July 13, 1977. The grandest hotel in Manhattan. When the lights go out across New York City, a retired federal judge is found stabbed in a stalled penthouse elevator. House phones are dead, outside lines are jammed, and no help is reaching the hotel anytime soon. Seven suspects are trapped floor-by-floor in the Beaumont Hotel, and the only way to find the killer is to reconstruct who could have reached the twelfth floor in pitch dark. The city outside is descending into chaos — looting on Bushwick's Broadway, fires in the Bronx, twenty-five hours until power returns. Inside the Beaumont, the real crime is vertical. Every alibi is measured not in minutes, but in floors traversed. Every candle flame and flashlight beam becomes a witness. And somewhere between the lobby and the penthouse, someone used the darkness to settle a fifteen-year-old debt.
Rebuild the night floor by floor before the hotel writes its own story.
The Retired Detective
Retired NYPD Homicide Detective
Detective First Grade Frank DeLuca, NYPD, retired 1976 after thirty-two years in Homicide. He testified in Judge Wainwright's courtroom dozens of times — they weren't friends, but they shared a professional respect built on long cases and hard verdicts. DeLuca was good police. Mostly.
The Lounge Singer
Singer, Starlight Lounge
Born in Baton Rouge, raised in Harlem after her family moved north in 1952. Vivian has a voice that can make a grown man cry and a mind sharp enough to count the house while singing. She's been the Starlight Lounge's headliner for two years — the longest engagement the Beaumont has offered a Black performer. She knows the hotel's rhythms better than most guests and half the staff.
The Night Manager
Night Manager, The Beaumont Hotel
Marcus Webb is the Beaumont's night manager, trusted to keep the hotel running smoothly through the small hours when guests are tired, drunk, or frightened. He is meticulous, efficient, and almost impossible to rattle. Staff know him as the kind of man who notices everything and volunteers very little.
The Diamond Courier
Private Courier
Leonard Cross works as a courier for high-value Manhattan clients who pay for discretion as much as speed. At the Beaumont he keeps to himself, watches exits, and carries himself like a man used to expensive problems. Nobody would call him friendly, but nobody mistakes him for careless.
The Judge
Retired Federal Judge
Judge Harold Wainwright served on the federal bench for thirty-one years, presiding over organized crime cases, narcotics trafficking, and armed robbery trials throughout the 1950s and 1960s. Known as "The Hammer" for his punishing sentences, he retired in 1975 amid quiet criticism from defense attorneys who considered his sentencing needlessly cruel. His wife Eleanor died six months ago. He checked into the Beaumont for a week — the hotel where he and Eleanor spent their honeymoon in 1938. He hasn't spoken to his daughter Diane in five years.
The Bellhop
Bellhop, The Beaumont Hotel
Tommy Reese grew up in Hunts Point, South Bronx — the kind of neighborhood where you learn to read a room before you learn to read a book. He's been working at the Beaumont for eight months, saving money for City College. He's smart, hardworking, and morally flexible when the stakes are high enough.
The Estranged Daughter
Gallery Owner
Diane Wainwright was her father's pride until 1972, when she married David Monroe, a jazz pianist. Judge Wainwright considered it a betrayal of the family name — a federal judge's daughter marrying a "nightclub musician." He cut her from the will. They haven't spoken in five years.
The Journalist
Former Investigative Reporter
Ray Kovacs was the best investigative reporter at the New York Post until 1975, when it came out that he'd fabricated three sources in a series on police corruption. He was fired publicly, sued privately, and blacklisted from every newsroom in the city. He lost his wife, his apartment, and his reputation in six months.
Common Area
The Beaumont's grand lobby — marble floors, brass fixtures, and a crystal chandelier that hasn't moved since the power died.
Restricted
A cramped room behind the front desk. Desk, filing cabinets, a wall of room keys, and a photograph of the hotel's 1923 opening.
Common Area
White tablecloths, silver candelabras, and tall windows looking out on a city with no lights.
Common Area
The hotel's cocktail bar and performance venue. A baby grand piano, a small stage, and a long mahogany bar with a brass rail.
Restricted
A small commercial kitchen behind the Starlight Lounge — prep station, walk-in cooler, and a magnetic knife rack on the wall.
Private
Vivian Moreau's room. Sheet music on the desk, a silk robe over the chair, and a half-empty pack of Virginia Slims.
Private
The room registered to 'Robert Kaye.' Ashtray overflowing, papers spread across every surface, a manual typewriter on the desk.
Private
Leonard Cross's room. Spartan, obsessively organized. The room safe is built into the closet wall.
Private
Diane Wainwright-Monroe's room. An empty wine bottle on the nightstand, a crumpled letter on the floor, her mother's photograph on the desk.
Private
Frank DeLuca's room. A framed photo of a woman on the nightstand. A Robert Ludlum novel face-down on the bed. The room is near the service stairwell entrance.
Private
Judge Wainwright's suite. Rich wood paneling, a writing desk, a view of the darkened Manhattan skyline. The bed is made. He never got to sleep.
Crime Scene
A stalled elevator car, doors closed, stuck at floor 12 since 9:34 PM. Inside: the body of Judge Harold Wainwright.
Common Area
The twelfth-floor corridor. Emergency lighting casts a yellow pall. The elevator doors are closed. The service stairwell door is at the far end.
Restricted
A freight elevator running the building's spine from the basement to floor 12. Operational on the hotel's emergency circuit. Requires a staff key.
Restricted
A concrete fire stairwell running from the basement to floor 12. No windows. No light. The doors squeak.
Restricted
The hotel's mechanical heart. Boiler room, electrical panels, maintenance workshop, and storage.
