Chapter 7

“No, no, no,” I muttered to myself. “Not again. Not here. Not now. Not him. Ack!”

I spun around in a useless circle of panic. What was I trying to do? Achieve liftoff? I hurried over to his side. Maybe he was asleep. Maybe he was drunk and passed out. Yes! That had to be it. There was no need to freak out. He seemed the type who would get blasted right before a formal dinner and sleep through the whole thing.

I hitched up my skirt a bit and knelt down beside him. I touched his shoulder. “Hey, wake up.”

He didn’t wake up.

“Dooney,” I said. “Dinner is about to start. You have to be there. Piper is going to be looking for you.” I had hoped mentioning his formidable bride-to-be would be enough to bring him out of his sleep coma, but no.

He didn’t even twitch. I inhaled through my nose and tried to steady my hands, which were beginning to tremble with a very bad feeling. I needed to get some help. Even if he was just drunk, I couldn’t pick him up myself.

My gaze flitted to his face. Gone were the sarcastic sneer and look of disdain. Instead, his features were slack, relaxed even, as though he truly was sleeping. I wished desperately for it to be so, but as I pressed my hand against his face, I was struck by how sunken he looked, as if he’d caved in on himself. He was nonresponsive. No air moved from his nose or mouth. I fell backward and scooted away from him. I’d seen enough. I knew a deceased person when I saw one.

I pushed myself up off the soft carpet and turned toward the door. It was still partly open, and just as I reached it, Archie Carlton appeared. I yelped and put a hand over my chest.

“Mr. Carlton, I’m afraid something terrible has happened,” I said.

He looked past me and took in the sight of Dooney on the floor. His face paled beneath his bushy red beard, and his light blue eyes went wide as he muttered, “So, the lass has claimed another.”

He stepped forward and checked Dooney’s pulse at his wrist. He then put his ear to Dooney’s chest. I waited, hoping I’d been wrong. I wasn’t. Mr. Carlton stood, turned on his heel and strode from the library. No way was I staying behind. I hurried after him. Once we were outside, he took a key—one of those old-fashioned skeleton-type keys—and turned it in the lock.

“We don’t want anyone else stumbling into that room,” he said.

“We need to call an ambulance,” I said. “And Piper and the Portis family need to be told.”