The late hour and lack of proof gives Gemma pause when she gets to the suite’s door, her hand repeatedly rising in vain to knock. She wishes she had her badge or some way to identify herself as a police officer. The temptation to steal an employee uniform and try to trick the couple into leaving is strong enough to make her go back to the elevator. Gemma returns to the door when she considers that a staff member could catch her and let Dawn know about her solving the riddle. Believing that time is short, she knocks and takes a step back to give whoever looks through the peephole a clear view. She keeps her hands in the open to prove she is not armed and turns until she hears a chain being undone.

A bald man in a monogramed robe stands in the doorway, his moustache bristling in a way that the detective thought was only possible in cartoons. The faint aroma of pizza drifts off Demarcus even though he shows signs of having recently been in the shower. He has a small gun in his hand, but keeps the weapon aimed at his unexpected guest’s knee instead of a more vital area. In contrast to her portly husband, Alicia Lang is elegant and slender with braided hair down to her waist. With only a few wrinkles on her face and no gray in her tresses, she looks much younger than Demarcus. Gemma notices that the businessman keeps himself between herself and his wife.

“I have reason to believe someone is trying to kill you,” the detective says, which causes the gun to aim for her head. Carefully holding up her hands, she nervously licks her lips and prays there are no sudden noises to startle the man. “My name is Gemma Cook and I’m a New York City detective. I don’t have my badge with me because I’m undercover. We believe a serial killer is operating out of Heaven’s Nest and you are the next target. The person told us that they are going after someone who made a kingdom out of circles, squares, and triangles. That would be pizza, which is your business. Feel free to let me inside since it’s awkward standing out here and rambling.”

“I think we’re fine like this,” Demarcus replies, flicking the safety off his gun. The man stops when his wife lowers his arm and gives him a kiss on the cheek. “Don’t tell me you believe this woman. She has no badge and I smell alcohol on her breath. I bet she’s going to ask for money to protect us.”

“Actually, I was going to politely suggest that you leave in the morning and stay at another hotel,” the anxious officer interjects. She closes her eyes when the gun is back in her face, the opening for a strike still visible in her mind. “Please believe what I’m saying. You’re in danger and I’m risking my cover by warning you.”

“She does seem determined,” Alicia whispers, sliding between her husband and the door frame. She reaches out to touch the other woman’s face, her manicured nails grazing a sweaty cheek. “I wonder if she rushed up here. Still, I do agree with Demarcus that we need more than your word. Are we being targeted for money?”

Gemma takes some comfort in the questioning because it means they are giving her a chance to save their lives. “From what we can tell, the murderer simply enjoys killing. He or she has begun playing a game with the police by leaving hints. Yes, I know it sounds like something out of a movie. This person has gotten away with a lot and is getting bolder. That means the targets are becoming more high profile.”

“We were lead to believe that a cook was responsible for the latest incident,” Demarcus interrupts while putting his weapon away. Adjusting his robe, the businessman gently guides his wife back into the room. “That massacre is all over the news. According to the police, the killer was already confirmed and apprehended.”

“Yes and no. He drugged the bridesmaid, but was killed by someone else.”

“You’re right. This does sound like a ridiculous movie plot.”

“Not too surprising if you consider that we’re dealing with an unbalanced individual.”

“This is our ten year anniversary and I will not cut the trip short.”

Before the argument can continue, the distant elevator dings and begins to open for one of the maids. Not wanting to get caught, Gemma tackles Demarcus into the room and closes the door with her foot. She gets off him immediately and remains on her knees to make sure the couple knows she is not going to attack. Reaching into her pocket, the detective takes out her wallet and opens it to her driver’s license. Alicia takes the offering to examine it closely, but quickly hands it back with a shrug. Demarcus snatches it and thumbs through all of the bills and cards before pulling out a picture of Gemma in her uniform. Politely putting everything back in order, he gives the wallet back to the detective and puts his gun on a nearby table. The man takes a seat and takes his wife by the hand, a somberness coming over the couple.

“Didn’t know I had that, but there’s the proof that I’m who I say I am,” Gemma replies while she goes to put her ear against the door. The sound of the maid’s cart can still be heard moving down the hallway, stopping only for a minute as the woman knocks on a door. “I’m really sorry about all of this. If it helps, I can leave the number of my partner. His name is Max Boros and he can put in the paperwork to reimburse you for the trouble. My point is that you really shouldn’t stay in this hotel.”

“We’re only going to be in town for one more day,” Demarcus says, reaching over to rub his wife’s arm. Unnerved by the threat, he takes a sip of lemonade that has become watered down by the melted ice. “I still don’t know what to make of this, but you appear serious enough that I don’t want to take a risk. Checking out one day early shouldn’t be suspicious. We can always tell Dawn that business has called us back home. There are some sights we wish to see, but I don’t feel comfortable telling you where we might be.”

