Page 85 of The High Tide Club
“Carter County Sheriff’s Office. Is this a life-threatening emergency?” The dispatcher’s voice was calm and detached, the exact opposite of how Brooke was feeling at that moment.
“Er, no—that is, the person is already dead,” Brooke replied.
She could hear the tapping of computer keys on the other end of the line.
“Ma’am, can you tell me the manner of death?”
“She’s, uh, ninety-nine years old, and I believe she fell and hit her head.”
“Accidental, then. I see you’re calling from over there on Talisa Island?”
“That’s right.”
“Name of deceased?” More tapping.
“Josephine Bettendorf Warrick,” Brooke said.
“Ohhhhh,” the dispatcher said. “That’s so sad, and I’m very sorry to hear it. Miss Josephine did a lot of good things for this community.”
“Yes, it is a shame.”
“All right, hon. I’m gonna call Sheriff Goolsby, because he was a personal friend of Miss Josephine’s, and I’ll ask him to call you right back. Is this a good number?”
“It’s the only number,” Brooke said. “My cell doesn’t have good reception here.”
“Okay, well, you sit tight while I get ahold of the sheriff. What’s your name, hon?”
Brooke told her.
“I know you!” The dispatcher’s voice warmed. “My niece Farrah works for you. This is her aunt Jodee. Now, you being a lawyer and all, you probably already know this, but y’all just leave Miss Josephine right where she’s at. Don’t try moving her or nothing like that.”
“I promise you, nobody is going to move her body.”
After she’d hung up, Brooke took a few more sips of coffee and waited. She really wanted to call Farrah and check on Henry, but she also didn’t want to miss the sheriff’s call.
She paced around the kitchen, looking out the window for the return of Louette and Shug, trying not to think of Josephine’s lifeless body stretched out on the bathroom floor. Ten minutes later the phone rang, and she grabbed it.
“Sheriff Goolsby here. Is this Brooke Trappnell?”
“This is she.”
“Jodee tells me Miss Josephine has taken a fall and died?”
“Yes. We think she got up in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom and perhaps tripped over one of her dogs and hit her head when she fell. There’s quite a bit of blood.”
“Don’t touch a thing,” the sheriff said sternly. “At all. Are you able to close off that bathroom?”
“Yes.”
“Do that. I’ll call the funeral home and try to raise the coroner, and we’ll be over there ASAP. Don’t touch anything. Understand?”
Brooke rolled her eyes. “Yes, I’ve got the message. If you’ll call this number when you’re close to the Shellhaven dock, somebody will come down and bring you up to the house.”
She glanced over at the kitchen clock. Just past eight. Henry would have been up for at least two hours by now. She dialed her babysitter’s number, crossing her fingers that all would be well. One crisis per morning was all she was equipped to handle.
“Farrah? How’s it going?”
“Oh, Brooke, hey. Everything’s cool. Henry’s being a really good boy. Aren’t you, Henry?”
