Solo Playing
I play various TTRPGs by myself to create a story, to test them out, to create audio dramas.
Solo Playing
No Tell Motel: A murder mystery rpg
Use Left/Right to seek, Home/End to jump to start or end. Hold shift to jump forward or backward.
I've seen a lot of strange nights behind this desk. But nothing like this.
I'm the overnight clerk at the Stellar Motel. A place where elites and lowlifes share thin walls and thinner excuses. My job is simple: check people in, keep my mouth shut, and pretend I don't notice what I notice. And I notice everything.
One night, while I was off the clock, somebody checked out permanently. One of our guests was murdered. So I started watching. Really watching. The gossip, the late-night visitors, the shouting matches, the closed curtains. Every fragment adds up to something. Or someone.
I've got my suspicions. I've got my doubts. And I've got exactly one shot to get this right.
Because if I'm wrong — a killer walks free, an innocent person's life gets destroyed... and mine might not be far behind.
Welcome to the No-Tell Motel. Sleep among the sinners.
Get No Tell Motel or other games by Bannerless games here:
https://bannerlessgames.itch.io/
Voiceovers provided by Hume AI.
Background music and SFX provided by Pixabay.
Google Docs used for tracking character stats and the story.
Claude AI for generating storyhooks and random tables.
Audacity for mixing and editing.
Welcome to Solo Play, the podcast where I play various RPGs as a single character in solo mode. This episode is our special release as part of Podcast Thon. Podcast Thon has organized thousands of podcasts worldwide to dedicate one episode of their show to a charity of their choice, and to release these episodes simultaneously in a coordinated effort, creating a massive and international wave of inspiring audio content. I am dedicating this episode to the United Way of Greater Milwaukee and Waukeshaw County that have initiatives like Safe and Stable Homes, which focuses on ending family homelessness through rental assistance and prevention. I appreciate the efforts they put forth and the positive impact they have on our city. For this episode, I am going to play through a solo game called Notel Motel, a single-player murder mystery by Ken Lowry and Bannerless Games. I have a link to their ish.io account in the show notes. I have never played a game like this before, so let's see how I do. When you hear my voice, I am drawing cards, following the rules, or rolling dice to showcase the game mechanics. The story will be told through the eyes and voice of the overnight clerk. I call this playthrough Night Moves at the Stellar Motel.
SPEAKER_12The fluorescent lights hung their familiar dirge above my desk. Another overnight shift at the Stellar Motel in New Empire. You can find it by looking for the neon sign flickering its promise. Most folks who come here are running from something or towards something they shouldn't. But I wasn't working last night. Last night everything went sideways. I got the story from Danny, the alternate overnight guy. Poor bastard couldn't stop shaking when he told me. Luck of the draw, I guess.
SPEAKER_11The night in question. Step 1. The guests. I split the deck into face cards and numerical cards, then shuffle the face cards and lay out four of them.
SPEAKER_12Danny's voice crackles through memory like a bad radio signal. Started off, nothing special. Four people checked in. The Queen of Hearts, I know her, she's been here before. Recently, divorced. A planned life knocked off course, and she's still spinning. Last night, she looked worse than usual. Mascara already smudged when she walked in, clutching her purse like a lifeline. The Jack of Spades. The mob enforcer checks in. Big money, low taste, suit too tight across the shoulders. He didn't look at me when he signed the register, just slid a 50 across the counter and said, I was never here. King of Diamonds, the televangelist was next, wearing his white suit. The diamond tie bar catching the light. You'd think a man of God would be more careful about where he laid his head, but that endless fountain of donation money makes people reckless. Ace of Clubs, I named her the cultist. All sharp angles and severe black clothes. Never blinks. When she spoke, I could hear her perfectly even though she was practically whispering. Something about her made my skin crawl.
SPEAKER_11Step two, I draw number cards for each guest. Each non-face card has a prompt in the book. Recently divorced through the Seven of Hearts, which has the prompt appear to make some kind of exchange or deal. Can you tell what changes hands? The Four of Clubs for the Mob Enforcer is spills out of their room to rant and rave. Who is the Vey they're railing against? The televangelist got the nine of spades. Recently at each other's throats over money. Who screwed over who? The cultist drew the three of diamonds, went in on a deal together, and it went south. Who messed up? Was the deal legal?
SPEAKER_12They got up to the usual nonsense, you know. Recently divorced went out to meet someone in a car. I couldn't see who, but something changed hands. Money. Pills, a photograph. It was a quick exchange, and the car left fast, spinning its tires on the pavement. The mob enforcer burst out of his room around 10 p.m., shouting about those bastards downtown who don't know loyalty from a hole in the ground. The cultist of all people was the one who calmed him down. She just stood there, unblinking, until he went quiet. And the televangelist? Word came through the grapevine. Someone saw him and another person arguing about money just last week. Something about an investment that went wrong. The preacher looked ready to kill.
SPEAKER_11Step 3. I draw another row. Two of spades for recently divorced, apparently know each other way back when. What about this setup is odd or off? Will be plus one motive. The mob enforcer got the six of hearts, have a brief tense meeting behind closed doors. How does the guest's guest look upon leaving? The televangelist drew the ten of clubs, grabs an extinguisher to put out a small fire in their room. And the cultist got the five of diamonds, used to be intimately involved. What's the word on who betrayed who? Do you believe it? The plot thickens.
SPEAKER_12I was told, won't say who, that recently divorced and the televangelist, they knew each other. High school sweethearts, maybe. Or college, the kind of history that leaves scars. The mob enforcer had company. Someone slipped into his room and left 20 minutes later looking pale as death. Business concluded. Around 2 a.m., smoke started pouring from under the televangelist door. He stumbled out with a fire extinguisher, coughing. I think it was paper burning documents. Evidence of something. And the cultist? The gossip mill turned out something juicy. She and the televangelist were involved once, intimately. Can you imagine that pairing?
SPEAKER_11Step four, the final draw. I lay out the third row of cards and do the math. Recently divorced, seven plus two plus nine equals eighteen. Mob enforcer, four plus six plus five equals fifteen. Televangelist, nine plus ten plus two equals twenty one. Cultist, three plus five plus four equals twelve. The televangelist hits twenty-one exactly. His final card was the two of clubs. Club to death.
SPEAKER_12Checkout was normal, except for the televangelist. When the maids went around to clean up, they found him. They found Reverend Marcus Hale, the televangelist, face down on the thin motel carpet, his diamond tie bar scattered three feet away, his white suit stained crimson. Someone had beaten him to death with something heavy. The room was a mess. That fire he put out, covering his tracks about something. But someone else had other plans. Night 1. Evening shift, 8 p.m. to 12 a.m. The sun bleeds out behind the highway overpass, painting the stellar motel in shades of rust and shadow. I clock in. The televangelist is dead, but I settle into the chair behind the desk, crack my knuckles, and flip open the ledger. Ready to account for all of their activities. Room 7 still got police tape on the door. Management says renovations. We both know better. Six rooms available tonight. I've lay out the keys in a neat row on the ped board behind me.
