Final Destination: Looks Could Kill by Nancy A. Collins

Author:Nancy A. Collins [Collins, Nancy A.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, Horror, Media Tie-In, Thrillers, General
ISBN: 9781844163168
Google: q5HaAAAACAAJ
Amazon: 1844163164
Publisher: Black Flame
Published: 2005-11-14T11:00:00+00:00

***

It was ten o'clock in the morning as Marisol stepped out of the elevator into the marble foyer of the apartment building. She was dressed in her maid's whites and was there to clean the apartment. It was a relatively easy job, since the fashion model who employed her was rarely home.

What work Marisol had to do usually involved picking up discarded clothes, washing dishes, doing the laundry, some light vacuuming, taking out the empty liquor bottles and seeing that the hot tub was properly cleaned and serviced on schedule. As she reached inside her pocket for the keys, she noticed that the front door was slightly ajar.

Marisol frowned. Although her employer often stayed out late and came home intoxicated, she had never left the front door unlocked before. She stepped inside and looked around the main entrance.

"Hello? Senorita? Are you home?"

She waited for an answer, but received only silence in reply. She glanced in the living room, but nothing seemed amiss. She glanced down at her wristwatch. Perhaps her employer had gone off on an early photo shoot and, in her haste, had not closed the door properly behind her.

Shrugging off the anomaly, Marisol set about her chores, first washing the dishes awaiting her in the kitchen, then picking up the dirty clothes scattered about the apartment's six rooms. After retrieving the various garments strewn about the living room--ranging from panties to a silk jacket-she headed upstairs to the master bedroom. As she busied herself with stripping the linens off the queen-sized bed and switching the bath towels, she became aware of a muffled bumping sound coming from the direction of the terrace.

Upon opening the French doors that led to the hot tub area, the thumping sound became noticeably louder. She could see that the hot tub was on, as usual, and that the cover was in place. Whatever was making the thumping sound was coming from inside the tub. No doubt her employer had accidentally left another empty wine bottle behind, and that was what was making the noise. In any case, she needed to remove whatever was floating around, in case it ended up blocking one of the filters and caused the tub to overflow.

Marisol flicked the automatic cover lift switch, but the motor did not engage. Apparently the mechanism had shorted out. That meant she would have to raise the cumbersome lid by hand.

She sighed and clucked her tongue as she climbed up the stairs accessing the home spa and grabbed the nearest handle on the hinged hot tub lid. She was not a very tall woman, just over five foot, so it took all her upper body strength for her to her to pull the heavy insulated cover back and over onto itself.

The moment the lid flipped back, a cloud of chlorinated steam struck her full in the face, causing her to squint. She looked down into the churning water and saw that the cause of the mysterious bumping sound wasn't an empty wine bottle, but a human head, floating face down, bumping against the side of the spa.

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