Rochelle
peeped out of the window and saw a truck full of cartons and furniture passing
by. “What is all that commotion?” she asked her maid. After all, the trucks
rarely visited those posh areas.
“The
white hall manor has been taken by someone madam” replied Grace the maid while
placing Rochelle’s freshly laundered clothes into her wardrobe.
Rochelle
pretended to look unconcerned but she really hoped it would be someone
good-looking. Life for Rochelle was not easy, first of all she was very
selective and eventually when she did find someone of her type, he either
lacked money or was much older. Being accustomed to the luxuries all her life
Rochelle couldn't live below her current standards.
It was in the evening that she went into the kitchen to tell her maid what she would like to eat for dinner when she spotted her at the door talking to someone she couldn’t see. Rochelle stepped forward and asked in a carrying voice " Who is it Grace?"
"Madam it’s the... it’s the new neighbor” she said taken aback to see her mistress down there.
“Hmm
ill see who it is, you go see the kitchen “said Rochelle and turned to
look at the guest.
Rochelle couldn't believe what she saw... standing there was a young man about six foot tall with ruffled dark hair and a dimple that was very prominent despite the fact that there was a thin layer of hair upon his cheeks.
"Hi! Um...I am the new guy here. “He explained unnecessarily.
" Oh!" replied Rochelle realizing that her mouth was slightly open.
“Why
don’t you come in?” she asked him recovering herself.
“Oh!
I would have loved to, but you know I just shifted today so I’ve got some
unpacking to do.” he said in that smooth accented voice. His green eyes
captured her completely as he talked
“By
the way, I came here to invite you to the house warming party I’m holding
tomorrow at my place … all the other neighbors are invited too. Hope you would
be able to make it, I must dash now…” he checked his watch distractedly “I
would have sent the butler, but that would have been rude” he finished smiling
faintly, running a hand through his auburn hair.
“Um…
sure… your name?” Rochelle managed to ask him.
“Oh
I’m soooo sorry” he said the dimple returning “I’m Scott, Scott Evans.” He
extended his hand.
“I’m
Rochelle Burke” she said shaking his warm hand.
“Okay
then? I’ll see you tomorrow” he said as he left.
She
stood standing there for a long time after he had gone, her head inclined onto
the side of the door, and realized she was smiling. Suddenly she wanted to be
angry on her maid. What was she lingering at the door for?
With
this thought in mind she went straight into the kitchen and confronted a scared
looking Grace rather aggressively as she asked the maid the reason for not
calling Rochelle immediately on the door when a guest came.
“But
no!” said Rochelle “You were too busy gawking at him!”
“No
madam… I haven’t … I didn’t … well madam If you have to ask me … I must tell… I
think I’ve seen his face somewhere before”
Grace
blurted out.
“Hah!”
called out Rochelle “as if people of such elite status wander about the streets
in the slum you people live in!”
Rochelle
had touched a nerve. Grace did not reply but lowered her eyes.
“Now
would you hurry up with those spaghettis? I’m starving “
She
said as she headed towards her wardrobe to decide what she would wear the next
day.
Rochelle
rang the doorbell at the white hall manor at seven o clock sharp the following
evening, though she was a little disappointed at the door being opened by the butler
instead of Scott himself, who stared at her as she made her way inside.
As
she found the host and made a bee lie towards him, she noticed heads turning
towards her. But whatever the impact there was on the other guests of her red
dress, her diamond brooch and her pearl necklace… it was all lost upon Scott.
Either
he is used to of watching girls like her or he is already committed thought
Rochelle bitterly. For although Scott did smile and greet her politely and
asked her how she was, his eyes didn’t even gave a glance-full towards her. He
seemed somewhat distracted, pre occupied.
The
party went on consisting of a fine dinner of roasted turkey and mashed potatoes
with black currant pudding for deserts. Rochelle sipped her grape juice moodily
as the host neglected her, while the (senior citizens some would call them)
more mature gentlemen kept her company by praising her extravagantly.
Rochelle
was on a point of deciding whether she would like better to smash the pudding
onto the face of the “respected gentleman” or to throw a glass full of juice
onto him, when she noticed something.
Scott
had just left into a secluded room with Vanessa, another neighbor, who although
in her late thirties looked twenty. Rochelle decided to follow, and with narrow
eyes and an open mouth she reached the door they had exited together.
Three
things happened in quick succession. The door that Rochelle was heading towards
opened, something heavy dropped by her side sending a splash of something wet
into her eyes and a heavy set of hands grasped her pulled her towards it and
placed a sharp dagger on her throat.
She
used her free hand to wipe out the substance away from her eyes, it was red in
color. The next thing she saw was the dead body of Vanessa lying sprawled over
the ground, split open from the throat. Rochelle did not need to look back to
see who was holding her, his smooth accent gave away his identity.
“Nobody
move a single muscle! Nobody leaves the manor ever after! We shall start with
Miss Burke…whoops we already started from Miss Vanessa Harris”… “But don’t you
worry my dear” he said running the tip of the sharp dagger down her throat “your
turn will come soon.”
Mean
while in Rochelle’s house the phone was ringing for a hundredth time, for Grace
had finally remembered where she had seen Scott’s face before. She kept on
dialing Rochelle praying for her mistress’s safety, a news paper in front of
her with a picture of Scott named Carlisle Hewitt arrested on charges of his
wife’s murder, with immense wealth, bailed a few weeks ago due to proving
himself to be mentally incapable using the best lawyers money could buy. Grace
couldn’t take it any more; she readied herself for the action.
Rochelle
stood as still as she could, breathing only when she started suffocating,
Scott’s attitude towards Rochelle had created an upsurge of anger in the crowd,
some didn’t even care if he was a mad man. Rochelle noticed the gentleman who
previously sat with her approaching fast towards them. She could do nothing but
watch in horror as Scott easily pushed Rochelle onto the ground and stabbed the
gentleman into his chubby belly three times staining all his clothes.
The
gentleman fell with a thud beside Rochelle. She had no choice to accept when
Scott extended a hand towards her, to make her his hostage again. She was about
to oblige, when the butler came running and fell onto the side of Scott with
all his weight. The dagger went flying under one of the chairs.
They
ran for it, another gentleman (her old neighbor Mr. Perkins) and the butler.
But Scott simply produced a revolver from his pocket and shot the butler, who
was nearer the weapon, on his forehead. Rochelle being thrown far away in the
fight was neglected once again, and to her horror, she saw Mr. Perkins serving
as the next hostage.
“I
fear you people outnumbering me” said the mad voice of Scott Evans “and what
better solution to that I have other than reducing the number?” Rochelle closed
her eyes, her ears and her mind. She was about to be witness of yet another
murder, of his elderly innocent neighbor. But however well she covered her
ears, she could not stifle the deafening shot of the pistol.
She
opened her eyes only when she heard some people cheering.
For
the shot had not been the cause of the death of Mr. Perkins but that of Scott.
The door was smashed open a few minutes later, and through her now wet eyes she
saw the smart figure of local detective Victor Douglas approaching closely
followed by Grace the maid…
It
took some time to sink in… but it did. They were safe… they were alive…