SPEAKER_11Preparing the six rooms. Six face-down cards. Room seven remains closed. Roll for initial check-ins. Four guests tonight. I shuffle the face cards and draw. Queen of Hearts, Jack of Spades, Ace of Clubs, King of Clubs.
SPEAKER_12The bell above the door jingles. Recently divorced. She's back. Of course she's back.
SPEAKER_02Same room as last time.
SPEAKER_12Her voice is hoarse, like she's been crying or screaming. Her left hand keeps touching her collarbone where a necklace used to hang. I slide her the key to room one. 4250 for the night. She pays in crumpled bills pulled from her purse. Her hands are shaking. 8 45 p.m. The door swings open hard enough to rattle the windows. The mob enforcer.
SPEAKER_13Room now.
SPEAKER_12Don't care which one. He's wearing the same two-tight suit, but there's a fresh bruise blooming on his jaw. His knuckles are wrapped in white tape, spotted with something brown. Could be rust. Could be something else. I hand him room two. He just drops a hundred on the counter and walks out without his change. 9 30 p.m. The cultist. She doesn't walk through the door so much as materialize. One moment I'm staring at the parking lot through the window. The next, she's standing at the counter, those unblinking eyes fixed on me. Room 6. That's I check the board, that's available, yes. I know. She takes room 6 and glides out into the night. I don't hear her footsteps on the concrete. 10 15 p.m. Headlights sweep across the office. The lightbulb man. Now this guy I've never seen at this hour. He usually rolls in around 3 a.m., reeking of cheap beer and good cheer. Tonight, he's early. And he's different. Subdued. His usual booming voice is barely above a murmur. Hey friend, got a room for old Benny? Always do, Benny. I give him room three. He takes the key like it weighs a hundred pounds and shuffles out. No jokes, no stories. Something's wrong.
SPEAKER_11Room assignments for night one, evening shift. Room one, recently divorced. Room two, mob enforcer. Room three, lightbulb man. Rooms four and five are empty. Room six, the cultist. Observing the guests. I draw one number card for each guest to see what they get up to. Room one, recently divorced, eight of diamonds.
SPEAKER_12The crash comes around 11 p.m. I grab my flashlight and step outside. She's in the parking lot with the light bulb man, and there's glass everywhere. The vending machine window is shattered, Snickers bars scattered across the asphalt. She's screaming, her face twisted in rage. You don't know anything about him! You don't know what he did to me! Then he's got his hands up, backing away. Lady, I just said hello.
SPEAKER_02Wire!
SPEAKER_12I step between them. Ma'am, I need you to go back to your room. She looks at me like she's just woken up. The fury drains from her face, replaced by something hollow. I'm sorry. I'll pay for the machine. She retreats to room one. The door slams. Benny just shakes his head. Hell of a night, friend. Hell of a night. Room two. Mob enforcer.
SPEAKER_11Three of spades plus one demotive.
SPEAKER_12I'm walking back to the office when I hear voices from room two. Low, angry. The mob enforcer's shadow moves behind the curtains. Then the night manager from the diner next door, Rosa, catches me by the arm.
SPEAKER_03You know that guy in room two? He used to run jobs with the reverend. The dead one. Money laundering through the church collection plates. Then something went wrong last month. Real wrong. They stopped talking. Word is.
SPEAKER_12She looks around, leans closer.
SPEAKER_04Word is the preacher was gonna rat him out to the feds.
SPEAKER_12She scurries to the back door of the diner before I can ask more. The mob enforcer and the televangelist. Partners, until they weren't.
SPEAKER_11Room 3.
SPEAKER_12Lightbold man. Five of clubs. After the vending machine incident, Benny doesn't go back to his room. He wanders the parking lot for an hour, muttering to himself, occasionally laughing at nothing. His gait is unsteady, but it's not booze. I know what drunk looks like. This is something else. His pupils are blown wide. He keeps scratching at his arms. When he finally stumbles into room 3, he leaves the door open for a full five minutes before he notices. Whatever he's on, it's not agreeing with him. Room 6. Cultist. Four of spades plus one tomotive. The last observation of the night comes from Danny, of all people. He calls me around 11:30. Hey, I forgot to tell you. That night, the murder night, I saw the weird lady, the one who doesn't blink. The cultist? She was with the preacher outside his room. And they were, I don't know, man, close. Like she had her hand on his chest and she was whispering something, and he looked. he looked like he couldn't walk away. Like she had him hypnotized or something. Flirting? If that's what you want to call it. Look more like a spider with a fly, you ask me. The cultist. Previously intimate with the victim, now flirting on the night he died.
SPEAKER_11Beginning graveyard shift. 12 a.m. to 4 a.m. At the start of each shift, I roll a d6 for check-in checkout. Room 3. That's the light bulb man.
SPEAKER_12The clock ticks past midnight. Three suspects with motive, and the night is young. The coffee in my mug has gone cold. I don't bother reheating it. At 12 20 a.m., Benny stumbles out of room three, with his duffel bag slung over one shoulder. He's still not right. His eyes dart everywhere, that manic energy barely contained beneath the surface. Checking out already, Benny? He freezes at the sound of my voice. For a second, I swear he doesn't recognize me.
SPEAKER_13Yeah. Yeah, I gotta, I gotta be somewhere. People to see. You know how it is, friend.
SPEAKER_12He doesn't wait for his deposit back. Just drops the key on the counter and practically runs to his beat-up van. The engine costs to life, and he's gone. Tail lights disappearing down the avenue. Something spooked him. Something bad.
SPEAKER_11Observing the guests. I draw a number card for each remaining guest. Recently divorced, six of spades. Another plus one to motive. Mob enforcer, seven of clubs. Cultist, ten of spades plus two to motive.
SPEAKER_12Recently divorced. The small hours bring out the truth in people. Around 1 a.m., I'm doing my rounds when I spot old Ernie. The maintenance guy who works days pulling into the lot. He's not supposed to be here, but Ernie's got insomnia, something fierce. Sometimes he just drives around. He sees me and rolls down his window.
SPEAKER_07Hell of a thing about the preacher, huh? You know I was here that night? Just driving past. Couldn't sleep. Heard shouting from room seven. A woman's voice.
SPEAKER_12My blood runs cold. What'd she say? Ernie scratches his stubble chin.
