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here.
    Travis spoke again, claiming her attention, and this time Wanda Nell knew enough to clap her hands over her ears as the first few words left his mouth. He was disgusting, and she hummed softly to block out the rest of what he had to say about his bride and their honeymoon. Gerald didn’t react. When Wanda Nell looked for him, he was back in his chair, nursing a drink. He glared at his brother, but he remained silent.
    After a moment, Blakeley shut up, and Wanda Nell took her hands away from her ears. Travis picked up his glass, full again, from a table behind him. He held it out in front of him, inviting everyone to raise their glasses. Then Blakeley put the glass to his lips and knocked the contents back in one gulp.
    He swallowed, grinning broadly, and started to say something. His face contorted, and he dropped the glass to the floor, where it shattered. Clutching his throat and gasping for air, Blakeley stumbled against the table behind him. He went down, bringing the table with him.
    As the horrified men and Wanda Nell watched, Blakeley’s body twitched a few times, then stopped. He lay unmoving on the floor.

Four
    For a moment, no one did anything. Then the room erupted in noise and movement. The younger Dr. Crowell pushed his way to the front of the group that had collected around the fallen man.
    â€œGet back,” he ordered, his voice loud. “Give me some room. Dad!”
    The elder Dr. Crowell shambled forward, and the men stepped aside quickly to let him pass. The younger man knelt beside Blakeley, and from where Wanda Nell stood, she couldn’t see what he was doing.
    One of the cops had a cell phone out, and Wanda Nell figured he was calling for an ambulance. The hospital was only a few minutes away. Would they get there in time to save Travis Blakeley?
    There was something odd about the whole thing, she thought. Why should Blakeley collapse after bolting down some bourbon? He had drunk at least one glass already without any visible effects. Why should this glass of bourbon affect him like that?
    Wanda Nell didn’t deliberate any longer. She slipped out of the back room, around the counter, through the kitchen, and back to Melvin’s office. She dialed a number she knew all too well, thanks to the events of the past year. When the dispatcher at the sheriff’s department answered, she asked for the acting sheriff, Elmer Lee Johnson.
    â€œAnd don’t tell me he’s busy,” Wanda Nell snapped when the dispatcher started asking questions. “Tell him it’s Wanda Nell, and that there’s an emergency.”
    The dispatcher didn’t argue. “I’ll patch you through to him, ma’am.”
    Wanda Nell waited, precious seconds ticking by, and nearly a minute later Elmer Lee came on the line.
    â€œWhat the hell do you want, Wanda Nell? Don’t you know it’s Saturday night? I’m trying to have a little peace and quiet here at home.”
    â€œOh, put a plug in it, Elmer Lee,” Wanda Nell said, her temper flaring from having to wait. “You get your scrawny butt over to the Kountry Kitchen, and do it now. Something bad just happened here, and you need to see to it.”
    â€œWhat the hell happened?” Elmer Lee breathed heavily into the phone.
    Wanda Nell resisted the urge to slam the phone down. Lord, but the man could be frustrating at the best of times.
    â€œA cop named Travis Blakeley just collapsed during his bachelor party, and I think maybe somebody poisoned him.”
    â€œTravis Blakeley?” Elmer Lee didn’t wait for further confirmation. He muttered something that sounded like an obscenity before saying, “I’m on the way.” The phone clicked loudly in Wanda Nell’s ear.
    Setting the receiver in its cradle, Wanda Nell stared down at the phone.
    What if she had overreacted? What if Travis Blakeley just had a weak heart or something like that?
    Was she completely out of her mind? How could