A Taste of Death

by Suzanne Rossi

  Many of those present applauded as Anne made her way back to her seat. She cast a quick glance over at Susan who glared at Ellie with what could only be described as an outraged expression.

  “Well, that’s chopping her off at the knees,” Nancy said in a low tone.

  “I’ll figure out the details tomorrow and get with Ellie. She may be a gem of a board member.”

  Out of the corner of her eye she saw Rose approach Fran. Fran angrily jerked her head and waved a hand in dismissal. Rose straightened, bit her lip, and said something, then nodded to Susan who sniffed, stuck her nose in the air and turned to a woman sitting next to her.

  Rose pulled out her chair and rolled her eyes. “Well, that was unpleasant.”

  “What happened?” Nancy asked.

  “I asked when I would get the minutes from the last two meetings and was told ‘the new president has it covered.’ The tone was downright hostile.”

  Nancy glanced at Fran. “Why does she have the minutes?”

  “When Mary Beth Wilkins left in late June, she turned all the correspondence over to Fran until a new secretary could either be appointed or elected,” she replied mentioning the former Secretary.

  “And Fran, in all her wisdom, didn’t see any reason to appoint someone for a two month interim, so she did it herself. Plus, I think she thought her candidate for secretary would win,” Anne added.

  A salad plate was placed in front of her. She selected the balsamic vinaigrette dressing boat, dribbled some on her greens, then picked up her fork and took a bite. The dressing and the crunchy veggies were better than usual.

  Anne looked around the room.

  Wonder who that ghost person is. Funny, most of the costumed people I can identify, but not her. Oh well, sooner or later she’d have to take the pillowcase off in order to eat.

  Anne let her attention wander as the rest of the table discussed books turned into movies and Hollywood in general. She was concerned about expenses. The sit down lunch was way too expensive for a chapter meeting. Perhaps a buffet or a time change to earlier in the morning for breakfast would work.

  Thank goodness they were no longer in the conference business. The vote was close, but jettisoning the conference prevailed.

  Anne had also pushed for changing the writing contest, In Other Words, to an electronic format. Her view had won by a large margin.

  Little things. Baby steps. But what else can we do to generate income?

  “You’re awfully quiet,” Nancy said in a low voice.

  “Just thinking of ways to cut costs and increase revenue for the chapter.”

  From her other side, Rose leaned in. “Good for you. Keep it simple.”

  Nancy nodded. “I heard that in spite of some creative bookkeeping by Jane we lost over four grand on the conference last spring. Not to mention two dead agents.”

  “If you ask me, I think Jane’s bookkeeping is always creative. I have an idea for the treasurer’s position, but I’m not sure how it will go over,” she replied in a hushed tone.

  “What’s that?”

  “We hire an accountant to keep the actual books, file the taxes, and stuff like that. The treasurer does the day-to-day operations like writing checks, balancing the checkbook, and whatever. I have no idea how much it might cost, but think it would be money well-spent.”

  “Isn’t Mavis Holloway’s husband or son a CPA?” Rose asked, mentioning a fellow member. “Maybe he’d cut us a deal on cost.”

  As a non-profit organization, the paperwork and Federal regulations could be daunting to a well-meaning amateur.

  Anne shifted her gaze to the treasurer sitting next to Fran. “I’ll bring the subject up at our next board meeting and demand Jane present a budget by the January meeting.”

  “Good luck with that,” Nancy said. “I don’t think she really understands the word in this context.”

  Someone brushed past Anne’s chair. She looked up to see Barb Hamilton with a determined look on her face striding toward Fran’s table.

  “Oh crap,” Anne said in a low tone. “This could be trouble.”

  “You could be right,” Rose said.

  Barb poked Fran in the shoulder, then spoke in a loud voice. “We need to talk, lady, and now!”

  Fran glared. “I have nothing to say to you, so go away.”

  “Well, I have plenty to say to you, and if you don’t want everyone in the room to hear it, you’ll get your ass out of that chair and into the hallway.”

  “Who do you think you are?” Susan demanded with a scowl. “Fran doesn’t have to talk to you if she doesn’t want to.”