SPEAKER_07Something like, You ruined my life, you sanctimonious bastard. And then something about money. And a kid. I don't know, I didn't stick around. Figured it was just the usual stellar drama. The woman.
SPEAKER_12Could you see her?
SPEAKER_07No. But she sounded, I don't know, broken. Like someone who'd lost everything.
SPEAKER_12He drives off, leaving me standing in the cold. The recently divorced, shouting at the victim, the night he died. Mob enforcer. Between 2 and 3 a.m., I count six different vehicles pulling up to room two. Six different people, men in dark coats, women with hard eyes, slipping inside, staying for exactly 10 minutes each, then leaving. No one speaks above a whisper. No one looks toward the office. It's terribly, unnervingly quiet. The mob enforcer is conducting business. The kind of business that happens after midnight at places like the Stellar Motel. I don't want to know what's changing hands in there. But I note it in the ledger anyway. At 3:30 a.m., a car I don't recognize pulls into the lot. A middle-aged woman gets out, respectable looking. The kind of person who shouldn't know where the Stellar Motel is, let alone visit at this hour. She knocks on room 6. The cultist answers. They talk on the threshold for 10 minutes. I can't hear the words, but I can read the body language. The visitor is agitated. The cultist is the cultist. Still as stone. Unblinking. When the visitor leaves, she stops by my window. Her face is pale.
SPEAKER_09You work here? You see things? Sometimes. That woman in room six, she and Marcus, they hated each other. I mean really, truly hated. Something about a broken promise. She said things, threatened things. Who are you? Marcus was my brother, and that woman told him, to his face, that she would send his soul to somewhere worse than hell. He laughed it off, said she was crazy, but the way she looked at him.
SPEAKER_12She doesn't finish, just gets in her car and drives away. The cultist had an open hatred for the victim with threats of damnation. But Danny said they were flirting then. Close. Intimate. Which story is true. Doubt increases.
SPEAKER_11Night 1. Morning shift. 4 a.m. to 8 a.m. Check in or check out. Rolling D6. 5. Room 5 is empty. I draw a face card, Jack of Diamonds. The Alphabet Soup Agent.
SPEAKER_12The dark sky thins. Dawn is coming. Somewhere beyond the highway, the sky bruises purple and pink. The coffee maker gurgles its third pot of the night. My eyes ache. My back aches. But I keep watching. That's the job. At 4 45 a.m., headlights sweep across the parking lot. A taxi. Yellow and battered. The kind that prowls the bad parts of New Empire looking for fares no one else would touch. The passenger door opens, and outsteps a Fed. Has to be. He pays the cabby without looking, eyes scanning the motel like he's cataloging threats. That haircut, that posture, the telltale bulge under his left arm. He walks into my office, and the temperature drops 10 degrees. I need a room. Good morning to you too. I'll need ID, and he slides a badge across the counter. FBI. The name's obscured by his thumb, but I catch the first letter K. I hand him room 5, 42 for the night. Checkouts at I know when checkout is. He takes the key and stalks out. Through the window, I watch him pause at room 2, the mob enforcer's room, and stare at the door for a long, long moment. Then, he moves on to room 5 and disappears inside. Interesting. I continue to observe the guests during the morning shift, which should be quiet. People tend to sleep off their sins or lie awake with them.
SPEAKER_11I draw a number card for each guest. Recently divorced in room one gets the Two of Hearts. I flip the hidden card for her visitor, Queen of Spades, which is the tabloid reporter.
SPEAKER_12At 5 30 a.m., the recently divorced steps outside for a cigarette. She's barely lit it when a woman materializes from the shadows. Blonde, sharp-featured, notebook in hand, the tabloid reporter. I've seen her before. She's always working an angle. They talk for maybe 15 minutes. Recently, divorce starts out guarded, arms crossed, cigarette trembling between her fingers. But the reporter is good. Real good. By the end, the divorced woman is leaning in, whispering urgently, and the reporter is scribbling furiously. When the reporter leaves, she's smiling like a cat with a mouthful of canary. The recently divorced watches her go. Then she looks up at room six, the cultist room, and her expression hardens into something I can't read. What did she tell the reporter?
SPEAKER_11For room two, the mob enforcer drew the nine of diamonds.
SPEAKER_12I'm refilling my coffee when I hear shouting. By the time I get outside, the mob enforcer has the new guy, the Fed, by the lapels, slamming him against the ice machine. The agent's face is blank, controlled, but his hand is reaching for that bulge under his arm.
SPEAKER_13You think I don't know why you're here? You think I don't know who sent you? Take your hands off me. Or what? You'll arrest me? On what charge? I step forward.
SPEAKER_12Gentlemen, not on the property. They freeze. The enforcer's eyes flick to me, and then he releases the agent with a shove. The Fed straightens his jacket, face still unreadable, but there's a tremor in his hands. This isn't over. No, it isn't. They retreat to their respective rooms. The enforcer looked furious. The agent looked stunned, like he hadn't expected to be made so fast. What does the Fed know about the murder?
SPEAKER_11The Alphabet Soup Agent gets the five of spades. The book has this as we're apparently inseparable until the end. What was the source of most of their fights? The alphabet soup agent gains two motive.
SPEAKER_12After the altercation, the phone in the office rings. I run to catch it. It's Rosa from the diner again.
SPEAKER_04You see the Fed check-in?
SPEAKER_12Hard to miss him.
SPEAKER_04He was here before. Last month, with the preacher.
SPEAKER_12My grip tightens on the phone. What?
SPEAKER_04I'm telling you, they were close. Came in together three, four times. Always the back booth, always whispering. Then about two weeks ago, they had a blow up. Right there in my diner. The Fed was yelling about protocol and going too far. The preacher said something about necessary sacrifices. I had to ask them to leave. And then? Never saw them together again.
SPEAKER_12The Alphabet Soupagent was inseparable with the victim. Until a falling out two weeks before the murder. But wait. If he's FBI, why would he be meeting secretly with a televangelist? What were they working on together? Something doesn't add up.
SPEAKER_11In room 6. Excuse me. On top of room 6, the cultist got the three of clubs.
SPEAKER_12At dawn, I look up and nearly drop my coffee. The cultist is on the roof. She's sitting cross-legged near the edge, facing east, watching the sunrise. A skinny cigarette, or maybe something else, smulders between her fingers. Her severe black clothes ripple in the morning breeze. I watch her for a full five minutes. She doesn't move, doesn't blink, just watches. Her expression is hard to describe. Grief, maybe. Not the performative grief of funerals and sympathy cards. Something older, deeper. The kind of grief that hollows you out and leaves nothing but the shape of a person behind. She looks like someone mourning a death that happened years ago. Or maybe one that hasn't happened yet. I don't know what to make of it. 8 o'clock is checkout time. The guests filter out one by one. The recently divorced leaves first, sunglasses hiding her eyes. That same absent necklace touching gesture. The mob enforcer guns his black sedan out of the lot without a word. The agent checks out professionally. Badge away, no eye contact, gone. The cultist is last. She pauses at my window. You watch closely. That's the job.
