Untitled(4) Chapter IV - An Unexpected Visitor I was awoken at 6AM to the sound of my phone ringing, "hello" I answerd, "Dispatch; threre is a murder scene on the corner of 8th and Main, Appartment block 2593, Appartment 22B relevent to your case, dispatch out" A voice said. I knew that it was another victim, an appartment block this time. When I arrived, there was a large crowed, the were reporters and locals everywhere but I couldn't see Turner anywhere. "Detective; Betty Newman, Evening Edition, is this woman’s death connected to the murder at the Riverside Hotel on Friday night?" She asked. "No comment at this time lady" I responded. I arrived on the 5th floor, there were more cops than usual, taking statements and looking for whitnesses. "JACK! Where the hell have you been!" yealled the Leutenant. Leutenant Danton was a serious man, with army style grey hair, a beard and a vicious tounge. "Shits hit the pan Jack and the Cheif is gonna eat me for breakfast. On top of that someones been talking to the press and now the city knows we have a cerial killer on the loose and where have you been..?." he exclaimed. "Iv'e been following leads I replied. "Ball shit Jack, you've been following dick, cavorting with the likes if Tommy Silva, you were said to have been at his club last night and was in his office til’ you left... at 20AM. I'm going to report to the Cheif, do you think you can handle this?" He went on, in a spitting and swearing rage. "Yes sir..." I replied. "You better, or it's both our asses!" he shouted and then left. I examined the scene and it was just the same, chillingly. "Morning Jack, victim is a one June Simpson. This is her appartment, same again, all her organs removed and scrtered around the room, heart nowhere to be found. I have the reports from Violet Pemberton. She had no drugs in her system and most probably died after her stomach had been sliced open." the Coroner explained. "Detective, the officers have been looking for witnesses and information all night and morning, nobody heard a thing" Added the Captain. "Jack there seems to be lacerations around the mouth as though she was gagged, maybe that and given the time of the murder why nobody heard anything." After going over a few dead end wittiness reports and evidence, I found myself no closer to catching the man that did this. As I was about to leave to somehow figure out the missing ling, the Captain stopped me; “Jack I need to talk to you”. he said quietly ushering me into the apartments stairway. “What is it”. I asked.” The victim; June, she was one of Silva’s girls. I’m guessing that he would have got a private dance from her last night and offered her money for sex”. He said as he closed in towards me as if hiding his shame. “thanks, I won’t ask how you know that”. I said as i put on my hat walking down the corridor, “We can’t all be like you Jack” He exclaimed as I made my exit. When i got to my car I found the same reporter who stopped me on my way in. “Detective, is it true, is there really a cereal killer on the city streets?” She asked. I stood there looking at her as she waited for a reply, wearing a tight shirt and a long skirt. “Sure is, you better stay off the streets and lock your windows” I replied, as i walked past her and got in my car. “Is that an official statement” She cried as i drove off. I pulled up outside the priecent, there was reporters inside and concerned citizens, but i had no time to stop. there was a bottle of Malt Scotch waiting for me in my desk draw. When i reached the Hommicide office, it was empty. Thise two wise guys at the doors, I realised it was Silva. "Boss is waitin to see you Detective, it's not a good idea to keep him waiting" said the wise cracker, smirking an oafy grin. I walked in to find Silva Slouched back in my char with his feet up, my Malt Scotch opened and on the desk and a nice big finger of it in my glass. "Sit down Jack". He said, stairing at the glass, taking a sip. "I would but your in it!" I replied, swiping my bottle of the desk, pulling out the cork and taking a gulp, I was in no mood and Silva was the last person I wanted to have on my case. "Jack i'm goona be straight with you, your a good cop, you stick to the book but you don't cross guys like me so i've never had a problem with you. But that girl that this freak killed last night... was one of my girls Jack!" he said jumping out of the chair in a spitting rage. "Now, it seems I have a problem, this freak killed a girl that left my club the night she died, then one of my girls that makes me alotta' money and now i'm tied into this and my club. It's in the public eye and all it'll