The Perfect Body by Frankie Bow

Author:Frankie Bow [Bow, Frankie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Independently published
Published: 2018-01-01T06:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-Seven

“I hope my new office doesn’t look out this way,” I said as we made our way along the narrow walkway through the trees. “I don’t want to have to see where Stephen died.”

“Molly. Don’t you live next to a graveyard?”

“Another reason why I don’t want to stare death in the face all day.”

“You know this place was a hospital. Literally tons of people died here. And don’t call me out for saying ‘literally’. I do mean literally, cause all you need is ten or twenty people to make a ton. Even less if it’s a bunch of fat guys.”

“I know Stephen wasn’t the first person to die here, Emma, I’m not an idiot. But he’s the first person I know personally who died here. It’s different.”

The building entrance was a soap-green wooden door. Unlike the double doors at the entrance to the main hospital, this was not at all grand. Emma pushed the door open and I followed her. Inside it was surprisingly bright. I looked up to see that the center of the building was an atrium, open all the way up to an expansive skylight.

“This is like that hotel I just stayed in for my conference in Phoenix,” Emma said. “You step out of your room and there’s like this low wall about waist high, and like fifty feet below is the lobby.”

“It sounds dangerous,” I said. “Wouldn’t it be easy to fall right over?”

“No one died when I was there.”

“Well, here’s my new daily workout,” I said as we started up the steps.

“Ho, this is pretty nice. Helloooo!”

“Emma, don’t shout.”

“What? You afraid I’m gonna wake up the ghosts?”

“No, I’m afraid your voice is going to destabilize the building like the Tacoma Narrows bridge and it’s going to tumble down and crush us to death.”

“Hello!” Came a man’s voice. From the top of the stairwell, I could see the top of a shaved head.

“Pat!” Emma picked up speed and bounded up the steps. I did my best to keep up, but I quickly lost sight of her. Emma’s canoe paddling keeps her extremely fit. By the time I had reached the top floor I felt like I was breathing sandpaper.

Pat was attired after his usual fashion, in black boots, grubby jeans, and a battered flannel shirt over a Joy Division t-shirt. He’s pale, wiry, and tall. Emma is short, brown, and built for power. Standing side by side they look like an illustration of Diversity of the Human Species.

“This is it?” I exclaimed, after I’d exchanged a quick hug with Pat. “Just a landing and a couple doors?”

I backed away from the railing.

“You should stay away from the railing,” Emma advised helpfully. “You’re scared of heights.”

“Yes, thank you for reminding me. Except there’s not a lot of space up here.”

“Hey Molly, sorry to hear about Donnie,” Pat said.

“Thanks. It’s been pretty stressful. Have you heard anything down at Mahina PD?”

Pat shrugged. “If it makes you feel any better, it doesn’t seem like anyone there really thinks Donnie killed anyone.

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