Death in Four Courses: A Key West Food Critic Mystery Read Online Free PDF Page B

911,” I instructed the woman tending the coffeepot. “I need help right away—a man has hit his head and fallen into the pool! We need a doctor right now. He’s not breathing well.” Which was the understatement of the decade.
    I pounded back to Jonah’s limp figure with one of the white-shirted waiters heavy on my tail. “Let’s get him onto the walkway,” I said.
    With the server clutching one arm and me the other, we pulled Jonah completely out of the pool. Rivulets of water ran from his clothing, staining the bricks deep red. His face was ashen underneath the tan. I tucked my pink sweater around his torso, then continued with chest compressions while the waiter blew desperate breaths into his mouth.
    “Is anything happening? Do you think he’s breathing?” the waiter asked. “Do you think he had a heart attack?”
    “He’s only in his thirties. I can’t imagine he has heart problems. Just keep blowing,” I said, sounding more hopeful than what I felt. “His skin tone looks better than when I found him,” I said.
    “I don’t know,” said the waiter. “He looks dead to me.”

3
    Modern recipes were clean and bloodless by comparison, suppressing violence between cook and cooked. Not so here. Truss them…lard them, boil them quick and white.
    —Allegra Goodman
    After what felt like hours, two EMTs arrived, along with Officer Torrence, a policeman I’d met last fall during a murder investigation. He did a double take when he saw me. I’d been the Key West Police Department’s favored suspect for the better part of a week. And now here I was again, the first responder at a second disaster that—if I were to be completely honest—also looked like foul play.
    Usually the cops in this town arrived at the scene with a “why are you bothering me now?” expression. They’ve seen too many drunken tourists and panhandling bums weeks away from their last shower to getexcited by a man stumbling into a dipping pool. But Officer Torrence’s gaze darted from the angry red lump on Jonah’s forehead to the lush foliage screening the restrooms to the low brick wall over which anyone might have scrambled.
    “Miss Snow, what’s going on here?” he asked, which seemed like an odd opening salvo to me. Wasn’t it obvious?
    “I found Jonah Barrows in the pool and we”—I pointed to the waiter beside me—“pulled him out.”
    A small crowd of partygoers had followed the cops to the reflecting pool and clustered around us, jostling and craning to see the trauma. Several of the women had begun to blubber at the shock of it all, which made me feel like crying too.
    “Move aside, folks,” Torrence said, pointing to the approaching EMTs. “These people need room to work.”
    “Gladly,” I said, shuffling away from Jonah’s inert form.
    The paramedics surged past me, unfolding their portable stretcher, oxygen tank, and defibrillator by the time they reached Jonah. Once two other police officers had arrived to secure the area, Officer Torrence led me to the stairs of the restroom facility.
    “You found him in the pool?”
    I nodded and felt my pants, looking for a tissue to blot my eyes. No pockets. No bag. I wiped my face on my sleeve. I was starting to shiver and wished I hadn’t given away my sweater.
    “Tell me exactly what happened,” he said. “Right from the beginning.”
    The beginning—that awful, ominous lily pad bobbing. I sank down to the bottom step, my stomach clamped into a fierce knot. I put my head between my knees and took a couple of deep breaths. When the wooziness passed, I sat up, licked my lips, and began to explain.
    “I was waiting in line with my mother for a glass of wine and something to eat. But then nature called and I dashed over here to use the ladies’ room. The day has been such a whirlwind, so I went to collect my thoughts at the reflecting pool before rejoining the party.” Didn’t seem necessary to report that I’d been discouraged because I’d been dissed by