Chapter 10
The corridor leading to the Silver Suite is silent when Ivar from maintenance knocks tentatively on the door. It is ten thirty, so it should be okay to go in and check the thermostat that the guest complained about. It is a sunny day, and by this time most people are out on the slopes.
There is no Do Not Disturb sign on the door, so the room is probably empty. Ivar uses his key card to open up, and just to be on the safe side, he calls out, “Hello? May I come in?”
No reply. Good, that must mean he can get on with the job, even though he can see a cell phone charging on one of the side tables.
He is about to walk in when he notices something odd about the carpet. It is covered in dark-red patches. It looks as if someone has splashed red wine all over the place, then trampled around in the mess.
Although there is something else . . . a weird smell that stops him in his tracks. It is unpleasant, acrid, almost like . . . blood.
He gazes at the marks on the carpet, then glances toward the bedroom. The door is ajar, and the room is in darkness—it seems like the blinds are still closed.
The silence grows, becomes oppressive and frightening.
Cautiously he moves forward, pushes open the bedroom door with one foot. It takes a few seconds for his eyes to adjust to the gloom.
Then he sees the body on the floor next to the double bed.
The unseeing, dead eyes are staring up at the ceiling. There is a gaping wound in the throat, the skin is peeled back around the edges. The rest of the body is covered in stab wounds, and the sheets are drenched in blood that has dripped from the bed and formed puddles on the floor.
There is sticky redness wherever he looks.
It takes a moment for Ivar to process what is in front of him. Then he staggers into the corridor and vomits.