Digging Up the Dead by Jill Amadio Read Free Book Online

crowd. They went out again into the garden and sat on the wrought iron garden chairs, listening to the strange sounds that wafted through the open door and windows.
    “Tell me about the woo-woo thing that belongs to Mr. Dazzle,” said Thatch.
    “Sorry, I’ve never seen or heard of one like that before. I’m going to have to pay him a visit sometime and ask about it. I’m fascinated. Why don’t you go get that twangy thing you play and join them? I’m sure they wouldn’t object if you sat in. Maybe they’d stop and just listen to you.”
    “With my uke? Not tonight, Tosca. I’m a tad weary from driving.”
    After several minutes the guitar abruptly stopped playing in the middle of a tune.
    “Do you think that’s the end?” said Thatch. “Hope so.”
    They heard Karma swear loudly.
    “Sounds like she’s busted a string,” said Thatch. “An experienced guitarist would keep going by just using a different string, but let’s hope the concert is over, and I can get another beer.”
    He and Tosca stepped inside the living room where some of the partygoers were commiserating with Karma, who was holding her guitar. One of the strings was hanging loose. Blair announced that Bill would continue to play the theremin, and he would play his rare harp, with an emphasis on the word, ‘rare.’ As tepid applause in appreciation for more music died away, a piercing scream sliced the air.

 
     
     
Chapter Twelve
     
     
    “Stand back! Give her room!”
    One of the guests rushed forward. “I’m a doctor,” he said. “Call 911!”
    Everyone instantly pulled away, and Tosca saw Sally lying on the floor near Fuller’s desk, a broken glass nearby and what looked like the remains of her White Russian cocktail spreading across the carpet. Her limbs were shaking, and her entire body began to convulse. In response to the urgent demand, almost all of the guests rushed to find their cell phones in their pockets or in the purses they’d left on chairs or in Karma’s bedroom.
    “I’ve got a dispatcher on the line already,” a man yelled, and continued talking into his phone.
    Arlene clutched Tosca’s arm, trembling noticeably as husbands and wives sought out each other and huddled in shock. Thatch put his arm around Tosca, and Karma continued to kneel on the floor at Sally’s side, trying to hold her hand as the violent shaking continued to wrack the elderly woman’s body. Swenson stood next to her, gazing down in horror. Blair hurried over, his face expressionless.
    “Anyone know if she has epilepsy?” asked the doctor, checking Sally’s neck and wrists.
    “What’s he doing?” whispered Tosca to Thatch.
    “He’s looking to see if she is wearing an ID bracelet or pendant that would indicate she suffers from seizures.”
    “Poor woman,” Arlene said quietly, calming down. “Probably too many of those White Russians that I saw her guzzling down like water. Hey, she didn’t drink any of your mead, did she? Look what happened to Professor Whittaker when you gave him some. Sorry, couldn’t resist.”
    “Maybe Sally should have skipped the hard liquor and had my wine instead. I hear sirens.”
    Karma ran outside to flag down the ambulance and a fire truck. Both pulled up outside, double-parking along the one-way street. A police cruiser joined them. Two paramedics unloaded a gurney and carried it into the bungalow along with an IV and other medical equipment. They checked Sally’s vital signs, lifted her onto the stretcher and wheeled it out to the ambulance, saying she’d be taken to Sheldon Hospital.
    “I’ll follow in my car,” Karma announced to the guests. “Please stay on, all of you, and try to enjoy the rest of the evening. I’ll let you know how she is as soon as I can. No, Graydon, no need for you to come, too. I’ll be fine,” she said as Blair came to her side. She knelt to pick up Sally’s raffia tote bag from the floor, its contents scattered under and around Fuller’s desk.
    “Here,