Criminal case

Returning from the hotel lobby with a glass of free lemonade, I touched the door handle of my suite. I had just started to insert my key card into the slot when the door opened by itself.
“They’ve implemented fingerprint recognition in the five minutes I was away! What a pace of progress! It’s impossible to escape innovation, just as it’s impossible to dodge a professional killer’s bullet,” I thought, with a mixture of surprise and delight.
But a moment later the glass of free lemonade shook in my hand — my suitcase was gone.
“Free cheese is only found in a mousetrap,” I thought.
“A murderer is among us!” I suddenly heard.
I turned from the empty spot where my suitcase had been toward the voice—and saw a parrot.
I stood motionless and speechless.
“It is a defective drone pretending to be a parrot!” was all I could think.
“Where have you been at the time of the murder?” the parrot said, turning its head and looking at me with one eye.
“What murder? My suitcase was stolen!”
“Do you have an alibi?”
I was shocked. From a victim, I had suddenly become a suspect in a capital crime. I forgot all about my suitcase and only wanted to clear my name.
“Yes, I was in the lobby,” I said, showing the drone detective my glass of free lemonade.
The drone detective turned its head and looked at me with its other eye.
“I found something,” the detective said and flew toward the bed.
My eyes followed it, and I saw the toes of a woman’s shoes sticking out from underneath the bed.
“My God, it looks like there’s a murdered woman under the bed. I could get a life sentence without parole!”
It was a critical moment. I had to say something decisive to convince the detective.
“My alibi,” was all I could say, as I held up the glass of free lemonade again.
“That changes everything,” the detective suddenly said.
I felt a wave of relief and joy.
“What is going on here, and why are you looking at my shoes under the bed? Are you going to steal them—or my talking parrot?” I heard behind me.
I turned around and saw a young woman. She gave me an angry look with her beautiful eyes.
“Free lemonade,” was all I managed to say.
“From the lobby?”
“Yes!”
It looked like my best argument had worked again!
“I don’t like lemonade. And what are you doing in my room?”
“No, it’s my room—309.”
“Are you sure you’re drinking lemonade? This is 308.”
She was right. I was too excited about the free lemonade and had gone into the wrong room.
I apologized. Before leaving, I couldn’t resist looking one more time at her beautiful face.
“In the lobby, I saw a poster for a presentation of your new detective novel with your photo on it,” I suddenly remembered.
“Yes, it’s me.”
“The case isn’t closed yet!” the parrot said.
“Yes, my dear Gosha, you always help me write,” she said to the parrot with a smile.
I went to my room, opened my suitcase, and took out my nice suit.
“It looks like I’ll need it this evening,” I thought.