Page 22 of Death at a Scottish Halloween

“I’m calling Ewan,” Abigail whispered.

I didn’t argue.

“Should we go back to the pub and wait?” Jasper asked.

I pressed on. Whatever was in front of the door, it wasn’t moving.

I used the flashlight on my phone, and it appeared to be someone sitting there. They wore a mask.

“If this is some kind trick or joke, I’m not finding it funny,” I said loudly. I’d heard more than one tale about Halloween gags people pulled in town. I’d been hoping to skip all that.

Said the woman who spent hours scaring people earlier.

Again, the figure didn’t move.

I threw caution aside and ran forward.

The figure wore a cape and a Dracula mask. One of those cheap plastic ones that often stick to your face and smell terrible.

“Are you OK?”

I flipped the mask up. The man’s eyes were closed, and he wasn’t breathing. He was to the right of the door.

“Abigail I need your help.”

She and Jasper ran forward. We clumsily picked the man up and moved him inside, still on the floor. I started CPR.

“Grab the defib.” The man was still warm. If we could restart his heart, he might have a chance.

The lights came on and Abigail ran off. Two seconds later, she and the oxygen mask came hurtling toward us.

“Tell me what you need.” Jasper said across from me.

“Put that over his mouth and pump when I tell you to,” I said.

We went to work on the man. He seemed familiar but I was too busy trying to save him to think much about from where.

By the time Abigail made it back, I didn’t have much hope, but we kept trying.

“Three hundred,” I said to her, and she flipped the switch and then turned the dial on the defib.

We shocked him three times, but there was no sinus rhythm.

“Who is he?” Jasper asked.

“I’ve seen him before, but I can’t place him.” I prayed it was natural causes and had nothing to do with our other victim. Otherwise, we had a double murder in Sea Isle.

Chapter Six

Isighed. And then jumped as the front door burst open. Ewan nearly tripped over us but stopped himself. “What’s wrong? Abigail only textedemergency.” He stared down at the body.

“He was sitting outside the door,” I said. “I’m afraid he’s dead. No idea about the cause. We tried CPR and the paddles. Nothing worked, I’m afraid. Do you know who he is? He isn’t one of my patients, but he’s familiar.”

“I do.” He pulled out his phone and showed me a picture. “This is the other Duncan Craig.”

“Oh, no,” Abigail cried out. “That poor family.”

I had to agree. I’d only glanced at the photo when his wife had shown it to us. I should have remembered.