Mystery At The Five Stars

By Mary Jane Wass

What would you do if you saw a corpse under a bed?

 

This thrilling mystery follows the adventure of Marco Fantini after a shocking experience at the hotel he works at. Who did it? Why? What will happen next?

With humor, suspense and a little lyricism, the author turns its focus to New York City as fascinating scenario of a plot of great impact.

 

You'll find out, page by page, each new revelation more shocking than the last, as we follow Marco and his trusted friends and family through this intense mystery.

• Language: English
• Publisher: V2 Publishing Company
• Release date: Sep 7, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201964092

Mary Jane Wass

Mary Jane Wass, friendly known as MJ, lives in Panama City with her husband, an astonishing beautiful sun and her two dogs. Before she started writing mysteries and thrillers for Young & Adult, MJ decided to take the risks and adventures of motherhood. And she always says: "it completely paid off!" Now, and just to shake things up, she decided to spread her fantastic stories to the millennial’s community. She now writes full-time.

Book preview

Room 222

Marco pressed the bell of room 222. Soon the door opened to reveal the wide, smiling face of the Baron. Wrapped in a blue robe, he looked plump and comfortable. Bring me the usual newspapers, he said kindly, passing the bellboy a crumpled note.

Oh no, that’s not necessary, sir. I can’t accept this, Marco replied, putting the bill back into Baron’s hand. You're right! Just a moment. When he opened the wardrobe to get his wallet, Marco saw through the mirror on the wardrobe door that the Baron had company: a small Indian man, washing his hands in the bathroom sink. It must be one of the many people that the Baron helped, the boy thought. The rotund guest of room 222 took time finding his wallet in his jacket pockets, while the bellboy inhaled the various smells wafting from the room: stale cigar smoke, lavender, and apples. The little man in the mirror dried his hands on some paper towels and threw them in the trash can. He noticed Marco watching him in the wardrobe mirror and, startled, he closed the door of the bathroom with his elbow. The Baron reappeared with even more money for Marco and a new smile. The change is yours, my boy. Marco thanked him profusely and dashed down the carpeted hallway of the Emperor Park Hotel, boarding the elevator to go back downstairs.

Still new to the job, Marco hurried to the lobby, following his mental map of the building, not wanting to keep a guest waiting. At the entrance to the building, wearing his sleek navy-blue uniform with gold trim, he saw Frank (Francisco), the porter. Frank was an old friend of his family and had gotten Marco his job at the hotel. When joining Frank at work for the first time two months ago, Marco was utterly dazzled by the immense and rich lobby of the Park (as the employees had nicknamed the Emperor Park Hotel). In the Bronx, where he was born and lived, he had never seen anything like it. That's a five-star establishment, the doorman told him proudly. Five star? Marco asked, confused. Frank looked at him with a mixture of what looked like disappointment and exasperation, and explained that the quality of hotels is measured by the quantity of stars. Five is the maximum, granted especially to world-class establishments.

It was a Friday when Marco started working at the Emperor Park Hotel as bellboy and messenger, working the shift from 8 a.m. to 6 p.m. After work, he returned home, hurriedly ate dinner, and dashed off to night school. The hours felt long, and his legs were often tired by the end of the day, but the tips made it more than worth the discomfort. He even received tips in foreign currency sometimes; he quickly became familiar with the euro, peso, riyal, yen, and pounds, and the Park even had an exchange office where he could trade them in for US dollars.

It took Marco a month to become familiar with the first twenty floors of the hotel, and he had barely had the opportunity to explore the garages, laundry, food storage, cellar, and storerooms. It was not, however, these dusty utility areas that Marco was interested in; he loved to wander through the lobby, always full of arriving guests and a confusion of suitcases, labels, and languages. He loved to walk by the pool on the fourth floor, with its shimmering chlorine-smelling waters; the restaurant, with its whimsical smells; the luxurious nightclub and lounge. He was especially fond of the tropical garden, like a small jungle, where they served ice cream and sandwiches. There was the sauna, with its bamboo and smooth stones, and the shopping block, with its sophisticated stores. And at the very top, there was the beautiful bar-terrace, with a dance floor and a glazed gazebo, where the view let you see all of Manhattan, beautiful and glittering no matter what the light or weather was like.

Most of the Park's guests also seemed to have five stars stamped on their foreheads. There was no shortage of rich or important people; politicians, famous athletes, artists, actors, celebrities. Sometimes the media swarmed them in the lobby or outside on the sidewalk, and they fled, avoiding photos and interviews. Within his first two weeks of work, Marco carried the bags of Jennifer Lawrence up to her suite, and he took a bottle of mineral water to one of the kings of Middle Eastern oil, dressed in a flowing thobe. There were also guests who lived at the hotel: the owner, Evelyn, a rich and lonely widow; Mister O'Hara, who ran a large company from his room despite being quite old and sick, and almost never left; the dwarf Hector, who had been a famous child actor; and the Baron. Certainly, Baron was just the nickname of the fat man who sent Marco to buy newspapers; he was a generous donor and benefactor of countless welfare institutions. Marco returned with the newspapers and rang the bell of room 222 once again. This time, the Baron did not immediately open the door.

Behind the closed door, Marco heard noises. Who is it? called the Baron, which he never did.

It's me, the bellboy. I brought the newspapers.

The door opened slightly and slowly, just enough to show the Baron’s plump face. He was extremely pale, but still wore a forced smile, and he must have been terribly nervous because his trembling hands dropped the newspapers. Marco bent down to pick them up when he noticed, under the bed, two feet wearing black shoes pointing toward the door. He picked up the newspapers and as he stood up, he noticed that there was a red spot, which looked very much like blood, on the Baron’s robe. Thank you, said the Baron, looking rather dazed, clutching the newspapers. He hurriedly and abruptly closed the door.

Even after the door was closed, Marco stood there motionless, trying to collect his thoughts and process what he had seen. It was at this moment that his problems began.

Investigation

Marco stumbled down to the lobby, hoping he wouldn’t get any calls. He needed to tell Frank what he had seen in 222. Frank was on the sidewalk, hailing a taxi for some foreign guests. He was highly regarded by management for many reasons, but primarily because he spoke so many languages, even Japanese. Frank strode up as soon as he saw Marco. Tell Ms. Stella that I'll be there on Sunday to help with lunch, he said, smiling. Marco was somehow more scared now than he was when he saw the shocking display in 222. Frank, do you know what I saw? Frank studied Marco’s face and seemed to sense that he was nervous, but it wasn’t uncommon for bellboys to occasionally witness certain sensitive things. In fact, the perfect messenger has no eyes nor ears, just legs and courtesy. A naked woman? Frank joked.

No, I think I saw a corpse.

Like... on TV?

It's not a joke, Frank. I saw a corpse under a bed. In apartment 222, the Baron's.

But how did you see this corpse? Marco told Frank everything about his misadventure, from the newspapers to the enormous tip to the nervous man washing his hands. He smiled as guests passed by, but Frank paid close attention and was soon infected by the same anxiety. Calm down and take a deep breath, Marco. Are you sure that’s what you saw?

I saw it, I swear.

The same person who was in the room before?

I don't know, I only saw feet this time. Frank furrowed his brow. He had no idea what to