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Haley was gathering up wicker picnic baskets, as if she was trying to tidy up, but where was Drayton?
“Drayton?” Theodosia called out. “Drayton?” She looked around, not quite frantic but certainly concerned.
“Over here,” came a croaky voice.
Theodosia spun around and found Drayton sitting at one of the far tables. He was hunched over and coughing viciously.
Oh no, he needs help.
She ran over and grabbed the sleeve of an EMT, a young Black woman with a blue bag full of gear, and pulled her over to Drayton.
The EMT made an immediate assessment. “How’s the breathing?” she asked him. “Need some help?”
Drayton shook his head even as he let loose a vicious series of coughs. “No,” he managed to choke out. Then, thick-voiced, added a reluctant, “Well, maybe.”
The EMT, whose nametag read m. lilac, pulled out a portable respirator and attached a hose.
“Try to relax and breathe a few of these Os,” she said.
Drayton nodded as the EMT placed a clear plastic mask over his nose and mouth and slipped a plastic band around the back of his head. Drayton breathed slowly and evenly as Theodosia and the EMT watched him expectantly. Within minutes, a fair amount of color returned to his face.
“Better,” Drayton said to the EMT. “Better than he is.” He gestured at the tarp that covered the body of Osgood Claxton some thirty feet away.
The EMT followed his gaze, then grimaced at the sight of the body. “Stay on the Os for a few more minutes until you feel steady,” she urged. Then she patted him on the shoulder and went off to help the next person.
Theodosia kept an eagle eye on Drayton. He was a healthy sixty-something but wasn’t exactly a spring chicken anymore. “How are you feeling?” she asked. “I mean really?”
Drayton nodded. “I’m better. Better than most, I think. I was far enough away from the... what was it? Some kind of toxic smoke or gas?”
“Not sure,” Theodosia said. “Something like that.”
“Where did you run off to?”
“You don’t want to know,” Theodosia said.
Drayton frowned, then his brows rose in alarm. “Oh no, tell me you didn’t.”
“I’m afraid I did.”
“You ran after the beekeeper?”
“Someone had to.”
“Did you catch him?”
“Not even close,” Theodosia said.
“Well, at least you’re still in one piece,” Drayton said.
Theodosia gazed around Petigru Park and saw that most of the guests were back on their feet again or were being helped to their feet by quick-acting EMTs and police. Thank goodness for these wonderful first responders. They’d come rushing in to help, not knowing how dangerous or toxic the chemicals might be.
But the party wasn’t over yet.
A large black Suburban blatted its horn as it nosed its way up and over a curb, rumbled across a paved walking path, and drove into the park. It rolled across fifty yards of green grass, threading its way past the ambulances and police cruisers, heading toward the edge of the picnic area where Theodosia and Drayton were seated.
“This looks serious,” Theodosia said.
Drayton pushed his mask aside. “Who is it? Homeland Security?”
