Snippet #2756519

"My, another one... Now, whatever am I to do with you?" The body was frigid and austere; a young Caucasian adolescent male of about sixteen years, short caramel hair cut jagged at his neck. Dark bruises covered the back and sides of his neck, an indication of strangulation despite the cause of his demise being cardiac arrest. "You've left such a mess of my table, such a terrible guest." Roselle ran slender fingers through thick, neon purple hair with a deep, exasperated sigh slipping past a thin lipped smile as he slid the large metal tray back into its cabinet. "I must pay someone a visit... I'm afraid I lost a precious item, and a young woman is aware of its location. I will see you very soon, my little darlings."
Roselle hummed a funeral dirge while stepping outside, locking up the morgue with a rather large lock and rusted brass key, which was slipped into suit pockets. "It is so cold outside, I hate to have to be out and away from my darlings. Poor dolls, so alone in such a bitter, cold place, not unlike the outside world we live in. Adjusting the white cashmere gloves they wore, Roselle knocked upon Jennifer's door. "Excuse me! It is dark, cold, and I have ashes to attend to; graves to dig, a priceless item to locate! Open up immediately, I haven't the time for this!" Being British; British-Australian, Roselle had a rather thick accent and demanding tone that often came across as the most bitter individual one could possibly come across.
"I have three clients to bury this afternoon and someone within this house knows where my book is!"