Quilting Can Be Criminal by J Traveler Pelton

Author:J Traveler Pelton
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Published: 2020-03-25T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter 17

Behind the bookstore, lying in the snow, Melody was barely conscious. Looking out his window across the ally, her neighbor saw her and ran out to see if he could help. He rapidly called 9-1-1 when it was evident she was hurt. Sheriff Black called the clinic. Marti Davis, the nurse practitioner, grabbed a bag she kept for emergencies and dashed two blocks down to the bookstore.

The sheriff in the squad car got there just behind Marti, who had sprinted over. She had been on the All-State Girls’ track and field team in college and was still in better shape than the sheriff had been even in his younger years at the police academy. She went at once to her patient and cautioned her not to move.

“I’m so cold,” Melody complained.

“No doubt. Is the bookstore open? Is there a blanket in there?” asked Marti.

“I don’t think so. I was just going in to open for the day and I got hit from behind. I don’t think I’m hurt too bad. I get dizzy when I try to sit up.”

“I’ve already called for the ambulance to run you into the ER in Berlin,” Marti said. “BP is good, pulse elevated, no blood, but my! You are going to have a goose egg. Your eyes are reactive both sides, so you don’t appear to have a severe concussion.” She was talking into a small recorder as she ran her examination.

“You say someone hit you from behind?” asked the sheriff. He had brought a blanket from his squad car. Marti took it and tucked it around Melody.

“Didn’t say a thing. Just thump and here we are. I’m going to have to change these pants, they’re all muddy wet now. And oh!” she swallowed. “I feel like upchucking when I move like that.” She swallowed a few times, took some shallow breaths and continued. “It had to happen just as I was opening up,” she fussed. “Old Mrs. Myers and her husband come over for a cup of coffee early, to gossip and to read the newspaper every morning and they’ll be wondering why the shop isn’t open yet.” She started to rise and fell back down. “Wow, that does not feel good.”

“Just a minute,” replied the sheriff. “Let me get something that’s under your head.” He gently slid his hand under her head, lifted her an inch and pulled out a quilt square. Shaking his head, he pushed his folded muffler under her head for padding on the cold ground.

“Blast it all,” he muttered. “This is getting really old.”

“That’s a log cabin,” replied Marti, glancing up as she completed her exam. “Melody, I don’t think you are going to have any severe results from this, but I’d feel better if you’d go to the ER. It’s a short ride and there are some bad things that a thump on the head can cause. Dizziness and nausea are some of the symptoms of a fractured skull.”

“The back door wasn’t opened. May I have the key to your shop?” asked the sheriff.

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