“The ambulance is on its way,” Nana D said in a soothing but despondent voice. “My poor friend, Gwennie. She wasn't feeling well earlier, but I didn't know it was so serious.”
I wrapped my arms around my grandmother who'd leaned against me for comfort. “She did have a little spell out in the lobby earlier. I'm wondering if she had a heart attack or a stroke.”
Maggie stood closer to the stage tilting her head in a way I knew she was telling me everything would be okay. I always could read her expressions as though I were inside her mind, too. Connor arrived within a few seconds desperate to take control of the situation. As the head of the Braxton Campus Security Office, he'd be the first on the scene even if he hadn't been on a date with Maggie. After checking Gwendolyn's pulse, Connor pulled Nana D and I aside. “She's definitely gone. I'm so sorry for her family,” he said with sorrow while resting a hand on Nana D's shoulder.
“Connor, you need to check for evidence right away,” whispered Nana D while tugging on his sport coat. “Gwennie told me someone was trying to hurt her in the last few weeks. She knew something was wrong. We should've done something sooner about it.”
“Nana D, I'm sure the coroner will check for any sign of something unnatural happening.” I didn't want to stir the pot when we were already in an awkward state.
Connor's gaze opened wide. “Are you saying you think someone tried to kill her today, Mrs. Danby?” He looked at me for confirmation, but I shrugged my shoulders. I was distracted first by everything going on, then by Arthur's wide grin while talking on his cell phone near the stage steps.
Nana D explained that her friend had been feeling fine up until the prior month when she began having dizzy spells and feeling short of breath. Gwendolyn initially thought it was a touch of the flu or a bad winter cold. After nearly four weeks, Lindsey and Nana D had convinced Gwendolyn to listen to Brad who'd wanted to schedule an appointment with her doctor. In the last two weeks, she'd vomited several times and her skin tone had grown paler each day. She'd even felt disoriented in her own house but blamed it on lack of being able to keep down any food or get a full night's sleep.
“Did she tell you she thought someone was trying to hurt her?” Connor asked.
I nodded. “She mentioned something funny was going on at the Paddington mansion and planned to address it with her family after the doctor's visit.”
As the paramedics arrived, I stepped to the side to let them work. Connor returned to Maggie who waited with him while he made a phone call. Nana D sat a few seats further away near Millard, Eustacia, and Lindsey. The Septuagenarian Club had lost one of their founding members and comforted one another in a way no one else could. While Nana D placed something inside her oversized purse, she nodded at me and pointed toward the stage.
Arthur ended his phone call, then spoke with Myriam who appeared quite rattled. Arthur disappeared behind the curtain prompting Myriam to approach me with a scowl plastered on her face.
“You seem to find yourself in the middle of everything these days, Kellan. Ever since you returned to Braxton, 'Death, that hath suck'd the honey of thy breath,' follows you like a ghost to Hamlet's conscience,” Myriam criticized before clearing her throat.
“Romeo said that while putting Paris in the tomb, I believe, didn't he? You're mixing the Bard's greatest tragedies.” I wanted to ask Myriam what her outlandish fascination was with Shakespearean quotes, particularly at inappropriate times, but I was interrupted by Ophelia. I felt sufficiently satisfied about getting in at least one dig.
“I recognize that line. How fitting, my mother loved Romeo and Juliet. She died of a broken heart from missing my father the last year,” Ophelia said with a faint smile, then sighed. She ran a few fingers through the many layers of her voluminous hair and adjusted a diamond earring. “Myriam, tell me, how has Dana's work been on the show thus far?”
I tuned out while they discussed Ophelia's youngest daughter's participation in King Lear. Was this the time to bring up such a topic? Ophelia had as much tact as Myriam had kindness in her bones. I glanced toward Ophelia's other two children noticing Lilly, the eldest, listening as her brother, Sam, spoke to their Aunt Jennifer.