  “You stay out of this,” Barb said with a curled lip. “It has nothing to do with you.”

  “I can defend myself, Susan,” Fran interjected.

  Susan swallowed and sat back.

  Fran half turned in her seat. “I’m tired of having my lunch interrupted every few seconds to talk to idiots. Get away from me.”

  “And I’m tired of being accused of fraudulent vote counting!”

  “Well, I think you did cheat,” Susan said emphatically.

  Barb glared at her. “I don’t give a rat’s ass what you think, Susan. From what I hear you’re a paranoid, critique group Nazi, so don’t you dare try to tell me I’m a cheat!”

  Susan gasped and half-rose from her chair. “Who said that! You take it back!”

  “Anne, do something,” Kathy said in a frantic tone.

  Anne glanced at their guest speaker Cindy who took it all in with wide eyes. In fact, other than for Barb, Fran, and Susan, everyone stared at the scene unfolding in front of them. Kathy was right. Decisive action was needed.

  Get your head out of your butt, and put a stop to this now!

  Anne rose and strode to the other table where she placed her arms around Barb’s shoulders and steered her away from Fran’s side.

  “Barb, Fran, Susan, out in the hallway. Now!”

  “You’re not my boss!” Fran said with a snarl.

  She leaned down and hissed in the woman’s ear. “Yes, I am! I’m the President and you’re coming with me.” She looked over at Susan. “You, too.”

  She guided Barb toward the doors as the former president and Susan followed.

  Outside, they sidestepped a couple of waitresses with more trays of salad.

  “Down here, out of the way.” She pushed the group farther along before stopping near the door of an unused meeting room. “What the hell is the matter with you people? This is embarrassing! We have a bestselling author inside, for crying out loud. How do you think this looks to her?”

  “Not my fault,” Fran said. “I didn’t start it.”

  “Yes, you did! You started it by making an absurd accusation against Barb with no facts to back it up. Susan, I don’t know where you suddenly grew a spine over the past six months, but butt out. Get rid of your Uriah Heep complex.”

  Susan looked both angry and puzzled. “My what?”

  “Uriah Heep,” Barb answered with a sneer. “A sniveling, kowtowing, favor-garnering character in Charles Dickens’ David Copperfield. I’m assuming you’ve heard of Charles Dickens.”

  Anne jumped in before Susan could reply. “Barb, I understand how angry you are, but this is neither the time nor the place to air dirty laundry.”

  Barb bit her lip. “You’re right, Anne. I apologize. And I’ll apologize to the whole room.”

  “Thank you. That would be a class act.”

  “Well, I’m not apologizing to anybody,” Fran said.

  “Me neither,” Susan echoed.

  “I didn’t expect that from either of you. Now, may I suggest we put the drama aside for the rest of the day, have lunch, and enjoy Cindy’s presentation?”

  Anne turned and walked back into the room, which was once again buzzing with conversation, and resumed her seat. Barb followed and made her way to the podium. Fran and Susan did not reappear immediately.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, may I have your attention?” The room qu
ieted. “A few minutes ago, I let my temper get the best of me. The result was not pleasant for anybody in the room. I would like to offer my sincerest apologies to you all, and especially to our special guest speaker, for putting everyone in an embarrassing position. It won’t happen again.”

  As she moved away from the microphone a few people clapped.

  Susan reentered the room and took her seat.

  Anne checked her watch. The luncheon service was taking forever. The hotel had only provided three servers to cover over eighty people. Just another reason to make a pitch for a buffet.

  Finally, the wait staff entered with trays containing the entrees—chicken in a basil cream sauce, cheese tortellini, or salmon with a bread crumb and herb-crusted topping. Rice pilaf and green beans rounded out the plates. Not the most exciting fare in the world, but adequate.

  Anne’s table was served first. The server matched the entrée with a color-coded card in front of each diner. Anne’s choice was salmon. She popped a morsel into her mouth. Only moderately dry, which was better than usual. She sampled the rice and was pleasantly surprised—moist and flavorful. The green beans needed more cooking, but overall, the meal was edible.