SPEAKER_05Be careful what you see. Some things, once witnessed, cannot be unseen.
SPEAKER_12She smiles. The first expression I've ever seen on her face, and it doesn't reach her eyes. Then, she's gone. Night one, final motive tally. Recently divorced two, mob enforcer one, cultist three, with one doubt. Alphabet Soup Agent 2, with one doubt. Lightbold man has zero motive. The cultist leads with three motive, but that doubt gnaws at me. The conflicting stories, lover or enemy. Grief or guilt. The agent is a wild card. Why was a Fed so close to the victim? What necessary sacrifices was the Reverend talking about? And the recently divorced. What did she tell that reporter?
SPEAKER_11Preparing the rooms for night two. I clear the board. Six face down cards representing empty rooms. Check-in. Rolling d6 for number of guests checking in. Six. Six guests. I shuffle the face cards and draw six. The Jack of Spades. Ace of Clubs. Queen of Hearts. Jack of Diamonds. The Queen of Diamonds.
SPEAKER_12The evening rush begins. Six fresh keys on the pegboard. The black Sagan rolls in at 8 p.m. The mob enforcer is wearing a different suit tonight. Charcoal gray. Fits better, but the same dead eyes. Room 2 available? It is. Good. I like consistency. The sentry note he leaves on the counter smells faintly of cigar smoke. 8 30 p.m. I don't see her arrive. I just look up, and the cultist is just there. Room 6. I stopped being surprised by her a long time ago. I hand her room 6 and watch her glide across the parking lot like a shadow with intent. 8 45 p.m. Recently divorced is back for a third mite in a row. The usual? I ask. She just nods. There are dark circles under her eyes from the lack of sleep. Her clothes are rumpled, like she's been living out of her car. I hand her room 1. She takes the key without a word. 9 p.m. The Fed is back. This time he's not alone. There's a woman in the passenger seat of his government issue sedan, but she doesn't get out. Just sits there, face obscured by the darkness. I give him room five. He hesitates at the door. The man in room two? He causes any trouble today? I just got on shift. He nods slowly. Keep your eyes open. That's the job, I think, but don't say. 9 30 p.m. A town car pulls in, sleek and black and so out of place, it might as well be a spaceship. The driver opens the rear door and outsteps a woman I recognize from billboards and attack ads. State Senator Patricia Vance. Up for re-election in six months. What the hell is she doing here? She walks into my office like she owns it. Probably could, if she wanted.
SPEAKER_06I need a room. Discreet. No records.
SPEAKER_12Ma'am, I'm required by law. She slides$500 bills across the counter. I look at the money. I look at her. She's already walking away. I put her in room 3 and pretend I don't see her glance nervously toward room two as she passes. 10 p.m. The last arrival of the evening. He's tall, thin, wearing a tweed jacket despite the season. Wire-rimmed glasses. A leather satchel bulging with papers. He looks like he took a wrong turn somewhere around 1987 and never found his way back. The Professor. One room, please. I'll be grading papers. At a motel? At 10 p.m.? Sure. Room 4. He takes the key with a tight smile, adjusts his glasses, and mutters something about the deplorable state of undergraduate composition as he walks to his room. Academics. Can't figure that. Full house. Six rooms, six guests, six sets of secrets. Time to watch.
SPEAKER_11I draw one number card for each guest to see what unfolds. Alphabet Soup Agent gets the Four of Hearts. I flip the card underneath his Ace of Hearts. The veteran.
SPEAKER_12As the constellations appear, a pickup truck pulls in. Military plates, mud spattered, American flag sticker on the bumper. Clean cut, polite, eyes that see things a thousand miles away. He knocks on room five. The agent opens the door, and they embrace. Like brothers, like survivors. They talk outside for an hour, voices low, occasionally laughing. The bitter laugh of men who've seen too much. The lights stay on. Through the curtain, I can see them sitting at the small table, paper spread between them. When the veteran leaves, he pauses at his truck, looks up at the stars, and salutes. Not ironically, genuinely. Then he drives off. The agent and the veteran, old friends, working on something together.
SPEAKER_11Recently divorced gets the eight of spades, plus one motive.
SPEAKER_12The night porter Eddie from the Starlight Lounge across the highway wanders over for a smoke break. We've got a rapport, Eddie and me. He sees things. I see things. Sometimes we trade.
SPEAKER_01That lady in room one, she was in my bar last week. Night before the preacher got killed.
SPEAKER_13Yeah?
SPEAKER_01Yeah. She was arguing with him. The preacher. Real heated, but quiet. You know the kind. Civilized on the surface, murder underneath. What about? Eddie takes a long drag. A kid? His kid, maybe? She kept saying, You abandoned her. You abandoned both of us. And he kept saying it wasn't like that. That he had responsibilities, that God had a plan. And then? Then she threw her drink in his face and walked out. He just sat there, dripping, looking like someone had ripped his soul out through his chest. The recently divorced.
SPEAKER_12The televangelist. A child between them. The picture is getting clear. And uglier. Mob Enforcer in room two. Six of Clubs. I hear it before I see it. A crash. A roar. The sound of metal crumpling. By the time I get outside, the mobster is beating the hell out of the payphone by the ice machine. The receiver is already shattered. He's working on the coin box now, fists bloody, screaming words that aren't in any language I recognize. The senator's door opens a crack. She sees what's happening and slams it shut. The agent's room opens fully. The Fed steps out, calm as ice water. That's enough. The enforcer spins. You, you, you think you can I said enough. They stare at each other. Something passes between them. A history I'm not privy to. Then the enforcer spits on the ground, turns, and stalks back to room two. The agent looks at me. Bill that to room two. Then he's gone. State Senator draws the nine of hearts. Around 11 p.m., the state senator gets back to her room from somewhere. I didn't even notice she'd left. She closes the door, pulls the curtains tight, and shuts the light. I don't know what that means for my case, but I write it down anyway. Not music, exactly. More like chanting set to a droning atonal rhythm. Voices laired on voices, rising and falling in patterns that make my teeth ache. It's coming from room six. The senator's light flicks on, the professor's curtain twitches, even the mob enforcer steps outside looking murderous. But no one complains. No one knocks on her door. After 20 minutes, it stops. The silence that follows is somehow worse. I don't write this one down. Some things I'm learning are better left unrecorded.
SPEAKER_11The professor in room four gets the seven of spades and a plus one to motive.
