Murder at the Heartbreak Hideaway
On a chill October night in LA, guests crowd the entrance outside the classic Hollywood speakeasy No Vacancy. I’m dressed head to toe in Outcast, here for their annual murder mystery event — my favorite party of the month. This year’s event is The Heartbreak Hideout, an immersive production set inside a prohibition era brothel. I’m more than ready for some moonshine and a good time.
I find the secret speakeasy entrance, and knock slowly. I’m greeted at the door by Catarina, an old timey madam, perched inside a spooky bedroom. She greets me and asks me for the password, but I’ve been briefed. I say the magic words, “heartbreaker”, and suddenly, the bed slides open, revealing a secret set of stairs leading into the party.
Inside, I weave past a glittering champagne tower dripping with dry ice into a lively bar scene. The DJ spins jazz standards; the room flickers with candlelight. Before I can grab a dirty martini, I’m whisked away to have my picture taken for my case file and handed a set of clues, along with a lace garter to wear — I’ve been christened a Heartbreak Harlot for the night.
Finally, I’m ready to drink. I grab a quick shot of 1942 from the ice luge as I look over the details of the murder. Scarlett Lubella, a hardworking hooker, has been discovered dead in the building. Before I can get much further into the clues, I run into a friend, who’s insisting I try the caviar.
We talk to Wolfe, a less than charming cop, and Devyn, a fellow hooker at the brothel who’s got a suspicious vibe about her. Even though we’re in the heart of Hollywood, I’m transported into another time. Suddenly, the bar erupts into a fight — Wolfe’s making accusations. Who killed Scarlett Lubella? The night has begun andI race back up the stairs to take in the murder scene.
Under caution tape, hundred-dollar bills litter the floor, alongside empty bottles, playing cards, and the remnants of a wild night of sin. There’s been a struggle, and poor Scarlett’s bled out just about everywhere. We learn that Wolfe the cop was Scarlett’s lover as well. A conflict of interest, certainly. I take another shot before returning downstairs — this murder’s not going to solve itself. The night turns into a real life version of Clue while I run from room to room trying to find a murder weapon and a motive in the crowd of witnesses.
Just when I think I’ve cracked the case, the back doors of the venue swing open and the night’s live entertainment is under way. A swing band plays as I grab a cigarette, and try my hand at some roulette. I almost forget I’m supposed to be solving a murder. All of a sudden, a beautiful blonde in a sparkling bikini appears in a giant martini glass. She performs a showstopping burlesque routine that leaves the crowd speechless and covered in silver confetti.
That’s when I realize someone’s spotted the murder weapon. A bloody knife in a bush — classic. And all signs point right to Devyn, the jealous coworker. Perhaps Scarlett should have kept her friends closer – occupational hazard? But justice has been served, and Devyn’s carted off to jail, while the guests cheer and the party rages. The blackjack table is hot, cigars are flowing, and I’m ready to dance.