“I completely understand,” the detective states while handing a card to Alicia. Hearing the maid go into another room, she cracks the door open and takes a peek. “Sorry if this is rude, but you don’t have to trust me as long as you believe me. My only concern is that you two are safe and away from whatever is going on in this hotel. Have a happy anniversary and enjoy your trip home.”

Feeling a little foolish for the dramatics, Gemma sneaks into the hallway and takes a step toward the elevator. She stops when a door opens and part of the maid’s cart creeps out, the woman stopping to talk to the people inside. Blocked from the easiest way out, the detective turns around to sprint for the stairwell. The sound of squeaking wheels can be heard and she looks over her shoulder to see the maid stepping into the open. Gemma realizes that there is no way for her to escape unseen, so she tries to squeeze into a doorway and wait for the woman to go into another room.

With a faint shifting of stone, a ceiling tile falls on the maid and drives her head into her chest. Horrified by the sight, Gemma is about to call for help when the corpse gets back up and grips the cart. The phantom moves ahead, banging into the walls and tripping since it cannot see through its ribcage. Squeaking wheels continue to follow the detective as she rushes for the stairwell, the sudden fear making her taste iron on her tongue. Elbowing her way through the doorway, Gemma glances over her shoulder to see that the maid is back to normal and still talking to two of the guests.

“I think I’m done drinking for a while,” the detective mutters while trying to stop herself from vomiting over the railing.

Each with their own platter of large crab legs, the pair relax at a table next to a window that gives them a clear view of the street. Gemma admits that talking to Roy has helped clear her head of a few questions. Both of them are sure that Dawn is involved in the disappearances and killings even if she is not committing the acts herself. Comparing notes on the Las Vegas and New York City events, they have uncovered several similarities, including the repeated mentioning of a husband that nobody has seen. Neither of them are sure if the man exists or not, but they consider that he is the real killer and Dawn is the one feeding him targets. Having only conjecture and assumptions to work off of, Gemma and Roy get more outlandish with their ideas as the dinner progresses. By the time most of the other dinners have left, the pair are laughing about zombies in the basement and a potential alien invasion. Waving a waiter over, they order more drinks and food that are from the more expensive side of the menu.

“So I took this case because it seemed like an easy paycheck,” Roy explains, using his finger to swirl the ice in his drink. Licking the digit clean, the man returns to battling the crab legs that he swears are more trouble than they are worth. “With so many deaths and disappearances, you’d think the evidence would be easy to find. Not to mention the suspect bolted from the city. She even demolished her casino overnight, which nobody noticed. Maybe Ms. Addison is better at hiding her tracks than I realized.”

“She’s definitely one that shouldn’t be underestimated,” Gemma replies as she nurses her drink. With more ease than her companion, she breaks open a long crab leg and meticulously peels the shell away. “The first two cases weren’t suspicious since accidents happen. It wasn’t until I tried to talk to Ms. Addison that something felt wrong. Can’t put my finger on what it is about her that gives me the creeps. I thought it was her casualness in regards to the deaths, but it’s just a vibe I get from her.”

“She does seem to be carefree and eccentric,” the private investigator points out, scanning the restaurant for any sign of the hotelier. The feeling of being watched returns until he spots a waitress who swiftly returns to the kitchen. “One of the things that I remember from Vegas is that her employees were almost fanatically loyal. Some claimed that they would rather die than betray her. Others actually did die instead of talking to me. Needless to say, I don’t recommend interviewing the staff too aggressively. Then again, you appear to be some kind of pet to her, which you haven’t explained. Have I earned your trust?”

Finishing her drink, Gemma gazes out the window and slips her hand into the pocket that has her notes. Her mind goes back to the riddle that she has yet to figure out, the words seeming more gibberish than hints. Watching Roy by his reflection, the detective can see him patiently waiting for a response. It is the same expression he has had every time he brings up the topic, which seems to be on the hour. Part of her still refuses to put him in any more danger than he already is, the man’s own hunt for Dawn risking the woman’s attention. As someone who has gained the interest of the whimsical serial killer, Gemma is not sure she wants to share her situation with another. Running a finger along the edge of one of her notes, she realizes that she might not have the luxury of being safe and there is nobody else she can turn to for help.

“Ms. Addison seems to think of me as a rival or challenge or simply someone worthy to play with,” Gemma explains with a tired sigh. Turning back to the man, she hands him the notes she took in the morning while holding onto the page with the riddle. “She liked that I was going after her and I believe she had a hand in my vacation. The woman was far too quick to make me an offer to stay here. Then she admitted that she plans on killing somebody and wants to see if I can stop her. That isn’t enough to bring her in because it would be my word against hers. My boss might not side with me since I’ve been rather aggressive towards her, which means I need solid evidence.”

