Page 27 of Pau Hana: Cat cozy Humor Mystery (Paradise Crime Cozy Mystery Book 5)

Although I’d putmy cell phone on vibrate, the thing still woke me up when it started buzzing and inching its way across my nightstand like an angry rattlesnake.

The clock next to my bed said it was eleven thirty-eight, close to the middle of the night. I grabbed the phone, ready to tap “Decline” and let the call go to voicemail, when I saw who was calling: Opal Pahinui.

Opal wasn’t usually awake at this time of night, let alone calling. Something must be wrong. “Hey, Opal. What’s up?”

“I’m sorry to call so late, Kat. Were you sleeping?”

What is it about admitting you’ve been asleep that makes us uncomfortable? I don’t know, but I said, “No, it’s fine. I’m awake now.”

“I hate to bother you, but I’ve got a problem and need your help. Artie’s fallen. I can’t seem to wake him.”

Now I was wide awake. “Did you call nine-one-one?”

“I did, but the ambulance in Hana is already on a call so they said it might take a while.”

“I’ll be right there.”

I threw on the same jeans and polo shirt I’d worn to work that day and made it to the general store in record time. Opal had left the door that led to their apartment open. I hurried inside without knocking; Opal met me, tying her robe on over an old-fashioned nightgown. The overhead lights cast deep shadows under her round, terrified eyes. “Artie got up to use the bathroom and fell just inside the doorway. Follow me.”

She directed me to where he lay, and I had to hold back from crying out when I saw how he was splayed across the floor, his arms and legs at angles to his body. His slack face was the color of putty, and his eyes were partially open.

Opal’s face was nearly as pale as Artie’s. She sucked in her lips and gazed at me as if hoping I’d be able to perform a miracle.

I dropped to my knees beside Artie and felt for a pulse in his slack neck; it was there. His chest rose and fell. “I think it looks worse than it is,” I said—like I had any clue; I only knew basic first aid and CPR.

I fumbled my phone out of my pocket and called Elle Beane; she was the closest thing to a nearby medical professional I could think of. I was relieved when she picked up, and I gave her the basic facts.

“Is he breathing?”

I checked again. “Yes. Slow, but it’s there. He has a pulse too. Already checked that.”

“Any bleeding?”

“Not that I can see. Do you want me to roll him over?”

“No. Don’t move him. If there’s no obvious blood loss, it’s better to keep him still.”

“Opal called for an ambulance, but who knows when they’ll get here. The dispatch told her they were already out on a call.”

“I’m on my way,” Elle said. “Until then, cover him to keep him warm and check his pulse. Get a count for me.”

Opal had sunk to the floor beside me; she took Artie’s limp hand. “Come on, sweetheart. I bet your insulin is off,” she murmured.

I thumbed my phone to the timer in the Clock app and picked up Artie’s other hand to check his wrist pulse. “Opal, can you get something to cover him with to keep him warm?”

“Of course.” She stood up with a creaking of knees and pulled a thin quilt off their bed. She draped it over him, tucking it under his chin.

The lights from Elle’s car flashed through the bathroom window and then swung across the walls as she pulled in and parked. Opal hurried out to meet her. Elle would need assistance finding us.

Soon, Elle bustled over to where I was still holding Artie’s wrist. “What’s his pulse?”

“I’m getting 55 beats per minute.”

“Okay. He’s in mild bradycardia, but that’s not unusual with someone who’s unconscious.”

Opal said to Elle, “I’ve seen you in the store these past few weeks, but I didn’t realize you were a nurse.”

“I’m not,” said Elle. “I used to be a U.S. Army medical specialist.”

“Maybe his insulin is off,” Opal said. “I’ll check his blood.” She fetched a little lancet and pricked his finger.

The ambulance wailed into range suddenly. After they came in, we stayed back as the EMTs bustled around and questioned Opal and took Artie’s vitals. They got him on a gurney and shuttled the couple out onto the Hana Highway for the long drive to Maui Medical Center. “Any idea what it was?” I asked Elle as they pulled away.

“No telling at this point. You say he’s had diabetes for some time?”

“Yes. Opal didn’t have time to tell us if it might have been a diabetic coma. As you probably realized when you?ve shopped here, the disease already blinded him. He’s had trouble with his feet and who knows what else, too.”

“He’s a very talented musician though,” she said. “He’s always singing and playing an instrument when I come up this way. I hope he’ll be okay.”

“Well, thanks for coming down. I was glad not to be the only one with them.”

“My pleasure. I like helping people.”

“Me too. I know exactly what you mean.”

“How’s your ribcage doing?” she asked.

“Much better. I’m tender right now because I’m not wearing my sexy black Velcro ‘corset,’ but the bruising is down.”

“Great. Let me know when you’re ready to pound the pavement again. I’ve been running at dawn since we’ve been so busy at the hotel. Who would’ve thought so many people would be booking events out this way in February.”

“Why do you say that?”

Elle smiled. “Everybody on the continent thinks Hawaii is this paradise with perfect weather, welcoming people, and nonstop fun and games, especially in the winter. And, for the most part, it is. But when things go bad out here, they really go bad. I hear there’s a big storm on its way this weekend, and the locals tell me that if we stay here long enough, we’ll have stories to tell about all kinds of things that don’t jive with living in paradise.”

Elle hadn’t been brought up to speed on the many stories I could already tell about my non-paradise life in Ohia. “A storm might be the least of it,” I said. “I have to get back to bed, but someday I’ll tell you about how the state got New Ohia Park back from gangsters. Now that’s a story.”

“And in the meantime, fingers crossed your friend is okay.”