13-04-2019, 04:11 PM
La Policia kicked in the door of the motel room. Four Ultimados followed behind them and kept them covered as they searched the bathroom, closet, and under the bed. Once the room was declared safe and clear, Ramirez and Susan followed behind with the others.
An empty suitcase lay open on the table, and the bed had hardly looked used. Medication bottles were found in the waste bin for drugs called Carmustine and Lowmustine. It was an item in the closet that held the most interest for La Policia: A small shrine comprised of cut-out pictures of Contessa Helena de San Finzione from various publications.
Susan had pulled out her iPad and was looking up the two drugs as she studied the bed. La Contessa's gift iPads had Wi-Fi access everywhere in San Finzione, and she was able to find them quickly. She stopped to look in the bathroom before seeing what everyone was staring at in the closet.
"Well, that's fake," she said aloud, causing Ramirez and the Prefect of security officer to turn their heads. "Also, those two pill bottles in the trash? That combination is used to treat Hodgkin's Lymphoma and Brain Tumors."
Ramirez's eyes lit up. He took out his phone and started composing a text. He looked at Susan quizzically as he typed.
"We suspected some manner of brain injury. Why do you say the thing in the closet is fake?"
"Who is this woman, Generalissimo?" The Prefect of security officer asked.
"Eh," Ramirez said, turning to face him. "She is a special envoy from the castle. 'Extend every courtesy' and so on." He turned back to Susan. "Why do you think this?"
Susan took another good look at the collage/shrine before answering.
"All of these pictures are from the last two months. That's the one they used for Populace Magazine's "Most Powerful Thirty Under 30" issue. Print ads from the tourism campaign. There she is at the Grand National last month. That paparazzi shot of her coming out of the ocean where you can see her nipples through the bikini top was around that time too."
The Prefect decided to join their conversation more closely.
"We'd need to get a psychological profile done on the assassin," he said. "But I think this speaks of insanity."
"You're SUPPOSED to think that," Susan replied. "But no, going from 'Hey, the TV lady gives me a boner' to 'Can't take my eyes off of you' to 'I must stab you, THAT will prove my love' in the space of two months?"
"If, as you suggest, the man had some terminal injury," The Prefect responded. "That might cause him to move up his timetable."
The Generalissimo began to nod in agreement, but stopped as he hit Send and paid more attention to Susan.
"Don't you guys watch SVU," Susan asked. "With that kind of psycho, the knife always represents his cock. Now, from the reports I've been allowed to see, his knife was what? A four-inch blade with a two-inch handle? If you could choose a thing that represents YOUR cock, Prefect, would you choose something that's four-inches long? Or made of glass?"
While they were still stunned both at the idea and at Susan's casual use of the word "cock," and others within earshot weree struggling to not break up laughing at the woman talking to their boss like this, she continued.
"And I've looked in the trash, on the bed, in the bathroom, and now in the closet too. You know what I don't see? That's in every motel room?"
"A Bible?" Ramirez asked.
"SEMEN," she said so loudly and suddenly that a few of the seasoned security officer officers and elite soldiers couldn't suppress a snort. "Every cop or news show where they go into a motel room, there's traces of semen everywhere! I'm sure if you run one of those black-lights in here, you'll see it all over from every freak who's stayed in this room before. But there's no cum on the bedsheets, no wadded Kleenex on the floor or in the trash, none near this 'psycho shrine' you've found, which, by the way, looks like it folds-up neatly into that suitcase on the table."
They puzzled at that for a moment, officers stepped outside to laugh, then Susan continued.
"Think about it: You're a nutbag, you've just arrived in the city where the object of your obsession; the woman who's been making you constantly hard for the last two months lives. And in a few short hours, you'll meet her and kill her and somehow make all your fantasies come true in the process. But you've got a few hours to kill first. Nothing to do but kneel at your shrine and whisper 'Soon, my love. Soon.' Until it's time to go achieve your Sick Fuck Dream. He checked in about sixish? So, the tour was at noon, let's say he left an hour or two before, that leaves four or five hours in THIS room. Nothing to watch but Basic Cable, and nothing to read but the Bible."
She paused and looked squarely at them both before finishing.
"Gentlemen, crazy or not, with those long, tense, final hours of nothing but waiting for time to tick by in this room, wouldn't you need to jerk off at least once? Probably in front of your Nutso Shrine so you can look at those nipples in that bikini? I'm not even THAT kind of crazy, but with so much Nothing to do, I'd have to step into that shower, grab the hose and see what the water pressure's like in San Finzione at least once. But this guy just unpacked his shrine, had a nap, took his meds, and left."
Ramirez seemed to chew on the thought as he answered.
"Or, with a brain tumor, he may have taken his medication first, slept off some side-effect of them, then gone to perform the job. He knew we would soon track him to this room, he made no effort to conceal the trail. We were meant to find this so that the investigation would end with him being written off as a solitary lunatic. This is not the end of the trail."
He turned to the Prefect and sent another text. The Prefect's phone buzzed in his pocket.
"I will need the information on those pill bottles immediately. Send it to myself and to the email address I just texted you, Martin. A friend with Interpol is looking at this from another angle as a favor for me. I'm certain he will be interested in any fingerprints or such that you find. I will ask him to pass his information on to you as well."
