A Midwinter's Tail Read online

  “I don’t know,” I said, turning back to face her. “I had lunch with Roma and Rebecca and she walked into Eric’s. Rebecca said Dayna hasn’t been back in more than twenty years.”

  Maggie nodded, her expression still serious. “I was just a kid, but I remember when she left. You can imagine all the speculation.” She gave me a wry smile. “I don’t know what Burtis said, or did, but all of a sudden.” She snapped her fingers. “The talk just stopped.”

  I looked back over my shoulder again. Dayna Chapman was wearing a very simple, but elegant, dark red dress that hugged her tall, thin model’s figure. Her hair was pulled back in a severe twist that showed off her long neck.

  “She seems very different from Burtis,” I said.

  “That’s probably what did in their marriage.”

  I thought about Lita: kind, warm and impossible to rattle, in my experience. The cool, unsmiling Dayna was very different.

  I realized Maggie was watching my face, green eyes narrowed. “You don’t like her.”

  “I don’t even know her,” I said, smoothing a hand back over my hair. “But . . . have you ever met someone who you just didn’t get a good feeling from?”

  Maggie nodded. “We can feel another person’s energy, even if we’re not aware of it.” She gave me a small smile. “You’re a very positive person, Kath. I don’t think Dayna Chapman is.” She touched my arm. “There’s someone I need to find. And you probably need to circulate. I’ll look for you later.” She leaned over and gave me a hug and then she was gone.

  I looked longingly in the direction of the cupcakes, but Vincent Starr had just walked in and I wanted to talk to him before the party got any busier.

  “Thank you so much for coming, Vincent,” I said, walking over to him.

  He took my hand in both of his. “Kathleen, this is extraordinary,” he said, looking around. He reminded me of an English prof I’d had in college. He had the same dark hair waved back from his face, although Vincent’s was touched with silver at the temples, and the same style of horned-rim glasses.

  I smiled back at him. “Thank you. I can’t take any of the credit for the décor. It’s the work of my friends Maggie and Ruby.”

  “They’re very talented artists,” he said.

  “Yes, they are,” I agreed. I pointed to Maggie across the room talking to Harry Junior. “That’s Maggie,” I said. “I know she’d love to hear that you like her work.”

  “I’ll be sure to tell her,” he said. He let go of my hand. “I’ll let you circulate and we’ll talk later.”

  I turned around to discover that the reporter from the Chronicle had arrived for the interview. I spent about fifteen minutes with her and then I left her with Rebecca and Everett.

  Abigail made her way through the crowd to me. “Susan is at the donation table,” she said. “Olivia would like to know if you want her to pass out the chocolates now or after Everett thanks everyone for coming and makes his pitch for money.”

  I looked around. People were laughing and talking and the jazz quartet was playing. “Now, I think,” I said. “If we do it after, we may shift everyone’s focus away from the point of the party.” I rubbed my left wrist with the other hand. It was aching a little, a sure sign we were going to get snow tomorrow. “Does that sound too mercenary?” I asked.

  Abigail made a face. “No. It sounds practical. Reading Buddies is a great program, but we can’t keep it going or help any more kids without money. Olivia’s chocolates are incredible, believe me. And I don’t have a problem with Decadence Chocolatier getting some free advertising from tonight.” She patted one hip. “But I want people to think, ‘Gee, I want to help those kids,’ not, ‘Gee, I want to buy a box of these chocolates.’” She held up both hands. “So sue me if that seems mercenary.”

  I put one arm around her shoulders and gave her a squeeze. “How do you always know the right thing to say?” I said.

  She leaned against me for a moment as she scanned the crowd, looking for Olivia, I was guessing. “It’s a gift,” she said with a grin.

  She spotted Olivia then, lifted one hand and nodded. Olivia returned the nod and headed for the wings on the right side of the stage.

  “Do you want to hear how much we’ve made so far?” Abigail asked, straightening up and smoothing the skirt of her dress.

  I hesitated and then I shook my head. “No. Tomorrow will be fine.”

  Abigail frowned at me. “Kathleen, have you had anything to eat or drink yet?”

