Murder Hotline

“Murder Hotline, how can I help you?” I put the sandwich on a plate and listened to the panting in the headphones.

“He… He still looks at me.”

Ah. A first-timer.

“They do that. Listen, do you have a large cloth? Something you can use to cover the head? But don’t take off your clothes. You don’t want to leave such traces.” I took a sip of cold tea.

“No traces. No clothes. Got it. I have a towel.”

“It will do. Stand by the head, spread the towel wide and put it on the body.”

I heard her put the phone on a table and footsteps.

“Done,” she yelled.

I waited until she got back to the phone.

“Perfect. You are doing great. Now, the weapon. What did you use?” I took a bite of my tuna sandwich.

“A knife. Do I clean it? It feels I should clean it. Blood everywhere. I need to clean it. Clean it. Right. Clean.”

I waved at my colleague, showed “one” using my fingers, and shook my head. He smiled and nodded.

“Take a deep breath. Now, breathe out. Breathe in.”

We repeated that a dozen times.

“Thank you,” she said. “Do I clean the knife?”

“You can do it. You will feel better. But that doesn’t remove traces. When you finish cleaning wrap the knife in a cloth. You will take it with you.”

“Got it. Got it.”

My colleague put a cup of hot coffee on my desk. I kissed my palm and blew the kiss. He flipped me off. I muted the speaker and laughed.

“I cleaned the knife,” the caller said.

“Look around. Is there blood?”

“Yes. The whole carpet. He still bleeds. He bleeds.”

“Corpses are assholes. They do that. Listen. Is this your place?”

“No. It was a Tinder date. He got too clingy.”

I took a sip from the cup. Wrong cup. Cold tea.

“Don’t think about it. It doesn’t matter anymore. I need you to focus.”

Silence. Hands hitting a soft surface. Carpet or the corpse?

“I’m focused. Focused. I’m focusing for fuck’s sake!”

I waved at the colleague and rubbed my thumb against my fingers.

“Lucky bastard,” he whispered.

“Look,” I said to the caller. “You can burn that place down.”

“No. No. Oh my God. That’s too much.”

I heard a thud. Did she sit in a chair or drop to the floor? I pulled a brochure out of my desk drawer.

“Or we can clean the evidence for you.”

“Can you do that?”

“We can take care of everything. You won’t need to worry about anything. You can go home, take a bath, and relax. Do you want us to help you?”

“Yes. Yes! Please do it. Do it.”

“We offer three packages of cleaning services. Body disposal, full scene cleanup, or perpetrator evacuation.”

I grabbed a pen and wrote the amount of my bonus under each column in the brochure. My smile widened with every number.

“Full cleanup. Full scene cleanup, please.”

“Cash or credit card?”