I left them looking at Annie Reilly and went over to Viola. “Do we have any of those flyers left, the ones that show the cats we didn’t bring?”
“Yes, but I think Tara put them on one of the outside tables. Want me to get one?”
“No. You go chat up those prospective parents. You’re so good at it. I’ll get the flyer.”
I went outside and found the flyers without any trouble. As I passed by the signing table, I noticed that Ulla was frowning and scratching her arm. She leaned over and whispered something to Wendy, who immediately got up and headed toward the back. Ulla smiled at the person standing in front of her and asked how he wanted the book inscribed. As she signed it, I noticed she seemed to be having trouble breathing. Suddenly she tossed the pen and book aside and jumped to her feet, almost knocking her chair over. I set the flyers down and hurried over to her. “Ms. Townsend, are you all right?”
She pressed two fingers to her sternum. “I–I’m not sure,” she said in a strangled tone. “My chest feels so tight.… Maybe I need to splash some water on my face.”
She turned toward me and I frowned. Her lower lip looked a bit puffy, and the flush on her neck had now morphed to a bright candy-apple red. “Do you want me to come with you to the restroom?”
She shook her head. “Just tell Wendy and Savannah where I am,” she murmured. She raced down the hall to the bathroom, and I heard the door slam.
There was an excited buzz in the room. As I debated whether to say something, Wendy suddenly appeared at my elbow. “Where’s Ulla? Why isn’t she at the table?”
“She said she felt sick—her chest was tight. She went to the bathroom to splash some water on her face.”
Wendy let out a strangled cry. “A panic attack. Just what we need in the last twenty minutes.”
I frowned. “It didn’t seem like if it was a panic attack.”
“Oh trust me, it probably was. She does this all the time, although it’s usually to get Ken’s sympathy.”
“I don’t know about that,” I said. “Her lip looked a bit puffy, and she really was having trouble breathing.”
Wendy ran a hand through her short hair, glancing over at the people who were milling around the table, craning their necks, and whispering excitedly. “I guess I’d better do some damage control.” She turned toward the crowd and said smoothly, “Not to worry, folks. Ulla will be back in a few minutes … I hope,” she muttered under her breath to me, and then she hurried off in the direction of the bathroom.
Tara came over to me, concern etched on her face. “Is Ulla sick?”
I frowned. “I’m not sure. It seemed that way. I think I’ll go check on her as well.” I hurried down the hall, and I could hear Tara saying to the remaining people, “Don’t worry, Ulla will be back shortly. In the meantime, there’s plenty of goodies at our café.” As I passed the side door, it suddenly swung open, and Savannah breezed in. Her gaze swept me up and down. “You look concerned. Is something wrong?”
“Ulla didn’t feel well. She went to the bathroom to splash some cold water on her face. She doesn’t have high blood pressure, does she?”
“One twenty over eighty since I’ve known her. Her pressure’s fine. She just manages to raise other people’s,” Savannah said, and then she frowned. “How bad is she? I wonder if I should call Ken.”
“He’s not here?”
Savannah shook her head. “He and his wife left about fifteen minutes ago.” Her lips twisted into a wry smile. “Neither one of them looked very happy. Man, would I love to be a fly on the ceiling of that Mercedes. Come to think of it, he might appreciate an interruption.”
Savannah put the phone to her ear and moved off. I shifted the tray in my arms and was just about to enter the playroom when the bathroom door banged open and Wendy emerged, pale and wide-eyed.
“Someone call nine-one-one!” she shouted. “Something’s terribly wrong with Ulla. I–I don’t think she’s breathing.”
Chapter Seven
I slid my hand into my pocket for my phone, but Savannah beat me to it. “I need an ambulance at Crowden’s stat,” she said in a clipped tone. “Ulla Townsend’s had some sort of attack. She’s barely breathing. Please hurry.” She was silent a few moments, listening, and then said, “Yes, tell them the back entrance is open. And please, no siren. This has to be kept quiet, for now at least.” She hurried into the bathroom, clutching her iPhone. I imagined her next call would be to Ken Colgate.
I turned to Wendy, who stood rigid, her hands at her side. “What happened?” I asked.
