Bone Harvest by Mary Logue Page B

other arm. Claire cupped the back of his neck with her hand and said, “I’ll try to get into the spirit of things. It looks like a party down here.”
    Meg wanted to run off and play on the swings, so they let her go, telling her to find them at the beach in a few minutes. Rich slung his now free arm over Claire’s shoulders.
    “I take work with me too much,” she confessed.
    “That’s a good thing about you. You make our county a safer place to live.”
    “You sound like an ad,” she said, but she was laughing.
    “Let’s go get a good spot to watch from,” he suggested.
    “Oh, Rich, I ate too many potato chips. I need a glass of something.”
    “Beer?”
    “No alcohol. I might need to do a little more work tonight.”
    “They’ve got some kind of food stand. We’ll swing by and get you something on our way to the beach.”
    They walked slowly, exchanging greetings with their neighbors and watching the night settle over the bay. Rich stood in line with Claire to get the drink and when she got to the front, she ordered lemonade.
    As they turned to head toward the beach, Rich saw Harold Peabody over Claire’s shoulder.
    Who was that with Harold? he wondered. When the man turned and faced Rich, he could make out that it was Andy Lowman. He wondered what those two could be talking about. They didn’t have much in common. Suddenly Andy clutched his throat.
    Rich stopped walking and gave his full attention to what was going on with Andy.
    Claire lifted the glass of lemonade toward Rich and said, “Do you want a drink?”
    Rich shook his head, not saying anything. He was watching the glass of lemonade Andy had in his hand as it went flying. Then Andy collapsed.
    “I’m so thirsty,” Claire said as she lifted the drink to her mouth.
    Rich’s hand rose up and just as the plastic cup touched her lips, he knocked it away, lemonade spraying them both.

CHAPTER 11
    Claire felt herself splitting into pieces as she tried to determine what to do. She had to help the man who had fallen. She had to stop what was happening. She had to find out who had done it. It was too much. Her greatest fear was that whoever had stolen the pesticides was at work again.
    The first thing was to ask for help. Rich had told her that he thought it was the lemonade that had made the man sick.
    “Rich, you gotta stop them from selling any more of that lemonade. Go up and talk to the owner. Don’t let anyone drink it.”
    As Rich ran to the stand to shut it down, Claire turned to help Harold Peabody, who was about to collapse under the big man’s weight. They held him together and then gently lowered him to the ground.
    “Who is he?” Claire asked.
    “Andy Lowman,” Harold said as they settled him on the dirt. He was trying to hold Andy steady, as the afflicted man held his stomach, twisting and moaning in pain.
    “What happened?” Claire asked Harold as she pulled out her cell phone. Harold shrugged. She knelt by Andy and, as she punched in the numbers of the station, she tried to reassure him. “Andy, you’re going to be all right. We’re right here. I’m calling for help right now.”
    Harold leaned him forward and encouraged him to hang in there, but Andy was fading. His face was pallid and he seemed to be having trouble breathing.
    Claire needed to get help for him immediately. Her call was picked up by Judy. Thank God, she was one cool cucumber.
    “I think we’ve got a poisoning in Fort St. Antoine. The park. At the fireworks. Send the ambulance and tell them we may have a case of Parazone or Caridon poisoning. Tell them to refer to my memo. And make sure they do it.”
    “Got it,” Judy said back to her.
    When Claire clicked off the cell phone and turned her attention back to Andy, she remembered what Bridget had told her about what the pesticide could do. As she knelt by the man, she started to check him over. He was sweating and salivating profusely, gagging reflexes shaking his whole body. All these responses were