take is some filth reporter to open their mouth and i'm all over the paper! I have alotta' important people around me Jack that wouldn't wanna be associated with me and my employers are gonna be out of pocket..." he shouted a he paced back and forth, with a hint of desperation. "Now my money, my friends and my #life our in danger because of this sick fucking bastard. Now i wanna' know what you know and now so i can find this guy and get rid of him!" He requested as he came right up to my face. I walked around him and sat at my chair, tiping the glass empty on the floor and polishing it off with my over coat, he watched waiting as I poored a large one and sat back with my feet up. "Well then it looks like we're up the same shit creek..." I said as I took a sip and bared a stupid grin. "You mean to tell me you have nothing, you think you can just get rid of..." "Yeah yeah Silva, you want him dead and I want to book him, well I've got you, the paper and my Cheif breathing down my neck, so if you wanna kill me you better get in line. But until then, i'm gonna' follow every lead until I find the son of a bitch." I interupted. "Okay Jack, you can play good cop and go off and find him, but I want blood. Now when you find him, if you wanna' be able to walk to the store ever again, you better come to me first!" He said, walking out with his goons in toe. I sat there drinking my Scotch as I felt sorry for my self, trying to figure out how on earth I was gonna get outta this shit.

so far untitled... working on the 4th chapter, made some more changes. will post chapters 1-5 then finally the end result!

Untitled Chapters 1-3 post edit Chapter I - Riverside Hotel "Through here detective" said the officer, as i was lead in to a small room in a seedy hotel by the river. My name is Jack Caesar, detective in the NYPD for 8 years, i started most nights like this, dark hotels by the river, rooms lit up only by the neon lights on the street cutting through the blinds like lasers. But this hotel was especially ceedy, The Riverside Hotel. I had been on cases in the lower east side since i got my badge, they were your normal homicides; murder for love, prostitution, money, drugs and your occasional housewife murder. i started the night off thinking this would be the same old case. "holy shit" i exclaimed as i walked into a room were blood and guts covered the walls, the smell of rotten flesh and a pool of sick, most likely that of the beat cop that found her. Yes her, a young woman by the looks of it to, not too pretty and guessing by her clothes one of vice. There she laid tied to the bed with her abdomen sliced open and its contents spilled out onto the once white sheets. This was a scene unlike any i had seen before, thus the reason i froze with amazement, staring into the void as the doctor from the City Coroners Office gave me the low down. "Okay Jack, murder, victim was sliced open with a sharp cutting tool, we'll have to take some measurements back at the office as we cant find a suitable murder weapon. We'll take some further tests and a toxicology report to see what killed her, although judging by the position of the victim she was squirming as the blade entered her abdomen. Victim was a Violet Pemberton. we recoverd her bag from beneith the bed, must have been kicked under during the ordeal." he explained. "We've done a thorough search of the scene Jack, theres no sign of the victims heart" he continued with a chilling edge of realism. After examining the scene and taking notes, i hatlstly moved into the hallway and began my routine check for suspects. Unfortunatly it was mid week and all the rooms where empty, only a guy working the door on the bottom floor. As i got to the bottom of the staires i found a small window of a closet sised room where he sat, watching a small portable tv goormlessly. "Have you been here all night sir?" i asked. "huh, what..." he turns to look at me asif i had woke him up. "...yeah, yeah. I been on since 10 last night" he said, turning back to the screen, fiddling with the antener. "did you see who booked the room sir?" i asked. "Yeah, she was a usual, Violet ithink her bame was" confirming the victim and the person in question were the same. "she rented rooms out most nights, if you know what i mean" he continued, winking and smirking at me. "I see and does she always book the same room?" i asked. BANG! He hit the small TV with a long sweep, almost knocking it off the table. "No, usually she books the room at the end of the hall, but it was unavailable due to a leak. She booked that one because it's the cheapest and the one upstaires is the cheapest