Death, sickly sweet death filled the air. Rain pelted the red stained glass of the windows, making them appear alive and writhing like some great creature's muscle or tissue. Some people say that rain heightens the senses, dampens the air and brings out the true scents that we can't detect any other time.
That smell of fresh death, I much prefer to the stink of skunk or sewage. A hint of sweet copper mingles with the scent of rot that accompanies a newly dead corpse, usually within the first few days. That just brings out something almost inhuman in me. A small smile curls the corners of my lips as I walk into the darkened room, careful not to step in the black wet pools on the otherwise clean carpeted floor.
Some liken the smell to rotting garbage. Spoiled and soured milk laced with decaying meat and human excrement. A dead bodies stench can be unbearable and unmistakable. It isn't so bad to be around; well, unless trauma occurred to the body to cause the stomach or intestinal tract to rupture. That is a most putrid stench, but that is not this one. This body has yet to develop that smell, for it has only been a few days since his untimely demise. I feel quite lucky to have cared for him thus far, although, he has begun to bore me. I was quite careful in how I ended his life.
You see, he was nothing short of of criminal. A con artist that took advantage of everyone and everything he could. He cheated his way through life. Dodging his way around loan sharks because of his gambling addictions, and accumulating a good number of ex-wives under his belt due to his constant habit of lying and money laundering. Taking out loans in his elderly mother's name and screwing over his sister out of her inheritance.
Now, why, you may ask, did this man have to die by my hand? Well, I'll tell you. And I'll even tell you how I did it without getting caught... You see, I think of myself as a kind of do-gooder.
I made a fake online profile and posed as a lovely lady looking to hook up with the scumbag, of course using a VPN to hide my IP address. He took the bait quite easily. I had wondered if he had cheated on his wives before and added that to the list of his sins. It was easy enough to get him to meet "Clarissa" at a seedy motel on the edge of town. One I had scoped out weeks before hand. No cameras, no night guards, and on this particular night of the week barely anyone stays the night.
I let him reserve the room, instructing him to use a false name and identity when making the reservations. For good measure, I tell him that when I get there, I want him to wear a blind fold, in order for me to "slip into something more comfortable."
I arrive on time. He reserved the farthest room from the front office. Good on him. I walk up to the door and stand just beside it so as not to show that it is someone other than his intended date if he happened to glance through the peephole of the door. I knock, and I hear rustling coming from inside.
There is a moment of silence, and I text him, saying, "Hey cutie, I'm at the door! Let me in, don't forget the blindfold! I want everything to be a surprise!" I hit send and slip the phone into my pocket before putting on a pair of thick black gloves from my duffle bag.
He finally opened the door, a long black sock covered his eyes, as expected. He may have been a crook, but he was gullible. I used a gloved hand to gently guide him to the bed, locking the door behind me. I placed my bag on the old wooden desk and grabbed my plastic smock, the one I used for work at the mortuary, it was great at repelling the gross stuff like blood and viscera, etc.
