You turn to apologize and you see a hooker with closed eyes. You kneel down in front of her and check her pulse, she's dead! You can tell by the slight abrasions around the neck that she was chocked to death. More then likely the killer had used a nylon cord of some kind because the pull on the skin left tell tale spiral markings. Once again you wonder how the hell you know this. You scan the body real quick and see a few strands of hair in her clinched hand and see quickly that they may be yours.
"Fuck," you say as you take off running down the alley, "who the hell am I?"
Walking out into the main street you see a cop car slowly rolling up the street. The two cops in the squad car are definitely looking for someone. You step into the first open place you see. You look around and notice a long mahogany bar that stretches the length of the room. You see two pool tables and an old style phone booth.
"Miss we gotsa dress code round here," this older man cleaning a glass with an apron says, "and any way I doon think anybodies around here wants whatcha sellin."
"Hey mister, I just want to use your phone." That wasn't completely true; you just wanted to get away from the cops.
"Five minutes," he says leaning back over and talking to some guys at the bar. They all begin to laugh.
You sit in the booth wondering what to do now when you remember the piece of newspaper. You grab the scrap and dial the number.
"Jackpot records. Our hours are noon till ten everyday except Tuesday when we're open noon till 6pm. Please leave a message after the beep," The answering machine said.
You check the number before you hang up and it's the right one. "Damn it what the hell is going on."
Just as you were about to turn around and leave the booth the phone rings. As you are about to pick up the phone you notice a little note that reads 'this phone does not except incoming calls.'
You pick up the phone and...
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