Read Online Grace Against the Clock (A Manor House Mystery) by Julie Hyzy - Free Book Online
Authors: Julie Hyzy
Ads: Link
medical professionals, all of whom performed heroically, no one was able to save Leland Keay.
Paramedics who had been called to the scene attempted to revive the deceased doctor as well. It was obvious the surgeon was dead, but also apparent that no one wanted to be accused of not trying hard enough to bring him back. Efforts to resuscitate Dr. Keay went on for a long time. Finally, however, we all had to admit it: He was gone.
The paramedics began packing up their equipment as partygoers slowly made their way to the door. There would be no entertainment tonight.
In the aftermath, I’d asked one of Keay’s friends if the man was diabetic and found out that he was not.
“Then why would he have said, ‘injection,’ I wonder,” I murmured to Frances.
“It’s a mystery. And look,” she said with a sour lemon grimace, “here come Mutt and Jeff. Maybe they’ll help you solve it.”
I glanced up. Our local homicide detectives, Rodriguez and Flynn, were making their way over to us. I’d worked with the pair before and had always found portly Rodriguez to be affable and kind, though slow to react. His younger partner, Flynn, was jumpy, wiry, and prone to quick accusations and reluctant backpedaling.
“What are you doing here?” I asked. “It looks like Dr. Keay died of a heart attack. Natural causes. For once, thank goodness, your services aren’t needed.”
“Nice to see you, too, Miz Wheaton,” Rodriguez said. He took out a plaid handkerchief and wiped sweat from the side of his face. “How about after that warm welcome, you tell us what happened here tonight.”
“I’m sorry,” I said. “You’re right. That was no way to greet you. Maybe I’m still in shock.”
“No worries,
amiga
,” he said.
I gave him a quick rundown about how Dr. Keay had gone missing and how we’d come upon him here in the auditorium moments before he collapsed. “That’s really it,” I said.
“How long was he missing?” Flynn asked. The tenor of Flynn’s question set me on edge. It shouldn’t have, but it did.
“I don’t know precisely,” I said. “We needed him to make a speech and when the time came, he was nowhere to be found.” I pointed. “Unfortunately, when he showed up, it was too late for anyone to help.”
Rodriguez labored across the room to take a closer look at the scene surrounding Dr. Keay’s body. Speaking over his shoulder, he added, “The station was alerted when the 9-1-1 call came in. We’re here simply as a precaution. With all that happens at the estate, you never know.” Gesturing to the wing on his left, he asked, “He came out from here?”
I nodded.
“Anybody back here with him?” Rodriguez asked.
“No,” I said. “While one of the doctors tried to revive Dr. Keay, Frances went to check. She wanted to see what Dr. Keay might have been doing back there. She said it was completely vacant.”
“No way out?” Rodriguez disappeared behind the wing.
I raised my voice. “Solid brick walls.” I turned to Flynn. “Is this really necessary? It’s bad enough that a man died in front of us all. Having you here makes everyone queasy.”
“Can you blame us for being careful?” he asked. “Never a dull moment at Marshfield.”
“Your high opinion of us leaves me breathless,” I said.
Flynn was as cocky as ever, but this time, at least, he didn’t sneer. “As well it should.”
While we waited for the stout detective to reemerge, I lowered my voice. “Is Rodriguez okay?”
My question must have surprised Flynn. “Why do you ask?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “I haven’t seen him in a while. He looks pale. He’s gained weight, hasn’t he?”
“What are you, his mother now?” Before I could snap back a reply, Flynn gestured with his chin. “Who’s that?”
Behind me, Serena sat in the same folding chair she’d been in since we’d arrived, both hands clutching her face. She moaned quietly, rocking back and forth in her seat.
“The deceased
Paramedics who had been called to the scene attempted to revive the deceased doctor as well. It was obvious the surgeon was dead, but also apparent that no one wanted to be accused of not trying hard enough to bring him back. Efforts to resuscitate Dr. Keay went on for a long time. Finally, however, we all had to admit it: He was gone.
The paramedics began packing up their equipment as partygoers slowly made their way to the door. There would be no entertainment tonight.
In the aftermath, I’d asked one of Keay’s friends if the man was diabetic and found out that he was not.
“Then why would he have said, ‘injection,’ I wonder,” I murmured to Frances.
“It’s a mystery. And look,” she said with a sour lemon grimace, “here come Mutt and Jeff. Maybe they’ll help you solve it.”
I glanced up. Our local homicide detectives, Rodriguez and Flynn, were making their way over to us. I’d worked with the pair before and had always found portly Rodriguez to be affable and kind, though slow to react. His younger partner, Flynn, was jumpy, wiry, and prone to quick accusations and reluctant backpedaling.
“What are you doing here?” I asked. “It looks like Dr. Keay died of a heart attack. Natural causes. For once, thank goodness, your services aren’t needed.”
“Nice to see you, too, Miz Wheaton,” Rodriguez said. He took out a plaid handkerchief and wiped sweat from the side of his face. “How about after that warm welcome, you tell us what happened here tonight.”
“I’m sorry,” I said. “You’re right. That was no way to greet you. Maybe I’m still in shock.”
“No worries,
amiga
,” he said.
I gave him a quick rundown about how Dr. Keay had gone missing and how we’d come upon him here in the auditorium moments before he collapsed. “That’s really it,” I said.
“How long was he missing?” Flynn asked. The tenor of Flynn’s question set me on edge. It shouldn’t have, but it did.
“I don’t know precisely,” I said. “We needed him to make a speech and when the time came, he was nowhere to be found.” I pointed. “Unfortunately, when he showed up, it was too late for anyone to help.”
Rodriguez labored across the room to take a closer look at the scene surrounding Dr. Keay’s body. Speaking over his shoulder, he added, “The station was alerted when the 9-1-1 call came in. We’re here simply as a precaution. With all that happens at the estate, you never know.” Gesturing to the wing on his left, he asked, “He came out from here?”
I nodded.
“Anybody back here with him?” Rodriguez asked.
“No,” I said. “While one of the doctors tried to revive Dr. Keay, Frances went to check. She wanted to see what Dr. Keay might have been doing back there. She said it was completely vacant.”
“No way out?” Rodriguez disappeared behind the wing.
I raised my voice. “Solid brick walls.” I turned to Flynn. “Is this really necessary? It’s bad enough that a man died in front of us all. Having you here makes everyone queasy.”
“Can you blame us for being careful?” he asked. “Never a dull moment at Marshfield.”
“Your high opinion of us leaves me breathless,” I said.
Flynn was as cocky as ever, but this time, at least, he didn’t sneer. “As well it should.”
While we waited for the stout detective to reemerge, I lowered my voice. “Is Rodriguez okay?”
My question must have surprised Flynn. “Why do you ask?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “I haven’t seen him in a while. He looks pale. He’s gained weight, hasn’t he?”
“What are you, his mother now?” Before I could snap back a reply, Flynn gestured with his chin. “Who’s that?”
Behind me, Serena sat in the same folding chair she’d been in since we’d arrived, both hands clutching her face. She moaned quietly, rocking back and forth in her seat.
“The deceased
Similar Books
