This clearly was not Bill. I’d met him many times picking Riley up from work. So either Lindsey was a polygamist or I’d been tricked. It was a sticky situation. I didn’t know what to do, what to say, and I hated that I’d been put in this position.
“Um, the homeowner?” I asked, hoping against hope that I was wrong about this house belonging to this man.
“Are you toying with me, little lady?”
Again the snort from Kit. What on earth was going on? I expected
“
Five
Kit immediately handed me BeBe’s leash and started CPR. I watched him do chest compressions, stopping to breathe air into the man’s lungs every so often.
“He’s dead!” a voice over my shoulder said.
It was Meredith Adams, HOA VP, her eyes on bulge overload.
“No, he’s not,” I said, hoping it was true.
“Yes, he is. You killed him!”
“Did not!”
“Did too.”
“Go away!”
Someone grabbed Meredith’s arm and tugged. It was Kate Hathaway. I gave her a grateful smile.
Kit pressed and breathed.
Dear God. I’d never had someone die at one of my sites.
BeBe, probably sensing something important was going on, sat at my feet, content to lick my hand. I didn’t even mind.
All I kept thinking about was what the man had said. Or what he’d been about to say. I
This man was clearly
44
Heather Webber
Who the hell was he?
I turned to Madame President to ask, but she and Meredith Adams were gone. Marty and Coby stood huddled by the neighbor’s picket fence, their eyes wide with disbelief.
Ignacio and his crew had disappeared. I didn’t blame them.
In a few minutes this place would be crawling with officials.
Officials who might think to check green cards.
Sirens rang in the distance.
They’d gotten here fast, though I rather suspected it was too late for the man. John Doe’s face had turned a pale shade of blue, his lips a plum color. And his eyes . . . I shuddered.
They were open wide but not seeing a thing.
Still, Kit worked on him. The man had clearly been ill, and I wondered if he was contagious as Kit did mouth- to-mouth.
I looked down the hill to the sidewalk and saw an ambulance pull up diagonally at the curb. As the paramedics rushed toward us, they brought a crowd of onlookers. BeBe excitedly danced around my feet at all the new faces.
When she tried to help Kit with the CPR by licking John Doe’s face, I tugged sharply on her leash and led her to my truck.
I rolled down the windows two inches, turned on the AC, and called Lindsey Lockhart’s cell phone.
No one answered.
A police cruiser pulled up behind the ambulance. A uniformed officer got out and hurried up the slope into the backyard.
Still no answer when I tried Lindsey’s cell again. I left a message.
I figured the cop would want to ask me questions, so I left BeBe drooling on my gear shift and listening to the Oldies station. Kit stood with folded arms on the fringe of the crowd. The paramedics still worked on John Doe, using a portable defibrillator.