SPEAKER_12At midnight, I'm doing my rounds when I see the professor standing outside his room, staring at room seven. The scene of the murder, his hands are shaking. A car pulls up, another taxi, and outsteps a young woman, graduate student maybe. She rushes to the professor, pulls him back.
SPEAKER_15Dr. Marsh, you can't be here. Not after what happened.
SPEAKER_12He was here. Right here.
SPEAKER_15I know, I know. But the restraining order.
SPEAKER_12I step closer, pretending to check the ice machine. The girl lowers her voice.
SPEAKER_15Dr. Marsh, you and Reverend Hale had your differences. Everyone knows that. But you can't hang around here.
SPEAKER_13He promised to return the money. Our entire congregation donated because we believed in him.
SPEAKER_12He breaks down. The girl leads him back inside room four. The professor was part of the Church of the Televangelist.
SPEAKER_11Graveyard shift of night two, 12 a.m. to 4 a.m. Check in, check out. Rolling D6. Two is the mob enforcer in room two.
SPEAKER_12Midnight settles over the stellar like a held breath. The parking lot lights dim for a moment, then come back to full strength. Bad wiring, never fixed. The strange music from room 6 has faded, but my ears still ring with the ghost of it. I pour another coffee. Black. Bitter. The only thing keeping me vertical. At 12:35 a.m., the black sedan roars to life. The enforcer doesn't bother checking out properly. Just peels out of the lot, tires screaming, and disappears down the highway like the devil himself is chasing him. I step outside to inspect the damage. The payphone is destroyed. Beyond repair. Blood stains the numerical buttons. His room key is on the ground outside room two. I pick it up, peer through the window. The room is trashed. Sheets torn, lamp overturned, Bible ripped in half and scattered across the floor. Whatever spooked Lightbulb Benny last night, I think it got to the enforcer too.
SPEAKER_11Another drawing of cards for the shift. Recently divorced has the five of hearts get good, loud, and toasted together. What are they celebrating or reminiscing about? I draw for her visitor. Jack of Hearts, the high school salutarian.
SPEAKER_12Around 1 a.m., a clean new car pulls in. Out of place. The driver is young. The car and the driver are both out of place. Clothes squared straight, posture perfect, but there's a wildness in their eyes that says they're exactly where they want to be. A high school student. Overachievers slumming it for the thrill. But this one walks straight to room one, knocks twice. The recently divorced opens the door and she laughs and hugs her tight. I haven't heard her laugh before. Didn't think she could. They sit outside on the plastic chairs, passing a bottle of wine between them. Their voices carry in the still night air.
SPEAKER_00Uh, remember when he gave that sermon about purity? While he was sleeping with half the choir?
SPEAKER_02Don't, don't make me laugh about him. I can't. I can't do that yet.
SPEAKER_00Mom. Mom! He's gone! You can say whatever you want now. Mom!
SPEAKER_12The Salutatorian is her child. They drink, they reminisce, they cry a little. At 3 a.m., the kid drives off, and the recently divorced stands in the parking lack for a long time, staring at room 7. Room 4 is the professor who gets the Six of Hearts. The young woman, a probable graduate student, stayed in the professor's room until 4 a.m. A late-night taxi arrives to drive her off. When she left, she looked shaken, scared. Like the professor told her something that rearranged her understanding of the world. What did they talk about?
SPEAKER_11The Alphabet Soup agent in room 5 has the Eight of Hearts. I flip the hidden card to reveal his visitor. The Queen of Clubs is the psychic medium.
SPEAKER_12I don't know what time it was when the psychic medium appeared. I recognize her from around. Palms read, cards laid, futures told, probably a fraud, possibly something else. She'll stay here every now and again, especially during conventions, to try to get closer to her clientele. She knocks on room 5. The agent answers. They don't go inside but stand on the threshold, talking in low voices for over an hour. I creep closer, pretending to inspect the payphone again.
SPEAKER_10It's still here. That's not possible. You've seen impossible things before, agent. You know what that church really was, what they were really doing.
SPEAKER_14If you're saying what I think you're saying, I'm saying the Reverend Marcus Hale didn't just die.
SPEAKER_12Their voices drop too low for me to hear, and I step closer. They notice. The agent's face goes pale. He pulls her inside and shuts the door. I stand there in the dark, heart pounding. Room 3. The state senator draws the ten of diamonds. Shouting from room three. I can't make out the words, but I can hear the senator's sharp, controlled fury of a voice, and she started the night so peacefully. Then glass shatters. A lamp, maybe, or the mirror. The cultist calls the cops. The cruiser arrives in eight minutes. Two officers knock on room three. The door opens. The senator stands there, immaculate, not a hair out of place, calm as a frozen lake.
SPEAKER_06Officers, how can I help you?
SPEAKER_14We got a call about a disturbance, ma'am.
SPEAKER_06A disturbance? I'm afraid there's been a mistake. I've been sleeping.
SPEAKER_12They peer past her. The room is pristine. No broken glass. The officers apologize and leave. The senator catches the cultist watching. Her smile doesn't reach her eyes. Room 6. The cultist draws a seven of diamonds. Almost made it to 4 o'clock without another incident. I hear a shouting match between the cultist and the state senator. The cultist isn't shouting exactly. More like projecting her voice. Please. You knew him all too well.
SPEAKER_05You knew. You all knew. And you let him die anyway. Stay out of my business. Your business? Why don't you scream some more at your business partner? I'll call the police again.
SPEAKER_12No verbal response from the senator. Only a closed door. The cultist walks further into the parking lot. She lights a cigarette and stares at the pre-dawn sky. At the end of the cigarette, she goes back inside. No new revelations this shift, but the picture has gotten blurry.
SPEAKER_11Morning shift, 4 a.m. to 8 a.m. Rolling D6 for check-in and check-out, and I get a 4. Room 4. The Professor Checks out.
SPEAKER_12The sky bleeds from black to purple to gray. My hands are shaking from too much coffee and not enough sleep. At 4:45 a.m., Dr. Marsh, now we know the professor's name, comes stumbling out of his room. He looks worse than when he arrived. His tie is askew, glasses crooked, paper spilling from his satchel. He's muttering to himself, glancing over his shoulder every few steps. Checking out, Professor? He startles, like I fired a gun.
SPEAKER_13Yes, yes, I need to. I have to go. Grade papers. Office hours. Normal things.
SPEAKER_12He fumbles his credit card, drops it twice. His hands are trembling harder than mine. You okay? He laughs. A broken, brittle sound.
SPEAKER_13Okay? No. No, I don't think anyone who stays here is okay. That's rather the point, isn't it?