one besides, so i guess she booked it for the same reason." He said glancing at the TV. I decided to leave him to his shows, walking down the hallway to the room he spoke of i could still hear him banging the TV set. I arrived at a door with a patchyness on the door that read out Private as if the lettering had been removed. I opend the door to find a small room with a water tank in the corner that looked asif it serverd the whole building, a horrid stench of damp lingured in the air. A small bed beside it with a chest of drawers and a dim light hanging from the ceiling is all that the small room consisted of. As i looked around the room i could see nothing of any relivence until i turned to see a dark blue sports jacket on a hook behind the door, I could smell a welcomed fragrence of expensive colounge. I found a small labelinside that had the name of an expensive suit makers, Corona & Sons on 5th avenue, too expensive for me. The whole fact it was there made me suspicios of why an expensive jacket like this would have been left in a place like this. As i shuffeled around in the pockets i found a stirling silver box, a cigarette case. It had the enitials T.S inscribed. i took them both and made my exit, closing the door behind me with the jacket and cigarette case in hand I took a gasp of the air that surronded me, it may have been the stench of decades of sin but it was better than the damp of the room. I made my way to my car parked outside, past the nightman, still bashing at the TV. As i walked through the hotel doors the sunlight made me squint as i looked at my watch, 6:35am. It was early and i decided to seize the oppertunity to check out the suit makers lead, as it would be open by the time i had crossed the bridge. Chapter II - The Jacket "Detective; Jim Turner, Evening Edition. Can we have a statement?". Asked a reporter as i put the jacket into the trunk of my car, suprising me i dropped the cigarette case on the floor. "Drop something Detective?" he said picking it of the floor, dusting it off and giving it a good look. "Give that here!" i said, as though it was mine, quickly putting it in my pocket. "You wanna' statement, sure. It's got cockroaches and smells but the beds are comfy, 2 stars!" i said mocking him. "Very funny Detective..." he said folding his arms. "The murder, can we have a statement about the murder, Detective...?". I looked him up and down, his creassed shirt with his folded up sleves, loose tie and stained hat. "Detective Jack Ceaser, no statements at this time except for its not a murder investigation and asuming is gonna' get you in trouble, boy!" I said walking around to the drivers side of my car. "Well then Detcective Ceaser, i guess theres no story here..." he said as i climbed in to my car. "...And i guess that cigarette case isn't evidence too, sir!" He added. I could already tell this guy was gonna be a little different to your usual reporter, he was hungry, smart and even more annoying. But this wasn't exactly a normal case either. I was driving across the bridge, sun rising above the river, thinking who the owner of the jacket and case could be. Maybe a customer, after all the smell of the cologne was still strong. It all seemed to nice to be anything or anyone else's I thought. But then why would they be in the bed of a cheap hotel, with a street corner broad and on this side if the river. The reporter, realising the case wasn't mine from the enitials and my reaction when he touched it, I knew i'd probably run into him again. "MOVE IT!" I looked around to see an angry Cab driver behind me, eyes like daggers and pushing his horn in like a mad man. I had been thinking and forgot about the traffic lights. Driving into downtown, I came to 5th avenue just as someone were opening the shutters, I pulled up outside and grabbed the jacket from my trunk. "Excuse me, I found a jacket with a cigarette case in the pocket, i was wondering if you could tell me to whom it belonged so i can return it?" I said to an old gentleman, wearing a suit that was probably more expensive than my car and his hair whiter than the ivory pin on his tie. "We are not open to the public for another 45 minitues, you can come back then" he said looking me up and down. "Let's call it an official enquiry" I said, flipping the badge out of my coat pocket. "The same goes for the Police" he said walking into the store and locking the door behind him. Eventually the time passed and i walked in the store. A bell rang as I entered and out he popped from somewhere out back. There was fabrics of the finest sorts on rolls that lined the walls, all kinds of colours and