December 18 – 10:45 PM.
Diamond Hotel.
Diamond Hotel was invisible.
Rather, it was a large 20 floor building made of steel and glass that could easily blend into the morning and night sky. If it weren’t for the city lights bouncing off the steel frames and polished reflections, it would be impossible to tell where it was standing in the middle of downtown.
The hotel was busy, for another kind of reason other than the tourist/winter seasons.
Reporters had flooded the front steps of the hotel. A formation of security guards and officers were fending off the horde, holding the line, to keep them from charging into the lobby and wrecking everything. They didn’t want them to disturb the guest, the staff, or even the crime scene.
Meanwhile, a group of investigators were summoned to examine a certain room high above ground level.
Room 777.
“... Luck be a lady, huh?”
A Shaggy Mongrel was first on the scene.
A man with long and unkempt hair, his thin body wrapped up in a thick coat that have seen more than it’s fair share of outside jobs, stains faded old and cuts dulled out by time. He kept his police ID clipped to his chest as he stepped around the hotel room.
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Detective Merlin
Crime Investigation Division (C.I.D.), Precinct 9.
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As he examined the room, he held in his hand not a flash light or an evidence bag. But a big bag of chips, Miss Vickie’s kettle cooked potato chips, Jalapeno flavour.
CRUNCH! Munch, munch munch.
He took a moment to memorize the room as he ate.
The hotel room was the size, or even greater, than a standard living room. It had all the basic necessities to stay for the night, or even spend time for a couple of month.
A king size bed with golden covers. A desk with a computer that could do more than play Spider Solitaire. A lounge area with a long and waving white couch, a glass table on top of an exotic rug, and a 60” 4K TV screen with over 50 free channels and major stream services.
It was a beautiful mess. Five stars.
“Dr. Grace.” Detective Merlin called over as he made his way to the golden king bed. “Chip?”
“Hmm? Oh! No thank you. I already ate before I arrived. But thanks!”
The coroner Dr. Grace was busy kneeling across the bed. She was accompanied by her pathology assistants as she examined what was placed across the grand bed. She waved a hand with fresh blood-stain on her gloves to turn down Detective Merlin’s offer. Her attention was on the back corner of the bed anyhow.
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The detective glanced at the sight, “Someone’s had a rough night.”
The coroner tried not to chuckle, “This man has definitely seen better days.”
A corpse laid across the very bed.
Face buried in the golden blankets, arms and legs dangling over the sides like a balancing act, blood splashed across the covers – a near elegant whip of red across the canvas.
Dr. Grace adjusted her knees to balance on the soft bed, turning the corpse’s head to show the front of his face. “The victim suffered a blow to the forehead, looks severe. Enough to stun him.” She then turned the head back down to show--
“Oh my geeeeerd.” Detective Merlin gulped down his mouthful of chips as he stared.
The back of the corpse’s head was blown wide open. Not by a .44 Magnum, not even by something akin to a pick axe. The back of the skull collapsed, cracked open like a hard boiled egg under a hammer. Detective Merlin winced at the sight of brain peeking through the cracks, as if to say ‘HEEERE’S BRAINY!’
“Blunt force trauma to the back of the skull.” Dr. Grace spoke up while she touched around the wound. “Multiple blows by a heavy object. Possibly something with a sharp enough corner to cut through the scalp and crack open the skull.”
“Any – urgh – defensive wounds on the victim?”
“At a glance, I don’t see any. Most likely the murderer knocked the victim out with a strike to the forehead, dazing him. When the victim couldn’t fight back, the murderer pinned them down and struck him repeatedly. I’ll provide more details after I bring him back for a full autopsy.”
Detective Merlin took a moment to absorb the information, munching on another piece of kettle cooked chip. “Whoever hated his ugly guts reaaally wanted to knock his lights off.”
Click. The entire room went pitched black.
Surprised yelps and murmurs filled the room. Only the open hotel door and the hallway lights were the only source of illumination. Detective Merlin looked around, chewing on another chip. He tried to whistle...no response. He made a makeshift clap of his hand against the snack bag. Other than splashing some chip powder into the air – Nothing. Then.
“...Lights on?”
Click. The room blinked back on.
“Oh heeeeey...that’s pretty cool.” Detective Merlin gave an impressed nod and started to look around the rest of the room.
Various cushions were scattered across the room. They should be sitting on the wavy couch as comfortably as a couch potato, but no they were all lying on the floor, on a nearby table, and even in front of the bathroom door. As if a child threw a great big tantrum to get their parents attention.
The glass table had been kicked at a corner, causing it to stand on an awkward tilt. It faced 45 degrees from the TV, something a person with O.C.D. could not abide to. It even twisted up the very rug underneath.
The forensic specialists on site were focused on acquiring three things from the lounge: first was a skirt, it was hanging off the back of the waving couch; second was a purse that was stuck in the gaps of the couch; and third was a single shoe.
Short-heeled, pointed toe, the strap broken.
Detective Merlin turned to the coroner to ask. “Could a woman have done this?”
Dr. Grace glanced at the severity of the wound and the amount of blood that soaked the bed. “Well. Either she’s a very large woman, or a lady with a purpose – if you know what I mean.”
“Eh. Better than nothing. You sure you don’t want some chips? I bought it fresh from Seven Ele—”
“N-no, th-thank you. I appreciate the offer.”
“Your loss. These are really good.”
Crunch. Munch. Munch.