The dead body

He laid back on his bed and left his head hanging off the edge; making the world upside down. He looked up (or was it down?) and to his surprise, he saw a dead body hanging outside his window, one floor up. The body moved harmoniously with the wind, and oddly enough, at the same rhythm as the first few notes of Hotel California being played on a piano over and over again by his neighbour. 

The body looked young, a man, roughly thirty, clean and well dressed. He wondered what would drive a man that looked this good to end his own life in such a crude way.

"Had it even been suicide?" he thought to himself."Let us consider the possibilities."

And what interesting possibilities had gone through his mind; homicide was, of course, the first. He probably had problems with a drug dealer who had come to settle down a debt. Or perhaps it had been an involuntary homicide; a fight that went wrong. A crime of passion should never be out of mind, he was probably cheating and was cut in the act. Later to be thrown out the window.

"What is his name?" he thought to himself." He looks like a Carlos."