Bloodstone by Barbra Annino Page A

come check it out since I was, after all, just a newspaper reporter and not a doctor. However, from the condition of Mr. Sayer I was doubtful an ambulance would help. I was trying to buy Birdie and the aunts a bit of time and save their guests from waking up to sirens. Hopefully, they could send the wagon or whatever they call the vehicle that picks up bodies around to the back of the property without disturbing the guests.
    Fiona prepared a cup of coffee for John while Lolly wandered into the dining room. I heard the clang of silverware a few seconds later as she set the table.
    As if a guest dropped dead every day before the timer on the oven buzzed.
    John scratched his head and leaned in to smell the man’s shirt. “Who poured ketchup on him?”
    I nodded toward my grandmother.
    John looked at her and asked, “Why?”
    She sighed. “He asked me to. Yesterday evening. I can’t believe he’s wearing the same shirt.” She was checking on the baked French toast and didn’t turn around.
    John snapped his fingers and said, “Oh, yeah, that murder mystery thing.” Then he circled the table, squinting at the body slumped across it and scratched his head again. Fiona offered up the coffee and he thanked her.
    “Tell me again why you didn’t call Leo.” This, directed at me.
    “I did. Gus told me he was out on a call and he would send him over ASAP. Said he would let him know what was going on.”
    “Did he say how long he would be?” John took a big swig of java, eyeing Birdie.
    “He just said Mr. Shelby called to report someone had altered his goats again,” I told him.
    Fiona sighed and shook her head. “The poor dears. What was it this time?”
    I shrugged. “Something about writing ‘Go Eagles’ in block letters on a dozen of them.”
    John looked like someone just poked him in the forehead with a sharp stick.
    I tried to explain, although really, it didn’t make much sense to me why people harassed those poor goats. Last time, they had been smeared with Nair. “The high school basketball team has a good shot at making it to the state finals.”
    I continued, “I really didn’t want Gus to be first on the scene.” Gus made Barney Fife look like Sherlock Holmes. “Plus I was hoping to avoid a marked car parked out front so the guests wouldn’t be frightened. I thought maybe you could help sort things out until Leo can get here.”
    John sucked down more coffee. “You should have just called an ambulance. They’d pick him up in a small town like this.”
    “So...is he? Dead I mean?” I asked.
    Fiona said, “Perhaps his heart attacked him?”
    I looked at Mr. Sayer who was on the far side of fifty. He could have seriously benefited from a gym membership.
    “What about around his neck? It’s wet,” I said.
    John held out his cup, seeking more caffeine and Fiona obliged. “Deirdre accidentally spilled her drink on him when they were singing Karaoke. No telling cause of death without a coroner’s exam.” He looked at Birdie. “Mrs. Geraghty, if you don’t mind, just run through it for me step by step. When did you first see Mr. Sayer in the kitchen?” He pulled a stool out from beneath the table, flipped it around and straddled it backwards.
    Birdie was draining bacon on a paper towel. She explained that Mr. Sayer was sitting in the same stool he was in now when she arrived down the back stairs. He had already helped himself to coffee. She greeted him and went to work on preparing the morning’s meal.
    John stopped listening half-way through the story. He was close enough to Mr. Sayer that he could lean his head over the man’s back. Then he blinked a couple of times, sat back, frowned and said, “You want the good news or the bad news, ladies?”

 
     
     
    THIRTY-THREE
     
    “What’s the good news?” I asked not really wanting the answer.
    John crossed his arms. “The good news is he won’t be annoying any of you or your guests anymore.”
    Lolly chimed in, excited. “What’s