  “I haven’t had time,” I said with a shrug.

  She raised her eyebrows at me. “Don’t. Move,” she said, stressing both words.

  She was back in less than a minute with a cup of coffee and a tiny mint chocolate chip cupcake.

  “As of this moment you’re my favorite person,” I said, taking the coffee cup from her hands.

  Abigail gave a snort of disbelief. “I’m your favorite person only until a certain detective makes his way over here.”

  “Only if he brings me more chocolate,” I said as I took a bite of the cupcake. I gave a little groan of pleasure and Abigail laughed.

  Olivia, along with Taylor King and Harry Junior’s teenage daughter, Mariah, were circulating through the crowd, handing out the chocolate sampler boxes. Olivia had made all the chocolates at cost. Each box held three of her gourmet truffles.

  Nic Sutton—who was a full-time artist and a part-time waiter—had crafted all the boxes by hand, again, donating his time. The tiny containers looked like little books with Reading Buddies written in gold script on the cover. I wasn’t sure if the samplers would turn out to be a good promo item or not. They seemed like a better idea than a brochure about the program that would probably have ended up in everyone’s recycling bin in the morning.

  I caught sight of Nic moving across the stage. I raised a hand, trying to get his attention. I’d seen him earlier, tweaking the arrangement of chocolate boxes on one of the serving trays, but I hadn’t had time to speak to him. I wanted to tell him how beautiful the boxes looked, but he wasn’t looking in my direction. He was so intent on wherever he was headed that he bumped into Dayna Chapman. She pushed past him before he had a chance to apologize.

  Marcus was still down on the floor, talking to Larry Taylor and police officer Derek Craig now. I caught sight of Maggie, Roma and Brady Chapman at a nearby table. Oren was deep in conversation with Vincent Starr, while Susan stood with her arms around Eric’s waist, smiling up at him.

  Burtis and Lita were standing just a couple of tables away. Burtis was a big barrel-chested man and he looked even more imposing in his suit than he did in his everyday work clothes. Maggie was right. Something about the cut of the suit did make me think of a character out of an old gangster movie. The effect would be even more noticeable with the fedora, I was guessing.

  Burtis was standing close to Lita, so close that anyone who saw them would know they were a couple. That included Dayna, who was only a couple of feet away. The woman gave off an odd vibe.

  I watched Olivia offer the tray to Burtis. He handed a box to Lita and then turned and passed one to his ex-wife before he took one for himself. Burtis was making a point, I realized.

  “As soon as Taylor’s finished on the main floor, I think we can start,” Abigail said.

  “All right,” I said. Time to stop speculating about Burtis Chapman’s love life and focus on what I wanted to say about the Reading Buddies program.

  Beside me, Abigail was scanning the crowd, trying to spot Everett, I guessed. Around us people were exclaiming over the little boxes, opening the “books” and trying the chocolate truffles inside.

  Everett and Rebecca were sitting at the table next to Maggie and Roma. I touched Abigail’s arm to tell her. At the same moment I caught sight of Dayna Chapman putting a hand to her throat. Her face was the same ashen color as the sky before a December storm. She made a sound halfway between a wheeze and a rasp.

  She couldn’t breathe, I realized. Her legs buckled as her
eyes rolled back in her head.

  “Abigail!” I shouted as I pushed forward, managing to catch Dayna before she hit the floor.

  “Live,” she rasped at me.

  “It’s okay. It’s okay,” I said. “You’re going to be all right.”

  “P . . . p . . . package,” she managed to choke out.

  “Oh, good Lord,” I heard Abigail gasp behind me.

  We laid Dayna on the stage. She wasn’t breathing.

  Abigail was already checking for a pulse. After a moment she shook her head.

  “I’ll do mouth-to-mouth. You start chest compressions,” I said. I knew Abigail knew what to do. The library staff had taken a CPR refresher course in November.

  Dayna’s lips were blue and there were raised red blotches on her neck. I swept a finger inside her mouth and started breathing for her, counting to keep the rhythm. Across from me, Abigail kept up with the chest compressions. Under her breath she was singing the Bee Gees song “Stayin’ Alive.” Our instructor had told us the song was the perfect pace for CPR and we’d laughingly and loudly sung the disco anthem as we’d practiced on our resuscitation dummies.

