The host and the hostages- Victor Douglas story one

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…