The Suit-or ?

The Suit-or ?

Southern Women (SW): I called the police as I was all alone, I’m a single mom you know, and I hid in my closet until I heard some activity outside. The police came in 10 minutes but, they did that thing where they didn’t use their sirens, so I wasn’t sure when they arrived. Carefully, I peeked out my window and thank God they arrived cause the next thing I saw was her husband, I think it was her husband, being wheeled out in one of those black body bags that you see on TV. I knew it, I thought to myself. I knew he was up to something.

I listened with great interest as the story was slowly unfolding. I worked hard to still my facial muscles, keeping my anonymity in mind. Often, I would close my eyes when trying to take in a story of personal significance. Closed eyes helped me to concentrate and block out all other distractions. Hearing every word was not going to be possible as the words were in whispers directly into each other’s ears save the dramatic effect moments. Hoping to appear asleep or bored, so they would not take the conversation elsewhere. I wouldn’t be able to follow them to another room, as that would make my interest obvious. Nonchalant and sleepy, yes, that was my best demeanor.

The music was live and loud. They hired a 10-piece band with a brass section that sent the sound flowing into the smallest of crevices. There was no place to escape other than the library, just off the opulent lobby. The Hotel was a mix of old-world styling displaying the Renaissance Period in the public rooms, whilst the guest’s room were European modern, tapping into the best of both worlds. Paris is no wall flower and this hotel represented that well.

Her accent was southern American, making this challenge far less difficult. She was blonde, late 40’s, combo hair, teased for height but flat ironed straight. A tall woman of medium build, attractive, but heavily made up, her clothing looked expensive. Mostly Dolce or Chanel. Her companion, a small, framed gentlemen, well dressed in a wool gabardine suit, a bit too warm for April in Paris, but nonetheless, he had an air of wealth. His refinement was obvious and what she lacked made him stand out even further. He appeared to listen intently as she was fluidly whispering.

I was grateful to be in the library where the acoustics were excellent and the sound of the band was muffled in the distance, but the amount of people in the library were dwindling as the band went on break, possibly making me more obvious.

SW: He entered the neighbor’s home she continued, and suddenly the lights went out. I happened to notice him because he was dropped off by a stretch limousine. Of course, that would make me look, why wouldn’t I look? I just never expected to hear gun shots shortly after the house went dark. I don’t know her well, but I always suspected her husband was bent...you know, part of the mob. They aren’t Italian so I don’t know what kind of mob but just the same, he looks like a gangster, perfectly starched white shirts in a dark suit, always in a suit, slicked back hair, cleanly shaven and shiny long nosed brown shoes. She looks like his gun moll, a blonde bombshell. A real Bonnie and Clyde type…you know?

He sat in silence just taking in her words. At times she forgot to whisper perhaps for effect, but it made listening more enjoyable. I wouldn’t consider myself a voyeur but it sure was fun to be a fly on this wall.

SW: She continued…So after the cops took the body away, a bunch of them stayed around a while looking for something. Flashes of red lights kept flicking past my bedroom window. I was unnerved. My son was away at college, for that I am grateful. He is such a brave boy; he might have joined the police on their search. So, rumor had it that the wife was playing around, and her husband was some sort of boss, and she was with one of his subordinates, infuriating him, and causing him to go after his underling but I think, he must have missed, cause I heard that it was his underling that came back to shoot him. So much violence. I hate violence, it’s so scary. I can’t believe it was in my neighborhood. I mean, I live in a nice neighborhood and all, but so nice that a mob boss lives here? No, no way.

Does all this help answer your questions, officer?

Holy crap, he’s an officer?  Something is fishy here! Why would he be questioning her here in Paris if this was a U.S. issue? Hmm, I assumed U.S. because of her accent. Who the hell is she? Who the hell is he? What am I listening to? I tried to remain, silent, eyes closed but this was getting very interesting. I came to Paris to watch my favorite cousin walk down the aisle at the wedding of her dreams.  I thought I left my snooping job at home. My blog has been a bit dry lately, this may be just the juice it needs to rev it back up!

Male voice deep (unknown dialect): Are you aware that they have not caught this gentleman they were seeking for the murder?

SW: Yes, but how do you know that? Are you in Paris for the wedding being held at the hotel? How did you know to approach me? Who are you really?

Male Voice: I can ask you the same question? Why are you here?

SW: I needed a vacation after all the drama. I needed a rest. My therapist suggested a get away that would not remind me of anything at home so my mind can heal. I’m very frightened and I’ve been terrified to sleep in my home for fear that this guy whoever he might be, may return.

Male Voice: Why would he return? That sounds a bit risky to me. That would be a good way to get caught.

SW: And you said, you are familiar with this case, cause why?

Male Voice: Madam, I was there, and I saw you looking directly at me. I am here for you. I followed you here to end my concerns about possible witnesses.

SW: I never saw you before… gasping…..”You’re the killer!”

Gun shots blast open my ear drums. I fall to the floor quickly sliding myself under the couch. I’m frozen in fear. He just shot her. Oh my god.

She’s laying there dead! Oh my god! My heart pounding out of my chest. Terror washes over me causing me… I can’t move. OMG…gasp…. He’s heading my way. He must have seen me and knew that I was listening, this entire time. “Oh my God….