Chapter 6 Chapter Six

Kim Duckinen died in a room on the seventeenth floor of the Galaxy Hotel, one of the few skyscrapers built on Sixth Avenue in the fifties.The room was rented to a Mr. Charles Owens Jones of Fort Wayne, Indiana.He paid cash first, and checked in for one night at 9:15 on Sunday night, half an hour before he had called to reserve a room.According to preliminary investigation, there is no Charles Owens Jones in Fort Wayne, and the street address registered on his lodging card does not seem to exist. It can be concluded that the name registered by him is false. Mr. Jones has not called since he entered the room, and there is no record of him ordering anything on the hotel account.After an unspecified number of hours, he left without bothering to leave the hotel key at the front desk.In fact, he hung a "Do Not Disturb" sign over the door of his room, and the hotel's cleaning staff discreetly followed its instructions until after eleven o'clock in the morning.Later, a cleaning lady called the room and when the phone was not answered she went to knock on the door.Hearing no response, she opened the door with the master key.

She walked in and was greeted by what a Post reporter described as a "scene of unspeakable horror".A naked woman was lying on the rug at the foot of the bed, which was unkempt.The bed and carpet were soaked with her blood.The woman was heavily wounded, and it was unknown how many times she had been stabbed.According to the forensic judge, the murder weapon may be a bayonet or machete.Her face was slashed "into blood and blood", but an entertainment reporter obtained a photo of the deceased from Miss Dakinen's "luxury apartment in Murray Hill".Unlike usual, Jin's blond hair is draped over her shoulders in the photo, and only one braid is placed on her head like a flower crown.In the photo, Jin Ming's eyes are gazing, his face is radiant, and he is innocent.

The deceased was identified based on a wallet found at the scene.Some cash in the wallet allowed police investigators to rule out a motive for killing for money. Still looking good. I put down the newspaper.It's no surprise to find your hands shaking.My heart trembled even more.I caught Evelyn's eye and ordered two glasses of bourbon as she came over. She said, "Are you sure, Matthew?" "is it not OK?" "Well, you haven't drunk for a long time. Do you really want to quit?" I thought to myself, child, what does it have to do with you?I took a deep breath and said, "Maybe you're right."

"How about some coffee?" "Okay." - Stick School · E Book Group - I rewatched that news.According to preliminary examination, the time of death was determined to be around midnight.I try to remember what I was doing when she was killed.I went to the Armstrong Bar after the party, but when did I leave?I remember getting home early that night, but even then it was nearly midnight by the time I went to bed.Of course, the time of death is only approximate, so I may have been asleep when he hacked her. I sat there, sipping my coffee non-stop, watching that news over and over again.

Coming out of Armstrong's Bar, I came to St. Paul's Church.Sitting down on the back bench, I tried my best to think.Images of my two meetings with Kim alternated with those of my conversation with Chance, flashing back and forth in my mind. I put the unhelpful fifty dollars in the donation box.Then light a candle and stare at it, as if expecting some image to jump out of the candle flame. I sit down again.A young priest came up and told me it was closing time for the evening, his voice soft and slightly apologetic. I nodded and stood up. "You look troubled," he offered. "Is there anything I can do to help you?"

"I don't think so." "I see you come here a lot. Sometimes it helps to talk to somebody." "Really?" I said, "I'm not at all a Catholic, Father." "That's all right. If anything bothers you—" "Just bad news, Father. Friend died unexpectedly." "That always makes people feel bad." I'm afraid he's telling me something about the mystical will of God or something, but he seems to be waiting for me to go on. I managed to get out of there and stood on the sidewalk for a while, not knowing where to go next.

about half past six.The party didn't start until two hours later.It’s okay to arrive an hour early, sit down and have some coffee and chat with everyone, but I’ve never done that.I have two hours to kill and I just don't know what to do.They told me not to get too hungry.I haven't eaten anything since eating a hot dog at the park.Just thinking about food makes my stomach churn. I walk back to the hotel.It seemed like everywhere I passed was a bar or liquor store.I went upstairs to my room and stayed there. I arrived at the venue a few minutes early.Five or six people greeted me by my name.I poured some coffee and sat down.

The speaker briefly described his history of alcoholism and then spent the rest of the time talking about what happened after quitting drinking four years ago.His marriage fell apart, his youngest son was killed by a car, the driver of the hit-and-run escaped, he was long unemployed and had several bouts of depression that led to hospitalization. "But I didn't drink anymore," he said. "When I first came here, you people told me that drinking would only make things worse. You told me that if you want to quit drinking, you have to die. Drinking. I tell you, sometimes I think, I'm so fucking stubborn. It's okay, I can do whatever I want, I don't care."

During the break, I thought about walking away.As a result, I poured a cup of coffee and grabbed a couple of chocolate chip cookies.I seem to hear Kim telling me that she has a huge sweet tooth. "But I never gained an ounce. Lucky me?" I am eating biscuits.It felt like I was chewing straw, but I chewed and swallowed it with my coffee. During the free-for-all discussion, a woman goes on and on about her relationships.She's so annoying, repeating the same thing every night.I don't listen anymore. I was thinking, my name is Matthew and I'm an alcoholic.A woman I knew was killed last night.She hired me to protect her and I confidently assured her that she was safe and she believed in me.The man who killed her lied to me, and I believed him.She's dead now, and there's nothing I can do about it.This thing bothers me and I don't know what to do, there's a bar on every corner, a liquor store on every block, drinking won't bring her back to life, but it doesn't, why the fuck am I doing this crime?Why?

I was thinking, my name is Matthew, I'm an alcoholic, and we're sitting in this damn room talking the same damn things over and over, while those beasts outside are killing each other.We say don't drink, go to parties, we say it's important to stay sober, we say it's easy to do, we say take it one day at a time, the world is dying when we babble like brainwashed zombies . I was thinking, my name is Matthew, I'm an alcoholic, and I need help. When it was my turn, I said, "My name is Matthew. Thanks for the experience. I enjoyed listening to it. I think I'll listen to it tonight."

After praying, I leave there.I didn't go to Cobb's Point or Armstrong's.Instead, he walked toward the hotel, passed the hotel, and walked half a block to Farrell's Bar on Fifty-eighth Street. There are not many people here.The jukebox played singer Tony Bennett records.I don't know the bartender. I look behind the bar and my first sight is a bourbon called "Early Days."I ordered a glass without ice.The bartender poured me a glass and set it on the bar in front of me. I picked up the glass and looked at it.I don't know what I want to see. I drank it down.