  “Has anyone called nine one one?”

  I recognized Ric Holm’s voice behind me.

  “I did,” I heard Lita answer.

  Ric knelt beside Abigail. He’d discarded his tie and his suit jacket and pushed back his sleeves. “What happened?” he asked.

  “I don’t know,” Abigail said. “The first time I noticed anything was when Kathleen went to catch her.”

  “Okay,” Ric said. “I’m going to take over for you. You just move back out of the way in three, two, one.”

  Abigail slid out of the way and Ric moved into place without losing the rhythm of the chest compressions.

  “You’re doing great, Kathleen,” he said. “Ambulance should be here in just a couple of minutes.”

  I managed to nod as I continued to breathe for Dayna and the seconds ticked away. Behind me I could hear Marcus taking charge, sending someone to watch for the ambulance and moving chairs and tables out of the way.

  It probably was only a few minutes before I heard the wail of the ambulance and then sometime after that, someone touched my arm and said, “I have it, ma’am.” It seemed like a lot longer.

  I got to my feet and Maggie’s arms went around my shoulders.

  “You all right?” she whispered.

  I nodded. I was too overwhelmed to say anything. I saw Burtis touch Ric’s arm. “She’s allergic to pistachios,” I heard him say, his face ashen. He reached out a hand to me then. “Thank you, Kathleen,” he said, his voice raspy with emotion.

  I nodded.

  Ric leaned over to the female paramedic. I remembered what Maggie had said to me earlier—that we could feel other people’s energy whether we realized it or not. There was no energy coming from Dayna Chapman—negative or positive. All the time I’d been doing mouth-to-mouth, there was no sense that she was still there.

  The paramedics continued to work on her, but I realized it wasn’t going to make any difference.

  Dayna Chapman was dead.

  4

  I saw Ric exchange a look with the two other paramedics. They knew it, too: Dayna Chapman was dead. Still, they continued CPR, got her onto a stretcher and loaded her into the ambulance. Everyone had been silent for the most part, but now people started talking again.

  Marcus walked over to me. “Are you all right?” he said softly.

  I nodded without speaking.

  “I’m sorry, Kathleen,” he continued. “The party’s over. I need to find out what happened and then send people home.”

  “It’s all right,” I said. As important as the Reading Buddies program was, this mattered more.

  Brady Chapman came up to us. He was wearing a gray suit with a lavender shirt and a darker purple tie. If he was worried at all about his mother, it didn’t show. I wondered if he even realized she was dead. “Larry Taylor is at the front door and Harry is at the stage door. What can I do?”

  “It’s okay,” Marcus said. “You can go ahead and leave for the hospital.”

  Brady shook his head. “I’m fine. What can I do?”

  Marcus studied him for a moment. Then he loosened his tie. “Go to the hospital,” he repeated.

  Brady didn’t say anything, but the muscles in his jaw tightened. I saw Maggie briefly touch his hand. “Go,” she said softly.

  Brady’s mouth moved but he didn’t say anything. He just glanced at Maggie and headed across the stage.

  “If we give everyone coffee or tea, it will give them something to do while they wait,” Maggie said to Marcus. “Is that all right?”

  He nodded. “Go ahead.”

  She looked at me.

  “I’m fine, Mags,” I said. “I’ll get some people to help you.”

  I scanned the crowd. Mia was standing by Eric and Susan. I beckoned to her.

  She made her way over to me, arms folded tightly over her chest. “Kathleen, is that woman going to be okay?” she asked.

  “Let’s hold a good thought for her,” I said, hoping I sounded reassuring. There didn’t seem to be any point in saying that I was pretty sure Dayna Chapman was dead. “It’s going to be a while before people can leave. Could you start finding out what people would like—tea, coffee, water, anything—and take it to them?”

  Mia nodded. “Sure.”

  “Thanks,” I said.

  Ella and Taylor King were down on the auditorium floor. I put a hand on Marcus’s back. He half turned and gave me a tight smile.

