Three-Way
Detective John Lowe walked, no, stormed, down the hall of the Hotel Cortez with an angry and determined look on his face. His natural expression. Quickly, he came to the elevator that led to the hotel's lobby and pressed the button. Once it arrived, however, he wished he had taken the stairs instead. Inside was Sally, the hotel's resident junkie whore who loved to play with the detective's head. She was wearing a ratty old fake fur coat, too much makeup, and what she no doubt thought was a seductive look on her face. In her hand, a lit cigarette smoldered.
"Hey, stranger. Long time no see," she said in a raspy, smoke choked voice.
"I'm in a hurry," John said, angrily, as he stepped inside the elevator. He pressed the button for the lobby and then waited to see if Sally would get out on this floor.
She didn't.
"What's the rush, sugar?" she asked as the elevator started to descend.
"Official police business," said John, determined not to have a conversation with her. Last time he and this woman had been in this elevator together, things had gotten weird.
"I thought you were on administrative leave," she sad, and took a drag on her cigarette.
"Who told... How did you... it's none of your business," John said.
"Iris told me you're having guests today. Two women. She told me you told her to call you when they arrived, so I asked her to let me know first. Should I be jealous, John?" asked Sally in a mock hurt voice.
"Be whatever you want to be, but for your information they're just consultants. Hopefully they can help provide me some insight into this murder case I'm working on."
"You mean the case you were working on," corrected Sally.
"AM working on!" shouted John, a sudden rage in his eyes.
"Well, for your sake I hope they CAN help. You need it," said Sally. "Who are they anyway?"
"One is a leading authority on serial Killers. The famous journalist, Lana Winters. The other is a local TV medium, Billie Dean Howard." said John, divulging far more information than he wanted to. Something about sally got under his skin and always made him give up more than he wanted.
"Sounds like a crack team you've assembled," said Sally.
Just then the elevator arrived at the lobby and John stepped out. He turned to Sally to say something to her, something about staying out of his way perhaps, but she wasn't there anymore. John closed his eyes and shook his head, but then decided to ignore the weirdness as he had been doing since he arrived at the Cortez and focus on the job at hand. He turned back around as the elevator doors closed and walked over to the check-in desk where a short older lady with huge glasses stood.
"Iris, you called?" he said.
"Your guests are right over there," said Iris, gesturing towards some chairs in the middle of the lobby.
"Thank you, "said John. "And don't tell Sally anything else about me or my work," he added in a stern voice.
Iris just rolled her eyes and went back about her business. John walked over to the two ladies that were seated near each other, but not together, since neither knew the other was coming.
"Hello," said John. "You must be Ms. Winters and Ms. Howard."
Both ladies stood to meet him. Billie Dean was a woman in her forties with long blonde hair and a stylish, yet conservative outfit on. The perfect host for a Lifetime talk show. Lana Winters was in her late seventies and dressed in a dark blue pantsuit accented by some gaudy jewelry. John shook both of their hands.
"Actually it's Mrs," said Lana. "Me and my partner, Marian, were married last Fall."
"Congratulations," said John. "I't's nice to meet you both. I'm really hoping the two of you can..."
John noticed Sally appear again out of the corner of his eye, as suddenly as she had disappeared just a few moments ago. Sally walked up to him and the two woman and draped herself over the detective.
"John, aren't you going to introduce me to your friends?" she cooed into his ear. Her breath smelled like menthol and liquor.
Lana and Billie Dean looked at the junkie with disgust and confusion.
"This is... I don't know this woman," John tried to tell them.
Sally moved away from him and stood next to the other women with a fake look of offense on her face.
John made to yell at her. To tell her to go away, but as he looked at all three women next to one another, a weird sense of familiarity overcame him. Like deja vu, but with people. To him it suddenly seemed like all three women looked alike. He started to breath heavily and sweat for some reason. The journalist and the medium looked concerned, but Sally just began to laugh at his discomfort. John was quickly overtaken by a sense of dread. One that had plagued him at regular intervals ever since coming to the Cortez.
What the hell is going on in this place? he wondered in his panic.
The End