Sourdough and Cyanide: Laughing Loaf Bakery Mystery #4 (The Laughing Loaf Bakery Mysteries) by Victoria Kazarian

Author:Victoria Kazarian [Kazarian, Victoria]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Fog Hollow Books
Published: 2024-02-06T00:00:00+00:00

Five minutes later, Beck, Chloe and I were cleaning up the front for tomorrow’s opening.

“So glad that’s over,” I’d just taken a mop to the dining room floor to wipe up a coffee spill.

I looked up as I heard pounding on the front door. Through the front door window, I saw Ashley’s horrified face. I ran to open it.

Ashley was breathing in and out fast, like she was hyperventilating.

“D-Daniel’s in the car. He’d just sat down. Next thing I saw, he slumped over in his seat.” She wiped at a trail of mascara running down her face. “I just called 911. I picked up his wrist and couldn’t feel any pulse.”

I ran out the door to see Chief Westerman pull up at the curb in the RGPD squad car. EMTs from the county wheeled up in a van right behind the Chief.

I ran outside and stood under the awning, trying to stay out of the way of the responders.

EMTs darted toward the passenger side of the car. They were talking to Ashley, who had crumpled down to the curb in front of Daniel with a guttural wail. They were trying to convince her to move out of the way, so they could get to the baker.

It was like a scene from of an over-the-top movie. After Ashley Fontaine’s dramatic collapse, one of the EMTs went around and opened the driver’s door to reach Daniel.

Finally, the Chief gently helped Ashley up. With his hands on her back and arm, he guided her to the sidewalk, so the EMTs could attend to Daniel.

“Oh my God! Daniel!” Ashley tried to wrest herself away from the Chief.

“Ashley, this isn’t helping Daniel.” Omar spoke to her softly. He put his hand on her arm and she flung it off.

“Ma’am, the EMTs need to do their job,” the Chief was saying, then she finally stopped fighting him. “You say this is your husband?”

“Yes. His name is Daniel Bordleman. I’m his wife, Ashley Fontaine.”

“The medical examiner will be here in a few minutes, Ashley,” the Chief said, in a calming voice. “I’ll stay right here with you. Can you tell me what happened right before this? Had he been sick? Any breathing issues?”

“No, nothing.” Ashley’s mascara had smeared down her face. “He’d just finished teaching a class at the bakery here.”

“A couple of us noticed his skin was very pink during the talk,” I said. As if on cue, Beck and Chloe came out of the bakery and stood nearby.

The Chief looked at me, then shot a look at Daniel’s body. “He is pink. Bright pink.”

One of the EMTs stepped back. He frowned as if trying to remember something. “Was your husband around a lot of smoke in the past 24 hours—from a house or wildfire?”

It seemed like a random question. Ashley shook her head and continued heaving. “No. Not at all.”

The EMT continued. “It’s the skin color. I’ve seen a case of it, a man we rescued from a house fire. His body wasn’t processing oxygen. The oxygen stayed in the blood, but it was never transferred to the cells.

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