Renie hurried out into the living room, returning almost immediately with her husband. “Commercial
break,” she murmured to Judith. “Lucky us.”
Joe held on to the knob and Bill held on to Joe. With
a mighty effort, they pulled the bolt lock out of the
door, which swung outward.
Angela La Belle was facedown in the bathroom
sink.
ELEVEN
HAVING BEEN PRIVY to two, possibly three, murders
at her B&B, and encountering corpses at various
other sites, Judith couldn’t believe that history was
repeating itself in less than twenty-four hours.
In some tiny hidden corner of her mind, she honestly thought that nothing could sever her hold on
reality. She’d seen everything, overcome so many
obstacles, endured unaccountable hardships. Surely
this was a dream, inspired by the discovery of Bruno
Zepf’s body the previous night. Flashing stars and
crazy comets sailed before her eyes as Judith
swayed backward. She would have fallen if Bill
hadn’t caught her.
Dazedly, she heard Bill shout at Renie to get a
chair out of the dining room. More dimly, she
caught snatches of Joe speaking—or was he shouting?—he sounded so far away—to summon 911.
“Call . . . Medics . . . CPR?”
Judith thought she heard Joe mention CPR.
Maybe Angela wasn’t dead in the bathroom sink. Or
maybe Joe wanted CPR for Judith. As a former cop,
he knew CPR. Maybe everybody needed CPR. . . .
Someone—Bill, she guessed, catching her
blurred reflection off his glasses—was easing her into
Grandpa Grover’s chair at the head of the dining-room
table. A moment later a slender hand held out a balloon
glass with what looked like brandy in it.
“Take a sip,” Renie urged. “I got this out of the
washstand bar.”
Judith didn’t care if Renie had held up the state
liquor store at the bottom of Heraldsgate Hill. Gratefully, she accepted the glass and inhaled deeply before
taking a small sip. The darkness with its streaks of
spinning lights began to recede; the dining room was
coming into focus. Judith fixated on the middle of the
table, where a Chinese bowl of gold and amber
chrysanthemums sat in autumnal splendor.
But reality returned along with her vision. “Angela!” she gasped. “Is she . . . ?”
Renie gave a sharp shake of her head. “I’m not sure.
I think Joe was asking if anyone knew CPR. I suspect
