The Penthouse Clue

“Whoa,” she muttered, taking in the scene.

Empty champagne bottles, feather boas, and glittered littered the living room. A half-inflated “Bride to Be” crown lay slumped on the armrest of a velvet couch, and a torn “Congratulations” banner hung lopsided across the patio doors..

“Bachelorette weekend,” she said with a small grin. “Looks like they had fun.”

She tied her apron, slipped on her gloves, and got to work, gathering trash first, then organizing surfaces. As she moved room to room, the audiobook filled in the silence, pulling her into the fictional mystery while she unraveled the reality of what might’ve gone on here.

“Plot twist incoming,” she whispered. Listening as the amateur detective uncovered a new suspect. At the same time, she spotted a pink tiara wedged behind a couch cushion.

After a few hours of scrubbing, dusting, and final polish, the suite gleamed again. Mochi stepped back and took off her gloves, satisfied.

“One down,” she said, locking up behind her. “One to go.”

As she walked towards the next apartment, her thoughts drifted.

I could just go home after this one, she thought. Mr. Fido did say it was okay. God knows, I haven’t taken a day off in months.

She paused at the second door, gripped the handle.

“But weekend pay is time-and-a-half,” she muttered, while donning new gloves. “We need every bit for the down payment.”

With a resigned breath, she opened the door.

Instantly she was hit with a familiar wave of disarray. Scattered pillows, an overturned chair, clothing on the floor.

“Seriously? Did the same group rent both suites?”

But something felt off.

She pulled out her earbuds, letting silence fill the space.

Her eyes narrowed.

A lamp was on its side, its shade dented and cracked. The curtain rod was torn halfway from the wall, hanging askew as if someone had yanked it hard.

She stepped cautiously into the room, frowning.

“That’s… not party mess.”

The couch cushions were tossed, but not randomly. The coffee table had a corner chipped off. There was no sign of empty bottles or party favors. Just disarray, stripped of the cheerful chaos she’d seen before.

Her gaze followed a trail, the bedspread in the master bedroom was half-pulled, twisted, and dragged towards the hallway.

“Was someone… dragged?” she whispered.

Her heart thumped louder now. She moved toward the master bedroom slowly, every step deliberate.

The moment she entered, she stopped cold.

A dark stain on the floor near the bed. Not a drop. A pool.

Her breath caught. Her stomach tightened.

“Oh my God. That’s blood!”

She stumbled back a step, instinctively grabbing the doorframe for support.

She looked again, as if the scene might change on second glance. But it didn’t. The room was still, the dark stain unmistakable.

Mochi’s hand went to her phone.

“Okay… stay calm,” she whispered aloud. “Call the front desk. Just… call the desk.”

But her fingers hovered over the screen. What if it wasn’t just an injury? What if someone was still here?

She glanced around quickly. Closets, corners, shadows. Nothing moved.

Her breath came short. Her chest was tight.

“Get it together,” she told herself, voice low but firm. “You’re not in the audiobook now. This is real.”

She took a cautious step back out of the bedroom and turned, locking the door behind her as she exited.