Chapter 4

Rosa's cleaning supplies fell to the floor and scattered. The spray bottle rolled across the carpet, leaving a trail of blue liquid running through the blood.

The sound tore from her chest, echoing everywhere, filling the hallway as the once rowdy, loud and dirty hotel became empty that morning. 

She stumbled backward and hit the cart, which sent it crashing into the doorframe. Towels fell off the cart and scattered everywhere.

Her hands shook as she fumbled in her apron looking for her phone. 

Still in shock and panicking, the phone fell off her hands. Shivering uncontrollably, she picked it up only to drop it again. Finally she decided it was better to punch the digits, whilst the phone was still on the floor.

"Nine—" Her voice cracked. She tried again. "Nine-one-one. I need—there's a—oh God, oh God—"

The operator's voice came through, calm and distant. "What's your emergency?"

"Hotel Belvedere. Fourth floor. Room 447." Rosa couldn't look away from the body. She couldn't breathe either. "There's a man—he's dead. Someone killed him. There's so much blood—"

"Ma'am, I need you to stay calm. Are you in danger? Is the culprit still there?"

Rosa's eyes darted around the room, it was empty. Just her and the body and all that blood.

"No. No, I don't—I don't think so. I just—I came to clean and he's—"

"Police are on the way. Don't touch anything. Stay in the hallway."

Rosa backed out of the room, her legs wobbling. She sank against the opposite wall, phone pressed to the floor, staring at the open door.

At the man's dead eyes.

At the blood still dripping from the mattress onto the floor.

Somewhere in the building, a siren began to wail.

Sunlight streamed through the floor to ceiling windows of Karma's penthouse. She stretched in bed, with her arms above her head, feeling the tension relief from her muscles. She couldn't remember the last time she had slept so well.

No nightmares. 

No waking up at 3 AM in a cold sweat. 

Just deep, dreamless sleep.

Rising from her bed, she headed straight to the kitchen, bare feet silent on the marble floor. The coffee machine beeped as she turned it on—imported from Italy, it costs more than most people's monthly rent. She had bought it to celebrate her first year owning the hospital. A reward for making it on her own.

While the espresso brewed, she cracked eggs into a bowl, whisked them smooth, added cream, salt, pepper. Poured them into a heated pan and watched them form.

The coffee machine beeped again, signaling it was ready. She poured herself a cup, inhaling the rich aroma. Perfect.

She carried her coffee to the living room, grabbed the remote, and switched on the television. She usually left it on the international news channel—it kept her updated on medical conferences, new research, political changes that might affect hospital funding.

The screen came on.

"—breaking news this morning from the Hotel Belvedere in the city center—"

Karma glanced up. A female reporter stood outside the hotel, police cars flashing blue and red behind her. Crime scene tape stretched across the entrance.

"—the body of Chief Inspector Marcus Kuntz was discovered early this morning by hotel staff. Chief Inspector Kuntz, 52, was a decorated officer with the Metropolitan Police, having served for over twenty eight years—"

Karma raised the cup to her lips to take a sip of her coffee, but it was still too hot. She set it on the counter, and went back to her eggs.

"—sources say the scene was gruesome, with evidence suggesting foul play. While police have not yet released details, witnesses report significant amounts of blood—"

The spatula scraped against the pan. Karma hummed softly—something she heard at a charity gala last month.

"—authorities have issued a statement requesting information on the whereabouts of Dr Karma Kuntz, 28, daughter of the deceased and Chief Surgeon and owner of Save the Child Hospital—one of the largest private medical facilities in the country, and the last person he was with—a young girl named Mia. That's all we know about her. Dr Kuntz has not been seen with him since she separated from him, and police are asking anyone with more information to come forward—"

Karma dished the eggs onto a plate. Added toast from the toaster. A handful of parsley from the herb garden on her window for beautifying her plate, just old habits.

"Dr Kuntz is described as approximately 170 centimeters tall, with dark hair and brown eyes. Police emphasize that she is a person of interest, not a suspect, but urge anyone who has seen her to contact—"

Her phone buzzed on the counter. She glanced at the screen.

Seventeen missed calls. Sandra, her secretary, Noah. The hospital's board chair. Three numbers she didn't recognize.

Twenty six text messages.

She picked up the phone, scrolled through them.

‘Sandra: Dr Kuntz, please call me. Police are here asking questions.’

