THE MURDER THAT TOOK PLACE LAST NIGHT

holding the rose that had rested at the victim's feet. It was brittle now, dried at the edges, a rose

k. There were no bruises, no defensive wounds. It was as if she knew her kill

man had approached the desk hours earlier. He wore a long coat and asked onl

ow, face obscured by a wide-brimmed hat. He pressed for the second floor-Juliana's flo

spected the notepad again. The handwriting had a sli

e midnight. Br

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