Lights Out at the Meridian

2026-10-12 · by AnyoneButSam

The Hotel Meridian has been dying elegantly for thirty years. Tonight it put on its pearls for the annual charity auction: three hundred guests in the Lantern Room, a string quartet, champagne on silver, and one painting everybody came to see. The Lantern Girl, Ilse Marrow, 1923. Lot 14, the last lot of the night.

At 22:40 the lights went out. Four minutes of darkness, a few screams, a lot of laughter. When the chandeliers came back, the auction carried on as if nothing had happened, and at 22:51 Lot 14 sold for forty-one thousand dollars. A record for the house.

At 22:47, somewhere under all that applause, a night porter found a man at the bottom of the service stairs with his neck broken.

His name is Felix Amsel. He was a painter, and a guest, and nobody can tell you what he was doing below stairs. On the telephone, the manager has already used the word accident four times.

You are the only detective sergeant on duty in the harbour district tonight. You have until the guests get their coats. After that, three hundred witnesses become three hundred taxis.