Last Gasp

Chapter One

I was enjoying a nice cup of Earl Grey tea in my mother’s cozy kitchen, when she spoiled the moment by saying, “They found a body down at Murre Bay.”

I bugged my eyes and almost spit out my mouthful of tea. Once I’d swallowed, I said, “Excuse me? What did you say?”

“It’s true.” She shivered and as she set the warm beverage down, the china cup chattered against the saucer. “I can’t stop thinking about it.”

“You’re actually saying they found a body? You mean… like one that isn’t breathing?” A chill went down my spine at her words. I’d been down at that beach area just a few days ago, walking my client’s dogs. It was a beautiful spot, but very secluded.

“Yes. A dead body.”

“When did this happen?”

“Yesterday. I’m surprised you didn’t hear about it.”

“I crashed when I got home. I was beat,” I murmured. “Do you know who it was?”

“The police don’t think it was anyone local.”

Uneasiness rippled through me as I asked, “Was it natural causes?” It had to be, right?

She sighed. “They don’t think so.”

“They don’t think so?” My voice went up an octave. “You’re telling me someone was murdered at Murre Bay?”

Grimacing, she said, “Well, they haven’t said it was murder. Not yet. They simply know it wasn’t a natural death. It could have been accidental.”

“God, that’s awful.”

“I know. Mrs. Munson told me when I went to pick up my dry cleaning yesterday evening.” She shook her head. “I’m still in shock. Pearl Bay isn’t the sort of town where dead bodies just turn up.”

“I can’t believe you didn’t call me and tell me.”

She sighed. “I just didn’t want to be the bearer of bad news. You’ve seemed so down lately.”

I didn’t respond to her comment about my mood. I didn’t think I’d seemed any worse than usual. “So you don’t know exactly how that person died?”

“No. Mrs. Munson didn’t know many details. She just said they’d found the body of a man, and the police didn’t think it was natural causes.”

“Maybe it was a homeless person. I noticed a few makeshift tents on the beach when I was down there the other day.”

“Maybe. There are homeless people all over the country.” I could feel my mother watching me from beneath her lashes. “Some people have no one. No family. No husband or wife.”

“That’s very true.”

“Life is so short,” she said. “Don’t you think?”

“It can be.”

“One day you’re here, and then… poof.”

“It goes fast, I guess.” I wasn’t sure where she was going with this, but suspected she had something she wanted to talk about. My mother usually had an agenda. A project. Generally, that project was me.

She cleared her throat. “I’ve been thinking.”

Here we go.

She tapped her french tip against the china cup. “We need to do something about your nonexistent social life.”

Scowling, I said, “How did we get from some poor soul’s death to my social life?”

“Isn’t it obvious?”

“Not really.”

She leaned toward me, resting her elbows on the oak table. “Honey, you could die tomorrow, without ever having really lived.”

I raised my brows. “Well, that’s grim.”

She sighed. “I know. But I’ve been worrying about it a lot lately.”

“You don’t need to.”

“What if something happens to me?”

I frowned. “Nothing is going to happen to you. Don’t be silly.”

She studied me intently. “We need to do something.”

I laughed uneasily, holding my mother’s assessing gaze. “We don’t have to do anything about my social life.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, my dear.”

“I don’t think I am wrong. I’m pretty sure I’d know.”

Her expression was deceptively innocent. “You work, you sleep. You work, you sleep. When do you ever have any fun?”

I said skeptically, “So you’re worried about me having fun? That’s all this is?”

“Yes.”

“That’s it? There are no ulterior motives to this conversation?”

“Of course not.”

I narrowed my eyes. “I only ask because sometimes you poke your nose in where it doesn’t belong.”

She sputtered, “I do not.”

“If you say so.”