patterns that one could only imagine the kind of customers that came in here. I walked up to the counter and before i opend my mouth, he said "I would not remember who bought that jacket, it's popular fashion for a sports jacket." "I see, well do you keep an order book or a record of these things?" I asked. "Only for certain customers, but I would remeber those". I realised this old man didn't want me to be there, checking over my sholder every two seconds in case some VP or broadway star walked in. I went back outside and sat in my car thinking of what to do next, when none other than the Mayor walked in. Mayor Johnson was a very large man, more of a socialite than a politician. I wondered how many roles of fine fabrics would it take to make him a snazzy suit. He was always in the news and the media, allegations of crime and corruption. Nothing that a small time Detective like me from the wrong side of the river should concern about. I watched as the old mans face lighted up like a star on a chritmas tree, pleasantries and hand shaking, when he lead him off to measure for a suit out back. It was then I realised this was a perfect opportunity. I walked right up to the door and that bell, that i had forgotten about, rang out. I quickly ducked for cover behind a cabinet with fabrics laid over. The old man came shuffling out, I could see just over the edge as he looked arond the store, I ducked as he peered my way. I could hear him walking towards where I was hid, I started to think what kind of excuse I could use when just as I was almost in his view, a voice belted out from the back room of the store. "CORONA! I'm meeting my mistress for breakfast in 30 minutes, will you hurry up!" The old man went running outback exclaiming his appologys . I couldn't help but think what kind of woman would sleep with a ballon like him other than his wife, then I realised the storys about the Mayor were probably true. Behind the counter I found a large log book with appointments, orders and sales kept in it, I searched the pages and as I slid my finger down the names column, there he was. Thomas Silva, 1x Deep Blue Sports Jacket. Tommy Silva as he's more affectionately known was a club owner for the mob, back on my side of the river. I had many meetings with him in the past and knew that this made it difficult, he used to handle women, protection and prostitution in most of the mobs clubs. He was a made guy and I tried to stay away from the mob, as they had police cheifs and city politicians in their pocket. But it was my job and i needed a drink, so I thought my next move was to go find that gangster turned socialite at one of his clubs, so off i went, disabling the bell as I left. Chapter III - Under The Bridge I made my way back across the bridge to get some sleep. When i woke up I put on my best suit ready for my date with Tommy. It was Saturday night and Tommy could only be in one place; Under The Bridge, a swanky club that hosted to the stars, businessman and even poloticians, although none of them would admit to being there. The only time people like that cross the bridge is for drugs, sex or money, all of which are catered for by good ol' Tommy. I pulled up to the club at around 90PM. "Can I park your car for you sir" said a valet as I opened my door, straightend my suit and passed him the keys, yeah, I was going to enjoy this. The bright lights ricoched back off the underside of the bridge, the valets running around trying to cater for every car that pulls up and not your usual occupants got out. There was Boadway stars, Presidents of the corparate world, Politicians and the odd Ambassador. As I walked in, checking my coat with the steward, I was in a crowed of people, laughing and joking. The kinda' crowed you don't get on this side of the river. Now we always knew about this place, but we never come within a block for two reasons; if you book someone, it won't stick or your paid off. I sat at the bar, drinking to my health as the the night went on. "Sir, can I pour you another?" Said the barman. "Sure" I replied, holding my glass in the air. As he was pouring my drink i looked at the clock, gone Midnight, where could he be I thought, when at that moment I heard a great bellowing laugh, I spun round so fast I almost slipped of the stool, from the kitchen doors, out came Tommy himself. I downed my glass, stubbed out my cigarette and walked on over. "Tommy, how are you", "Tommy your looking fabulous", "I took care of that thing for you Tommy". Just some of the calls coming from the crowd that surronded him, calls of desperation is what I hear, desperation for their fame, for their