  Fran finally reentered the room and sat. She looked across the table at Susan and shrugged.

  Anne sighed. “What a way to start a presidency.”

  “You did the right thing,” Kathy said. “I swear I don’t know what’s come over Fran in the last few months. She seems to be bitter about damned near everything.”

  “I heard her latest love affair hit the skids,” a woman seated next to Rose said.

  “I thought she was married,” Rose countered.

  The woman, Sally Crenshaw, grinned and leaned over to say softly, “She is. So was the man she was seeing. And it’s not the first time she’s treaded on some other woman’s territory. I heard she had a fling with Rebecca Lawrence’s husband last year.”

  Rebecca Lawrence was a member of the chapter who wrote erotic romance.

  “Sally, maybe we should dispense with the gossip for now.” Nancy cast a glance at Cindy.

  Sally nodded. “Of course. Later.”

  Anne leaned toward Rose and lowered her voice. “Is it true? She had an affair with Becky’s hubby?”

  Rose nodded. “I critique with Becky and a few other erotic romance writers, too. Happened about a year ago. They supposedly broke it off, but when I talked to Becky a couple of weeks ago, she thought it had heated up again. No proof. Just suspicions.”

  Fran really is a piece of work.

  “How’s the chicken?” she asked Nancy a few minutes later.

  “Not too bad for a change.”

  She was about to make a comment to Rose when suddenly someone screamed.

  Anne jerked her head to see Susan with her mouth wide open and her finger pointing across the table. Fran’s hand grasped at her throat. Her eyes bugged out and her other hand clutched at the edge of the table. Her face had a bluish tinge to it.

  “Help! Help!” Susan shrieked. “She’s choking!”

  Fran toppled to the floor gasping, her face turning bluer. She now waved her hands as though trying to say something.

  Anne jumped to her feet and paused next to Fran who writhed on the floor. She had no clue what to do.

  From the back of the room, the visiting doctor rushed forward.

  “Everybody back away. Give me some room.”

  Anne shooed people away. The doctor hauled Fran into a sitting position and applied the Heimlich maneuver several times. Nothing happened. Fran’s face was now a deep blue. She no longer gasped, but made horrible, gurgling sounds. Suddenly she went limp.

  “She’s not breathing. Damn, my bag is in my car. No time to go get it. Someone call 9-1-1.”

  Nancy was already on her cell making the call.

  The woman laid Fran back on the floor and began CPR.

  Anne’s heart raced as she stared and regretted the harsh words of earlier.

  Nancy joined Anne. “Paramedics are on the way.”

  Several minutes passed as Dr. Smith performed the procedure. Finally, she put her ear to Fran’s chest, listened for a few seconds before raising her head.

  “I’m not getting heartbeat.”

  “No, what did she choke on?” Rose gasped.

  The doctor continued CPR. “I have no idea. Hopefully, the paramedics will be here soon and can do a tracheotomy. I don’t have the tools.”

  “Someone should inform the hotel,” Nancy said.

  “I’ll do it.” Rose headed for the house phone. A minute later she returned. “They’re trying to find a security guard with medical training. I told them we called 9-1-1.”

  After what seemed forever, the paramedics raced in and took over. They quickly examined Fran and resumed CPR while getting information from the doctor who now stood off to the side.

  “She’s not choking,” one of the medicos said. “She’s in anaphylactic shock. Her throat is swollen shut. I’m not getting a heartbeat either.”

  He retrieved an instrument from his bag and tried to insert it into her throat. It refused to go. Without hesitation, he opened a sterile pack, whipped out a scalpel, and carefully cut a slit in Fran’s throat just above her breastbone. A tube was inserted. An airbag was attached and one of the men squeezed it at regular intervals.

  “She’s still not breathing.” He started more CPR as his partner listened through a stethoscope.

  Silence reigned from everyone except Susan who sobbed hysterically. Her cries had a piercing sharpness that irritated the crap out of Anne.

