The Diva Cooks Up a Storm

Is it true that nighttime is the best time to knock down a wasp nest?

Bees and wasps are less likely to sting at night because they are less active. However, some bees are always guarding the nest and will sting if they feel threatened. Even worse, they release a pheromone that summons other bees to come and help!

Natasha

Daisy and I ran toward Hollis. He was a visible lump under the streetlights, but I was afraid a car might come along and hit him.

He lay faceup on the pavement, taking rasping breaths as though he couldn’t breathe.

No cars were coming. I bent over. “Can I help you stand up?” I asked.

Hollis gazed up at me, beads of sweat on his forehead. He grabbed my hand, coughed, and seemed to have some kind of spasm.

Oh no! I hoped he hadn’t been poisoned. With the handle of Daisy’s leash looped over my other hand, I reached into my pocket and called 911.

I told them where we were. “It’s Hollis Haberman. Please hurry. He’s in the middle of the street.”

They told me to stay on the line, but I hung up and called Mars. He was renting a room from Bernie, just a few houses away. Maybe they could move Hollis, or at least bring out flashlights so we could be seen in the road.

Mars was groggy when he answered the phone. He listened to me, then murmured, “What do you mean you’re in the street?”

“Get Bernie and some flashlights. Hurry! We’re just outside of the Haberman house.”

I hung up and dropped the phone into my pocket. “Hollis? Hollis? Can you hear me?”

The lights of an approaching car grew brighter as it neared. I stood up straight and waved my hands, directing it around Hollis.

“Sophie? Where are you?” Mars yelled.

I hated to wake everyone on the block, but I shouted back, “Over here!”

Actually, I hoped I might wake Jay. We could use a doctor right now. I glanced at his house. His front drapes were closed. As close as our houses were to the sidewalk and the street, that wasn’t terribly surprising.

Mars and Bernie sprinted toward Hollis and me.

“What happened?” asked Mars.

“I have no idea. He staggered out here and collapsed.”

Bernie was on his knees. “Hollis! Hollis? We’re going to try to move you. Can you hold on to us?”

“Let’s see if he can sit up first,” Mars suggested.

Mars knelt on Hollis’s other side. Each of them took an arm and tried to hoist him. It seemed to me that Hollis didn’t have the strength to sit.

His head lolled back, which made breathing even more difficult for him.

“Guys, I think we’d better leave him on the road,” I said. “The ambulance should be here soon.”

They lowered him to the asphalt. “Hollis!” shouted Mars. “Can you speak? What happened?”

“Are you asthmatic?” asked Bernie. “Do you need an inhaler?”

“He had an attack like this last night,” I said.

Mars shone a flashlight near Hollis’s face so we could get a better look at him. None of us said a word. He was deathly pale with beads of perspiration clinging to his face. He hadn’t looked that bad the evening before.

He blinked at us. “I feel nauseous,” he wheezed.

My stomach lurched. Poison!

A police car slowed and stopped just short of us. Officer Wong stepped out and walked over. She shone her flashlight at us. “What’s going on here?”

African-American, Wong credited her last name to having married the wrong-by-a-long-shot man, but she liked surprising those who expected her to be Asian. She wore her hair short, with a sassy curl falling onto her forehead. Her uniform was always a little too tight on her curves thanks to her fondness for cupcakes and other sweets.

I told her what had happened and in case it was somehow related, I told her about Angus and the beestings.

Her forehead wrinkled. “Was Angus sweating like this?”

“No, and it was already hot outside.” I frowned. “Do bees fly around at night? Seems to me my dad always knocked down wasp nests early in the morning while they were sleeping.”

Wong bent over. “Hollis, can you tell me what happened?”

His voice was weak. “Don’t know. Went to bed and woke up feeling dizzy and sick.”

“Dizzy!” I said. “Angus was dizzy.”

“And you ran out in the street?” Wong asked.

Hollis wheezed, seemingly unable to breathe. “Needed . . . air.”

Fortunately, the ambulance arrived and the professionals took over. Wong and I told them what little we knew.

And then I broke my promise to Hollis. Under the circumstances, I had no choice. “He was afraid someone might be poisoning his food.”

All of the emergency medical technicians stared at me.

“He’s having some food tested. I don’t know anything more than that.”

It wasn’t until one of them asked if Hollis lived alone that I remembered Kelsey. “He’s married, but I haven’t seen his wife.”

I started for the house, but an EMT stopped me. “Ma’am, wait out here, please. We’ll check on his wife.”

I stopped short. But I was worried about Kelsey. Why hadn’t she appeared yet? I hoped she was okay.

The EMT had just reached the front door when it opened.

Kelsey stepped out in a flowing silk bathrobe and coughed. “What’s going on out here? Did a car hit someone?”

“Are you Mrs. Haberman?” he asked.

I walked closer. “Kelsey, Hollis is ill.”

She turned to gaze at me for a second, surprise and confusion mingling on her face as she took in the situation. She darted toward the street, crying, “Hollis! Hollis!”

Wong intercepted her. I couldn’t hear what she was saying, but Kelsey tore away from her, covering her mouth with a fist as she coughed.

The EMTs were loading Hollis on a gurney. He had a clear mask over his nose and mouth, no doubt to help him breathe.

Kelsey picked up Hollis’s hand. “What’s wrong with him? Is it a heart attack?”

“Doesn’t look that way,” said an EMT. “Ma’am, how do you feel? You seem to be coughing a lot.”

“I’m fine. I don’t know why I’m coughing.”

“Maybe you should come along with us.”

Terrified, Kelsey took a step back. “You mean I could have the same thing?”