The Perfect Body, page 3
part #8 of Professor Molly Mysteries Series
“Yes, really. Please don’t worry. I have no desire to get involved with this. Besides, I didn’t even…”
I stopped myself before I could say, I didn’t even want to have anything to do with Stephen Park when he was alive. It would have come off as callous, I think.
Donnie reached over and squeezed my hand.
“Thank you. Molly, I don’t like coming off like I’m telling you what to do. But if it’s a choice between that and some crazy murderer pushing you into a lava tube—”
“I guess I’m never living that down…” Francesca grunted and jerked her head back and forth. “Ow! Come on baby, let’s latch you on properly. Geez, what kind of baby starts growing teeth at two months?”
I repositioned Francesca as Donnie averted his eyes.
“It’s okay,” I said, “You’re allowed to look.”
“I know. I just don’t want to get shot in the eye again.”
“Look. I didn’t do it on purpose. I had no idea it could squirt so far. Nobody warns you about those things. Hey, do you want to hear a joke Emma told me? What’s a pirate’s favorite letter of the alphabet?”
“Molly, you’re trying to change the subject—”
“You’d think it would be Arrrr, but they’re really in love with the C.”
“Molly? You mean it about not getting involved?”
“Oh yes. I mean it. And I really would rather not think about it anymore.”
Stephen Park had already benefited from my uncompensated emotional labor while he was alive. He wasn’t getting any more from me just because he was dead.
“I only want you to be safe. Both of you.” Donnie stood up and went into the walk-in closet. “Are you sure you’ll be okay with me going to work today?”
“Fine. Totally back to normal already. Accidents happen.”
“You think it was an accident?” Donnie said from inside the closet.
“Probably. But what do I know? It’s not my job to figure out what happened. Like I said, I don’t want to think about it.”
I flashed back to the sight of Stephen lying lifeless on the ground. I hoped it was an accident. If not, someone had just gotten away with murder.
Chapter Nine
Margaret showed up at exactly two minutes to nine to take over baby duty. Francesca greeted her arrival with a well-timed (from my perspective) diaper explosion. Margaret took the baby from me and went to change her while I settled down at my computer.
One of the persistent myths about academia is that professors get summers “off.” Our summers are unpaid, and technically the university can’t require us to do anything they’re not paying us for.
However. There are things that need to get done, whether it’s summer or not. And many of these things fall to the department chair (me).
During the school year, faculty members are supposed to turn in regular reports to the Student Retention Office. These reports don’t always get done, because there is no way to force faculty members to take attendance, record student engagement levels, or update their Teaching Philosophy Statements. When the faculty in my department take principled stands against administrative overreach by refusing to fill out the forms, I then have to spend my summer completing the forms myself. Because I had no information to work with, I found myself using the sophisticated data interpolation method known as “making stuff up.”
For this course session, please list
a) The date, room assignment, and instructor of record,
b) The current enrollment expressed as a whole integer,
c) The average engagement level on an eleven-point scale, rounded to two decimal places.
d) The average student success level (letter grade on a four-point scale), rounded to two decimal places.
Fortunately for me, the management department was small—only four full-time faculty including me. But multiply that by three or four classes per faculty member times a sixteen-week semester, and it left me with a pile of reports to fill out before fall semester.
I was having some trouble focusing on my task, so when I heard Margaret clear her throat, I welcomed the interruption. I swiveled my chair around to face her.
“Sorry to bother you Professor, but I was wondering if I could ask you something?”
“Sure. Have a seat. Margaret, you can call me Molly. It’s been how many years since you were my student?”
She perched on the arm of the couch with Francesca on her lap.
“Sorry, Professor, I guess I’m just used to it. I mean Molly, sorry. I heard about what happened last night. Poor Professor Park. It must have been awful for you.”
“Yes. It was. Thank you, Margaret. You’re very compassionate.”
“You shouldn’t feel bad about it, Professor. It’s perfectly normal to throw up when you see a dead body. I’m sure everyone understands.”
“Margaret, did you have something you wanted to ask me?”
Margaret hitched the baby up onto her shoulder.
“I hate to bother you, but Keola? You know, my boyfriend?”
“I’ve heard you mention him.”
“His job ended, and he’s looking for something else. He was working as a lab tech. He has a biology degree. If you know of any opportunities?”
“I can ask around. In fact, Emma Nakamura might know of something. I’ll ask her when I see her.”
