“I’ll walk you out,” Marcus said. He was in what I thought of as police officer mode—focused and professional. It was one of the things that made him good at his job. I knew he would figure out what had happened to Kassie.
“There is something I should tell you,” I said as we headed toward the back door. I explained about the bit of conversation I had overheard earlier between Kassie and Richard Kent.
“You’re sure it was Ms. Tremayne?”
“I’m certain,” I said. “I’ve talked to her several times. It was her voice.”
“Okay,” Marcus said. “I’ll see what Mr. Kent has to say about their conversation. It probably doesn’t have anything to do with what happened here.”
I raised a hand in good-bye to Zach, who was talking to the officer who had come in with Marcus. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow,” I said to Marcus.
He ducked his head toward mine. “Love you,” he said in a low voice.
I gave him a brief smile. “You too.”
A couple of other police officers had cordoned off a large section of the community center’s parking lot with sawhorses and two police cars. Eugenie, Russell, Richard and quite a few of the production crew were standing on the other side. I zipped up my jacket and walked over to them. I needed to get to my truck and I couldn’t just leave them hanging wondering what was going on.
Eugenie put a hand on my arm. She gave me a long, assessing look. “Kathleen, are you all right?” she asked.
I nodded. “I’m fine.”
“What’s going on? Who was that in the ambulance?”
I cleared my throat. “It was Kassie. I . . . I found her in the kitchen.”
The color drained from Eugenie’s face.
“What happened to her?” Richard asked. He looked even paler than Eugenie.
“I don’t know,” I said. And I didn’t, I reminded myself. Not for sure.
Eugenie looked at Richard and Russell. “We should go to the hospital,” she said.
I wanted to tell her they didn’t need to, but Marcus had asked me not to say anything other than Kassie was being taken to the hospital. I gave Eugenie directions. She gave my arm another squeeze. “I’m glad you were here, Kathleen,” she said. She turned to speak to a young man I knew was some sort of production assistant. I didn’t see Elias Braeden anywhere in the cluster of people. Marcus would get in touch with him, I knew.
I turned toward the truck and Russell put a hand on my shoulder. “Are you sure you’re okay to drive, Kathleen?” he asked. There was genuine concern in his eyes. He might have acted like a goofball a lot of the time but Russell seemed like a good-hearted person. I had noticed how he quietly dispensed encouragement to every one of the contestants.
I gave him a tired smile. “I am, but thank you for asking.”
“No worries,” he said, smiling back at me.
It wasn’t until I was on my way up Mountain Road that I remembered the calendar. I’d left it behind in the kitchen, probably on the floor. It didn’t matter now anyway. I didn’t think anyone involved in the production would want to keep the show going. I knew that Kassie was dead. The skin on her neck and face had been blotchy and her body didn’t have the warmth that a living person’s did. She hadn’t responded to my efforts at CPR or those of the paramedics. I swallowed down the lump in my throat. I wanted to be wrong but I knew that I wasn’t.
Owen was sitting on one of the chrome chairs when I stepped into the kitchen. “We’ve talked about this,” I said. “Chairs are for people. You are a cat.” I pointed at the floor. Owen jumped down and came over to me. I reached down to stroke his fur. He sniffed my hand and then made a face.
“Whipped cream,” I said. “It’s a long story.”
“Mrrr,” he replied, cocking his head to one side as if to say, “Tell me.”
“Let me get out of these sticky things.” I needed a piece of toast and a cup of hot chocolate with marshmallows. I had a feeling it would be a long time before I wanted whipped cream.
I hung up my bag and took off my jacket. It would have to be washed as well. There was a sticky stain on the left side and up the right sleeve.
Owen trailed me up the stairs. I stuffed my clothes in the laundry basket and put on an old pair of paint-spattered jeans and an equally worn sweatshirt.
“Merow,” he said.
I nodded. “Absolutely.”
We went back down to the kitchen. I had just put a mug of milk in the microwave to heat when there was a knock on the back door. “That’s Rebecca,” I said to Owen, running a hand back over my hair. I had forgotten she’d said she would bring some of the bread over for me to try.
It was Rebecca. She had her big flashlight in one hand and in the other she was holding a large plate with one of her beeswax wraps over the top. I could smell honey and something that reminded me of toasted nuts. “I made two loaves so I brought you some of each,” she said. “Everett thinks my honey sunflower loaf is best but I’m not one hundred percent sure.” She took in my old clothes and my probably pale face. “Kathleen, are you all right?” she asked.
I hesitated.
“The fact that you didn’t say yes right away tells me the answer is no,” she said. “What happened?”
I sighed softly. “You better come in.”
She followed me back into the kitchen, setting the plate on the table.
“I had to make a stop at the community center on the way home,” I said. I put a hand on her arm. “I had to drop something off to Eugenie. I . . . I, uh, found Kassie Tremayne in the kitchen. She . . . wasn’t breathing. I did CPR and the paramedics took her to the hospital.”
Rebecca closed her eyes for a moment. “Oh my word,” she said softly. “Do you know how she is?”
I shook my head. I wanted to tell Rebecca that Kassie was dead, but once again my promise to Marcus meant I couldn’t.
The microwave beeped.
“Sit,” Rebecca said, making a “move along” gesture with one hand.
I sat. I suddenly realized just how tired I was. Owen jumped onto my lap. I wrapped one arm around him and stroked his fur with the other hand.
Rebecca made my hot chocolate and dropped two of the Jam Lady’s marshmallows on top before she put the cup in front of me. Then she went to the cupboard where I kept the sardine crackers and offered one to Owen. He dipped his head in thanks and took it, setting it on my leg so he could sniff it suspiciously before he ate it. He had some odd quirks when it came to food.
Meanwhile, Rebecca had taken the wrap off the plate of bread. There were four slices from each of the two loaves she’d made. They smelled delicious. “Spelt or honey-sunny?” she asked.
“You don’t have to wait on me, Rebecca,” I said. “I’m all right.”
She smiled. “I know that. Spelt or honey-sunny?”
I looked at Owen. He looked over at the plate and then back at me. “Merow,” he said.
“Honey-sunny,” I said to Rebecca. Owen licked his whiskers.
“Toasted?” she asked.
I nodded. “Please.”
Once the bread had been toasted and buttered, Rebecca joined me at the table. I told her what had happened, sticking to the details that Marcus and I had agreed on.
“Do you think she could have had a seizure of some sort?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know.” I gave Owen a tiny bite of toast. He murped his thanks before carefully checking it out. “Do you know if Kassie had any kind of seizure disorder, like epilepsy, or if she was diabetic?”
“She didn’t say anything about any health issues and I didn’t see her taking any medications.” Rebecca’s expression changed. “What will happen to the show? What about the people who are working on it?” She gave her head a little shake. “It’s horrible of me to even think that, isn’t it?”
I shifted Owen on my lap as he stretched a paw toward my plate. “No, it isn’t. I don’t see how the show can possibly continue. Not if Kassie is . . . incapacitated. I don’t know what will happen to the production crew, but the rest of us are probably done.”