“It’s beautiful.” Emily’s gaze climbed the sprawling staircase that sat in the centre of the lobby.
“Will your partner be joining us?” Paulina asked, eyeing Emily.
“No partner. It’s just me.”
“You’re aware of how much this apartment costs to rent?”
“I can afford it.”
“I see. Any children?”
Emily’s fingers glided over the grooves of the lift doors then slipped inside her coat pockets. She glanced at the letting agent, ignoring the sudden pounding of her heart. Slowly, she shook her head.
“Well, there are thirteen apartments in the building,” Paulina continued, arching an eyebrow. “Four on each floor, with the penthouse at the top.”
“Thirteen? Isn’t that meant to be bad luck for buildings?”
“That’s why there’s a 12A, and the penthouse, 12B. You’ll be looking at 12A.” Paulina tapped her wrist. “That’s three minutes up already and we haven’t even made it upstairs.”
The lift was slow and moaned like a rheumatic old man as the two women rode in silence to the fourth floor. Emily felt Paulina’s steely gaze pressing into her skin. She didn’t fit the letting agent’s profile, that much was obvious. But instead of meeting the woman’s glare, Emily kept her eyes glued to the doors. After a long, excruciating minute, the lift ground to a halt with a startling screech of brakes. The doors slid open and Paulina brushed past, taking off along a gloomy corridor with faded blue carpet and a window at the far end that let in little light.
“The tenant will be at work right now,” she said. Stopping outside of apartment 12A, she unlocked the door and held it open for Emily, who thanked her quietly as she stepped inside.
A small chandelier of imitation crystals hung from the high ceiling of an L-shaped hallway. A coat stand stood in the corner, its arms empty like winter branches.
“There are original floorboards in all rooms except the kitchen,” Paulina said, continuing her rehearsed sales speech as she shut the door and took the lead once more. “On your left, you’ll find ample storage cupboards. Doors up ahead lead to the living room, bedroom, and bathroom. Access to the kitchen is via the living room. Shall we?”
Emily trailed behind as they moved along the hallway, her eyes fixed on Paulina’s back. She didn’t like the woman. She didn’t like the way she kept looking at her. Judging her. And she didn’t like the questions she was asking.
Up ahead, Paulina opened a door and peered inside. Her face reddened. “I’m sorry, but there appears to be a spot of mess. I’d specifically reminded the tenant to keep the place tidy for today’s viewings, but clearly he doesn’t know the meaning of the word!”
“It’s no bother,” Emily replied, hiding a smile as she imagined the angry phone call that the tenant would no doubt receive later.
The living room was tall and wide. Three arched windows stretched from ceiling to floor, overlooking the city. Two leather sofas sat on one side, a dining table and chairs on the other. In the centre of the room, stacks of open boxes and rolls of packing tape covered the floor, along with a mountain of the current tenant’s belongings.
“What a view!” Paulina enthused, directing Emily’s attention away from the mess and towards the windows.
Emily moved over to the centre window and pressed her face against the glass. Down below, streams of people flooded the pavement, their bodies bobbing around like microbes in a Petri dish.
“Why is the tenant moving out?” she asked.
Behind her, Paulina shifted her weight from one foot to the other. “His wife left him. She was German, so I imagine she went back home. No point in him staying alone in a big place like this. Far too expensive. You have a job, I presume?”
Emily returned her curious gaze to the array of belongings. The remnants of a life together did not make such a big pile, she thought.
“Not yet. I’m relocating.”
“Oh?”
Emily gave the letting agent a nervous glance, but she dared not elaborate. Besides, all Paulina Blanchard needed to know was if Emily could afford the rent. Which she could. For now.
The letting agent furled her brow, then flipped through the pages of her file. “Well, as I mentioned, it’s not the cheapest of places. We’ll need to run some checks – bank references, credit scoring, that sort of thing – but I’m sure you wouldn’t be wasting my time. Speaking of which, we should see the rest of the apartment. The kitchen is right through here.”
Emily watched the woman skirt around the tenant’s belongings and disappear through a pair of saloon doors at the far end of the room. She watched the doors swing back and forth like pendulums. Then she returned her gaze to the windows and the cityscape beyond. She liked this apartment. She liked it a lot. And as long as Paulina Blanchard didn’t find out who Emily Swanson really was or what she’d done, it would be hers.
“Your new home,” Emily whispered, as an anxious knot began to form in her stomach.
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WHAT HAPPENED TO EMILY SWANSON?
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THE EMILY SWANSON SERIES : BOOKS 1-3
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The first three mystery & suspense thrillers in the Emily Swanson series: Next To Disappear, Mind for Murder & Trail of Poison – now in one money-saving collection. Blending gritty British crime fiction with dark psychological thrills, the Emily Swanson series will keep you guessing from the very edge of your seat.
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
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Storm House Books
Copyright © 2017, 2019 Malcolm Richards
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All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Previously published as Bad Blood.
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Edited by Kate Ellis
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www.malcolmrichardsauthor.com
Wish Me Dead Page 12