“Thank you so much, Professor. That would be so nice of you!”
“Where was he working before? I know Emma will ask me. She’ll want to talk to his previous supervisor.”
“Oh, that’s the thing.” Margaret absently rubbed the baby’s back. “He doesn’t feel like he can ask Professor Corcoran for a recommendation.”
“Professor Corcoran? Is this Bee Corcoran? In Kinesiology?”
Margaret nodded.
“I see. He doesn’t want to bother her while she’s grieving. Understandable.”
“Grieving?”
“Because Bee and…never mind. Why can’t he ask her for a recommendation?”
“She kind of fired him.”
“Ah. Do you know why?”
“There was a disagreement about the lab animals. I told him, don’t contradict your boss, but I guess he didn’t listen.”
“Was she mistreating the animals?” Bee could be tactless, but she didn’t strike me as someone who tortured helpless creatures.
Margaret shook her head.
“No, it wasn’t animal cruelty. You have to report animal cruelty. It was just that Professor Corcoran sometimes got the rats mixed up. Keola would find them in the wrong cages. She didn’t want to listen to any of his suggestions for keeping records. I told him, Keola, bosses don’t want to hear your ideas. They want you to take their ideas and make them successful.”
“That sounds pretty cynical, Margaret. Where did you hear that?”
“Your Intro to Business Management class.”
“Huh. Really?”
“Professor, Keola didn’t do anything wrong. He was just trying to help. He loves animals.”
“Okay, I’ll talk to Emma about it.”
“Oh, thank you so much Professor!”
She started to stand up.
“By the way, someone told me you don’t get paid in the summer. Is it true?”
“It is true. I’m on a nine-month appointment.”
“But you’re still working?”
“Yep.”
“What are you working on? Sorry, I’m not trying to be nosy. But Keola thinks he might want to be a college professor someday.”
Margaret held the baby on her shoulder and swayed rhythmically.
“Sure, I don’t mind telling you. Research, prep for fall classes, student petitions, search committees, course scheduling, and whatever’s currently on fire in my in-box. Right now, it’s paperwork for the Student Retention Office that the other faculty members didn’t do during the school year. If I weren’t department chair maybe I could take some time off. Travel, or just drop off the face of the earth. Like everyone else in my department seems to be doing.”
“So why did you want to become department chair?” Margaret asked.
“I don’t know that I wanted to. Harrison and Schneider refuse to do it. Every time the dean tries to make them, they threaten to retire. So that leaves Rodge Cowper and me, and I’d rather be department chair than have Rodge be in charge. Sorry, I’ve probably given you way more information than you wanted.”
“No, it’s good to know.” Margaret stroked Francesca’s head, which was resting heavily on her shoulder. “No offense, but honestly? I’m glad I’m going to be an accountant.”
Chapter Ten
Donnie stopped in at home after the lunch rush to check on the baby and me. We sat out on the front porch, enjoying the view of Uakoko Street. It had been raining all morning, so the air was pleasantly cool. Donnie fed Francesca from a bottle.
“Well, the news is out,” I said. “Margaret already heard all about what happened last night.”
“M-hm,” Donnie said to Francesca. “Look at her. What a champ. She’s not letting that bottle go until she’s killed it.”
“It’s funny,” I said. “Francesca’s whole world is about consuming the bottle. She’s being utterly selfish right now, and it’s the most adorable thing imaginable. But imagine a grownup acting the same way. Not adorable at all.”
“My customers are a little bit like our baby. They show up, they’re hungry and cranky, we feed them, and then they’re happy.”
“So how are things at work, speaking of your customers? Has anyone asked you about last night?”
“Everyone,” Donnie said. “They already knew I was going to the donor dinner because I left work early last night.”
“Right. You don’t usually take off work.”
“People are letting their imaginations go wild.”
“What do you mean?”
“Park was relatively young and in pretty good health. And you know, a place like the Old Mahina Memorial Hospital, with its history, people are going to, you know. Assume things.”
“Do you mean people think it’s haunted?” I asked.
“When you ask people straight out, they say they don’t believe in ghosts or anything like that. But then they tell you everyone else does.”
“Hey, I don’t even believe in ghosts, and you wouldn’t have a hard time convincing me the old hospital is haunted. Although it is gorgeous. Did you see the ceiling in the dining room?”
