"What do you think? Done with a straight razor?" inquired Kirkland.
"That would be my guess," said James as he found the source of the music. The small portable record player lay under the bed. Taking out his handkerchief, he pulled the player out into the open. James could see the worn and scratched record.
"Who the hell still listens to actual records anymore?" questioned James.
Pulling the plug from the wall there was a sudden pop and spark burst from the outlet, causing the overhead light to burn out. The sudden darkness added to the silence, increasing the uncomfortable feeling in the room.
"Great, first mood music now we got mood lighting."
"Or lack thereof," stated Kirkland as he clicked his flashlight back on and pointed it back at the victim.
"So are we to assume then, our killer wants us to think our victim here is Sexy Sadie or Virginia Rappe?" asked Kirkland.
"Well now that is the all important question isn't it, Mike?" stated James as he returned to his examination of the body. "You see he's giving us no less than three references here. We got Virginia Rappe, silent film actress who, under very mysterious circumstances ends up in this very room, the possible victim of the most sadistic of rape scenarios. Two, we got the song 'Sexy Sadie' playing which I believe is a reference to Susan Atkins."
"One of Manson's girls," said Kirkland. James nodded in agreement. "The one known to have stabbed Sharon Tate to death. Also I might add a victim of one of the most bizarre of crime scenes of the twentieth century."
"And third?" inquired Kirkland.
"Third, we got the swastika carved into her forehead."
"Another Manson reference."
"Which also ties in with our dead Nazi."
"As does the name in the song, Sexy Sadie," said Kirkland.
James looked confused for a moment. "I'm not sure I follow, Mike."
"The initials of the girl named in the song, 'SS.' "
"So what does Virgina Rappe have to do with any of this?"
James shook his head as he tried to comprehend it all. "God Mike, what the hell is this guy trying to tell us?" James felt as if his brain was going to burst.
"Our killer wants to dazzle us, Tom."
"Well I think it's safe to say, he's exceeded himself."
"Or herself," said Kirkland.
"Yes, foolish of us to excluded the fairer of the sexes."
Kirkland walked around the bed and aimed his flashlight across the body of the dead girl. James found himself feeling the same awkwardness as Kirkland when it came to having to get up close and personal on deceased women. Somehow even in the best of circumstances it always felt wrong to look.
"I know it's not your cup of tea Mike, but you better take a closer look at our victim's..." James hedged looking for the right word to describe the Coke bottle that had been firmly placed deep inside the girl.
"Prop?" quizzed Kirkland.
"Close enough."
Taking in a long deep breath he sighed. "We've got to get some lights back on in here Tom."
"Just do your best."
Looking closer than he cared, Kirkland's beam of light caught what appeared to be something written just above the bottle.
"Wait, I got something here. It looks like writing on her pubic area."
James moved closer. "Writing like on Amanda Carlyle?"
"Yep, she's got a tattoo also. It says Never Fink Mia—You think that's her name? Mia."
James thought hard on the wording. "Whether it is or isn't Mike, one thing is clear for certain. She's not supposed to tell who did this."
"Well I think killing her took care of that."
James sat down heavily in the chair at the foot of the bed. He ran his hands through this thick salt and pepper hair. "We've got a serial killer, Mike."
"That means this is beginning Tom."
Grantham called to them from the hallway, "Inspector?"
Both Kirkland and James looked up at one another having completely forgotten all about him.
"Yes?"
"Is there another dead body in there?"
"Fraid so," called James.
"Now what do we do?" asked Grantham.
"Mr. Grantham, it's okay you can come inside," said Kirkland.
"I'd rather not. I think I'll just hang out with the Hazmat guys if you don't mind."
James looked at Kirkland. They both smirked at Grantham's cowardly behavior. James gave a nod of his head telling Kirkland to sort it out for him. Kirkland handed James his flashlight and replaced his gun as he returned to join Grantham, Jake and Steve in the hallway.
"Looks like we are going to be here for a long time guys. Any chance you can give us some clearance, Steve, so we can get our CSI's up here?"
Waving his RAE around the hallway, Steve took in a deep breath. "As far as I can tell Mike, there's nothing poisonous in the air. I think you guys are good to go. Jake and I are going to go back downstairs and consult with our backup team. There has to be some kind of answer to all of this."
Kirkland agreed as he watched the two men slowly descend the stairs and then looked at Grantham and could see the thoughts bouncing about inside Grantham's mind. He could also see Richard Grantham wanted to ask the unthinkable question.
"What is it?"
"The body. Is it a woman?"
"Yes it is."
"Is it like it was in 1921?" Grantham asked with a hollow tone.
"It's worse."
Kirkland watched the hotel manager's eyes fill with fear. A fear that made him question, maybe he knew more than he was letting on.
"Richard, is there something you want to tell me? Maybe something more about Mr. Skylar?"
"No, Mr. Skylar, he's the best employee I've ever had. As I told you earlier, I never had any trouble with him. He's always courteous and kind to everyone."
"Would it be out of place for a young girl to be found in his room?" asked Kirkland.
Grantham blushed and hesitated. He gave a look to Kirkland as if he was telling tales out of school.
"Frankly, Detective Kirkland, no it's not out of place for Mr. Skylar to have a young woman come round. We always found it quite interesting that very attractive—and I do mean very attractive women—would be seen coming to the hotel to see him."
"Escorts?"
"Not on his salary. Look, I run a high-class hotel detective. I know the difference between escorts and prostitutes. None of the women coming here were either of those."
"So why do you find it interesting?" asked Kirkland.
"Come on the guy is old. It's just kinda funny to think at his age he's still getting his freak on. And I might add, he's doing it with the kind of women most of us never get a chance with. Gotta love that Viagra I guess"
Kirkland was really beginning to like Grantham. "So Richard, how many different girls do you think you've seen him with?"
"I don't know, maybe three or four."
"Does he see them more than once?"
Grantham began to squirm a bit. "I suppose so. I mean I'm not the guy's social secretary. But yeah, I've seen the same women in here more than once."
"Think you would remember any of them if you saw them again?"
"Sure. I think so," said Grantham.
"Then I'd like to ask you if you recognize the woman inside room 1219."
Grantham hesitated. "Do I have to?" he asked.
Kirkland put his hand on the manager's shoulder. "It would be a huge help to us all if you did." Grantham nodded and stepped inside the room.
"Now, just try to relax, she's going to be laying on the bed. Try to just look at her face okay?" stated Kirkland.
Stepping round the corner, Grantham froze momentarily as he saw the dead girl. His eyes went immediately to the Coke bottle.
"Oh my God."
"It's okay. Ignore that. Just look at her face," said James.