It was with surprising abruptness that a beautiful blue fairy materialized into air of Room 1317B.
“What the hell are you?” The well-dressed man demanded angrily, disturbed that he was no longer the sole occupant of his hotel room.
The blue fairy was shocked. “I’m yours. You summoned me here.”
“I’m here to give you what you want. Whatever you want baby, it’s yours. I have powers to grant your every desire.” The blue fairy closed her eyes and licked her lips seductively. The room phone, a vintage rotary on the desk in the corner, turned into a pineapple.
“What the fuck?” The well-dressed man picked it up.
“What a mess,” Special Constable Rivers said, observing the disarray.
“Yeah.” Officer Greaves said. He’d paled and a his eyes had acquired a far-off look since they stepped into the hotel room.
The duvet was soaked in blood. The body lay sunken in it, elbows and knees at odd angles, all the exposed flesh blacked and bruised.
“Where’s the murder weapon?” Greaves said. He had come late to the scene.
“On the floor, over there. Apparently the perp beat her to death with the phone receiver.”
“No attempt to cover what he was doing at all. He even checked out and paid. Why someone would someone kill a hooker in such an obvious way is beyond me; we’ve got his home address, his phone number, even his email from the front desk. Bizarre.”
“True,” Greaves said. “But who knows what goes on in the mind of these sickos?”
The two officers stared in silence at the bloody receiver.