Donnie checked his watch and set the baby bottle down on the rattan table. Francesca had fallen asleep in his arms.
“Okay, I have to get back. You two going to be okay?”
I reached out to take Francesca. She woke up and fussed until I popped the bottle back into her mouth.
“We’ll be fine,” I said. “Our house isn’t haunted. Also, Emma might stop by later.”
“Good. I feel better knowing you have company.”
Donnie gave me a quick kiss, and I went back inside. I got Francesca to sleep in her rocking bassinet and was able to answer a few emails before someone rapped on the front door.
“The baby’s asleep,” I whispered as I let Emma in.
“Nah, she’s not,” Emma contradicted me. “She’s wide awake. Oh, hey little girl!”
“She’s awake now,” I said.
Emma knelt next to the bassinet. Francesca beamed at Emma.
“Aw, she’s smiling at me. Look, she wants me to pick her up.” Emma picked up the baby. “That okay with you?”
“Sure. Want coffee?”
“Yeah, thanks.”
“Want a burp cloth?”
Emma had hoisted the baby onto her shoulder and was marching her around the living room. Francesca giggled and cooed.
“Nah,” Emma said. “If she spits up on me I’ll just throw my shirt in the wash. Like I did last time.”
“Like last time? Oh, you mean you’ll make me wash it and then you’ll take one of my shirts. Oh, before I forget. Can you use a lab tech?”
I told Emma about Margaret’s boyfriend.
“You’re asking me do I want to hire some little boy who’s gonna come in acting like he knows more about running my lab than I do? Yeah, I think I’ll pass.”
“Well, I told Margaret I’d ask you about it.”
“You can tell her I said eff off with that.”
“I’ll paraphrase.”
“Eh, how come she didn’t just come ask me? She knows who I am.”
“Why didn’t the shy, high-strung accounting major approach you directly? I don’t know, Emma. It’s a mystery. Hey, so I never told you what happened last—”
“Oh yeah, last night! Big news, ah?” Emma was talking to the baby, not to me. “Isn’t that right, Francesca? Oh, yes, it is.”
“Okay, let me go get coffee. You okay watching the baby out here?”
“Auntie Emma wants to hear all about it,” I heard Emma tell the baby. “Miss Constance gave mean old Stephen Park what was coming to him, didn’t she?”
I brought our coffee back out to the living room.
“Sounds like you heard about Stephen already. What was that you were telling the baby? Emma, don’t tell her Stephen Park got what was coming to him. That’s not right.”
Emma touched her nose to Francesca’s.
“Oh, your mommy thinks Aunty Emma’s being too mean, but she’s wrong, because Stephen totally deserved it, didn’t he? I think we need to remind your mommy about the time Stephen forgot all about her birthday because he was too busy—”
“Emma, Stephen might not have been my favorite person, but you can’t say someone deserved to die.”
“Oh yeah? What about Hitler?”
“Stephen Park was a self-important, faithless poseur, but he wasn’t a genocidal dictator.”
“As far as you know.”
“No, I’m positive he wasn’t. He didn’t have the initiative.”
Emma gave Francesca’s chubby cheek a kiss and placed her back in the bassinet. Francesca dropped off to sleep immediately.
“That schmuck broke your heart, Molly. I’m talking about Stephen Park, not Hitler.”
Emma examined her shoulder and rubbed the fabric.
“Oh look, baby left me a little blurp. So, tell me from the beginning what happened.”
“First you tell me. Who’s Miss Constance?”
I handed Emma a coffee mug. She took a sip.
“Mm, I like this one. Good choice, Molly.”
“Emma?”
“Oh yeah, Miss Constance. People see her around the old hospital at night sometimes.”
“Who is she?” I asked. “I mean, besides a ghost, I got that. But was she a patient? An employee?”
“She was a patient. I heard she was from a rich family and as soon as she got married her husband had her hospitalized for nerves or whatever. Then he went out and partied and spent all her money. You know back in those days that’s how it was. Your husband could lock you up in the loony bin and take everything you have and there was nothing you could do about it.”
“Yeah, the good old days. So, whatever happened to her?”
“She killed herself,” Emma said.
“Oh, how awful.”
“Yeah, but she got the last word. Her husband was riding the train—”
“Here? On this island?”
“Yeah, we used to have a train until a bunch of the tracks got washed away by a tsunami. Anyway, his car derailed and fell into the ocean. Him and a bunch of his party buddies were never seen again.”