SPEAKER_12He snatches his receipt and practically runs to his car. A sensible Volvo, the kind professors drive in movies. The engine starts on the third try. The morning shift is usually quiet. People sleeping off sins, preparing to face the day. But not tonight. Not here.
SPEAKER_11The recently divorced in room one gets a nine of clubs.
SPEAKER_12Recently divorced steps outside for fresh morning air. She's calmer now. The visit from her daughter seems to have steadied something inside her. She pulls something from her purse, looks at it, turns it over in her fingers. Then she drops it. It clatters on the asphalt, spinning. She snatches it up fast and shoves it back in her purse. But I saw it. I think I saw it. A key. Not a motel key. Something older, heavier, brass, maybe. Ornate. A church key? She turns towards the office and I duck low so she doesn't catch me watching.
SPEAKER_11Room 3. The state senator draws the two of diamonds.
SPEAKER_126 a.m. I'm refilling the coffee maker when a town car pulls into the lot. The driver stays in the car while a man in a rumpled suit gets out and knocks on room three. I recognize him from the papers. The senator's campaign manager, guy named Whitmore. The door doesn't open, but Whitmore seems to be talking through the door. He waits a beat for the door to open. When it doesn't, he stalks over to my window.
SPEAKER_08You work here every night? Most nights. You ever see the senator with anyone? Anyone inappropriate?
SPEAKER_12I think about the discretion the motel must keep. Can't say I have. He studies my face, decides I'm lying, doesn't push.
SPEAKER_08She used to be better before she got mixed up with that preacher and his people, before the donations started rolling in. Before, you know what? Forget it. Forget I was here.
SPEAKER_11In room five, the alphabet soup agent gets the three of hearts. I flip the hidden card for his visitor, Queen of Spades, which is the tabloid reporter.
SPEAKER_12The agent walks to the ice machine and lingers. Just on the other side of the machine, obscured, is the tabloid reporter. She's back two mornings in a row. These early mornings must be when people drop their guard and are ready to spill. They talk outside for 10 minutes. I can't hear the words, but I can see the agent using his hands to emphasize something. Then he makes a motion with his hands, as if he is pounding down on something, or hammering, or clubbing someone to death. They shake hands and the agent stands by the ice machine for a minute. Then he goes inside. What the hell did I just see?
SPEAKER_11Room 6. The cultist gets the five of spades. This is a plus two to motive and a plus one to doubt, because this is the second time this card is drawn.
SPEAKER_127 a.m. Check out soon. The cultist emerges from room 6 and she looks different. Tired, human. She walks to my window, places both hands on the counter.
SPEAKER_05You've been watching me.
SPEAKER_12That's the job.
SPEAKER_05No, you've been watching me. Keeping notes. Building a case.
SPEAKER_12I say nothing. She smiles. That same unsettling expression from before.
SPEAKER_05You want to know about Marcus and me. Everyone does. We were close. Once. Before he lost his way. Before he forgot what we were trying to accomplish. And what was that? Transcendence. True communion with something greater. But Marcus got greedy. Wanted the power without the sacrifice. Wanted the congregation's money more than their souls.
SPEAKER_12Is that why you fought? Her smile fades.
SPEAKER_05We fought, because he was going to destroy everything we built, expose us to the world, drag our sacred work into the mud of tabloid headlines and federal investigations.
SPEAKER_12She leans closer. Her eyes. God, those unblinking eyes bore into mine.
SPEAKER_05He was going to betray me. Betray all of us. And he would have, too, if someone hadn't stopped him.
unknownDid you?
SPEAKER_12Stop him? She tilts her head. Considers the question.
SPEAKER_05Does it matter? He's dead. The work continues.
SPEAKER_12And you She reaches out and touches my hand. Her fingers are ice cool.
SPEAKER_05You should be careful, little clerk. Some truths are heavier than others. Some truths will crush you. I'm checking out.
SPEAKER_12The cultist leaves and the room key is on the counter. I didn't see her put it there. I don't move for a long time. Night 2. Motive Tally. Recently divorced has three. Mob enforcer stuck at one. Alphabet Soup Agent has two with one doubt. Professor with one motive. And the state senator with none. The cultist. Five motive points now. One more, and I can file a report. Night three.
SPEAKER_11Preparing the rooms. Six empty rooms. Six keys waiting to be taken. Roll for initial check-ins. Three guests tonight. Quieter than last night. Maybe that's a mercy. I shuffle the face cards and draw. Queen of Hearts. The recently divorced. Jack of Diamonds. Alphabet Soup Agent. The Ace of Clubs. The cultist.
SPEAKER_12The weight of what I've seen settles into my bones like lead. I scratch my stubble. I forgot to shave. Outside, the neon sign blinks on and off, attracting attention. Wanted or unwanted. At the end of the row, room 7 sits dark, I clock in. Danny clocks out. He doesn't even look at me, just mutters something about bad energy and practically sprints to his car. Can't blame him. The bell jingles as recently divorced walks in. Where else would she go? But tonight, she's dressed better. A clean blouse and press slacks. Her hair is washed. She's wearing makeup for the first time since I've known her. And she's calm, too calm. The brittle edge is gone, replaced by something I can't quite name. Resolution, maybe, or resignation. Room one?
SPEAKER_02If it's available.
SPEAKER_12I hand her the key, and her fingers brush mine. She looks me in the eyes.
SPEAKER_02Thank you for everything.
SPEAKER_12Before I can ask what she means, she's gone. The government sedan pulls in. The agent looks worse than yesterday. Unshaven, tie loose, that same haunted look in his eyes. Whatever he knows or saw, it shook something loose inside him. Room 5, same as before. He nods, takes the key, pauses.
SPEAKER_14You see anything strange this morning? Around 6 30?
SPEAKER_12Define strange. He almost laughs. Yeah, that's what I thought. He disappears inside room five. The lights stay on. Through the curtain, I can see him pacing. With no car and no footsteps, the cultist just materializes at the counter, like a bad dream. Room 6. I don't bother asking, just hand her the key. She takes it, and for a moment, our eyes meet. Hers are different tonight. Softer, sadder.
SPEAKER_05It ends soon. One way or another.
SPEAKER_12Then she's gone, gliding across the lot to room six. The door closes, the curtains draw, and the night holds its breath.
SPEAKER_11Observing the guests' activities by drawing a number card for each guest. Recently divorced has the Ten of Hearts. I flip the card for her visitor, Jack of Spades, the Mob Enforcer.
SPEAKER_12The black sedan returns. The mob enforcer steps out, but he's not checking in. He walks straight to room one and knocks. The recently divorced opens the door. They stare at each other for a long moment. Then she pulls him inside. The door slams. The lights go off behind the closed curtains. And then I turn the fan on high to create some background noise. Other background sounds I don't need to hear. When I look again an hour later, his car is still there. The lights are still off. I think back to what I know. The enforcer worked with the televangelist. Money laundering through the church. The recently divorced had a child with the televangelist, a child he abandoned. What connects them? Revenge? Grief? Celebration? I write it down 11 p.m. Room 1. Visitor, mob enforcer. Extended stay.