  “I’m just going to get Taylor and Ella to help with coffee,” I said. “Do you need anything from me?”

  “Not right now,” he said.

  I could see Derek Craig, with a pen and a ringed notebook I was guessing had probably come from Abigail, already taking people’s names and numbers.

  Marcus swiped a hand over his chin. “I’m sorry about this. You put in so much work for tonight.”

  I slid my hand up to his shoulder. “It’s okay,” I said. “We’ll figure something out.”

  He moved a step closer to me and lowered his voice. “It looked like she had some kind of allergic reaction.”

  I looked at one of the tiny book-shaped boxes of chocolates, discarded on the edge of a table. “I heard Burtis say Dana was allergic to pistachios.”

  Just then there were raised voices behind us. We both turned around to see what was going on.

  Olivia Ramsey was standing in front of Burtis. She was in her early twenties, tiny, no more than five feet without her heels. Her hands were pulled into tight fists and her face was flushed with anger.

  “And I’m telling you there weren’t any pistachio nuts in any of my chocolates,” she said hotly, her voice rising with each word. “I know about nut allergies. I have a reaction to cashew nuts. There weren’t any pistachios in my chocolates! There weren’t any nuts anywhere in my kitchen!”

  Burtis held up one of his huge hands. “Look,” he said, his voice still edged with emotion. “I’m not accusing you of anything. I don’t know what happened yet and neither do you.” He gestured at Marcus. “Let the police figure out what the hell happened.”

  “Whatever happened wasn’t my fault,” Olivia insisted.

  Dayna’s box of truffles was on the floor, one chocolate still inside and intact despite all the uproar. Before anyone could stop her, Olivia bent down, picked it up and took a bite. “See?” She all but spit the word at Burtis.

  Then something in her face changed. Her eyes widened and hives began to rise on her hand and her neck as her breathing took on a strained, raspy sound.

  Olivia’s right hand flailed in the direction of a small red satin purse lying on the table beside her. She knocked it to the floor and it skidded across the smooth wood.

  Everett’s granddaughter, Ami, was allergic to poppy seeds—just like her grandfather. Ever since she’d learned about the allergy, which had landed her in the emergency room, Ami had c
arried an autoinjector of epinephrine in her purse.

  I grabbed Olivia’s bag, yanked the zipper open and rifled through her things. Marcus and Ric Holm already had Olivia on the floor.

  The autoinjector was in a zippered compartment at the back of the purse. I pulled it out and handed it to Ric. Olivia’s right hand and neck were covered in raised red welts now and I could see how much work it was taking just for her to breathe. She flinched as Ric jammed the needle into her leg.

  The effect of the epinephrine was rapid. By the time the ambulance arrived for the second time, Olivia was breathing a lot easier.

  Ric came to stand next to me as Olivia was wheeled out of the building. “Nice reaction, getting that EpiPen,” he said. He undid the knot on his loosened tie and let the two ends hang free.

  “Is she going to be all right?” I asked.

  He pulled a hand back over his neck. “I think so,” he said. “Her reaction wasn’t as strong. I heard her say she has an allergy to cashews. Sometimes there’s a cross reaction to other nuts.” He looked around the room. “No offense, Kathleen, but worst fundraiser ever.” He gave me a half smile. “I should give Marcus a hand.”

  Marcus and Derek Craig already had their heads together. I wasn’t sure if anyone would want a cup of coffee now, but it didn’t hurt to at least try. I slipped down to Ella and Taylor.

  “Is there anything we can do?” Ella asked.

  “There is,” I said, rubbing my aching wrist again. “Could you give Peggy a hand with the coffee and the tea? And maybe Taylor could help Mia find out what people would like?”

  “I can do that,” Taylor said immediately.

  Ella nodded. “Do you think Olivia and the other woman will be all right?”

  “Let’s hope for the best,” I said.

  I turned around to survey the stage. Ric had a large black garbage bag and he was collecting all the boxes of chocolates. Derek was still collecting contact information.

  Marcus had discarded his suit jacket. He was on his cell phone, probably talking to the station. I could see Maggie moving between tables, quietly reassuring people. I should be doing the same, I realized.