Monica Jill opened her eyes. “What happened?”
“Thank God,” B.J. said and flopped into a chair, fanning herself.
“You fainted,” Dixie said. She placed a wet compress on Monica Jill’s head. “We had to get two guys to carry you back here.”
Monica Jill, resting on the sofa in Dixie’s RV, said, “I’ve never fainted a day in my life.”
“Well, you certainly fainted today,” B.J. said.
Monica Jill shook her head. “Nope. I don’t faint.”
“Pig-headed,” B.J. mumbled.
Dixie gave B.J. a frown and then turned back to Monica Jill. “She’s right. You absolutely fainted this time. Dr. Morgan looked at you. He’s going to take care of . . .” She looked around, unsure whether she should share the bad news now or wait. She glanced in my direction.
I shrugged.
“Dr. Morgan promised he’d come back and give you a thorough checkup as soon as he can.”
“Oh, no, he won’t.” Monica Jill sat up too quickly and swayed a bit before lying back down. “I’m absolutely fine. I certainly don’t need to be checked out by a coroner.” She closed her eyes. After a few moments, she said, “I probably just need to eat something. I’m just going to lie here for a few moments until the room stops swaying, and then I’m going to go home.”
We exchanged glances.
B.J. leaned forward. “You listen here, you skinny little pageant queen. You are going to lie there and get examined by Dr. Morgan as soon as he gets back, and if you think we’re going to let you get behind the wheel of a car, then you have another think coming.”
Monica Jill opened her eyes and stared at B.J. She must have noticed the steely stare she received and figured out that B.J. meant business. She sighed and felt her hair. “Why am I soaking wet?”
Dixie and I stared at B.J.
“We had to revive you.” B.J. turned to Dixie. “I’m going to need something stronger than coffee.”
Dixie got a bottle of wine from one of the upper cabinets and poured three glasses and passed them around.
“Where’s mine?” Monica Jill said.
“You can’t even sit up.” B.J. took a sip. “You just lie back down there and wait until Dr. Morgan gets back, or I’ll tie you to that sofa.”
For a half second, Monica Jill looked as though she wanted to challenge B.J.’s authority, but a narrow-eyed glance from B.J. made her realize she didn’t stand a chance. She sighed and lay back on her pillow. “I can’t just lie here in wet clothes.”
B.J. reached over and tossed a towel to her friend. “Stop whining, and be thankful I couldn’t get the defibrillator off the wall.”
A look of pure fear crossed Monica Jill’s face, but she closed her mouth and dried her arms, face, and hair to the best of her ability while still lying flat on her back. When she was done, she folded the towel and glanced at us. “Is someone going to tell me what happened?”
We exchanged glances, and Dixie sat next to Monica Jill on the sofa. “Do you remember anything?”
Monica Jill squinted and frowned. “The last thing I remember is watching a beautiful cocker spaniel compete. It was dark brown and just a beautiful dog.” She looked at Dixie. “You know, we used to have cocker spaniels when I was growing up.” She thought a moment and then shook her head. “I don’t really remember much after the cocker spaniel.”
Dixie patted her hand. “Don’t worry about trying to remember. I’m sure it will come back to you.” She hesitated. “Naomi Keller is dead.”
“Dead?” Monica Jill propped herself up on one elbow and glanced at the group. “How did she die? What happened?”
“We were hoping you could tell us,” Dixie said quietly.
“Me?”
“You found her.”
Monica Jill flopped back on her pillow. “I don’t remember anything. I remember the cocker spaniel, and then I woke up here.” She glanced at B.J. “Soaking wet.”
B.J. sipped her wine and ignored the dig.
“Don’t worry yourself.”
We sat in silence for a few minutes and then talked about everything except the elephant in the room, Naomi Keller’s murder. After a strained, prolonged silence, Dr. Morgan joined us.
He looked at Monica Jill’s eyes and examined her head for bumps, while we all watched anxiously. “She’s had a bit of a shock, but she’ll be fine.”
Monica Jill swung her legs off the sofa and sat up. “Great. Thank you. Now, would you tell these prison guards I’m perfectly fine to drive myself home.” She stuck out her tongue at B.J.
“Hold on. I didn’t say anything about you driving.”
“Ha!” B.J. stuck out her tongue.
Monica Jill looked crestfallen. “What? You can’t be serious. You said I was okay.”
“I did say that, but you’ve also had a shock. You’ve fainted, and you’re suffering from short-term memory loss. I think you should allow one of us to drive you home, or I can call your husband to come get you. Take it easy over the weekend and make an appointment to see your regular doctor first thing Monday morning.”
“But . . . I don’t need to see a doctor. I feel fine.” She pouted.
“Do you want some cheese?” B.J. asked.
Monica Jill frowned. “Cheese?”
“I just thought you might want cheese to go along with all that whining.”
Monica Jill scowled at her friend and then looked around to find her purse. “Oh, stop gloating and take me home.” She glared. “How many glasses of wine have you had?”
“Not nearly enough,” B.J. said.
“Where’s Jac?”
“When you fainted, he started howling,” Dixie said. “We put him in a crate in the office so he wouldn’t disturb you.” She went to get him.
B.J. stood up. “I better get Snoball.”
When all of the women left, I turned to Dr. Morgan. “I haven’t talked to Red since all of this happened, but do you know how she died?”
“It’s just a guess at the moment. We won’t know for sure until the autopsy, but I’d say she was strangled.” He paused. “With a dog leash.”