“Wow.” I took a sip of my coffee. It had gotten cold. “And people think Constance did it?”
“Uh huh. And that wasn’t enough for her. Cause they say she’s still around, taking revenge on—”
“Men?” I asked.
“Nah, not all men. Just, you know...” Emma glanced at the sleeping baby.
“Eff-boys,” she stage-whispered.
“What boys?”
“Useless idiot party boys,” she explained. “You know, like your stepson.”
“Ah. Your words, not mine.”
“How come I never hear about Davison anymore by the way?” Emma asked.
“Ever since he moved to Vegas he’s been too busy to call or visit. It’s like he doesn’t even exist. It’s wonderful.”
“Aw, who says there’s no happily ever after in real life? Anyway Molly, you were there. Last night. What happened? Tell me everything.”
“Okay but first let me put on some fresh coffee. I’ll bring out the pot.”
Chapter Eleven
“They had the dining room open to the terrace?” Emma exclaimed.
“You know the layout of the building?” I asked.
“Kinda. Me and my friends used to go exploring there. That terrace is where they say Miss Constance killed herself.”
“Ooh. That just gave me a little shiver.”
“And now you’re telling me Stephen died in the exact same place? Yeah, chicken skin for real. What were they thinking, letting people go out there?”
“It’s not like we were encouraged to,” I said. “They didn’t have any lights on. But they hadn’t exactly closed it off, either.”
“Why did they have a dinner in the old hospital at all? It’s kind of morbid, ah? All those people suffering and dying and losing their minds in there—”
“Oh, but Emma, the building is beautiful.”
“Seriously?”
“Inlaid marble floors, big sweeping staircases, there’s nothing on the island remotely comparable. I can see why they wanted to have a donor event there, haunted or not.”
“They should’ve at least had lights on.” Emma tipped up her mug and then refilled her coffee.
“That reminds me,” I said, “Wasn’t there supposed to be some big project to catch up on our deferred maintenance and bring all our buildings up to code? Wasn’t it part of the deal when the county gave us the building?”
“Old news, Molly. Don’t you remember what happened the last legislative session? The ledge zeroed out all our maintenance funding.”
“I thought they gave us some money in the end, though.”
“We got three million dollars for football,” Emma said. “Everything else got cut.”
I stopped myself before I could say, I didn’t even want to have anything to do with Stephen Park when he was alive. It would have come off as callous, I think.
Donnie reached over and squeezed my hand.
“Thank you. Molly, I don’t like coming off like I’m telling you what to do. But if it’s a choice between that and some crazy murderer pushing you into a lava tube—”
“I guess I’m never living that down…” Francesca grunted and jerked her head back and forth. “Ow! Come on baby, let’s latch you on properly. Geez, what kind of baby starts growing teeth at two months?”
I repositioned Francesca as Donnie averted his eyes.
“It’s okay,” I said, “You’re allowed to look.”
“I know. I just don’t want to get shot in the eye again.”
“Look. I didn’t do it on purpose. I had no idea it could squirt so far. Nobody warns you about those things. Hey, do you want to hear a joke Emma told me? What’s a pirate’s favorite letter of the alphabet?”
“Molly, you’re trying to change the subject—”
“You’d think it would be Arrrr, but they’re really in love with the C.”
“Molly? You mean it about not getting involved?”
“Oh yes. I mean it. And I really would rather not think about it anymore.”
Stephen Park had already benefited from my uncompensated emotional labor while he was alive. He wasn’t getting any more from me just because he was dead.
“I only want you to be safe. Both of you.” Donnie stood up and went into the walk-in closet. “Are you sure you’ll be okay with me going to work today?”
“Fine. Totally back to normal already. Accidents happen.”
“You think it was an accident?” Donnie said from inside the closet.
“Probably. But what do I know? It’s not my job to figure out what happened. Like I said, I don’t want to think about it.”
I flashed back to the sight of Stephen lying lifeless on the ground. I hoped it was an accident. If not, someone had just gotten away with murder.
Chapter Nine
Margaret showed up at exactly two minutes to nine to take over baby duty. Francesca greeted her arrival with a well-timed (from my perspective) diaper explosion. Margaret took the baby from me and went to change her while I settled down at my computer.
One of the persistent myths about academia is that professors get summers “off.” Our summers are unpaid, and technically the university can’t require us to do anything they’re not paying us for.