admiration and for their career. They all wanted to keep him happy and he was, but here I came to switch up his evening. I pushed through the crowd and came face to face with him, he stood about 5' 6, his jet black hair shining under the ligts and combed all the way back to his neck, wearing a blue pinstripe dinner jacket and the biggest cigar I ever seen sticking out of his big, teeth baring grin. " Jack! fancy seeing you hear, business or pleasure?". "It's Detective and I wanna ask you a few questions Tommy" I explained. "Ah I see, business then, you gotta lot a balls kid. Follow me to my office". As we walked toward a door next to the stage, the crowed parted like the red sea. It made me realise I was way outta' my depth and Tommy was not the kinda' guy you want to annoy. As we walked through the backstage, there were women racing around wearing hardly a thing, men talking in groups, wise guys by the looks, private dancers in the rooms dancing for men. When we reached his office I realised that two of the wiseguys that were in amoungst the crowd were actually with us. Tommy took out his hankercheif and wiped his forehead, as he poured him self a drink. "Can i get you a drink?" he asked. "No thank you Tommy" I replied. "You know, your too up tight Jack, maybe you should relax, take it easy" he said as he sank into his chair, blowing out a ball of cigar smoke that filled the air, I turned around to see those two wise guys stood by the door. "They have to be here?" I asked, feeling a little out numbered. "Those two, don't worry about those two Jack. To what do we owe the pleasure of you presence this evening Jack?" he asked as he gave a big teethy grin and sank even lower into his chair. "Violet Pemberton, you know her?" I asked. "Never heard of her, hey boys you ever hear of a Violet?" "I used to know a dancer called Violet, she had a huge rack" joked one of the wiseguys behind me, making brest size geastures to the other one as he laughed. "Don't be an idiot!" shouted Tommy, as though he was embaressed by the purile attempt of a joke. "Well she was found dead in a hotel about 4 blocks away last night. Real messy, someone opend her up and took out her insides" I explained. "Jack you tell such pleasent storys, look it's a fucked up world, whats it gotta do with me?" he questioned. "Well I guess if you don't know her then thats all I have to ask, you have yourself a good night..." I said getting up asif to leave. "Oh, one more thing, you left this in her room" I said, throwng the cigarette case across the table. "Found it in your nice blue jacket" I added smirking at him. "Look Jack that girls murder has nothing to do with me and we both no i'm not going down town. But seeing as it's you and i'm not involved i'll tell you" He said sitting up straight and forward. "She came in last night with her pimp, he was trying to pair her up whith some of the useuals, but they wasn't interested. So these two asked him to leave but he had a little too much to drink, so they took him out back and gave him a beating. she tried to stop the and this wise guy gave her a fat lip". he said pointing at the guy who wise cracked about the rack earlyer. "Then what?" I asked. "I went out there cause' all the noise, found him knocked out and her crying. I felt sorry for her, she was like one of my girls, just trying to make a living but she had a two bit hustler for a pimp, so I gave her my jacket, offered to get her a Cab but she just wondered off". He explained. "Did you see her get in a car or leave with anyone?" I asked. "No, I came back into the club and enjoyed my evening. If you don't mind Jack, I need to go play host and I think you need to leave before you start to scare all of my customers off, Detective badges proove most bad for business" He said. I decided it was time to leave and was checking my coat when I felt a tap on the shoulder. "Detective Ceaser, fancy seeing you here" It was that reporter from the hotel. "I could say the same thing" I replied. "Oh the news never sleeps Jack, always a story in a place like this. Which reminds me, hows the murder case going Jack?" He said. "I told you, no statements and stop saying it's a murder. I thought you reporters reported the truth." I said. "I guess T.S was Tommy Silva, I'd bet my shirt it's a murder case Jack, heres my card, give me a call if you wanna fill me in on you enquiry, i'll report some of that truth you love". he said, handing me a battered and worn calling card. "Be seeing you Jack" He said as he walked off disappearing into the crowed. I got my car and decided to make my way home, it was almost 20 AM and i needed some sleep.

