do the same, saying, “Wait for me.”
Riley grabs the key as the two of them slip out the door. The third-floor corridor is unexpectedly dark, and they stop suddenly, disoriented. Riley remembers that she needs to talk to Gwen about last night, but now is not the time. She’s just grateful to have Gwen here with her. She doesn’t know what she would do if anything happened to Gwen.
“The power must be out,” Gwen says.
Riley and Gwen make their way to the grand staircase, barefoot. Holding on to the polished rail, they race down the stairs, as other footsteps can be heard running in the darkened hotel.
Then Riley stops abruptly. The faint light coming in through the front windows illuminates a ghastly sight below her. Dana lies sprawled at the bottom of the stairs, perfectly still, her limbs in an unnatural position beneath her navy satin robe. Her lovely, long dark hair spills all around her, but her face has an unmistakable pallor. She knows immediately that Dana is dead.
Lauren is kneeling on the floor beside her, leaning over her, her hand pressed against Dana’s neck, feeling for a pulse. She looks up at them, stricken. “I just found her.” Her voice is strained.
Riley continues slowly down the stairs until she is standing on the last step, right above the body. She can feel Gwen’s presence behind her, hears her broken sob.
“Was that you who screamed?” Riley asks.
Lauren nods, tearful.
Riley notices Bradley and his father, James, standing nearby. James is staring at the body of the dead woman at the bottom of his staircase, his face slack with shock. Bradley seems unable to look at Dana, staring at Lauren instead as she hovers over the body. Then James moves forward and reaches down hesitantly.
“She’s dead,” Lauren tells him.
He pulls his hand back, almost gratefully.
* * *
• • •
David hears the scream and jumps out of bed. He throws on a bathrobe, grabs his key, and leaves his room. At the top of the landing he pauses and looks down at the ragged little gathering below. He sees Dana—clearly dead—lying at the foot of the stairs in her bathrobe, Lauren beside her. Riley and Gwen have their backs to him. James is pale and Bradley looks suddenly much younger than he did last night. David hears a noise above him, glances up quickly, and sees Henry and Beverly coming after him, also still in their pajamas, drawing their robes closed and tying them shut.
“What happened?” David says, hurrying down the stairs.
“We don’t know,” James says, his voice shaking. “It looks like she fell down the stairs.”
David comes closer.
“I couldn’t find a pulse,” Lauren says.
David squats down and studies the body without touching it, a grimness taking hold of him. Finally he says, “She’s been dead for a while. She must have fallen in the middle of the night.” He wonders aloud, “Why would she have been out of her room?” He’s noted the terrible gash on the side of her head, the blood on the edge of the bottom step. He takes it all in with a practiced eye, and feels unaccountably weary.
“Dear God,” Beverly whispers. “That poor girl.”
David looks up at the rest of them. Beverly has turned her face away, but Henry is staring solemnly at the body. David glances at Gwen—her face is tearstained, and her lower lip is trembling. He longs to comfort her, but he doesn’t. Riley’s staring at the dead woman as if she can’t tear her eyes away. He notices then that Matthew is missing.
“Someone has to tell Matthew,” he says, his heart sinking, knowing it will probably be him. He takes one more look at James and then at all the stricken faces now staring back at him as they remember Matthew. “I’ll do it.” Standing up, he adds, “We’d better call the police.”
“We can’t,” James says harshly. “The power’s out. And the phone. We can’t contact the police.”
“Then someone has to go get them,” David says.
“How?” Bradley asks. “Look outside. Everything is a sheet of ice.”
James shakes his head slowly. “The power lines must be down because of the ice storm. It’s hazardous out there. Nobody’s going anywhere.” He adds, his voice taking on an uncertain note, “It’s probably going to be a while before the police can get here.”
* * *
• • •
Candice’s alarm on her cell phone is set to go off promptly every morning at six thirty. She’s nothing if not disciplined. She is a light sleeper, however, and this morning, something wakes her before the alarm sounds. She’s not sure what. She hears footsteps running along the hall below her, raised voices.
She decides she’d better get up. Plus it’s goddamn cold. She flicks the light switch of the lamp on her bedside table, but it doesn’t go on. It’s very dark in the room. She crosses the floor, shivering in bare feet, to open the drapes. She’s surprised by what she sees. Not the fluffy winter wonderland of last night—but the unleashed fury of an ice storm. Obviously the power is out. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. She wonders how much battery she’s got left in her laptop. Maybe five hours, max. This is a disaster! She needs to find out when the power’s going back on. She quickly pulls on some warm clothes and heads cautiously downstairs in the dark.
