Two days passed before they found the body. It was hidden in a little grove of trees in the middle of the park, covered with a few leaves and branches. This would seem to be a normal place to hide a body, save for the fact that the “park” was in truth an atrium in the center of a building. The Grant Building, to be precise. 12 gleaming stories of glass and metal, in the heart of town. Built, controlled, owned, and operated by one H. Jackson Grant, the building reminded all who passed who controlled the town as well.
A secretary on her morning break found the unfortunate individual. She liked to sit on a bench in the atrium, drink her coffee, and dream about her long-planned-but-never-taken vacation to Hawaii. In between visions of a sunrise swim and breakfast on the beach, she was interrupted when her eye caught sight of a reflection in the midst of the greenery. She got up, walked over between the bushes, pushed aside a branch, and stopped in disbelief. The reflection was the sun glinting off a man’s glasses. A very dead man’s glasses.
Remaining remarkedly composed in the face of such a discovery, she returned to her bench and debated what to do. Call the police? This would seem to be the logical step, but all of a sudden she was tired of logic. Tired of all those “important” people shoving paper in her face, anxious that she should get it right and get it right quickly. They only noticed her when she did something wrong.
Like the time she made a typo in Mr. Grant’s speech welcoming the governor to their town. So it came out “Jello, Mr. Governor” instead of “Hello.” No real harm done, but he had been furious, this close to firing her on the spot. Instead, he took away her Christmas bonus. She had so been looking forward to that, was going to put it in the Hawaii trip fund no one else knew about. Tammy didn’t even know. Her best friend would have a heyday with this one. Because she, Jennifer Winter, recognized the dead man. It was Mr. Grant himself. And she was excited.
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