“Room Service,” Janet De Vos called as she knocked on the door for the second time. She looked at her watch. It was almost lunch time, time for her break and she was told she had to finish this room before she could take it. She put her ear to the door. There was no sound from room 262 in the Casablanca Hotel.
“Room service!” she repeated, much louder this time, “I need to clean your room, it’s nearly two in the afternoon.”
There was still no answer. She tried the door. It was locked. She was becoming impatient. Using her master key, she unlocked the door and opened it slowly. She was instantly aware of an unpleasant odour; a mixture of stale alcohol and something she could not quite place. She opened the door further and peered inside. It looked like a bomb had gone off inside. The television was smashed to smithereens and was lying on the floor; the fridge had had its doors pulled off the hinges, there were broken bottles lying all over the floor and one of the windows had a huge crack in it.
Janet De Vos frowned. There goes my lunch hour, she thought. These English tourists always seemed to go wild when they were on holiday. The room seemed empty. They must have run off after causing all this damage. De Vos decided to phone down to reception to get the manager to come and take a look at the mess. She walked over to the telephone on the bed side table and that is when she found Susan Jenkins lying on her back by the side of the bed. Her eyes were open but she was definitely not awake. The screams of Janet De Vos’ could be heard in reception.