As she rounds the landing and sees down the stairs into the lobby, she stops abruptly. There’s a cluster of people at the bottom of the stairs and they all glance up toward her. Every one of their faces is drawn and uneasy. And then she sees why. There’s a woman lying at the bottom of the stairs, so still that she is clearly dead. It’s Dana Hart. The attorney is standing over her, his face serious. There’s no sign of Matthew.
* * *
• • •
David has volunteered to break the terrible news to Matthew, who as far as they know is still up in his room. Properly speaking, he supposes that it’s the duty of the owner of the hotel to inform Matthew. But James doesn’t look up to the task. This is what David tells himself as he treads back up. James accompanies him, obviously grateful that the attorney has offered. The others remain behind, standing in place, dumbly watching their quiet progress up the stairs.
“Which room is it?” David asks.
“Room 201,” James tells him in a distraught voice.
They stop outside the door. David pauses, preparing himself. He listens for any sounds within. But he hears nothing. He lifts his hand and knocks firmly.
There’s no response. David glances at James,
“Yes?” he says, obviously surprised to find them at his door. Then he glances over his shoulder at the bed he’s just gotten out of, as if he’s missing something. He turns back and looks David in the eye and it registers all at once. Matthew’s eyes sharpen. “What is it?” He looks from David, to the visibly upset James, and back to the attorney. “What’s happened? Where’s Dana?”
“I’m afraid there’s been an accident,” David says, in his professional voice.
“What?” Matthew is clearly alarmed now.
“I’m so sorry,” David says quietly.
“Has something happened to Dana?” Matthew’s voice is full of panic.
“She’s fallen down the stairs,” David says.
“Is she okay?” But his face has gone white.
David shakes his head somberly and says the dreaded words again. “I’m so sorry.”
Matthew gasps, “I don’t believe it!” He looks ghastly. “I want to see her!”
There’s nothing to be done. He must see her. David leads him down to the landing where he stops, respectfully. Dana lies below them like a broken doll, thrown across a room by a petulant child. Matthew sees her, cries out, and stumbles past him in his rush to get to his beloved.
“Don’t touch her,” David advises.
Matthew collapses beside her and begins to sob as the others step back. He ignores David’s warning and strokes her too-pale face, runs his thumb along her bloodless lips, in disbelief. Then he buries his face in her neck, his shoulders heaving.
The others look away; it’s unbearable.
Finally, Matthew looks up. “How did this happen?” he cries, half crazed, at David, who has descended the stairs and has stopped above him on the second step. “Why would she even be out of our room?”
“You didn’t hear her go?” David asks.
Matthew shakes his head slowly in shock and misery. “No. I was asleep. I didn’t hear anything.” He covers his face with both hands and weeps wretchedly.
Bradley fetches a white sheet and they all stand by somberly as he and David settle it gently over Dana’s inert form.
NINE
Saturday, 6:33 a.m.
Gwen walks with Riley back to their room as if in a trance. She can’t seem to take it all in. Dana is dead, just like that. She might have fallen down those stairs and died while Gwen was in David’s room last night. It’s possible she was already lying at the bottom of the stairs on the first floor when she left his room on the second floor and climbed to the third floor to her own room. How fleeting and precious life is, she realizes. You never know when it may be snatched from you, just when you’re least expecting it. Dana had everything to live for, Gwen thinks. It’s too horrible. It makes her realize that she should try to enjoy every moment. Live life to the fullest. She hasn’t been very good at that. Maybe it’s time to try. Maybe it’s time to let go of the baggage, the guilt, and try to live her life, she thinks. Maybe last night is a new beginning for her. She feels a surging warmth and happiness inside about David that she can’t help, even though Dana is dead.
She’d wanted so much to go to him just now. But it would have been completely inappropriate. They’d managed a warm glance at one another, but that was it. There was time. They would be together again.
Riley won’t like it that she was with David last night. Gwen knows that, but Riley is her friend, not her keeper. Riley should be happy for her that she’s met someone. Gwen was always happy for Riley when she met someone, and Gwen usually didn’t have anyone special herself. She’s sorry it had to happen when they were supposed to be spending time together this weekend, but you must take good things when and where you find them. They are rare enough. Dana’s dreadful accident has brought this home to her. Riley should understand that. It’s not like she planned it this way.
