The doctor leaned over James unconscious form for several minutes, and the anxious crowd onstage blocked the view. The only indicator was the man on the cell phone who kept pacing back to the scene, and then would rub his forehead, and shake his head and talk more into the phone.
Right about the time we heard the ambulance sirens, the doctor rose from the ground and forlornly shook his head. The EMT crew rushed like a cavalry. But it was clear.
James Matthews was dead.
Chapter 4
It was late when Vicki and I got back to our cottage. We silently dressed for bed.
“This is getting to be too familiar,” she said.
“I know,” I said. “But this one wasn’t a murder. This is just an accidental death. We don’t know what happened. My guess is a heart arrhythmia.”
“He was playing that sax hard,” she said.
“Maybe he had some kind of heart condition,” I said. “He may have known, he may not have.”
“That’s so sad,” she said. “He was young too. Our age. You know, that could be us one day.”
She climbed into bed with me, and I smiled. “That won’t be us. We’re going to live until we’re old and wrinkled, and we gross out our grandkids because we’re old and sloppy and love making out at the table during Thanksgiving dinner.”
“Oddly specific, but speak for yourself,” she laughed. “I, however, am not going to be old and sloppy. I’m Korean. Koreans age gracefully.”
“Okay,” I said. “Well, you’re going to have to stick around, cause you’re going to have to take care of my old and sloppy ass, and find my denture cream for me. Because I’m British. We have good genes, we don’t die.”
She laughed and her eyes twinkled.
“For better or for worse,” she squeezed my hand.
“For better or for worse,” I repeated and squeezed her hand back.
I loved when she was like this with me, sensitive and vulnerable. No one else saw this side of her. She fell asleep on my chest, and I played with her hair, while I browsed my phone until I fell asleep.
The next morning, I woke early and went for a jog. It was Saturday and Vicki would want to talk about wedding details. We also needed to check in with Jim Hurley. He was the architect who was designing the house we were building. I had talked to him a couple of times from Tahiti, but we were so worn out from these big back to back cases, we didn’t have the energy to design a house. Now that we were home with fresh energy, I needed to find out where we were on that.
We lived about a quarter mile from our office, which was in the downtown district. So, my jogs usually took me through downtown and back. I rounded the corner and downtown came within view. I decided to jog to our favorite coffee shop, Jitters, and pick up breakfast and bring it back home.
I was halfway to Jitters when my phone buzzed. I thought it might be Vicki, so I checked it. My heart sank as I recognized the number. It was one of the extensions at the jail. It would be another client, and my instinct told me it would be about James Matthews’ death.
“Henry Irving,” I panted. I stopped on the sidewalk and leaned over to catch my breath.
“Mr. Irving, my name is Kelsi Matthews,” she said. As soon as I heard the word Matthews I knew.
“My husband was James Matthews,” she continued.
“Yes,” I said. “I was there last night. I’m sorry for your loss.”
“I know you were there,” she said. “That’s why you were the first to come to my mind. They introduced you.”
“What can I do for you, Kelsi?” I prodded.
“I need a lawyer,” she blurted out.
“Uh-huh,” I replied. “What’s going on?”
“It’s the FBI,” she said. “They’ve been harassing us for years. Now they think we’re in a smuggling ring.”
“A smuggling ring?” I repeated.
This was different. I thought this would have to do with James’ death.
“And it’s such terrible, horrible timing,” she burst into tears on the phone. “I can’t handle this, Henry. I feel like I’m going to break in two. I...this is too much for me.”
She started to weep on the phone, and I needed to get control of the conversation.
“What specifically are they charging you with?” I asked.
“They confiscated some illegal elephant tusks,” she said. “The whole band just got back from an African tour. So, now suddenly it’s me? This is preposterous.”
I had an extreme distrust for the Sedona Police Department, but the Feds typically knew their stuff.
“What evidence do they have against you?” I asked.
“I’m not sure,” she said. “It’s all confusing. I just can’t do all of this right now. This is just too much to bear.”
“Okay,” I said. “I’ll meet with you at the jail.”
“Thank you,” she said and her voice held the slightest sultry note. “I can’t do this alone.”
“No,” I said. “Not with these charges you shouldn’t.”
“Thank you, Mr. Irving,” she gushed.
“I’ll be in touch, “ I replied abruptly and ended the call.
From time to time, I had clients come on to me. I knew Kelsi was a bereaved widow that had no control over her emotional state, so I gave her a free pass. But it was still a red flag that I needed to be careful with this one.
Vicki was definitely coming with me to the jail. I called her as I jogged back home. I groaned when she didn’t answer. That meant she was still asleep. She was a bear to