“I don’t know,” Wendy answered. “I knocked on the door a few times, calling out her name. When she didn’t answer, I opened the door and went inside. I found her … just lying there …” Wendy paused and coughed lightly. “The sight of her lying there like that—well, it startled me. I’m used to her being hell on wheels, ya know? I called her name again, and she didn’t respond, so I bent over her. She didn’t look like she was breathing. That’s when I figured I’d better get help.” She pushed the heel of her hand through her hair. “God, what a mess! I hope those EMTs get here soon.”
We didn’t have long to wait. Less than five minutes elapsed before an ambulance, lights flashing, pulled up in front of the café entrance. A pair of paramedics burst through the café doors, pushing a gurney loaded with resuscitation equipment. I recognized one of them: Cherry Dunphy, a bright-eyed medical student who also volunteered at the shelter one or two nights a week. She tossed me a quick wave as she hoisted a defibrillator off the stretcher. Then she and the other paramedic, a middle-aged woman, hurried inside the bathroom.
I couldn’t resist a peek inside, and what I saw caused my breath to catch in my throat. Ulla lay on her back in the middle of the bathroom floor, and both paramedics were kneeling next to her, their expressions grave. Ulla looked lifeless, her features slack, her limbs splayed out like a broken doll. I half-expected to hear one of the paramedics call out the time of death and pull a sheet over the woman’s head. I clutched at my stomach; the sight had made me feel queasy.
Kat touched my arm. “We should give them some space to do their job,” she whispered.
I knew my sister was right. There was nothing I could do to help Ulla. She was in good hands with the paramedics. I followed my sister back into the main portion of the store. I saw Wendy and Savannah conversing in low tones. Something brushed against my arm, and I whirled around to face a pale-lipped Tara.
“Is it true?” she whispered. “Is she—is Ulla dead?”
“I don’t think so,” I replied. “She did have some sort of attack, though. The paramedics are with her now.”
Tara swiped a hand across her forehead and gestured toward cluster of fans who were still awaiting their turn to meet their shopping channel host. “What do I tell them?”
“Nothing. I would imagine it would be up to Ulla’s manager to make some sort of announcement,” I said.
Tara frowned. “That doesn’t seem right. I’m the store manager. I should say something.”
Savannah detached herself from Wendy’s side and hurried over to us. She looked straight at Tara. “Please refrain from saying anything about Ulla just yet,” she said. “We’re waiting for Ken to get here before any announcements are made.”
Tara pursed her lips. “Fine, but I hope he arrives soon. The crowd is getting very restless.”
Kat touched my arm. “There’s nothing we can do. Let’s get back to the pop-up.” We hurried back, arriving just as the EMTs emerged from the restroom. Cherry was talking into a mic that was pinned to the front of her uniform. “ETA ten minutes.” Ulla lay on the gurney, an oxygen mask strapped to her face. Her eyes were closed and her cheeks were a mottled shade of red. Cherry made a motion, and then she and the older paramedic wheeled the gurney out the back door and into the waiting ambulance.
I hesitated for only a fraction of a second, then walked swiftly after them. Cherry was standing by the ambulance, scribbling something on a sheet attached t
o a clipboard. I walked over to her and asked, “How bad is it?”
“Bad,” she said grimly. “She’s got no detectible pulse, and her airway seems blocked.” She reached up to rub at her forehead. “Does she have any allergies?”
“Don’t know.” I frowned. “Why? You think she had some sort of an allergy attack?”
“She’s got all the symptoms,” Cherry replied. “It looks like a pretty severe one too.” She leaned toward me and said in a low tone, “Just between us—I’ve seen people succumb to attacks not half as bad as this looks. If she has any next of kin, my advice would be to notify them.” Her expression was grim.
Cherry’s walkie-talkie beeped just then, and she hurried off toward the ambulance. I went back into the play area and found Kat waiting for me. “Cherry mentioned that Ulla’s symptoms seemed to be those of a severe allergy attack.”
Kat’s eyes popped. “An allergy attack? Really? What might have brought that on?”
I remembered an incident back when I’d worked at Reid and Renshaw. A young associate had eaten a muffin that contained peanut oil, and had nearly died. “Did you see her eat anything?”
