The second of a serial killer trilogy.
"You look tired young lady." "Oh, I'm sorry, but I've been working here since 7am this morning. I was just on my way home when the manager asked me to prepare your room for you." "Sit down my child and let me offer you a drink." Drip, drip, drip. Cold Stone got out a phial of Rohypnol and laced her drink with it. Then, within the few minutes it took to take effect, she put a plastic bag over the maid's head and watched her as she silently, motionlessly passed away, in pure Cold Stone terror - aware of everything that was happening to her, but unable to do anything about it. The unfortunate young Irish lass had, unwittingly, just become Cold Stone's next, unplanned, victim.