Page 62 of Witches of Dubious Origin
“Sorry, our orders were to come to the office.” Jasper lowered his mask, blasting her with the full view of his handsomeface. “If there’s been a mix-up, perhaps you could direct us to the correct location, Ms….”
The woman turned toward him, lured no doubt by his British accent and his broad shoulders. Her body relaxed and she tipped her head to the side in a coquettish posture, tossing her shoulder-length blond hair as she smiled at him.
“Ruth. Ruth Weld, assistant to the director.” She blinked. “Of course, I’d be happy to help.” She stepped around Olive to get to the door. She grasped the handle and found it locked. “That’s odd. I just stepped out for a meeting and Shelly didn’t say she’d be leaving.”
“Do you have a key?” Olive sounded amused and bored, a contradiction that I would have thought an impossibility, but this was Olive.
“I left it in my desk.” Ruth looked like she wanted to stamp her foot. “And I left my cell phone in there as well.” She glanced at the four of us, judging our trustworthiness. Jasper smiled at her and that seemed to tip the scales. “Wait here. I’ll pop down to security and get the master key.”
As one, we all assumed relaxed stances, as if we were relieved to have a few minutes of downtime. This seemed to satisfy Ruth and she trotted down the hallway toward the elevator we had just left.
As soon as the doors closed behind her, Olive unlocked the office door and we hurried inside. The stretcher barely fit through the door and Jasper had to wriggle it a bit to get it in there. Once inside, we passed through what I now knew was Ruth’s office to the director’s.
The smell hit us like a wave of awful even through ourmasks, trapping us in the stench of decay and rot. My gag reflex kicked in and I dry-heaved. Olive grabbed something out of her pocket and held it out to me. “Put some under your nose.”
I glanced at the menthol salve and quickly popped off the lid and swabbed some under my nostrils beneath my mask. Jasper held out his hand and I passed it to him. He in turn offered it to Eloise but she shook her head. “I’m fine.”
I assumed her sense of smell must be broken. Jasper handed it back to Olive and she dabbed some under her mask as well. “All right, let’s get going before our friend returns.”
Jasper circled the desk. He didn’t hesitate but crouched down beside Moran and hefted him up. He got his torso off the ground, but Moran’s lower half dangled. Olive and I moved forward and we each grabbed a leg. It was like trying to carry a very heavy tree trunk whose bark was peeling. We had to grab him by his clothing, which was all that was holding him together. I had no idea how Jasper was able to lift his torso.
We did an awkward crab shuffle to the waiting stretcher. Moran’s butt was dragging and we couldn’t lift him up high enough. “Let’s swing him,” Jasper suggested. “And one…”
“Two…” We rocked Moran back and forth, trying to get enough lift to get him up onto the stretcher as if we were about to hoist him into a pool for a swim.
“Three.” We gave one mighty heave and Moran bounced up onto the stretcher. Jasper caught him before he rolled over the other side and Eloise dropped a sheet over his body.
“Excellent,” Olive said. “Let’s go.”
“What about the smell in here?” I was mouth-breathing to keep from vomiting.
“No longer our problem,” Olive said.
“As the containment specialist, I have to disagree.” Jasper reached into the laundry basket and retrieved the black pouch out of his coat while Olive tapped her foot. We watched as he quickly sprinkled what appeared to be salt in the corners of the room. “That should do it.”
Jasper pocketed his pouch and pushed the stretcher back into the hallway, with Olive guiding him, leaving Eloise and me to follow. I dragged the wheeled hamper behind us, hoping no one ran into us or asked any questions.
Naturally, we ran into everyone. A man and woman entered the elevator. Eloise, Jasper, and I positioned ourselves to keep the sheeted body from view. With a glimpse at their badges, I saw they were professional staff, both wearing dress shirts and pants beneath their white coats. We were so screwed. Amazingly, neither of them mentioned the smell. I glanced at Olive. Had she contained it somehow? She must have. I sniffed the air, but the menthol salve blocked everything.
Olive looked them over and in an imperious voice greeted them. “Doctor. Doctor.”
They exchanged a look and they both mumbled, “Doctor.” They ignored the rest of us and turned their attention to the tablet the man was holding, obviously going over a patient’s chart.
They departed on the next floor. In their place came a janitor, pushing a rolling bucket and mop. He was young andskinny with a neck tattoo of a fish—a trout if I was correct—and he glanced at us from beneath the brim of the ball cap he wore. He looked past Jasper and said, “If you need a body bag, they’re in the morgue in the basement.”
“That’s where we’re headed,” Jasper said.
The janitor looked at him and hit theBon the elevator panel. “You weren’t, but you are now.”
“Thank you.” Olive nodded at him.
The elevator opened and he stepped out. A woman in a blue blazer and matching skirt with her auburn hair in loose waves about her face went to step in. Olive blocked her.
“We’re going down.”
The woman glanced past Olive at the stretcher. “Oh.” She stepped back, letting the doors shut.
I sagged against the wall. My nerves were ratcheted to the breaking point. I did not think I could handle one more interaction.