‘Noah: Karma, what the hell is going on? Call me NOW!’

‘Board Chair : Dr Kuntz, we need to speak immediately regarding the allegations.’

She set the phone down with its screen up as she watched the screen light up with another call. It was Noah again, and she let it ring.

On the television, they were showing her photo now. A professional headshot from the hospital website. Her hair pulled back. She wore a white coat, and her stethoscope around her neck, smiling.

She looked at her reflection in the darkened oven door. Same face. Same eyes. But the smile was different now. It was real.

The eggs were getting cold. She picked up her fork, took a bite. “Uuuhmmm.” With her eyes closed, she savoured as she chewed slowly. 

“Just the right amount of salt.”

Her phone buzzed again. A news alert this time.

“BREAKING: Police enroute to search home of Dr Karma Kuntz in connection with Chief Inspector's murder.”

She took another bite of eggs, chewed slowly as she took a deep breath in and out, then she swallowed, not bothered by the news.

On the TV, they had switched to helicopter footage. It was her building. Police cars surrounded it. Officers in tactical gear approaching the entrance.

“Noah must have told them I called yesterday. Mtchew! That arse!”

She checked her watch. 8:47 AM.

They would be at her door in approximately three minutes. The building had good security, but not good enough to stop a warrant. The concierge would let them up. They would knock. Wait for her to answer, then knock again. And if she didn't answer, then they would break down the door.

She had time.

Karma finished her eggs, drank her coffee. Rinsed the dishes and placed them in the dishwasher. Wiped down the counter with a clean cloth, and hung the cloth to dry.

She walked to her bedroom, opened her closet. Pushed past the evening gowns until she found what she needed. A simple dress. Navy blue, very professional. The kind of thing you wore to court, or funerals, even a police station when you were pretending to be worried.

She dressed quickly, applied minimal makeup, and pulled her hair into a neat bun.

In the bathroom, she flushed the latex gloves she had worn last night. She watched them disappear with the swirl of water. The knife was already at the bottom of the river—she had dropped it from the bridge on her way home, weighted down with stones in a plastic bag.

No evidence. Nothing to tie her to that room except biology, and biology could be explained. She was his daughter. Of course her DNA would be somewhere in his life.

The knock came at 8:50 AM. 

Sharp and official.

"Dr Kuntz? This is the police. We have a warrant to search the premises."

Karma walked to the door. Smoothed her dress, then took a deep breath in.

Before she opened it.

Four officers stood in the hallway. Two in uniform. Two in plain clothes. One of them was Detective Inspector Hoffman—Noah's supervisor. He was older with sharp eyes. The kind of cop who has seen everything and believes nothing.

"Dr Kuntz." Another held up his badge. "I am Detective Inspector Brennan. We need you to come with us."

Karma's eyes widened. Her hand went to her throat. "What? Why? What's happened?"

"You haven't heard?" Detective Brennan squinted his eyes, as he tilted his head to the side.

"Heard what?" She looked from face to face. "I just woke up. I was making breakfast. I don't—"

"Your father was found dead this morning at Hotel Belvedere. We need to ask you some questions."

Karma's knees buckled. She caught herself on the doorframe, hand gripping the wood. "Dead? No. No, that's—that's not possible. I just—we just—"

"When did you last see your father, Dr Kuntz?"

She shook her head. Tears welled in her eyes—real tears, from years of practice hiding everything she felt. "I haven't seen him in ten years. We—we had a falling out. I got a restraining order. You can check. It's all on file."

"The restraining order expired six months ago."

"I know. I meant to renew it but I—work has been so busy and I—" Her voice cracked. She pressed her hand to her mouth. "What happened to him?"

Detective Inspector Brennan's expression didn't change. "We will discuss that at the station. You are not under arrest, but we need you to come with us to answer some questions."

"Of course. Yes. Anything." Karma grabbed her purse from the hook by the door. Her hands shook as she pulled out her phone. "I should call my lawyer. I don't—I don't understand what's happening but I should call—"

"That's your right." Brennan stepped aside, gestured toward the hallway. "After you, Doctor."

Karma walked between them, head down, shoulders hunched. Playing the innocent part. The grieving daughter who had just found out her father was dead.

Behind her, two officers entered her apartment with evidence bags and cameras.

But she knew they wouldn't find anything.

She made sure of it, or so she thought.

“Oh shit!!!”

“Noah knows.”