They reach the room and Riley closes the door behind her. Gwen looks up at her warily, waiting for her to say something. When she doesn’t, Gwen reaches for some clothes from her overnight bag. She would like a shower, but that seems out of the question. The water will be freezing.
“There’s something I need to say,” Riley says at last, her voice serious, as she pulls a top on over her head and flips her long hair over her shoulders.
Here it comes, Gwen thinks.
“That attorney, David Paley.”
“What about him?” Gwen’s voice comes out more sharply than she intended.
“Did you sleep with him?”
“Actually, yes, I did.” She turns and glares at Riley. “Why, is that a problem? I’m a grown-up. I don’t recall ever having a problem with any of your flings.” She zips up her jeans with an angry snap, and reaches for a thick sweater. She adds, “God knows there were enough of them.”
“But you don’t know anything about him.”
“Yes I do. He’s David Paley, a defense attorney from New York City. And a very nice man.” She can’t help adding, “And we’re good together.”
“Gwen, sit down for a minute,” Riley says, sitting down on her bed.
Gwen slumps down tiredly on the bed across from Riley and starts pulling on warm socks. She refuses to look at her, to show that she is listening. She doesn’t want to listen. Riley should mind her own business. How quickly things have changed this weekend. She was supposed to be taking care of Riley, but somehow Riley is trying to reestablish herself in the role of her protector. Gwen doesn’t like it.
“I don’t know what it is, but something about him is bothering me,” Riley says, clearly tense.
Gwen looks up at her and says, in a voice that shows she means it, “Riley—I don’t want to hear it.”
Riley bites her tongue and finishes getting dressed in silence.
* * *
• • •
David returns to his room briefly to dress. His mind is racing. So much has happened in such a short time. Meeting Gwen. Now this awful accident. That looks like it might not be an accident.
He’s learned to trust his instincts after all these years as a criminal lawyer. And he knows it’s not actually that easy to die from a fall down a flight of stairs. Unless the neck is broken. And he’s pretty sure Dana’s neck was not broken. He thinks the cause of death was the blow to the head. And to die from a blow to the head from falling down the stairs, you have to fall in a particular way. You have to strike your head hard against the newel post, for instance. But it seems to him that she struck her head hard against the edge of the bottom step in a peculiar way.
It doesn’t look like an accident at all. It looks to him like murder.
Matthew, simply as the dead woman’s fiancé, is the most obvious suspect. David considers Matthew’s reaction. Either it was completely genuine, or Matthew is a very good actor. David knows better than to underestimate anyone. He knows that people are complicated; life is complicated.
His own life is complicated. He’d intended to stay away from Gwen once he learned that her friend Riley had been a journalist with the New York Times. He didn’t need the trouble. But then she’d sought him out in the library—and it was the most pleasant evening he’s spent in years. It seemed so natural, so right, when she came upstairs with him. He unlocked the door and closed it behind them, and then it was inevitable. Somehow they’d found the bed. He’d felt himself come alive after years of being alone. He somehow sensed that she felt the same way.
He’s been so lonely since his wife died.
Saturday, 6:55 a.m.
Beverly follows her husband to the staircase. They’ve hastily thrown on s
And then, when they are home again, with all this drama and tragedy behind them, they will slip into old patterns, avoiding what’s important, carrying on the way they should. The way they must. She’s a little surprised at how, even in the face of something as calamitous as a young woman’s unexpected death, she still considers her own interests first. But then, she didn’t really know her. She suspects Henry is grateful to have something to distract them from themselves this weekend, too, rather than spending it arguing with his wife and blowing his comfortable existence apart.
They arrive at the landing and she recoils when she sees the body still lying at the bottom of the stairs, covered by the sheet. She hadn’t expected it to be there. Why haven’t they moved her, taken her away somewhere, where they don’t have to see her? She shudders involuntarily. They make their appalled way down and step around the corpse, deliberately looking elsewhere, and hurry to the dining room.
When she and Henry enter the dining room, everyone turns toward them. Lauren is standing by the coffee station, pouring herself a cup from a carafe. Beside her is her boyfriend, Ian, who for once isn’t smiling. Gwen is standing by herself, but Riley is hovering nearby. Beverly doesn’t see Matthew anywhere. The woman writer, Candice, is off in a corner by herself, drinking coffee and observing everyone with a sharp eye. She’s not hiding behind a magazine this morning. The attorney stands quietly away from everyone else, looking troubled and sipping coffee.