Roy stares open-mouthed at the detective, making her blush until he clears his throat and takes a drink. “Somebody has been watching too many TV shows and movies. Not you in case you were wondering. Geez, I don’t even know how to respond to that. Total brain basher to learn you’re being toyed with by a psycho.”

“It would be easier if I was her target, but she’s going for other people,” she says, holding out the last piece of paper. She unfolds it with one hand, but refuses to let it go out of fear of losing the only lead she has. “This is a riddle about Ms. Addison’s next victim. I am young and old. My kingdom made from circles, squares, and triangles. Many blindly praise me when I create smiles. Others despise me when I forge tears. The only guess I have is that it’s a celebrity or someone who runs a big business. Considering she once talked to me about losing her unicorn, it could even be about a fictional character.”

“I always liked riddles and this one is a challenge,” the black-haired man states, pulling out his own notebook to copy the riddle. Putting spaces between each line, he taps at his temple with the pencil eraser. “You have to take it sentence by sentence. Personally, I would start with the second part because it’s not as vague as the others. The target has made a kingdom that involves those specific shapes. I would say construction. The smiles could be from designing playgrounds and hospitals. In that case, tears would be when the person demolishes something. Maybe they got in trouble with environmentalists?”

“I’m praying she doesn’t go after someone that is high profile.”

“That would definitely make a circus out of the situation.”

“There’s an architect down the hall from me, but she’s pretty young.”

“Yeah, that age thing is throwing me off.”

“What if it means the person is middle-aged?”

“That makes sense.”

“Wait a second. Wouldn’t construction involve more than those three shapes?”

“Could be a specialty.”

Frustration and anger setting in, Gemma begins doodling the shapes on the back of the riddle page. The sloppy drawings do nothing to help, so she tries to make a picture using only circles, triangles, and squares. She can hear Roy chuckling at some of the combinations that remind both of them of a child’s depiction of a house. Realizing that she is only making potential buildings, Gemma attempts to draw things that could be logos or pieces of art. It is not until she puts a circle inside a square and a triangle within the circle that Roy takes her hand. He is still staring at the image as he moves her pencil away and adds more triangles to the middle of the drawing.

“This is ridiculous,” Gemma mutters as she collects the rest of her notes. Chugging her drink in one gulp, she waves at a waiter to get her another. “Do I have to wait for her to order a pizza and try to kill the delivery boy? I guess people would smile when it arrives and get angry if it’s late. Feel free to explain the kingdom and age thing.”

“One of the guests owns a national chain of pizzerias,” Roy answers, keeping his voice to a whisper. Seeing the waiter approach, he finishes his drink and waits for the man to leave before continuing. “His name is Demarcus Lang. He’s a young man who married a slightly older woman. The shapes are a box, a pie, and a slice. People blindly praise this man is a way of saying they appreciate his work without thinking of him specifically. The tears are probably because pizza isn’t considered a healthy food and can make you fat. Not that such a risk would stop me.”

“And how do you know about this guy?” asks the detective while sliding her hand toward a fork. Her suspicions are removed when her companion pulls out his phone and shows her pictures of the guest registry. “I can’t believe I didn’t think of that. Mind if I ask how you got the registry? From what I saw, it was behind the front desk.”

With an impish smile, the proud investigator takes out a pen to write the room number on Gemma’s palm. “They aren’t too careful with their uniforms around here. Snatched one on my first day and snuck around whenever Ms. Addison was at a party or went up to her room. The pictures were tougher, but I only had to look like I was texting.”

“Great. I think it’s best that I do this alone and avoid bringing my new friend’s attention on you,” Gemma says while sliding out of her chair. She moves to check for her gun before remembering that she is unarmed. “Thanks for all of your help. Feel free to order more stuff tonight and put it on my tab. Just tell them that I went to the bathroom or something. Talk to you tomorrow.”

Stanley Hotel

Gemma taps at the edge of her plate, which is devoid of the fried calamari that she put on Dawn’s tab. Several glasses are on the table, half of them having contained water while the rest held a mixed drink randomly chosen from the menu. She can see the hotelier standing behind the front desk in an old-fashioned bellhop outfit that is one size too small. The friendly woman does not appear to be doing anything more than greet guests and whisper into the ears of her smiling employees. Even from so far away, the detective gets the sense that her target is aware of her presence. The sensation sends a chill up her spine, so she orders another drink to take the edge off her nerves. With Dawn having no consistent schedule, most of the Gemma’s notes are useless. Copying what she can still use to a fresh sheet of paper, she tears up the rest and leaves them as a pile on the table.

