CHAPTER ONE scene one, episode one "devil in disguise/checking in"
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1968, LOS ANGELES
STUMBLING ALONG THE sidewalks of Los Angeles, the hearty laugh of a woman can be heard as she tugs a gentleman behind her. He follows her like a lost puppy, his eyes filled with wanting.
The woman looked ahead, her destination set in her mind as she continues to harshly pull the man behind her. The moon shone brightly down upon them, the darkness enveloping them.
It was nearing 1 am as they arrived at their destination, The Hotel Cortez. The woman hurriedly pulled the man inside as she walked over to the reception desk, where an unpleasant woman sat.
The receptionist slowly raised her eyesight to look at the two of them, a scowl on her face as she butted her cigarette, "Reservation?"
"It's under Reynolds. Sage Reynolds." The young woman informed the elder lady, who scanned the reservation book before standing up and walking to the key wall, plucking one out of its hole.
She walked back over and passed the key over to the woman, "You are in room 64." The younger woman graciously took the key, thanking the receptionist before pulling the man towards the elevator.
The receptionist watched as they entered the elevator and ascended to their designated floor. She narrowed her eyes before scoffing, lighting up another cigarette.
"What an interesting specimen." The receptionist jumped slightly at the voice that came from behind her. She whipped her head around to be greeted by none other than James Patrick March.
His eyes were glued onto the elevator, a sinister but curious look in his eyes. He then turned to look at two woman before him, "Wouldn't you agree, Miss Arnold?"
Miss Arnold shrugged her shoulders, turning back to her cigarette, "Looked like every other prostitute out there." She tapped her cigarette, letting some ash fall into the tray that rested on the desk.
James hummed, turning his gaze back to the elevator, "She had a very dark look in her eyes, not one you'd see everyday, my dear." He turned back to Miss Arnold, a smirk on his face.
"What room is she in?" He asked curiously, peering over at the reservation book. "64." James hummed once more, "Good." Miss Arnold looked at him with raised eyebrows, "What the hell you gonna do to her?"
James chuckled, "It's not what I'm going to do to her, it's what I'm going to do with her." He stared down at Miss Arnold with a dark gaze, "I don't appreciate being questioned by you, dear."
Miss Arnold scoffed, butting her cigarette out once more as she faced him, "I ain't scared of you." James let out a loud cackle, standing up straight as he tapped his cane on the ground.
Without a second thought, he pulled the head of his cane off and used the knife attached to it, sticking it through Miss Arnold's throat. The woman's scream got caught in her throat as blood spurted out.
