A Game of Murder Read Online Free PDF

gloves, and started performing CPR. The second one also put on gloves, grabbed an oxygen tank from underneath the gurney, attached a mask with plastic tubing, and covered Mira’s nose and mouth with the mask. The two hovered over the woman’s prostrate form, hiding her from view. As the second paramedic reached for something in the open case beside them, Faith noticed the slightly longer hair, the touch of lipstick on her lips. She also noticed the grim expression on her face.
    While the first paramedic continued CPR, the second turned and fired questions at the gamers. What was her name? What happened? Any known illnesses? Allergies? Cathy responded with the answers, including a list of allergies almost as long as the Affordable Care Act, as best she could between catches of breath. The EMT keyed the answers into a portable computer. When she was done, she turned back to Mira.
    Lights from the fire truck and ambulance parked outside strobed through the windows, painting the café in garish stripes of red and white, lending an air of unreality to the scene. Plastic caps popped from vials, sterile wrappings ripped from gauze pads. The paramedics’s hands flashed in and out of the lights as they worked over the girl. The female paramedic collapsed the stretcher to floor level with a click and a clank, and the two of them slid Mira onto it. As soon as that was done, the paramedics whisked her out the door and into the ambulance, leaving the gamers in shock.
    Cathy turned to Adam. “Take me to the hospital?” she asked in a hoarse voice. Her body was shaking, her knees bent as if at any moment they might collapse.
    “Of course.” Adam, his face drawn, wrapped his left arm around her, grasped her hands in his right, supported her as they stumbled out the door.
    Faith dropped into her seat. She’d seen death before, but always after the fact. Watching Mira’s struggles, the way her face turned pale, then blue, the jerking of her body followed by the contrasting stillness, the way life left her… The experience sent shockwaves through her system, explosions of empathy for Mira’s suffering. Had Karl’s last minutes been like that? Did he suffer? Did he fight against his approaching death, or accept it peacefully, even gratefully? She never asked.
    “Do you think they’ll be able to revive her?” Lorna’s voice trembled.
    Faith shook her head, not trusting herself to speak.
    The last hint of hope left Lorna’s face. “It’s my fault,” she whispered.
    “I don’t think so.” Faith said, her voice thick with emotion. She cleared her throat, but that did nothing to ease the heaviness in her chest. “I saw the salad. It was just greens. Romaine and field greens, right?”
    Lorna nodded. “And oil and vinegar. Exactly what she asked for. Maybe she has some other medical problem we don’t know about.”
    Faith noticed Lorna’s use of present tense. She didn’t bother to correct her.
    The other gamers, now that the action was over, started shuffling toward the door. There would be no more meeting tonight. Hope sank into an available chair. “What happened?”
    “I’m not sure,” Faith said. “We were all watching Derek have his hissy-fit, then Mira started throwing up.”
    “I hope it wasn’t the food,” Hope said, worried.
    “It wasn’t,” Faith said firmly, although she couldn’t help but feel a twinge of doubt.
    As if noticing the state of the table for the first time, Hope rose. “I’d better clean up this table.” While the Crime Scene Unit had collected what remained of Mira’s meal, both before and after she’d ingested it, the other dirty dishes, glasses, and used napkins remained. Hope returned in a little while with rags and a container of water, her hands sheathed in rubber gloves, and started wiping up the mess.
    Lorna rose as well. “I should get started on the rest of the cleanup.”
    “Do you need me to help?” Faith asked.
    Hope shook her head. “No rush now. Lorna and I can