However. There are things that need to get done, whether it’s summer or not. And many of these things fall to the department chair (me).
During the school year, faculty members are supposed to turn in regular reports to the Student Retention Office. These reports don’t always get done, because there is no way to force faculty members to take attendance, record student engagement levels, or update their Teaching Philosophy Statements. When the faculty in my department take principled stands against administrative overreach by refusing to fill out the forms, I then have to spend my summer completing the forms myself. Because I had no information to work with, I found myself using the sophisticated data interpolation method known as “making stuff up.”
For this course session, please list
a) The date, room assignment, and instructor of record,
b) The current enrollment expressed as a whole integer,
c) The average engagement level on an eleven-point scale, rounded to two decimal places.
d) The average student success level (letter grade on a four-point scale), rounded to two decimal places.
Fortunately for me, the management department was small—only four full-time faculty including me. But multiply that by three or four classes per faculty member times a sixteen-week semester, and it left me with a pile of reports to fill out before fall semester.
I was having some trouble focusing on my task, so when I heard Margaret clear her throat, I welcomed the interruption. I swiveled my chair around to face her.
“Sorry to bother you Professor, but I was wondering if I could ask you something?”
“Sure. Have a seat. Margaret, you can call me Molly. It’s been how many years since you were my student?”
She perched on the arm of the couch with Francesca on her lap.
“Sorry, Professor, I guess I’m just used to it. I mean Molly, sorry. I heard about what happened last night. Poor Professor Park. It must have been awful for you.”
“Yes. It was. Thank you, Margaret. You’re very compassionate.”
“You shouldn’t feel bad about it, Professor. It’s perfectly normal to throw up when you see a dead body. I’m sure everyone understands.”
“Margaret, did you have something you wanted to ask me?”
Margaret hitched the baby up onto her shoulder.
“I hate to bother you, but Keola? You know, my boyfriend?”
“I’ve heard you mention him.”
“His job ended, and he’s looking for something else. He was working as a lab tech. He has a biology degree. If you know of any opportunities?”
“I can ask around. In fact, Emma Nakamura might know of something. I’ll ask her when I see her.”
“Thank you so much, Professor. That would be so nice of you!”
“Where was he working before? I know Emma will ask me. She’ll want to talk to his previous supervisor.”
“Oh, that’s the thing.” Margaret absently rubbed the baby’s back. “He doesn’t feel like he can ask Professor Corcoran for a recommendation.”
“Professor Corcoran? Is this Bee Corcoran? In Kinesiology?”
Margaret nodded.
“I see. He doesn’t want to bother her while she’s grieving. Understandable.”
“Grieving?”
“Because Bee and…never mind. Why can’t he ask her for a recommendation?”
“She kind of fired him.”
“Ah. Do you know why?”
“There was a disagreement about the lab animals. I told him, don’t contradict your boss, but I guess he didn’t listen.”
“Was she mistreating the animals?” Bee could be tactless, but she didn’t strike me as someone who tortured helpless creatures.
Margaret shook her head.
“No, it wasn’t animal cruelty. You have to report animal cruelty. It was just that Professor Corcoran sometimes got the rats mixed up. Keola would find them in the wrong cages. She didn’t want to listen to any of his suggestions for keeping records. I told him, Keola, bosses don’t want to hear your ideas. They want you to take their ideas and make them successful.”
“That sounds pretty cynical, Margaret. Where did you hear that?”
“Your Intro to Business Management class.”
“Huh. Really?”
“Professor, Keola didn’t do anything wrong. He was just trying to help. He loves animals.”
“Okay, I’ll talk to Emma about it.”
“Oh, thank you so much Professor!”
She started to stand up.
“By the way, someone told me you don’t get paid in the summer. Is it true?”
“It is true. I’m on a nine-month appointment.”
“But you’re still working?”
“Yep.”
“What are you working on? Sorry, I’m not trying to be nosy. But Keola thinks he might want to be a college professor someday.”
Margaret held the baby on her shoulder and swayed rhythmically.
“Sure, I don’t mind telling you. Research, prep for fall classes, student petitions, search committees, course scheduling, and whatever’s currently on fire in my in-box. Right now, it’s paperwork for the Student Retention Office that the other faculty members didn’t do during the school year. If I weren’t department chair maybe I could take some time off. Travel, or just drop off the face of the earth. Like everyone else in my department seems to be doing.”
