Going Organic Can Kill You Read Online Free PDF Page B

is not going to close the place down.”
    As I said this last bit, the paramedics emerged from the room, stripping off their latex gloves.
    “Who said anything about a heart attack?” the blond one asked. “This man’s been murdered.”

4
    Esther gripped my arm so hard that I winced.
    “Murdered?” I said. “Are you sure?”
    The paramedic pulled a cigarette out of the pack in his shirt pocket and stuck it between his lips. “Judging by the stab wound to his gut, it couldn’t be anything else.” He pulled a lighter from his pants pocket and lit the cigarette, exhaling a burst of smoke in my direction.
    I barely registered the haze, instead picturing Maxwell as I’d seen him on the bed, in that odd position with his hands tucked under his body. He must have been gripping his stomach when he fell over and died. The poor man.
    Two of the guests came around the corner at the other end of the cabins and glanced at us with obvious interest.
    The woman fanned a hand before her face. “Smoking, at a spa,” she said, loud enough to reach us. “The shame.”
    Her companion shook his head at us and they let themselves into their cabin. The paramedic kept smoking.
    Deputy Williams popped his head out Maxwell’s door. “Shut up, Carl, and stop blabbing about how the victim died.” He turned his gaze on me. “And, you, ma’am. The detective will want to talk to you as soon as he gets out here. Go wait in the house.”
    I pressed my palms against my stomach. “Why do I need to wait in the house? Am I a suspect?” I could almost hear the clang of the cell door slamming shut.
    The deputy scowled at me. “You can wait wherever you want. I just need to know where you are so I can tell the detective.”
    I felt myself blush at my overreaction. “Oh, then the house is fine.” No need to call my lawyer just yet. Not that I had one.
    I turned to go, Esther clutching my arm once more. I wanted to shake her loose, take a minute for myself, but one look at her drawn face and trembling mouth told me she was on the verge of hysteria. I patted her hand, a gesture I’d been repeating all day, and escorted her down the path.
    On my way by the pool area, I glanced at the empty patio, marveling at how I’d seen Maxwell only hours before, attempting yoga. What had happened between then and now? Had someone entered his room and attacked him? I couldn’t quite picture Maxwell stabbing himself in the stomach. I shuddered and kept walking.
    “Dana?” Esther whispered beside me. “Do you think one of the guests killed him?”
    “Let’s let the police worry about that,” I said, trying to sound soothing. But of course one of the guests killed him. Or one of the employees. After only a month on the job, what did I know about any of these people? But because killers didn’t exist in my Pollyanna universe, a tiny part of me clung to the hope that Maxwell had tripped and fallen on the knife by accident.
    I led the way back into the kitchen and deposited Esther in a chair. Zennia was washing dishes at the sink. When she saw us, she raised an eyebrow in query.
    “Maxwell, that producer guy, died,” I said.
    She dropped the fork she’d been cleaning. It clanked in the sink. “Oh, Dana, no.” She wiped her hands on her apron, her hair in disarray, springing out of her braid. “Esther, let me get you a cup of tea, my special herbal blend.” She turned on the burner under the kettle and pulled a teacup off the hook on the wall. “Dana, would you like some?”
    “Not right now, thanks. I don’t feel like sitting.”
    I wanted to check on Gordon, see if he needed help. Dealing directly with the guests didn’t fall under my normal job description, but this situation wasn’t exactly normal either.
    Knowing Zennia would keep an eye on Esther, I followed the sound of voices down the hall and found most of the guests in the lobby. A few sat on the blue-and-white checked sofa or in the matching blue wingback chairs. The rest stood in