SPEAKER_11Alphabet Soup Agent draws the six of spades and adds one to motive.
SPEAKER_12I'm doing my rounds when I hear the agent shouting at someone in his room.
SPEAKER_14I don't care what Washington says. I was there. I saw what they were doing. Silence. Someone responding. He must be on the phone. The ritual wasn't supposed to work. It was supposed to be a con. Just another grift. But something happened. Something. Another moment of silence. Longer this time. No, no, you don't understand. We got into it. That fake phony fraud of a televangelist didn't like what I had to say to him. It was a shouting match, and they're gonna try to pin it on me. I inched closer to the window. I'm not losing my mind. This is exactly what they warned us about. The congregation of the final star. They weren't just bilking rubes for cash. They were doing something real. And hail, hail was going to blow the whistle before the ritual was complete. That's why he had to. He stops talking quickly. Forget it.
SPEAKER_12Forget I called. The phone slams down. The agent was there, on the night of the murder. Part of whatever was happening. The Eight of Clubs for the Cultist in room 6. Midnight. The phone on my desk rings.
SPEAKER_05This is room 6. I require fresh linens.
SPEAKER_12Her voice is flat, controlled, but underneath, there's a slight tremor, barely perceptible. I'll have someone bring them over.
SPEAKER_05No, you bring them personally.
SPEAKER_12The line goes dead. I grab a stack of towels and a fresh set of sheets. My hands are steady. My heart is not. I knock on room six. She opens the door, just enough to take the linens from my arms. Through the gap, I catch a glimpse of the room. The bed is stripped bare. The sheets are stained. Dark, rust-colored stains that could be wine, could be something else.
SPEAKER_05Is everything everything is exactly as it should be?
SPEAKER_12She closes the door. I stand there for a long moment, staring at the peeling paint and the tarnished room number.
SPEAKER_11The graveyard shift. Check in, check out, rolling D6. Room 1.
SPEAKER_12The recently divorced. The witching hour descends. The highway goes silent. Even the truckers seem to avoid this stretch of road after midnight now. Word gets around. Bad things happen at the Stellar Motel. I refill my coffee. My hands have developed a permanent tremor. At 12:45 a.m., the door to room one opens. The mob enforcer steps out first, buttoning his shirt, not looking back. He walks to his sedan, pauses with his hand on the door. Recently divorced, emerges. She's wrapped in the motel's thin robe, arms crossed against the chill. They stand 10 feet apart, not speaking. Finally, she says something I can't hear. He nods once, gets in his car, and drives away. She watches the taillights disappear. Then she turns and walks. Not back to room one, but toward my office. I straighten up as she approaches the window. Checking out. At 1 a.m. I have somewhere to be. She slides the key across the counter. Her hands aren't shaking anymore.
SPEAKER_11Observing the guests for this shift, I draw a number card for each remaining guest. Alphabet Soup agent draws the two of diamonds.
SPEAKER_122 a.m. The phone rings. It's Rosa from the diner.
SPEAKER_04My shift's finally over. I was thinking about what I told you about that agent. I saw him again today, but this time with a lady. What did she look like? Well dressed, engaged in what he was saying, but not in a wear on a date kind of way. She struck me as a reporter.
SPEAKER_12I nod though, Rosa can't see it.
SPEAKER_04It must be him and this place. Because those two got into an argument. She stormed off and he was left with the bill.
SPEAKER_12Thanks, Rosa.
SPEAKER_11The cultist has the Four of Diamonds.
SPEAKER_123:30 a.m. I'm half asleep at my desk when a shadow falls across the window. The cultist stands outside my office. Not at the window. Not approaching. Just standing. I step outside. Ma'am, everything okay? She doesn't look at me.
SPEAKER_05We were friends once. Patricia Vance and me. Before the campaign and the elections. Before the power.
SPEAKER_12Her voice is distant, dreaming.
SPEAKER_05She was kind, gentle. She believed, truly believed, that she was doing good work for the people.
SPEAKER_12What happened?
SPEAKER_05Her lip curls. Corruption gets to everyone. She saw how politics were on the inside, wanted to drag us all into it and watch us burn.
SPEAKER_12She finally turns to look at me, those unblinking eyes wet with something that might be tears.
SPEAKER_05They blame me, you know. Her people. They say I didn't stand by my friend.
SPEAKER_12She walks back to her room. No new motives for this shift. But the confessions. God, the confessions.
SPEAKER_11The morning shift of night three and the check-in or check-out roll. The cultist in room six will check out.
SPEAKER_12At 5 15 a.m., the door to room 6 opens. The cultist crosses the lot toward my office. She's carrying a small bag, leather, old.
SPEAKER_05Checking out.
SPEAKER_12I take the key. Our fingers don't touch this time. Leaving town? She tilts her head.
SPEAKER_05Leaving this place. The work here is done. What was started has been finished. What was broken has been mended.
SPEAKER_12She studies me for a long moment. Then she reaches into her bag and pulls out a card. A tarot card, old and worn. She places it on the counter. The tower. Lightning striking, bodies falling.
SPEAKER_05A gift for your diligence.
SPEAKER_12What does it mean?
SPEAKER_05It means what it always means: destruction. Revelation.
SPEAKER_12She smiles that same unsettling expression.
SPEAKER_05The truth will out, little clerk. One way or another.
SPEAKER_12She walks away. No car. No taxi. She just walks toward the highway, and the morning mist swallows her whole. I pick up the tarot card. It's warm. I put it in my pocket.
SPEAKER_11I draw one card for the remaining guest. Alphabet Soup Agent. The Seven of Spades. One to motive and one to doubt. Because this was previously drawn for the professor.
SPEAKER_12The agent steps outside room 5 at 6:30. He's dressed but barely. His shirt is untucked and his tie hangs loose. His gun is holstered but visible. He stands just outside his room, waiting. Nothing comes. He stands there for 15 minutes. 20. The sun crests the horizon, painting him in shades of gold and pink. Finally, he slumps. Defeated. That's when the car pulls in. A rental, clean and anonymous. A woman steps out, middle-aged, professional, carrying a briefcase. She walks to the agent with the confidence of someone who's done this before.
SPEAKER_16Agent Kellerman.
SPEAKER_12Kellerman. First time I've heard his name. You shouldn't be here.
SPEAKER_16And you shouldn't be conducting a personal investigation into a closed case. Yet here we are.
