She’d set the tarot reading room up for an impromptu dinner. I gawked as her father grasped his throat, writhed on the floor, and suddenly lost consciousness. After I’d hurriedly called 9-1-1, rescue personnel soon rushed into the room to take over the scene. Alongside a police officer, I stood and watched paramedics finger sweep his mouth for an obstruction before they bundled Franklin Seever onto a stretcher and rolled him out the door followed by BettyJo. When she’d reached the door, BettyJo glanced over her shoulder. “I’ll be at the hospital. You’ll be right along, won’t you?” I said I would as soon as I locked up for her. BettyJo glanced at the others before she hurried out. I turned to the officer and asked, “What can I do for you, Bailey?” Alan Bailey and I had taken college courses together before I realized I wanted to bake bread for a living. He was broad but physically fit. I noticed how Bailey’s brown eyes took in our surroundings without missing a beat.
