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!”