An empty suitcase lay open on the table, and the bed had hardly looked used. Medication bottles were found in the waste bin for drugs called Carmustine and Lowmustine. It was an item in the closet that held the most interest for La Policia: A small shrine comprised of cut-out pictures of Contessa Helena de San Finzione from various publications.
Susan had pulled out her iPad and was looking up the two drugs as she studied the bed. La Contessa's gift iPads had Wi-Fi access everywhere in San Finzione, and she was able to find them quickly. She stopped to look in the bathroom before seeing what everyone was staring at in the closet.
"Well, that's fake," she said aloud, causing Ramirez and the Prefect of security officer to turn their heads. "Also, those two pill bottles in the trash? That combination is used to treat Hodgkin's Lymphoma and Brain Tumors."
Ramirez's eyes lit up. He took out his phone and started composing a text. He looked at Susan quizzically as he typed.
"We suspected some manner of brain injury. Why do you say the thing in the closet is fake?"
"Who is this woman, Generalissimo?" The Prefect of security officer asked.
"Eh," Ramirez said, turning to face him. "She is a special envoy from the castle. 'Extend every courtesy' and so on." He turned back to Susan. "Why do you think this?"
Susan took another good look at the collage/shrine before answering.
"All of these pictures are from the last two months. That's the one they used for Populace Magazine's "Most Powerful Thirty Under 30" issue. Print ads from the tourism campaign. There she is at the Grand National last month. That paparazzi shot of her coming out of the ocean where you can see her nipples through the bikini top was around that time too."
The Prefect decided to join their conversation more closely.
"We'd need to get a psychological profile done on the assassin," he said. "But I think this speaks of insanity."
"You're SUPPOSED to think that," Susan replied. "But no, going from 'Hey, the TV lady gives me a boner' to 'Can't take my eyes off of you' to 'I must stab you, THAT will prove my love' in the space of two months?"
"If, as you suggest, the man had some terminal injury," The Prefect responded. "That might cause him to move up his timetable."
The Generalissimo began to nod in agreement, but stopped as he hit Send and paid more attention to Susan.
"Don't you guys watch SVU," Susan asked. "With that kind of psycho, the knife always represents his cock. Now, from the reports I've been allowed to see, his knife was what? A four-inch blade with a two-inch handle? If you could choose a thing that represents YOUR cock, Prefect, would you choose something that's four-inches long? Or made of glass?"
While they were still stunned both at the idea and at Susan's casual use of the word "cock," and others within earshot weree struggling to not break up laughing at the woman talking to their boss like this, she continued.
"And I've looked in the trash, on the bed, in the bathroom, and now in the closet too. You know what I don't see? That's in every motel room?"
"A Bible?" Ramirez asked.
"SEMEN," she said so loudly and suddenly that a few of the seasoned security officer officers and elite soldiers couldn't suppress a snort. "Every cop or news show where they go into a motel room, there's traces of semen everywhere! I'm sure if you run one of those black-lights in here, you'll see it all over from every freak who's stayed in this room before. But there's no cum on the bedsheets, no wadded Kleenex on the floor or in the trash, none near this 'psycho shrine' you've found, which, by the way, looks like it folds-up neatly into that suitcase on the table."
They puzzled at that for a moment, officers stepped outside to laugh, then Susan continued.
"Think about it: You're a nutbag, you've just arrived in the city where the object of your obsession; the woman who's been making you constantly hard for the last two months lives. And in a few short hours, you'll meet her and kill her and somehow make all your fantasies come true in the process. But you've got a few hours to kill first. Nothing to do but kneel at your shrine and whisper 'Soon, my love. Soon.' Until it's time to go achieve your Sick Fuck Dream. He checked in about sixish? So, the tour was at noon, let's say he left an hour or two before, that leaves four or five hours in THIS room. Nothing to watch but Basic Cable, and nothing to read but the Bible."
She paused and looked squarely at them both before finishing.
"Gentlemen, crazy or not, with those long, tense, final hours of nothing but waiting for time to tick by in this room, wouldn't you need to jerk off at least once? Probably in front of your Nutso Shrine so you can look at those nipples in that bikini? I'm not even THAT kind of crazy, but with so much Nothing to do, I'd have to step into that shower, grab the hose and see what the water pressure's like in San Finzione at least once. But this guy just unpacked his shrine, had a nap, took his meds, and left."
Ramirez seemed to chew on the thought as he answered.
"Or, with a brain tumor, he may have taken his medication first, slept off some side-effect of them, then gone to perform the job. He knew we would soon track him to this room, he made no effort to conceal the trail. We were meant to find this so that the investigation would end with him being written off as a solitary lunatic. This is not the end of the trail."
He turned to the Prefect and sent another text. The Prefect's phone buzzed in his pocket.
"I will need the information on those pill bottles immediately. Send it to myself and to the email address I just texted you, Martin. A friend with Interpol is looking at this from another angle as a favor for me. I'm certain he will be interested in any fingerprints or such that you find. I will ask him to pass his information on to you as well."
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