"Irony is the hygiene of the mind."- Elizabeth Bibesco

Death in a Motel Room

"It ain't going anywhere, Casablanca." The man combed back his slicked black hair with his fingers. His hair wasn't about to fly off his head, it hardly even ever moved, the man just like to check to make sure his hair was there. He decides now would be a good time to go out and ingest the sweet, sweet smoke of a cigarette. The long stick of cancer, and the polluted air outside, would help him avoid the feeling for the moment that the walls were shifting on their own Teutonic plates moving closer, and closer to the center of the room, and causing him to have his own personal earthquake. He glances at his watch, two thirty PM, it yells at him for the fifth time since they had entered the room. He realizes it has to be later than that, they have been here at least a half-hour. He realizes the life has been drained from the old broad.

"She was a person at onetime…you are always so disrespectful to the dead. You act as if you have never been in situations like this before. Seems to me, eventually you would have figured out how to behave." Chocolate eyes send glaring darts in the other mans direction. Richard Blaine, known to many joking as Casablanca, never could figure out why Peter Novak, also known as Novi, could be so disrectful to the dead .He seemed to think more of himself than anyone else. Casablanca was well aware death made his friend uncomfortable, but he always seemed to forget that a corpse was a person at one time, and is not just some inanimate object to fear. "Look, Novi, your fags will still be cuddling tightly against your pocket when we finish this."

"C'mon..We could take all day if we wanted…" Novi lets the statement drop, he is pretty sure what his friend will say next. He turns away from him, pretending to examine the wallpaper. A disturbing print of what appeared to be maniac airplanes, flying kamikaze into the room. He begins to shift his weight to his left foot, setting his right foot on top in a nonchalant manner. His worn black shoes making a slight squeaking sound as they rub gobs of shoe polish unto each other. "We are getting paid by the hour."

"It is easier to do it as effectively, and as quickly as possible. I am sure that someone wants this room back." Casablanca smiles, a strange sad sort of smile, it is the smile that has been compared to one that knows he can take over the world easily, but just hasn't done it yet.

Novi stops, his dark cornflower blue eyes concentrating immensely on his partner. He wonders how his partner could seem so evil at times, and he wonders if sometimes if he shouldn't be the one they are investigating. "Franc for your thoughts, Rick?"

"That ain't funny anymore." Casablanca imitates his partner's dialect, easily. He hates when people make fun of him because of his name. It's his own fault, he let people call him Casablanca. He never realized till he was older, a hell of a lot of people have seen that film. It seems every year, he meets more and more people who have. He begins to walk around the room, studying the various objects. "Have you taken all the pictures?" He notices a big metal heart, but doesn't touch it. There is a red substance on it.

"I wasn't even taking pictures. Didn't know I was suppose to, thought that was the CSU people's job." He raises his eyebrows sharply.

"I thought you liked to do everything.." He chuckles softly.

"Is there anything else we need to do here?"

"Not that I can think of…. So, what do you think happened?"

"Who do you think I am Sherlock Holmes?" They begin walking out of the room, opening the door. "But from what is obvious some unidentified woman at this time received a blow to the back of the head, as a valentine's day present." They step out into the sunlight, and begin to walk down the hallway of outside doors.

"Hey, Rick, I just thought of something." A smile plays at the corner of his lips, as he thinks of something humourous about this situation. He knows in reality this situation is not in the least bit funny, but he feels it is duty to try to lighten up the situation. He is glad to be out of the room, he doesn't like to be that close to death. The problem is he knows at one time the body was a person, and it is hard to see someone who had probably been very animated, and have a decent enough life to lie on the floor dead. She seemed like a pretty woman, not like the normal people who one might run into at the motel.

"I am already aware of how ironic this situation is…The Bates Motel was named as a joke to a hitchcock movie, and on the day that is suppose to be a day of love, becomes a day of death." Casablanca watches his partner out of the corner of his eye, making sure he doesn't light a cigarette. His partner needs to learn when not to have a cancer stick hanging between his lips. He doesn't really like these types of cases, not that it will really be hard, he just hates to see someone die in a brutal way. The days seemed to grow longer with cases like this, it seemed like a tough fight anymore to find the killer, and actually convict him with all the constitutional and legal handcuffs society has imposed on the police agencies in the last few years. They come to a large mahogany door with gold lettering running across it spelling out the word, "Manager." Casablanca knocks loudly on his door.

A man in a blue shirt, and khaki pants, opens the door, tears are streaming down his face. "I didn't mean to kill her…It was an accident…" He grabs onto the lapels of Novi's sport's jacket. "I'm sorry."

"What is the victim's name?"

"Margaret Crane…I killed her with the heart statue..it was an accident. But she deserved to die, that tramp…she was so cold hearted." Tears are still streaming from his face, and he grabs onto Novi's jacket tighter, falling to the ground hard on his knees.

Novi slides a bit away from him, taking out a pair of handcuffs. He pulls him to a standing position, and cuffs his left wrist behind the man's back, and then, proceeds to the same thing with the man right wrist. The silver bracelets gleam in the sunlight sharply. Novi pulls out a card, and reads him Miranda. They probably will drop the charges unless there is proof the manager did it, but he is just doing it as a precaution. He frisks the manager, to make sure he has no weapons, realizing he should have done it before

Casablanca begins to find one of the officers on scene, so that he can take the man into the station in his police car. Since Novi and he have an unmarked car, they are not allowed to by precint regulations.

Officer Merlin Dabble is approaching the two detectives. He was the first officer on the scene, and he wanted to ask them a couple of questions, like if he can go.

"Can you bring this man to the station, he has been informed of his rights, and we will follow you back to the station."

Dabble nods. He takes the manager.

Casablanca turns to Novi. "Don't even make one comment about how funny this is….Just be glad we didn't find her body in the trunk of a car, like in the movie." He gives him a slight smile.