“So why did you want to become department chair?” Margaret asked.
“I don’t know that I wanted to. Harrison and Schneider refuse to do it. Every time the dean tries to make them, they threaten to retire. So that leaves Rodge Cowper and me, and I’d rather be department chair than have Rodge be in charge. Sorry, I’ve probably given you way more information than you wanted.”
“No, it’s good to know.” Margaret stroked Francesca’s head, which was resting heavily on her shoulder. “No offense, but honestly? I’m glad I’m going to be an accountant.”
Chapter Ten
Donnie stopped in at home after the lunch rush to check on the baby and me. We sat out on the front porch, enjoying the view of Uakoko Street. It had been raining all morning, so the air was pleasantly cool. Donnie fed Francesca from a bottle.
“Well, the news is out,” I said. “Margaret already heard all about what happened last night.”
“M-hm,” Donnie said to Francesca. “Look at her. What a champ. She’s not letting that bottle go until she’s killed it.”
“It’s funny,” I said. “Francesca’s whole world is about consuming the bottle. She’s being utterly selfish right now, and it’s the most adorable thing imaginable. But imagine a grownup acting the same way. Not adorable at all.”
“My customers are a little bit like our baby. They show up, they’re hungry and cranky, we feed them, and then they’re happy.”
“So how are things at work, speaking of your customers? Has anyone asked you about last night?”
“Everyone,” Donnie said. “They already knew I was going to the donor dinner because I left work early last night.”
“Right. You don’t usually take off work.”
“People are letting their imaginations go wild.”
“What do you mean?”
“Park was relatively young and in pretty good health. And you know, a place like the Old Mahina Memorial Hospital, with its history, people are going to, you know. Assume things.”
“Do you mean people think it’s haunted?” I asked.
“When you ask people straight out, they say they don’t believe in ghosts or anything like that. But then they tell you everyone else does.”
“Hey, I don’t even believe in ghosts, and you wouldn’t have a hard time convincing me the old hospital is haunted. Although it is gorgeous. Did you see the ceiling in the dining room?”
Donnie checked his watch and set the baby bottle down on the rattan table. Francesca had fallen asleep in his arms.
“Okay, I have to get back. You two going to be okay?”
I reached out to take Francesca. She woke up and fussed until I popped the bottle back into her mouth.
“We’ll be fine,” I said. “Our house isn’t haunted. Also, Emma might stop by later.”
“Good. I feel better knowing you have company.”
Donnie gave me a quick kiss, and I went back inside. I got Francesca to sleep in her rocking bassinet and was able to answer a few emails before someone rapped on the front door.
“The baby’s asleep,” I whispered as I let Emma in.
“Nah, she’s not,” Emma contradicted me. “She’s wide awake. Oh, hey little girl!”
“She’s awake now,” I said.
Emma knelt next to the bassinet. Francesca beamed at Emma.
“Aw, she’s smiling at me. Look, she wants me to pick her up.” Emma picked up the baby. “That okay with you?”
“Sure. Want coffee?”
“Yeah, thanks.”
“Want a burp cloth?”
Emma had hoisted the baby onto her shoulder and was marching her around the living room. Francesca giggled and cooed.
“Nah,” Emma said. “If she spits up on me I’ll just throw my shirt in the wash. Like I did last time.”
“Like last time? Oh, you mean you’ll make me wash it and then you’ll take one of my shirts. Oh, before I forget. Can you use a lab tech?”
I told Emma about Margaret’s boyfriend.
“You’re asking me do I want to hire some little boy who’s gonna come in acting like he knows more about running my lab than I do? Yeah, I think I’ll pass.”
“Well, I told Margaret I’d ask you about it.”
“You can tell her I said eff off with that.”
“I’ll paraphrase.”
“Eh, how come she didn’t just come ask me? She knows who I am.”
“Why didn’t the shy, high-strung accounting major approach you directly? I don’t know, Emma. It’s a mystery. Hey, so I never told you what happened last—”
“Oh yeah, last night! Big news, ah?” Emma was talking to the baby, not to me. “Isn’t that right, Francesca? Oh, yes, it is.”
“Okay, let me go get coffee. You okay watching the baby out here?”
“Auntie Emma wants to hear all about it,” I heard Emma tell the baby. “Miss Constance gave mean old Stephen Park what was coming to him, didn’t she?”
I brought our coffee back out to the living room.