Lilly seemed disinterested in the conversation and kept leaning away to look at the paramedics as they attended to her grandmother. Perfectly styled, ruler-straight ebony hair cascaded down her back against a stuffy, jade-green silk blouse that belonged on someone older like Gwendolyn or Eustacia. It was pulled tightly across her ample chest and disappeared into high-waisted pants that forced her to walk erect like a model balancing a book on the top of her had. Angular features stood out against hollow cheeks and widely-set eyes that furiously darted from side to side. It made her appear gaunt and sickly, but also as though she thought she was more important than the crowd surrounding her.
Other than once witnessing Lilly berate a barista at The Big Beanery over a weak café au lait, all I'd known about her was that she'd survived a skiing accident that had occurred years earlier while her college roommate hadn't been so lucky. During winter break in their junior year, they'd been competing on one of the more treacherous slopes in the Wharton Mountains. Lilly had fallen into her friend who tumbled down the mountain and careened directly into a large fir tree. Lilly eventually stopped herself before she encountered the same fate but couldn't recall what had prompted her to fall. There'd been another friend, a boy they'd both dated that year, who was supposed to ski with them but had gotten food poisoning the night before. I'd heard the story from Eleanor who'd been a part-time ski instructor on the mountain. She always felt there was more to the event than what Lilly had told everyone.
Myriam excused herself to meet with the cast about the next rehearsal. Ophelia rushed off citing a need to use the restroom, but it was clear she didn't want to be left alone to talk with me. I'd only met her moments before yet knew enough to recognize a blow-off when I saw one. My gaze returned to Jennifer who was hugging Lilly and Sam before leaving the theater. Lilly walked toward her sister, Dana, and they both vanished into the lobby laughing presumably about something funny one of them had just said. Dana wore a low-cut magenta top with her bare shoulders and midriff showing as though it were the middle of spring or summer. Though the room was heated, the chill in the air couldn't be ignored. Dana wore too little clothing for this event in my opinion. Despite being a red-blooded American man, I believed there was a fine line between dressing sexy and inappropriately.
Sam disappeared in a corner several rows away from everyone. The distant, withdrawn look in his bright green eyes revealed intense pain over losing someone he'd loved. Nana D had often remarked how sweet and kind he'd always been to her in the past. 'Not like a typical pompous or irascible Paddington,' she'd quip whenever visiting Gwendolyn and he'd been home. Sam's slight build and babyface made him appear younger than a college senior. His neatly combed, straw-colored blond hair and delicate features reminded me of a Norman Rockwell painting. There seemed to be a maturity and quietness about him unlike his siblings.
He smiled despite my interrupting his solitude. “I'm so sorry about your grandmother, Sam. I lost my grandpop several years ago. I still remember it like it were only yesterday.”
“Thank you, I'm in a bit of shock,” Sam replied shifting back and forth on the heels of his feet. “We spent a lot of time together. We both loved the theater so much.”
“Mrs. Paddington was a prominent supporter of the arts. I'm sure she will be missed. How's your family holding up?” I asked hoping to learn more from someone on the inside.
“Do I know you, I mean, have we met… never mind.” Sam looked perplexed at my words but responded in a gentle voice. “Mom's strong. She and Grandmother didn't get along very well, but I know she'll collapse at some point. Aunt Jennifer is a mess, even said she had to leave before everyone noticed how awful she looked. I wish I could go, but Lilly is my ride back home.”
“Were your sisters close to her, too?”
“Not particularly. Gr
andmother could be difficult if you didn't know how to handle her. She respected honesty and directness. I learned that early on and tried to always remain on her good side,” Sam said looking weary and as if he'd become desperate to leave. “I'm sorry, I didn't get your name.”
“I apologize,” I responded, realizing I'd forgotten to introduce myself. Although I knew who he was, he'd not a clue why I still hung around. “I'm Kellan Ayrwick, Seraphina Danby's grandson. I was sitting next to Mrs. Paddington when she, um… fell ill. I'd met her many times through my grandmother. They've been best friends for over fifty years.”
Sam smiled nervously, then pulled back as if he'd felt awkward having any moment of positivity given the circumstances. “Or frenemies from what I hear, too. Ayrwick, you said?” A look of confusion clouded his face as he processed our conversation.