Untitled(2) Detective, can we have a statement?". Asked a reporter as i put the jacket into the trunk of my car, suprising me i dropped the cigarette case on the floor. "Drop something Detective?" he said picking it of the floor, dusting it off and giving it a good look. "Give that here!" i said, as though it was mine, quickly putting it in my pocket. "You wanna' statement, sure. It's got cockroaches and smells but the beds are comfy, 2 stars!" i said mocking him. "Very funny Detective..." he said folding his arms. "The murder, can we have a statement about the murder, Detective...?". I looked him up and down, his creassed shirt with his folded up sleves, loose tie and stained hat. "Detective Jack Ceaser, no statements at this time except for its not a murder investigation and asuming is gonna' get you in trouble, boy!" I said walking around to the drivers side of my car. "Well then Detcective Ceaser, i guess theres no story here..." he said as i climbed in to my car. "...And i guess that cigarette case isn't evidence too, sir!" He added. I could already tell this guy was gonna be a little different to your usual reporter, he was hungry, smart and even more annoying. But this wasn't exactly a normal case either. I was driving across the bridge, sun rising above the river, thinking who the owner of the jacket and case could be. Maybe a customer, after all the smell of the cologne was still strong. It all seemed to nice to be anything or anyone else's I thought. But then why would they be in the bed of a cheap hotel, with a street corner broad and on this side if the river. The reporter, realising the case wasn't mine from the enitials and my reaction when he touched it, I knew i'd probably run into him again. "MOVE IT!" I looked around to see an angry Cab driver behind me, eyes like daggers and pushing his horn in like a mad man. I had been thinking and forgot about the traffic lights. Driving into downtown, I came to 5th avenue just as someone were opening the shutters, I pulled up outside and grabbed the jacket from my trunk. "Excuse me, I found a jacket with a cigarette case in the pocket, i was wondering if you could tell me to whom it belonged so i can return it?" I said to an old gentleman, wearing a suit that was probably more expensive than my car and his hair whiter than the ivory pin on his tie. "We are not open to the public for another 45 minitues, you can come back then" he said looking me up and down. "Let's call it an official enquiry" I said, flipping the badge out of my coat pocket. "The same goes for the Police" he said walking into the store and locking the door behind him. Eventually the time passed and i walked in the store. A bell rang as I entered and out he popped from somewhere out back. There was fabrics of the finest sorts on rolls that lined the walls, all kinds of colours and patterns that one could only imagine the kind of customers that came in here. I walked up to the counter and before i opend my mouth, he said "I would not remember who bought that jacket, it's popular fashion for a sports jacket." "I see, well do you keep an order book or a record of these things?" I asked. "Only for certain customers, but I would remeber those". I realised this old man didn't want me to be there, checking over my sholder every two seconds in case some VP or broadway star walked in. I went back outside and sat in my car thinking of what to do next, when none other than the Mayor walked in. Mayor Johnson was a very large man, more of a socialite than a politician. I wondered how many roles of fine fabrics would it take to make him a snazzy suit. He was always in the news and the media, allegations of crime and corruption. Nothing that a small time Detective like me from the wrong side of the river should concern about. I watched as the old mans face lighted up like a star on a chritmas tree, pleasantries and hand shaking, when he lead him off to measure for a suit out back. It was then I realised this was a perfect opportunity. I walked right up to the door and that bell, that i had forgotten about, rang out. I quickly ducked for cover behind a cabinet with fabrics laid over. The old man came shuffling out, I could see just over the edge as he looked arond the store, I ducked as he peered my way. I could hear him walking towards where I was hid, I started to think what kind of excuse I could use when just as I was almost in his view, a voice belted out from the back room of the store. "CORONA! I'm meeting my mistress for breakfast in 30 minutes, will you hurry up!" The old man went running outback exclaiming his appologys . I couldn't help but think what kind of woman would sleep with a ballon like him other than his wife, then I realised the storys about the Mayor were probably true. Behind the counter I found a large log book with appointments, orders and sales kept in it, I searched the pages and as I slid my finger down the names column, there he was. Thomas Silva, 1x Deep Blue Sports Jacket. Tommy Silva as he's more affectionately known was a club owner for the mob, back on my side of the river. I had many meetings with him in the past and knew that this made it difficult, he used to handle women, protection and prostitution in most of the mobs clubs. He was a made guy and I tried to stay away from the mob, as they had police cheifs and city politicians in their pocket. But it was my job and i needed a drink, so I thought my next move was to go find that gangster turned socialite at one of his clubs, so off i went, disabling the bell as i left.

