Murder In The Old Castle
IX.Bedroom
Anggara Laksono room is quite spacious, with a fairly unique decor. The bed is made of carved iron in the middle of the room, with antique furniture that seems to be carried from medieval times. There was a sinister smell when a group of writers entered the room. There was a large window on the side wall, directly connected to the view of the tea garden in the distance. On the other side of the wall hung a large painting of a beautiful woman in a white dress, exactly the same as the painting that was in the middle room.
Although beautiful, the writers feel there is a mystical air behind the painting. The eyes of the woman in the painting highlighted sharply, with a smile that was so mysterious. Tiara Laksmi was stunned in front of the painting. In his heart he admired whoever the painter was. The paintbrush is so perfect, depicting so much detail on the canvas. He remembered the Raden Saleh painting that looked so real.
“This is Mr Anggara's late wife right?” tiara Laksmi.
“Iya. It was a painting of Mr. Anggara's wife. He died of uterine cancer, leaving no offspring. I think Mr. Anggara explained a little about his wife yesterday,” explained Rania.
“What's the name?” chirp Hans while looking at an antique ashtray in the shape of a human skull. The ashtray was formed from kaolin sand, carved in detail and perfect.
“Anastasia,” replied Rania.
“Pak Anggara smokes?” ask Hans again. He rubbed the base of the ashtray a little dirty.
“No. Ashtray is just a decoration. Mr. Anggara has serious problems with his health. He had a private doctor who used to come here every month. In the next few days, dr. Dwi Wahyudi will visit. Unfortunately, I have not informed you that Mr. Anggara is dead,” said Rania.
“It's okay, let the doctor come here. There are some I want to ask him,” Michael said.
“Then where is the safe containing the will and the gold?” ask Maira.
“Sorry. I don't know about that either. I think it's Mr. Anggara's business with his personal lawyer,” said Rania.
“Hmmm ...” Maira looked at Rania suspiciously.
He felt that something was hidden from Rania's testimony. Although Rania has a sad face, Maira does not believe it. Maira feels there is a secret hidden behind the mask that Rania uses.
Rania's sexy body is an asset that is so seductive to men. As a woman who has a competitive instinct, Maira felt her body was rivaled by Rania. Though various fitness classes he has followed to maintain the firmness of his body.
“Without leaving a single descendant? You sure?”
Michael suddenly finds an old photo attached to small frames that are displayed in a large closet. In the photo, Anggara Laksono is seen with his wife, holding a baby.
“Sorry, I don't know the origin of the photo. Maybe it wasn't his real son. I don't know about this at all. I also just saw this photo,” said Rania.
“How long have you been serving Mr Anggoro?” ask Michael.
“Five or six of these years. He also had a personal assistant. But the assistant died, so I replaced him,”.
“As long as you serve Mr Anggara have you seen anything strange or awkward?”
“No. Mr. Anggara was a good man, but he hardly ever went out of the house at all. Sometimes his nephew in Jakarta visited here,” said Rania again.
“Niece? Mr Anggara has a nephew?”
“Iya. A woman with a sixth sense. She's a psychic, her name is Mariah Alray.”
Michael mangosteen heard the testimony of Rania.
“Can I know your life background?” ask Michael again.
“What do you want to know?”
“Anything ...”
The conversation was still going on when some writers decided to get out of Anggara Laksono's room. Only Michael, Hans, Tiara and Maira left behind. Anggara room has a balcony that is quite comfortable, with beautiful views below. While Michael was answering with Rania, the other three writers went out to chat on the balcony while enjoying the beauty of the natural sketches that are so beautiful. The wind blew toying with Tiara and Maira's hair. While Hans was not tired of looking at the young women with a hungry wolf-like gaze ready to devour their prey.
“It will be a nice holiday, especially I am surrounded by beautiful girls like you,” Hans said as he continued to stare at Tiara and Maira.
Tiara felt uneasy, trying to shake Hans' gaze. She's away. While Maira still spread a flirtatious smile, an intoxicating honey tub. Tiara's a little fed up.
“You should visit me more often. My bed is always quiet ...,” Maira whispered to Hans.
“Good idea. We're going to party tonight! There will be music and beer!” said Hans.
“You so buy those beers?” ask Maira.
“Iya. Everything's sorted. No one likes money. Everything has been taken care of by Yoga, and later tonight we will celebrate the night with warmth. You want to join, Tiara?” hans asked suddenly.
Tiara stuttered.
“I don't know. Maybe I'll just read a book in the reading room. I saw a lot of good novels there. I saw some of your novels stored there,” said Tiara.
“I'll look for your novel. About Greek mythology right?”
“Don't just be novel, you can enjoy the night with me whenever you want. You can ask Maira how much she likes my game. Or can we have a threesome of fun?” haggard Hans while glaring naughty.
Maira laughed at Hans' words.
Tiara could not hide her nervousness. The uncomfortable contact spreads throughout the body. Hans's speech felt very strange in his ears. Really, it's a little disrespectful. Although Tiara is an adult story writer, she still keeps the norms of decency that prevail in society.
“Sorry, there's something else I have to do!”
Tiara soon passed from before Hans and Maira. With a meaningful smile, Hans stared at Tiara's departure.
“You're still curious about that cheap writer?” ask Maira.
“Don't you think she's so pretty?”
“Iya. She's beautiful with a big chest, according to your criteria. But I don't know, I feel like there's something weird about her. Something hidden behind his innocence. Just like Rania. I think many are wearing masks here,” Maira said. His gaze glared far to the limit of the horizon.
“I can also see the real face behind your mask, Maira!” hans flick while patting Maira's densely packed hips.
“I like when you do that ..,” whispered Maira.
***
In a fairly spacious reading room, with high cabinets containing a collection of books. Karina sat on one of the chairs at the end of the room. Many times, he corrected the location of his reading glasses. His face is so serious. Even so, the charm of her beauty still emanated perfectly.
Her nose is pointed, with brownish hair. Karina is the perfect portrait of a woman of Eastern European descent.
His father was a Bulgarian diplomat, who married his mother, a woman from Bandung. Karina's beauty legacy flows from the mother's blood combined with the father's European genes.
Karina Ivanova was so enthusiastic about glaring at the old diary sheet by sheet. The writing is rather vague inedible to age. The paper also looks blurry. Interestingly, the contents of the diary are like a chronological sequence of events told in beautiful language.
“Serious once. What are you reading?” hello Cornellio Syam who suddenly present.
The thin mustachioed man's parasites looked firm, with a sharp eye highlight. Looks charming for some women who like the typical man who is friendly and cheerful.
“A diary I found from the basement. Simply caught my attention,” said Karina.
“oya? Who wrote it?”
“I can't be sure. There's an AP initial on the cover. Maybe you used to live here.” Karina explained without looking at Cornellio.
The thin mustachioed man was looking for books on the shelf. A smile fell on her pink lips.
“It feels weird ...,” Cornellio muttered.
“Any?”
“I read my novel on this shelf, then I read it myself. It seems strange that my writing could reach such a remote place. I did not expect Anggara Laksono to like a piece of writing about horror like this,” said Cornellio.
“You yourself believe in ghosts?” ask Karina.
“No. Ghosts are crazy fantasies of writers and filmmakers. My whole life I've never met a ghost, werewolf, vampire or anything.”
“But you wrote about ghosts in detail and perfect,” praise Karina.
“I only trust my instincts. Don't believe anything I write,” laughs Cornellio.
“That's great.”
“My instruction says that tonight bad things will happen,” Cornellio murmured.
“What do you feel?”
“Someone will be killed tonight ...”
***