  Nancy walked over to the distraught woman. “Susan, knock it off!” When the noise continued, she pulled her around and slapped her on the cheek. “Get a hold of yourself.”

  Susan hiccupped and glared, but the caterwauling ceased.

  “What did the paramedic mean by shock?” Anne asked the doctor.

  “Anaphylactic shock—usually from some kind of food allergy. Sometimes insect related. Often deadly. Geez, I hope we got to her in time.”

  Anne was almost in shock herself. This meeting was turning into a disaster of monstrous proportions.

  Finally, the paramedic ceased CPR to check vital signs. He looked at his partner and shook his head. “Doctor, would you like to take over?”

  The woman nodded, checked for a heartbeat again.

  “There’s nothing. No heartbeat, no blood pressure, not breathing. I’m sorry, ladies, but she didn’t make it.”

  “Didn’t make it?” Kathy said.

  “I mean she’s dead.”

  Chapter Two

  Anne’s hand flew to her throat as a collective gasp rose from the others in the room.

  “D…dead?” Rose asked in a high-pitched voice.

  “It’s all your fault!” Susan pointed a finger at Anne. “You upset her so much she choked to death.”

  “Shut up, Susan,” Nancy said. “The doctor said it was anaphylactic shock.”

  “Brought on by Anne’s constant badgering,” Susan insisted.

  The hotel security man finally rushed into the room and spoke with one of the paramedics. The doctor eyed those standing nearby, including Susan.

  “Anaphylactic shock is a strong, often deadly, reaction to an allergen.”

  “Allergen? As in ragweed pollen or something?” one of the women asked.

  “No, this was most likely brought on by something highly toxic to her system. Usually insect or food related,” she replied.

  “Food?” Susan’s finger once again pointed toward Anne. “You! You put something in her food.”

  Nancy stepped forward and glared at the woman. “Susan, if you say one more word, I swear I’ll hurt you. Quit making accusations and go find a seat.”

  Jane led a sniffling Susan toward the back of the room.

  “I’ve called for an ambulance,” one of the medicos told Anne. “And the police.”

  “The police? Whatever for?” a member asked.

  “I imagine it’s
just routine,” Anne replied.

  The servers entered bearing more trays of entrees, and then stopped to stare at the body on the floor.

  “I don’t think we’ll be finishing lunch,” Anne told them. “As you can see, there’s been an unfortunate accident. The police and an ambulance are on the way. I think it best if you wait outside.”

  The servers turned and exited.

  She made her way to the podium. “Ladies and gentlemen, may I have your attention? A terrible tragedy has just taken place. I suggest you all return to your tables. The police are on the way and may want to speak with some of you. Needless to say, there will be no program today.”

  “Was she bitten by an insect?” someone inquired. “Maybe one of those brown recluse spiders bit her or something.”

  “A bee,” another member added. “I had an uncle who was allergic to bees. Almost died one time. Maybe a bee stung her. Was she allergic to bees?”

  “Maybe it was something she ate,” a third lady said. “I’ve heard people can have allergic reactions to fish.”

  Rose heaved heavy sigh. “Oh, for Pete’s sake. If she was allergic to fish, do you think she’d have ordered the salmon?”

  “Maybe it was served to her by mistake,” the woman continued.

  Rose glanced at the table where Fran had been seated. “Nope, the card by her place setting is blue. That means she got fish. Besides, I’m sure she could tell the difference between a hunk of salmon and chicken.”

  Anne held up her hand and spoke loudly into the microphone. “Please, speculation is useless. Let’s all try to remain calm. I’d also like all board members to come up here for a few moments.”

  Rose, Jane, Kathy, and Ellie joined Anne at the front of the room away from the podium.

  “Oh, my God, I don’t believe this,” Kathy moaned.

  “I…I don’t know what happened. She came back to the table and a few minutes later…” Jane didn’t finish her sentence.

  Anne took a deep breath. “I know what happened is horrible, but we need to keep calm and put a cork in useless speculation. Jane, you and Susan seem to be on good terms. I suggest you try to keep her active imagination silent. Throwing out silly accusations is not only dangerous, but slanderous as well.”