“Housekeeping!” cried Janine. She received no object and nudged open the door.
The smell of smoke made her cough; a gentleman but not a gentleman was what Edward always was, given the ‘no smoking’ signs pasted to the ghastly lavender walls.
Janine struggled to push the laundry cart though the narrow hall, cursing since she had done it dozens of times before and still not learned how to angle the wheels right. The wheels grated on the carpet as she reached the bed.
Janine wrinkled her nose; a lady had been here, of course, but she never got over the smell. And the lady was still here, her naked foot staring out from under the blanket. Her eyes were open, peaceful, no longer bothered by the bloody mess on her bare chest. Only an alive cigarette in her hand hinted at the recency of her death.
Janine sighed. This was the fifteenth body she had found in the room over the past three weeks. Good thing the laundry cart was deep, big, and black. But how tiresome of Edward not to control his hunger!
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