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“Talking to them now,” Haley cried. “They want to know what...”
“Toxic fumes, tell them some kind of toxic smoke bomb.” In the melee, with people all around her, Theodosia lost sight of Haley for a few moments. Then she found her again. “Are they coming?” she asked.
“They’re coming.” Haley had to shout to be heard above the cries and screams.
“Tell them to send ambulances, EMTs, everything they’ve got.” Theodosia looked around. “We probably have a couple dozen injured people here.”
“The dispatcher wants to know who released the...”
“I think it was just the one guy,” Theodosia shouted back. “A phony beekeeper who...”
BOOM!
That noise—an explosion, really—rattled Theodosia’s teeth and rocked her back on her heels. But her brain instantaneously sorted out exactly what she’d heard.
A gunshot? Oh my Lord, I think it was. I know it was.
Wiping her eyes, squinting into the filmy cloud that was slowly starting to dissipate, she saw the phony beekeeper standing there. He had a gun clutched in his right hand with Claxton’s body sprawled at his feet.
The beekeeper’s protective suit still obscured his identity, and he held the smoker in his other hand. But it was his attitude that chilled Theodosia to the bone. He seemed to gaze at Claxton’s body in a gloating, self-satisfied manner. Taking pride in his kill as well as the terrible panic he’d brought about.
The phony beekeeper cocked his head, as if making some sort of critical decision. Then he spun on his heels and began to sprint awkwardly across the park. He obviously had one single burning thought in mind—get away from this place fast!
At the same time, a nugget of white-hot rage exploded inside Theodosia’s brain. She took in Claxton’s prone body—the man had to be dead—as well as the tearful guests that milled about, still looking panicked. And she was gripped by one all-consuming thought—run the killer down!
Not having access to a weapon, not even thinking all that clearly, Theodosia grabbed the first thing she saw—a tall glass vase filled with bright yellow jonquils. Tucking the vase under one arm, Theodosia took off running.
***
“Stop!” Theodosia cried as she pounded across the vast expanse of green parkland in hot pursuit of the phony beekeeper. She leaped across a bed of daylilies and dodged a small copse of dogwood. She saw that, up ahead, the phony beekeeper was running badly. He was hindered by his bulky suit and the clanking smoker that banged against his legs. So, little by little, as Theodosia chased after him, she was beginning to close the gap.
He killed a man, was the terrible thought that spiraled through Theodosia’s brain and propelled her forward. And spewed out some kind of toxic smoke that made people sick. Made my guests sick.
She lowered her head, hunched her shoulders forward, and forced herself to lengthen her strides, to kick it into high gear. She was a longtime jogger with an abundance of stamina. So maybe she could catch him?
Maybe, but then what?
Her answer came in the form of a black-and-white dog, a kind of collie-Labrador mix, that suddenly sprinted out of a nearby wooded area. Legs churning, haunches bunched like a jackrabbit, the dog began chasing after the running man. The dog probably saw it as a game, but Theodosia was grateful for the help.
Catching up fast, almost running on the man’s heels now, the dog let out a series of high-pitched barks. When the man didn’t stop to play, the dog gathered itself into a coiled bunch and lunged forward, his teeth catching the legs of the man’s flapping suit.
That’s it, get him! Theodosia’s heart was suddenly filled with hope.
But no. The dog’s interference had slowed the man down some, but it didn’t stop him completely. Angered by the canine intrusion, the man spun around and lifted his pistol. Half running, half backpedaling now, the man aimed his weapon directly at the dog
He’s going to kill the dog! Theodosia loved dogs more than anything.
“Don’t!” she shouted.
Startled to hear someone shout at him, the phony beekeeper’s hand jerked sideways. He looked around hastily and saw Theodosia running full tilt in his direction.
Then the beekeeper readjusted his aim and pointed the gun at her!
Theodosia ducked her head and threw herself down on the grass just as he pulled the trigger. There was another loud BANG and a high-pitched ZING as something—presumably the bullet—flew past her head.
That’s when Theodosia made a split-second decision. Scrambling to her feet, she assumed a power stance, and cocked her right arm. Then she let fly, hurling the glass vase directly at the phony beekeeper with as much force as she could muster. The vase sailed through the air, flipping over and over, spewing water and flowers as it went. Theodosia watched, hypnotized, following the arc of the vase, feeling as if this whole thing were happening in slow motion. Then the scenario seemed to jump ahead into hyperspace and speed up, like super cranked film footage, as the vase smashed hard against the side of the man’s helmet. Instantly, shards of glass, water, and flowers exploded everywhere.
Caught completely off guard, momentarily stunned by the direct hit to his head, the assailant was knocked off balance. He stumbled to his left, caught a foot on the turf, tripped, and started to go down. One of his knees hit the ground and his arms flew out to try to steady himself. As his arms flailed wildly, seeking to regain his balance, he also fumbled his gun.