Leaving a decent tip and taking her drink, the red-haired woman decides to give up on her stakeout. She considers going to the pool, but there are no empty lounge chairs and she is too worn out to bother getting her swimsuit. Gemma decides to visit the game room downstairs, which forces her to abandon the margarita at the door. The bright lights and loud noises give her a slight headache, so she rests near a water fountain until the alcohol’s effect is over. Two of the older kids watch the recovering detective, the pair whispering and giggling about the woman’s appearance. Fishing some bills out of her pocket, Gemma grabs a paper cup and gets enough tokens to claim one of the shooting games. The laughing teenagers are silenced when she takes out the first wave of enemies without missing or taking a hit.

“Care for a second player?” a black-haired man asks as he approaches the machine. He rolls up the sleeves of his dress shirt and places his own cup of tokens on the console. “I beat the first three installments of this series, but I haven’t gotten to the fourth. So, do you use a gun in your real job?”

“Yes, but I’ve played this game before. Memorized most of the enemy locations for the first level,” Gemma replies before cursing at taking a hit. Giving the stranger a sideways glance, the detective senses that he is going to hit on her. “Normally, I’d guess about your job and reason for approaching me. This has been a long day, so I would prefer you be honest and upfront. The alternative is that I do nothing to stop the bad guys from killing you.”

“That sounds like flirting to me,” the handsome man replies with a grin. Joining the game in time to fight the first boss, he teasingly shoots whatever target Gemma aims for. “As you can see, I can handle myself. Still, you are right that life is too short for games that don’t involve tokens and controllers. My name is Roy Caro and I’m in town for a dentist convention. Not one myself, but I design various instruments that makes their jobs easier. The reason I approached you is because you’re attractive, not jailbait, have good taste in games, and not likely to talk business with me.”

“All very interesting,” the detective says as she adds more coins to the machine. She frowns at having taken a shot as soon as she continues. “You know, I’m not really interested in doing anything other than relaxing. My boss put me on administrative leave for harassing a suspect, so I’m not in the best of moods.”

“What about a free dinner with no strings attached?”

“Not wanting to take a hint, huh?”

“Let’s just say you’ve gained my interest.”

Letting the game end, Gemma heads for another game that is far in the back and ignored by the kids. The images on the sides have been drawn on, the visible parts having become faded and cracked long ago. It is an old action game with joysticks that click and buttons that have managed to retain their vivid colors. The token comes out of the return slot twice before the machine finally keeps it and brings her to the character screen. A dark spot in the top right of the screen makes it impossible for her to see how many lives she has left. Unsurprisingly, Roy joins the game without asking and relaxes now that they are in a more secluded spot.

“I don’t believe your story,” Gemma states as she pounds an attack button that works only half of the time. She can feel something crunch below the console and the controls become more responsive. “You have a gun hidden under your shirt, but no badge. The outline on your back pocket looks like handcuffs. I checked what local conventions there were this week to see who would be around the hotel. Nothing for dentists. Care to try again?”

“Hard to imagine you pissing someone off enough to get put on vacation,” Roy replies with a smirk. He pulls out his wallet and flips it open to show a private investigator license. “I’ve been hired by some people in Las Vegas to look into Dawn Addison. They think she’s responsible for their friends and family disappearing. Not to mention a lot of money, but only one of my many clients cares about that. I’ve been at this place for a week with no luck. Then you show up and strange things begin happening. To be honest, I didn’t think you were involved until I saw you spend today staring at our mutual friend. Odd since I thought that chef was responsible for the killings.”

“Not everything is as it seems, Mr. Caro,” the detective replies, her tongue sticking out as she focuses on the game. With a hum, the screen wavers for an instant that costs her a life and another token. “I believe Ms. Addison is responsible for the deaths and disappearance. I pushed too hard, got in trouble, and she invited me to stay here. That’s all I’m willing to share with you right now.”

Roy stops playing and eats as tick of gum while he watches his character die. “How about we spend the day together? Then you can decide on sharing the story with me when I treat you to dinner.”

“I’m putting everything I eat and drink on Ms. Addison’s tab,” Gemma says, giving up on the games. Walking toward the exit, she hands her remaining tokens to a little girl that is arguing with her brother. “So a change of plans. You and I will hang out today. If my partner at the precinct tells me that you are who you say you are then we have dinner. Forget chivalry here and enjoy doing a financial flip off to the woman you’re after.”

“You seem oddly accommodating.”

“I work better when I have someone to talk to.”

“What exactly are you involved in?”

“The case of both our lives.”

Roy offers his arm when they come to the stairs, which results in him getting left behind as Gemma takes the steps by twos. Coming to the busy lobby, the pair stop when they see Dawn staring at them from the front desk. The hotelier scratches the corner of her lips before giving one of the clerks a kiss on the cheek. Grabbing several random bags as she goes, the fast-walking woman hurries to her private elevator. Hurling the luggage inside, Dawn walks backwards to keep an eye on Gemma and Roy. They can still sense her staring at them after the doors close and a faint rumble shakes the hotel.