SPEAKER_12They talk in low voices. I creep closer, checking the vending machine that doesn't need checking.
SPEAKER_16But the Bureau closed the file. Hale was a con man who got killed by one of his marks. End of story.
SPEAKER_14That's not what happened, and you know it.
SPEAKER_16What I know is that you were compromised. You were part of that congregation 20 years ago. You had a relationship with the victim. You were seen arguing with him the night he died.
SPEAKER_12The agent goes pale. I didn't.
SPEAKER_16I'm not saying you did, but Washington is asking questions. Internal affairs is asking questions. And if you don't walk away from this, they're gonna start looking for answers.
SPEAKER_14The silence extends longer than anticipated. He was going to expose everything. He was going to burn it all down and take everyone with him.
SPEAKER_16Including you?
SPEAKER_14Including me.
SPEAKER_16Go home, Kellerman. Bury this. Whatever happened in that motel room, let it stay buried.
SPEAKER_12She gets back in her car and drives away. The agent stands alone in the parking lot, staring at nothing. He was seen arguing with Hale the night he died. He was part of a congregation. He had every reason to want the preacher silenced. The agent checks out at 7:55 a.m. He slides his key across the counter without a word, without eye contact. His hands are steady, but his eyes are hollow. Agent Kellaman, he freezes. I didn't catch your name before. He looks at me. No, you didn't. He walks to his car. The stellar motel sits empty of guests but filled with too many secrets. And me. Night 3. Final motive tally. Recently divorced, 3 motive. Mob enforcer, 1 motive. Cultist, 5 motive, with 2 doubt. Alphabet Soup Agent has 4 in motive and 2 in doubt. Professor has 1 motive, and the state senator has 0. The morning light streams through the office window, casting long shadows across my desk. The ledger sits open before me. Three nights of observations scrawled in increasingly unsteady handwriting. I know what I have to do.
SPEAKER_11At this point in the game, I am to complete the crime incident report form, which I will condense for the purposes of the story.
SPEAKER_12Who are you accusing? Agent Kellerman, Federal Bureau of Investigation. Badge number unknown. What is your proof? Prior association with victim. Agent Kellerman was a member of the Congregation of the Final Star 20 years ago, the same church led by the victim. He flipped on the congregation as a young man, but maintained secret contact with Hale. Multiple witnesses observed them meeting at the Starlight Diner in the weeks before the murder. Falling out before murder, approximately two weeks before the killing. Kellerman and Hale had a public altercation at the Starlight Diner. Kellerman was heard shouting about protocol and going too far. Hale referenced necessary sacrifices. They were asked to leave the establishment. Presence on night of murder. An unnamed Bureau representative confirmed that Kellerman was seen arguing with the victim the night he died. The nature of this argument is unknown, but Kellerman had access to room 7 and knowledge of the victim's location. Motive. Silencing a witness. Hale was preparing to expose the congregation's activities, including rituals, financial crimes, and Kellerman's own involvement. Kellerman admitted he was going to burn it all down and take everyone with him. Compromised investigation. Kellerman was conducting a personal, unauthorized investigation into Hale's death despite the Bureau expressly forbidding it. This suggests consciousness of guilt or an attempt to control the narrative. Erratic behavior. Throughout his stays at the Stellar Motel, Kellerman exhibited signs of extreme psychological distress. Sleeplessness, agitation, confrontations with other guests. Is there anything else you feel obligated to report? No. I set down the pen. No, that's a lie. There's plenty I'm not reporting. But some things are better left unwritten. I stare at the ledger full of names, times, and activities. Recently divorced. Her real name, I never learned, features prominently. Visitor, high school salutarian, her daughter. They drank wine and reminisced about the victim. Eddie, from the starlight, she threw her drink in his face, said he ruined her life. She had plenty of reasons to kill him. He abandoned her, abandoned their child, left them both to rot while he built his empire of faith and fraud. But she's suffered enough. I reach for my coffee mug. Cold now. And my hand trembles. Fatigue, nerves, maybe something else. The mug tips. Brown liquid spreads across the ledger, bleeding through the pages, obscuring the ink. I watch it happen. I don't move to stop it. Room 1. Visitor illegible. Eddie from the Starlight. By the time I'm done, three nights of observations about the recently divorced are useless.
SPEAKER_11The moment of truth, where I roll to determine if the agent is busted. Rolling D6 against doubt of two, the die is a four. Roll of four exceeds doubt of two. Busted. The final spread. I lay out Kellerman's card, the Jack of Diamonds, and draw four number cards to determine the aftermath. Card 1, how the Alibi Fell Apart.
SPEAKER_12Someone mentioned in his alibi sold him out. The Bureau representative, the woman who warned him to walk away, testified against him. She'd been building a file for months, waiting for someone to make the accusation she couldn't make herself.
SPEAKER_11Wrong in nearly every detail. Pure chance the killer got caught.
SPEAKER_12The irony isn't lost on me. I thought this was about cults and rituals and sacrifices. I thought the cultist was the mastermind, pulling strings from the shadows. In the end, it was simpler. A scared man with a shameful past, cornered by someone who knew too much. I was wrong about almost everything, but I was right about him.
SPEAKER_11Card 3. What happens to the clerk? Nine of Hearts. Took up with one of the guests.
SPEAKER_12Found work at a different motel. Same job, same hours, same parade of sinners and secrets. But I'm not alone anymore. Recently divorced found me. Eleanor. I learned her name eventually. She tracked me down through channels I don't want to know about. Showed up at my new job one night, standing at the counter like a vision from a fever dream.
SPEAKER_02You removed me from the suspect list.
SPEAKER_12I don't know what you're talking about.
SPEAKER_02The ledger. The coffee stain.
SPEAKER_12You erased me. I had no response. She smiled with the first real smile I'd ever seen on her face.
SPEAKER_11Card four. What happens to the motel? Six of Clubs. The motel shut down to gather new evidence and never reopens.
SPEAKER_12The Stellar Motel closed three weeks after the arrest. Too much bad press. Too many ghosts. The neon sign is dark and the windows are boarded. The parking lot is cracked and overgrown with weeds. Room 7 is still there, still sealed. The cultist was right. The truth came out, just not all of it. The tower, destruction, revelation, the collapse of false structures. When you sleep among the sinners, you may wake up dead. Or you may wake up changed. Or you may not wake up at all.
SPEAKER_11Thank you for listening to another episode of Solo Playing. I appreciate Ken Lowry allowing me to use his game for this. This was a twisting turn and maze of a mystery. At any time, another guest could have arrived and thrown doubt or a new motive into the mix. This was a great game and easy to follow and make up a story as I went along. The prompts were great because they created the interconnection and the multiple layers of a life. Another episode will be released soon.
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