Permanently Booked Read Free Page B

spell...”
    “Think maybe she’s been here awhile. Doesn’t seem like CPR would help, or anything.” Summer gingerly knelt beside Lorella and placed two fingers to the woman’s neck. “Nope. Oh, wow, her eyes are open.” She quickly looked away, her face paling beneath her tan. “Sorry, that really freaks me out. It’s like she’s staring at me.”
    “Try the wrist,” Dorothy said. “Sometimes it’s easier to find a pulse there.” Then she spotted the dried drops of crimson on the carpet. Lorella’s wound was no longer bleeding. “Never mind,” she said quietly.
    She leaned forward to gaze more closely at the eerily still woman she’d worked beside just last week. Head wounds often bled profusely, she knew, but the bump on Lorella’s head looked particularly nasty. Could she have fallen—tripped over one of these piles of books, perhaps—and injured herself?
    Somehow Dorothy doubted that. Lorella’s wound was at the back of her head, and she had fallen forward. But that arm...She shuddered again.
    Jennifer joined them and gasped. “Oh no,” the Resident Services director said, her voice barely a whisper. “Poor Mrs. Caldwell. What do you think happened?”
    “Looks like someone wasn’t too happy with her,” Summer said. “Because there’s the murder weapon.” She jumped up and hurried over to a smooth gold metal bookend, lying near the far corner of the stacks.
    It was shaped a bit like an Academy Award statuette, Dorothy thought. If Oscar had been female, writing a book on his lap, and stuck to an L-shaped piece of metal.
    Summer gave a quick nod. “Yep. Blood.”
    “There’s a trail of spots on the carpet and floor, too.” Dorothy frowned. “They’re nearly the same color, but I see them now.”
    “I—I’ll call for help.” Both Jennifer’s hand and voice shook as she tried to dial.
    “That’s okay, I’ll do it.” Summer slipped her own cell from her pocket.
    “Thanks.” Jennifer took a few steps back. “Oh my gosh. I’m really sorry, but I think I’m going to be sick.”
    Dorothy hurried to put her arms around the young woman, who was now violently shuddering. “There, there, dear,” she said, patting her gently on the back, as Summer gave 911 the details and answered the operator’s questions. “Everything’s going to be just fine.”
    But everything was not fine, of course. Lorella Caldwell was dead.
    It was true that neither of them had really known Lorella. Summer had never even met her, in fact. But no one, especially a lovely, hardworking librarian, deserved a terrible fate like this—and it happened right here at Hibiscus Pointe, too. Who else might be in danger?
    A killer had targeted one of their very own neighbors, and someone else might even be next. Dorothy had full confidence in the Milano PD, she told herself quickly, but weren’t she and Summer, as residents, in a perfect position to assist with the upcoming investigation?
    Of course they were. Lorella’s killer needed to be unveiled and brought to justice, the sooner the better—before he or she could strike again. It didn’t matter that they hadn’t really known the woman. It was the right thing to do.
    Jennifer was sobbing now, very quietly, in Dorothy’s arms. “We can’t let the other residents know yet,” she said, with a hiccup. “Everyone will panic, and then the media will be here, and—”
    “I’m sure people will notice the emergency vehicles,” Dorothy said. “We can’t very well stop those, now, can we?”
    “Ten minutes,” Summer called. “They’re sending help from Bonita. Some big accident down by the beach.”
    Dorothy sighed. The Milano emergency response teams were frequently overwhelmed and forced to call upon nearby towns for help. With all the seniors in this town, and adventurous tourists, one would think they’d work ways into the city budget to avoid that. Rather than, say, gold-plated nameplates for the council persons’ parking spots.
    “You’re