I nodded. “Yes, they've had their ups and downs in the past. I wonder if it was a heart attack or if anything else was going on with her health.”
Sam pulled out his phone. “I should go. Nice to meet you. I appreciate you being there for her just now… you know… when…”
“I understand. You're welcome,” I replied. Sam rushed away leaving me concerned why his mood further soured near the end of our conversation. He exited into the lobby, then took off through the front doors by himself. So much for waiting for a ride from his sister, Lilly.
While none of the Paddingtons seemed like potential killers, they were all mysterious and disparate from one another. The family certainly had enough money. I couldn't be sure about the younger generation's personal lives or spending habits. I'd have to ask Nana D, or maybe Millard and Eustacia could fill in the blanks. It wasn't any of my business, but if one of them had purposely caused Gwendolyn's death, I should let Sheriff Montague know.
The paramedics informed everyone they were going to remove the body soon. It was a polite way of indicating it was time for us to leave the building since no one would want to see Gwendolyn being tucked into a black body bag. Nana D was watching everyone else get into Lindsey's car, holding her purse strangely so that it wouldn't fall. As I unlocked my SUV's door, Sheriff Montague's motorcycle pulled up. She parked near the entrance and removed her helmet, then went inside. I'd never seen the woman wear anything fashionable before today. Now she'd had on designer black jeans and knee-high gray leather boots. Under her open form-fitting rain coat, a purple silk blouse and cream-colored scarf stared back at me. Perhaps she had a personal life like the rest of us and didn't live in a dark cave despite my theory she were a hermit or a troll.
“Kellan, I need to speak with you,” whispered Nana D before I pulled the SUV's door shut. Nana D ran around to the other side and snuck into the passenger seat. “Shh, don't say anything.”
I had no idea what Nana D was trying to hide, but she opened her purse and pulled out a half-empty glass with a straw sticking out the top. She'd wrapped a piece of cloth over the top so she wasn't touching anything. “What is that?” I asked fearing the worst.
“Gwennie's iced tea. She hadn't finished it, and I was afraid the cleaning staff would throw it out.” Nana brimmed with excitement about why she'd kept the glass.
“I don't understand. What's that for?” I grabbed the glass careful not to touch any surface with my fingers.
“Evidence. You need to have this tested to see if someone drugged Gwennie,” Nana D said bluntly while slapping my arm with her free hand. “Do I have to do everything?”
“Even if someone put something in her drink, you've contaminated it. Why didn't you leave it there?” I slapped my forehead in disbelief with my free hand.
“Don't be absurd! I used my handkerchief and didn't touch anything. I told Connor it was a suspicious death, but I didn't know if he'd call that lazy sheriff.”
“Well, April Montague is here now. What are you planning to do with the glass?”
Nana D pulled back. “Me? I can't be involved in this. I'm running for Wharton County Mayor. You need to take it from here. Someone's gotta protect Gwennie now that she's gone.”
There are days I wish my nana was an eccentric old woman who liked to sit home and play Yahtzee or do needlepoint. Maybe talk to herself or twenty cats about the price of a bottle of unpasteurized milk prior to the Great War. But Nana D wouldn't let the barn cats indoors and she had a lactose intolerance—neither of those things were possible. Nor was she ever the type to act her age. Instead, I had a super-charged nana who interfered in everyone's business and thrust herself into every possible kind of trouble. Is this what I'd turn into when I reached her age? I'd have to warn Emma to put me in a home far away from everyone.
“Nana D, I can't hand a glass of iced tea to the sheriff and demand she run lab tests on it. One, she already dislikes me. Two, it will make her angry that I took evidence away from a crime scene. Three, she'll accuse me of trying to go around her to solve another crime. Four, she'll…”
“That's what's wrong with you, Kellan. You think like you're stuck inside a box. Life's not about staying within four perfect walls or coloring within the lines.” Nana D held her hands making the shape of a square with her fingers, then zoomed it in and out of my face. “It's blurry kinda like your vision, Magoo. I'm sure you're smart enough to realize that sometimes you can get away with anything you want by claiming you didn't know any better.”