Untitled(1) "Through here detective" said the officer, as i was lead in to a small room in a seedy hotel by the river. My name is Jack Caesar, detective in the NYPD for 8 years, i started most nights like this, dark hotels by the river, rooms lit up only by the neon lights on the street cutting through the blinds like lasers. I had been on cases in the lower east side since i got my badge, they were your normal homicides; murder for love, prostitution, money, drugs and your occasional housewife murder. i started the night off thinking this would be the same old case. "holy shit" i exclaimed as i walked into a room were blood and guts covered the walls, the smell of rotten flesh and a pool of sick, most likely that of the beat cop that found her. Yes her, a young woman by the looks of it to, not too pretty and guessing by her clothes one of vice. There she laid tied to the bed with her abdomen sliced open and its contents spilled out onto the once white sheets. This was a scene unlike any i had seen before, thus the reason i froze with amazement, staring into the void as the doctor from the City Coroners Office gave me the low down. "Okay Jack, murder, victim was sliced open with a sharp cutting tool, we'll have to take some measurements back at the office as we cant find a suitable murder weapon. We'll take some further tests and a toxicology report to see what killed her, although judging by the position of the victim she was squirming as the blade entered her abdomen. Victim was a Violet Pemberton. we recoverd her bag from beneith the bed, must have been kicked under during the ordeal." he explained. "We've done a thorough search of the scene Jack, theres no sign of the victims heart" he continued with a chilling edge of realism. After examining the scene and taking notes, i hatlstly moved into the hallway and began my routine check for suspects. Unfortunatly it was mid week and all the rooms where empty, only a guy working the door on the bottom floor. As i got to the bottom of the staires i found a small window of a closet sised room where he sat, watching a small portable tv goormlessly. "Have you been here all night sir?" i asked. "huh, what..." he turns to look at me asif i had woke him up. "...yeah, yeah. I been on since 10 last night" he said, turning back to the screen, fiddling with the antener. "did you see who booked the room sir?" i asked. "Yeah, she was a usual, Violet ithink her bame was" confirming the victim and the person in question were the same. "she rented rooms out most nights, if you know what i mean" he continued, winking and smirking at me. "I see and does she always book the same room?" i asked. BANG! He hit the small TV with a long sweep, almost knocking it off the table. "No, usually she books the room at the end of the hall, but it was unavailable due to a leak. She booked that one because it's the cheapest and the one upstaires is the cheapest one besides, so i guess she booked it for the same reason." He said glancing at the TV. I decided to leave him to his shows, walking down the hallway to the room he spoke of i could still hear him banging the TV set. I arrived at a door with a patchyness on the door that read out Private as if the lettering had been removed. I opend the door to find a small room with a water tank in the corner that looked asif it serverd the whole building, a horrid stench of damp lingured in the air. A small bed beside it with a chest of drawers and a dim light hanging from the ceiling is all that the small room consisted of. As i looked around the room i could see nothing of any relivence until i turned to see a sports jacket on a hook behind the door. I found a small labelinside that had the name of an expensive suit makers, corna & sons on 5th avenue, too expensive for me. The whole fact it was there made me suspicios of why an expensive jacket like this would have been left in a place like this. As i shuffeled around in the pockets i found a stirling silver box, a cigarette case. It had the enitials T.S inscribed. i took them both and made my exit, closing the door behind me with the jacket and cigarette case in hand i took a gasp of the air that surronded me, it may have been the stench of decades of sin but it was better than the damp of the room. I made my way to my car parked outside, past the nightman, still bashing at the TV. As i walked through the hotel doors the sunlight made me squint as i looked at my watch, 6:35am. It was early and i decided to seize the oppertunity to check out the suit makers lead, as it would be open by the time i had crossed the bridge.