“Sounds like you heard about Stephen already. What was that you were telling the baby? Emma, don’t tell her Stephen Park got what was coming to him. That’s not right.”
Emma touched her nose to Francesca’s.
“Oh, your mommy thinks Aunty Emma’s being too mean, but she’s wrong, because Stephen totally deserved it, didn’t he? I think we need to remind your mommy about the time Stephen forgot all about her birthday because he was too busy—”
“Emma, Stephen might not have been my favorite person, but you can’t say someone deserved to die.”
“Oh yeah? What about Hitler?”
“Stephen Park was a self-important, faithless poseur, but he wasn’t a genocidal dictator.”
“As far as you know.”
“No, I’m positive he wasn’t. He didn’t have the initiative.”
Emma gave Francesca’s chubby cheek a kiss and placed her back in the bassinet. Francesca dropped off to sleep immediately.
“That schmuck broke your heart, Molly. I’m talking about Stephen Park, not Hitler.”
Emma examined her shoulder and rubbed the fabric.
“Oh look, baby left me a little blurp. So, tell me from the beginning what happened.”
“First you tell me. Who’s Miss Constance?”
I handed Emma a coffee mug. She took a sip.
“Mm, I like this one. Good choice, Molly.”
“Emma?”
“Oh yeah, Miss Constance. People see her around the old hospital at night sometimes.”
“Who is she?” I asked. “I mean, besides a ghost, I got that. But was she a patient? An employee?”
“She was a patient. I heard she was from a rich family and as soon as she got married her husband had her hospitalized for nerves or whatever. Then he went out and partied and spent all her money. You know back in those days that’s how it was. Your husband could lock you up in the loony bin and take everything you have and there was nothing you could do about it.”
“Yeah, the good old days. So, whatever happened to her?”
“She killed herself,” Emma said.
“Oh, how awful.”
“Yeah, but she got the last word. Her husband was riding the train—”
“Here? On this island?”
“Yeah, we used to have a train until a bunch of the tracks got washed away by a tsunami. Anyway, his car derailed and fell into the ocean. Him and a bunch of his party buddies were never seen again.”
“Wow.” I took a sip of my coffee. It had gotten cold. “And people think Constance did it?”
“Uh huh. And that wasn’t enough for her. Cause they say she’s still around, taking revenge on—”
“Men?” I asked.
“Nah, not all men. Just, you know...” Emma glanced at the sleeping baby.
“Eff-boys,” she stage-whispered.
“What boys?”
“Useless idiot party boys,” she explained. “You know, like your stepson.”
“Ah. Your words, not mine.”
“How come I never hear about Davison anymore by the way?” Emma asked.
“Ever since he moved to Vegas he’s been too busy to call or visit. It’s like he doesn’t even exist. It’s wonderful.”
“Aw, who says there’s no happily ever after in real life? Anyway Molly, you were there. Last night. What happened? Tell me everything.”
“Okay but first let me put on some fresh coffee. I’ll bring out the pot.”
Chapter Eleven
“They had the dining room open to the terrace?” Emma exclaimed.
“You know the layout of the building?” I asked.
“Kinda. Me and my friends used to go exploring there. That terrace is where they say Miss Constance killed herself.”
“Ooh. That just gave me a little shiver.”
“And now you’re telling me Stephen died in the exact same place? Yeah, chicken skin for real. What were they thinking, letting people go out there?”
“It’s not like we were encouraged to,” I said. “They didn’t have any lights on. But they hadn’t exactly closed it off, either.”
“Why did they have a dinner in the old hospital at all? It’s kind of morbid, ah? All those people suffering and dying and losing their minds in there—”
“Oh, but Emma, the building is beautiful.”
“Seriously?”
“Inlaid marble floors, big sweeping staircases, there’s nothing on the island remotely comparable. I can see why they wanted to have a donor event there, haunted or not.”
“They should’ve at least had lights on.” Emma tipped up her mug and then refilled her coffee.
“That reminds me,” I said, “Wasn’t there supposed to be some big project to catch up on our deferred maintenance and bring all our buildings up to code? Wasn’t it part of the deal when the county gave us the building?”
“Old news, Molly. Don’t you remember what happened the last legislative session? The ledge zeroed out all our maintenance funding.”
“I thought they gave us some money in the end, though.”
“We got three million dollars for football,” Emma said. “Everything else got cut.”