“That might work for a meddlesome member of the Septuagenarian Club, but I highly doubt Sheriff Montague will believe me if I said I didn't know any better when it came to contaminating evidence.”
“Fine. If you don't want to help me, poor Gwennie's soul will roam around Braxton unable to properly pass over to the other side because she didn't know who killed her. Tsk tsk.” Nana D pursed her lips and shook her head. “Such a good woman. Stuck in between like those Beetlejuice characters. You don't want Eleanor to have to host a séance, do you, Kellan? Think of the dangers in doing that…”
“Are you trying to guilt me into finding Gwendolyn's killer? She might not have been murdered. This could have been a normal, natural death. Seriously, why don't you let the sheriff poke around and if something seems off, we can come up with a better plan later on? They're going to have to do an autopsy anyway.”
“Kellan Michael Ayrwick! I am wiser and more experienced than you. I am your elder by a couple of years. I have a right to…”
“More than a couple years, if you're trying to be an honest candidate for mayor,” I said unable to stop myself. That's when Nana D slapped my cheek and almost caused me to bang the iced tea glass into the rearview mirror. “Ouch. Uncalled for!”
“Totally called for. My point is… you better do something about this, or I will disown you.”
“No, you won't.”
Nana D rolled her bright bug eyes. Now I knew where I got it from. She continued to taunt me saying, “Fine, you're right. I won't disown you, but I will set you up with every available harebrained girl in this town. I'll have you fending off more cougars and petty criminals than that fool of a district attorney currently in office. She's next on my list as soon as you understand I'm right about testing this iced tea.”
Nana D had it out for every branch of Wharton County's government. “Ugh, go away, Beelzebub,” I said with a grimace while re-positioning the glass so I could keep it hidden under my coat. “I'll find a way to fix your mistake.” While Nana D went back to her own car whining “I don't make mistakes,” I walked toward the side entrance of Paddington's Play House.
As I scurried through the hallway in the backstage area, I saw Dana talking to Arthur. I stood for a moment to listen to their conversation.
“I can't believe she's gone,” Dana said. “I know she's my grandmother, and I'm supposed to be upset, but she was always so cruel to me. It's better off this way. Now I'll finally get some of my own money and won't have to listen to my family anymore.”
Arthur responded, “She was a royal pain, wasn't she? No offense, but the world's a much better place without Gwendolyn Paddington. She got w
hat she deserved.”
They stopped speaking, and in fear they might catch me listening, I kept moving. When I made it to the curtain, I looked down at the seating area. Only the paramedics were still around. I waited for them to roll the stretcher with the body through the main aisle before I snuck down the stage stairs. What had my days come to? I was helping my nana sneak evidence back into a potential crime scene so the sheriff could find it on her own accord.
I quickly put the glass into the seat's cup holder and rushed up the stairs toward the stage. As I stepped behind the curtain and tucked the handkerchief in my pocket, I noticed the sheriff looking in my direction. I wasn't sure if April saw me, but I knew it wouldn't be ideal to get caught handling evidence. Connor pointed to the iced tea glass, then the sheriff called to an officer standing at the side of the room. A few seconds later, she bagged and labeled the glass. I wasn't sure how I'd have gotten her to inspect the glass if they hadn't done it on their own, but luckily it wasn't a concern now. Instead of returning to my car, I stopped next door at The Big Beanery for a cup of coffee and a pastry filled with as much sugary cream or jelly as I could find. I'd earned it. As I entered through the door, my phone beeped.
Connor: I covered for you, but you better explain what was going on with that glass and why you sneaked it back into the theater.
Me: I owe you dinner. I promise, there's a valid explanation. Call me when you're done flirting with your girlfriend. Give the sheriff a hug from me.
Connor: Watch it, or I'll tell her the truth about you. She and I are not dating, Purple Panty Boy.
Broken Heart Attack Page 5