Kat frowned as she thought. “I remember Sissy offered her a pastry, and Ulla told her she didn’t eat sweets.”
Hmm, I thought. Is Ulla diabetic? It could be insulin shock. But I had no idea if insulin shock mimicked an allergic reaction. Someone, Wendy or Savannah or maybe even Ken, had to know something about the woman’s medical history. “If she does have allergies, then she should have an EpiPen or some sort of allergy medication, right?”
“Right. Where’s her assistant?” Kat craned her neck. “She’d probably know.”
I glanced out the window at the curb, where a sleek silver Mercedes was just pulling up. “There’s Ken Colgate,” I said. “He might know. I’ll ask him.” I thrust the flyers I still held in my hand at Kat. “You take these back to the Johnstons. Who knows, maybe they’re ready to adopt Annie Reilly by now.”
“We could only hope,” Kat said. She moved off just as Colgate barreled into the store. He saw me and hurried over, his expression grim. “Ms. McCall. What happened here?”
“Ulla didn’t feel well and went to the bathroom,” I said. “She didn’t look well at all. Wendy went to check on her and found her on the floor. She wasn’t sure if Ulla was even breathing. Savannah called nine-one-one, and the paramedics came. They took her to the hospital. As a matter of fact, you just missed them.” I decided to omit the part about Ulla possibly being DOA at the hospital.
“Great.” He flicked his gaze toward the café. “I take it Wendy and Savannah are still here? They didn’t follow the ambulance to the hospital?”
“I think they wanted to wait for you to arrive. Wendy said she wanted to get a diagnosis from the EMTs before making any announcements.” I laid a hand on his arm. “Do you know if Ulla is diabetic or if she has any allergies?”
“What? No—I don’t know.” He shook his head, obviously confused. “I’m not sure. Why do you ask?”
“I overheard one of the EMTs mention anaphylactic shock. We thought perhaps if Ulla had allergies, she carried some sort of medication or an EpiPen with her?”
“Ulla is a very private person. She’s never discussed her medical history with me, but she might have with Savannah. I can check.” With that he strode into the main bookstore. I debated briefly going back to join Kat, but in the end curiosity won out. I followed Colgate in time to see Wendy and Savannah converge on him. They huddled together for a few minutes, talking in low tones. Then Wendy detached herself and started for the back area, while Ken walked up to the front by the now-vacant signing table and clapped his hands for attention. The crowd’s buzzing ceased, and all eyes turned to him.
“Ladies and gentlemen, we thank you all for coming out today. Unfortunately, Ulla has suffered a slight attack and has been taken to the local hospital.”
A collective cry of dismay went up. “Oh no!” someone called out. “Was it a heart attack?”
“We’re not certain what it was,” Ken said.
“But she’ll be okay, right?” another person asked. That started more murmuring. Ken clapped his hands and said loudly, “We hope that Ulla will recover soon; however, we are unfortunately going to have to call a halt to today’s signing.” The murmuring grew more intense at that, and he clapped his hands again. “If you’ll leave your names with Ms. Blade, we’ll see that you get a copy of Ulla’s book, free of charge.”
As Savannah seated herself behind the table and the people surged forward to give their names, I caught sight of a familiar face in the crowd. I elbowed my way over to Diane Ryan and tapped her on the shoulder. She whirled and let out a gasp when she saw me. “Oh, Syd, what an afternoon!” she cried. She held up a copy of Ulla’s book. “I was one of the lucky ones. I managed to get mine signed right before she jumped up and vanished. Lois wasn’t so lucky, though.”
“Lois?”
Diane looked around with a frown. “Heck, she was right next to me. Where’d she go … oh, there she is.” She motioned to a short, thin woman with a pixie haircut in a dull gray jacket who’d emerged from the back area and now walked in our direction. “Here she is now. Lois, where have you been?”
The woman walked over and regarded me with a heavy-lidded blank stare. Her lips curved in a smile before she turned her attention to Diane. “I want to see if the restroom was free, but it’s a nuthouse back there. They’re chasing everyone away from the area.”
“Yes, Ulla’s manager just announced she had some sort of attack.” Diane gave a little shudder. “It’s such a shame.”
