Miranda Bliss - Cooking Up Murder

I looked into the eyes that were open and staring right through me, but there was nothing happening behind them.

“Drago?”

I don’t know how long I knelt there beside his body. I don’t even know if I cried. I do know that I felt helpless.

It wasn’t until I heard Eve come huffing and puffing into the lot that I leaned back on my heels.

“Too late,” I said, glancing up at her.

Eve’s expression fell. “What do you mean, too late? I called 911. They’re on their way.”

As if on cue, we heard the distant sounds of sirens. They got closer, and before we knew it, the area behind Très Bonne Cuisine was awash in pulsing red light.

The paramedics were gems. They moved in and moved us back so they could get to work administering CPR. When that didn’t work, they shocked Drago with one of those portable defibrillators. But the whole thing went on too long. Five minutes. Ten. Fifteen. I knew it wasn’t a good sign, even before I heard one of them say something about “no use.”

At some point, I realized Eve was crying. I put an arm around her shoulders and together, we watched the flurry of activity and the expressions of the paramedics that started out with so much intensity melt into despair and then resignation. Through it all, I felt drained and strangely ghoulish.

Was it right for us to stand there and watch?

Should we have minded our own business and gotten on with our lives and left these men to their work?

Was there anything we could have done? Anything that would have changed the outcome? Anything that could have kept poor Drago from…

“I’m calling it.” Wiping one hand across his forehead, the paramedic in charge backed away from the body.

I gave Eve’s shoulders a squeeze. “You’re shivering.”

She sniffed and scrubbed a finger under her nose. “I’ve never seen anybody die before.”

“No. Me, neither.” Technically, of course, Eve hadn’t seen Drago die, but I wasn’t about to argue. In this case, close definitely counted. “It’s so sad. Dying in a parking lot with nobody around but strangers.”

“Beyla probably planned it that way,” Eve murmured.

I rolled my eyes, but I couldn’t be too hard on Eve. Though she tried for a tough-girl exterior, I knew that right below the surface, Eve was as soft as a marshmallow. Wild theories or no wild theories, just being this close to death-even the death of a man we knew only in passing-was bound to throw her for a loop.

“Beyla had nothing to do with this,” I reminded her. As they laid a white sheet over Drago’s face, I remembered his last, labored words.

A couple of the paramedics went back to the ambulance to get a stretcher and I hurried over to the head paramedic, whose nametag identified him as Sean. He was a muscular guy with a serious face and buzz cut. He had a clipboard in his hand, and was filling out a report.

I stepped around the white sheet and the shape beneath it. “He was asking for someone,” I said. “A woman, I think. Are you going to be able to find out-”

He put a hand on my arm. “You were here, right? You’re the one who called us?”

“That was me.” Eve moved up behind me. “I did do the right thing, didn’t I?”

Sean stepped back and looked Eve up and down. “Oh, yeah. You did great. It takes one amazing woman to keep her head when something like this is happening.”

“It was nothing.” Eve sighed. “I just couldn’t stand by and watch another human being suffer and not take action. You understand. I’m sure you do. I know that’s exactly why you chose your noble profession.”

I figured I had to put an end to things before the flirtation got out of hand.

“Let’s not forget Alba,” I exclaimed. They both looked at me like I was nuts. “Alba. The woman Drago mentioned right before he died.”

Sean checked his clipboard. “Drago. Yeah, Drago Kravic. That’s the name on the driver’s license in the guy’s wallet. I’m a little mixed up. You knew the deceased?”

“We don’t.” Eve piped up before I could explain about the cooking school or how we’d heard Beyla and Drago argue. “He told us his name. Right before he breathed his last,” she murmured, heaving another sigh. I turned to her in disbelief, ready to protest, but she gave me her best keep your mouth shut-or else! look, and plowed ahead. Luckily, Sean was still looking at his clipboard. “We didn’t know him at all. We were just walking through the parking lot and there he was. It was…” She blinked rapidly. “Well, I don’t know if I’ll be able to sleep tonight.”

“Maybe Alba won’t either, when she learns the news,” I suggested. I turned to Sean. “Alba Stru. I think that’s the name he mentioned. Will you be able to find her?”

He consulted the clipboard again. “We found his wallet. That means we’ve got all his vitals. Name. Address. Phone. If this Alba is next of kin, you can be sure we’ll find her. In the meantime…” He signaled to his crew, and they lifted Drago’s body onto the stretcher and slid it into the ambulance. Sean gave a wave as if to say that he’d be right there.

“There’s going to be a police officer here in a couple minutes,” he said. “Just routine. They always send out a patrol car when something like this happens. Actually, they should have been here by now-there must have been some delay. If you could just stick around and give the officer your names and addresses…” He looked at Eve when he said it, and I thought he was going to ask for her phone number, too, except one of his buddies called to him, and he turned toward the ambulance.

“There’s the officer now,” Sean said, as he hopped in. He pointed toward the green-and-white patrol car just pulling into the lot. “Thanks for your help, ladies.”

“Oh, no. Thank you !” Eve put a hand up to wave.

I slapped it down. “This isn’t a speed dating event,” I told her from between clenched teeth. I figured we didn’t need one of Arlington’s finest to find us fighting. “And why did you make up that story about how Drago told us his name as he breathed his last? Why didn’t you just tell him the truth about Beyla and the argument-”

“Now, hold on.” Eve straightened her shoulder, posing, no doubt, in preparation for meeting the police officer who had stopped the patrol car. “You’re the one who insists that Beyla didn’t have anything to do with Drago’s death. So why mention it? Besides, it made for a better story, don’t you think? The dying guy breathing his last words to the women who came to his aid.”

“Woman,” I reminded her, preparing to launch into a speech about the consequences of lying to a paramedic. But then I realized Eve wasn’t listening. Which wouldn’t have worried me so much if I hadn’t caught a glimpse of the expression on her face.

Eve’s gaze was fastened to the patrol car that had just pulled into the lot. The door swung open. Eve’s jaw dropped. For a moment, I couldn’t tell if she was surprised or angry or-

She grabbed my arm. Tighter than she had when we first found Drago.

More bruises. Just what I didn’t need.

I glanced from my friend to the officer just getting out of the car. It was a woman, and though she was wearing a standard uniform hat, I could tell she was a redhead. She also just happened to be gorgeous. The officer was a few years younger than Eve and me. She had a thin nose, high cheekbones, porcelain skin, and a body that didn’t have an extra ounce of fat anywhere on it.

“Eve? What’s wrong?”

Eve’s muscles clenched. She raised her chin and pasted a smile on her face that reminded me of the one I’d seen her use in every beauty pageant she’d ever been in over the years.

The officer closed in on us. Eve spoke, adding a dollop of Southern accent to her voice until her words were as thick as hominy.