the hospital murder case (part eleven)

This story started here.

"Why are you here?" I asked my employer quietly as we waited for an elevator.

She smiled. "We've worked together a long time, you and I. We're connected now. Even across this great metropolis, I could sense your unease."

I regarded her.

"Well," she said as the doors opened and we stepped in, "there was also this message we got at the meeting. Someone ran in and told us that the Jinx had occupied the entire hospital and taken everybody hostage. That seemed like it was probably worth investigating."

I nodded. "Probably."

"And you believed this story?" Neil asked.

She smiled. "If we had, we wouldn't have sent just one gal reporter with a bum leg."

That got a smile, even out of Neil. I recognized her expression and I was afraid that this would proceed directly to simpering and flirting, but then the doors opened and Neil moved quickly down the hall. We followed more slowly, but then as he turned the corner into the little cul-de-sac corridor where Felix's room was, we heard a curse and running footsteps.

I ran ahead of Jan, who was limping quickly, and when I turned the corner I saw Rafe slumped in his chair, either asleep, unconscious, or dead.

The door to Felix's room was open, so I moved in that direction as Jan leaned over to examine Rafe.

Neil was standing next to the bed, his hands on his hips. He looked up as I stepped in.

"Dead," he said slowly, his mouth tight. "Murdered. Strangled." He sighed. "Shit."

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About Anthony Lee Collins

I write.
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