“It certainly is.” Lois turned and made a gesture in the direction of the café. “I’ve heard she wasn’t very well liked. Maybe someone should take charge of whatever food’s left, and not touch it. You never know. The police might want it bagged.”
Diane’s eyes popped. “Bagged? You mean … you think someone might have poisoned Ulla’s food?”
“I’m just saying that the police will probably consider every possibility. Then again, I do watch CSI reruns way too much.” She thrust out her hand to me. “Sorry. I’m Lois Galveston. And you must be one of the McCall sisters, right? Diane told me all about your shelter and about how a percentage of sales today was going to be donated to it. It’s such a shame the event had to end like this.”
“I’m Sydney McCall and yes, it is a shame.” I held out my hand and Lois’s fingers closed over it. I had to fight to keep from wincing. The woman had a strong grip! “Are you new in town?”
“Sorta kinda. I grew up in Deer Park. I’ve been away for a while, and I recently got laid off from my job, so I decided I’d move back here.”
“Lois interviewed for one of the open clerk positions at the station,” Diane put in. “We hit it off right away.”
Lois’s lips twitched slightly. “Yeah, I always get nervous during interviews. Diane put me right at ease. The station seems like a great place to work, but I’m not getting my hopes up.”
“Well, I don’t see why not,” Diane huffed. She looked over at me and added, “She has better qualifications than most of the others did. Plus, she did security work at her last job.”
I eyed the woman. “Were you a security guard?”
Lois shook her head. “I was a member of the physical security team. We focused on keeping unauthorized personnel from getting into places that were off limits to them. It was a pretty interesting job. Sometimes it was as simple as locking a door; other times, more complex, like preventing the bypass of alarm systems or guard control.”
Diane giggled. “Lois is too modest. Actually, she was kind of a female James Bond. She could get in and out of places like Houdini.”
“Not that good, to be sure,” Lois said with a small smile. “Unfortunately, that skill set hardly qualifies me to answer phones and take messages. If anything, the nice detective who interviewed me—Will something—said I was overqualified.”
“Will Worthington. He�
�s Syd’s boyfriend,” Diane put in. “Maybe Syd can put in a good word for you,” she added hopefully.
I didn’t answer right away. So, Will had added interviewing to his list of job duties. No wonder I hadn’t seen too much of him! Captain Connolly was, no doubt, taking advantage of Will’s good nature and his obvious desire to slide into Bennington’s spot. I wondered if Charlie Callahan was also doubling as an interviewer. My hesitation caused Lois to cluck her tongue at Diane. “See? Now, you’ve put her on the spot,” she chided.
“No, it’s all right,” I said quickly. “It’s just I haven’t seen much of Will lately—and now I guess I know why.” I turned to Lois. “I’m not sure exactly what type of work you’re looking for, but I do know Dayna Harper mentioned she needed to hire some more staff, if working in a sweet shop interests you.”
“At this point anything that pays a steady salary interests me. Thanks for the tip. I’ll be sure to check it out.”
“You can mention my name when you do,” I said. “Hopefully it might carry some weight.”
Diane nudged her friend. “We should get going. I’ll see you at the shelter when I come in for my shift Monday night, Syd.”
Diane and Lois moved off. I started to retrace my steps back to the cat area, when Wendy suddenly popped up in front of me. “I can’t find Tara,” she said. “Could you tell her I’m going to the hospital with Ken?”
“Sure.” I withdrew one of the shelter cards from my pocket and handed it to her. “My cell phone’s on the back. Could you call when you find out anything?”
“Will do.” She took my card, jammed it into her pocket, and then pushed out the front door and into a silver Mercedes that idled out front. I didn’t see Leila or Jim anywhere, so I figured they’d probably followed the ambulance to the hospital. Worst-case scenario, I was certain Leila would be full of details when I saw her next.
I returned to the pop-up. The Johnstons were just handing a completed form to Kat, and I saw that a tag had been placed on Sylvie’s cage. Susan Johnston looked up as we approached. “What happened? We heard the ambulance, and then I peeped into the hall and saw someone being taken out on a gurney.”
Death by a Whisker Page 7