A Quiche Before Dying

talking about some basic rules of good writing that apply no matter what the subject matter, whether fiction or nonfiction—”
    Mrs. Pryce coughed several times.
    Missy waited politely, then went on, “First, I have a handout here that lists some good basic grammar books and style sheets that you might want to get.
    You should have one of these handy as you continue your writing. Grady, will you pass these out for me?”
    He bounced up, took the sheets, and started distributing them. As he reached Mrs. Pryce, she grabbed hers and said, “Get me a drink of water.“
    “In a minute,“ Grady said, leaning across her to give a sheet to Ruth Rogers on her other side.
    Mrs. Pryce slapped his arm away. “Now!”
    Grady shrugged and went out into the hall. Mrs. Pryce craned her neck around and glared at the rest of them. “What are you all gawking at? You’re all fools!“
    “Mrs. Pryce, I’m going to have to ask you to leave if there’s one more outburst,“ Missy said firmly.
    Pryce either didn’t hear her or pretended not to. “Where has that idiot man gone?“ she said. “Just go back to your business. All of you. I’ll have my husband see to things if I have to.”
    Jane felt a shiver of apprehension. General Pryce, if she remembered correctly, had been dead for some years.
    Grady came in with a paper cup of water. As he handed it to Mrs. Pryce, she had a coughing spasm. She gulped down the water, choked slightly, and said, “Why are you turning those lights up? You’re doing this to harass me. Well, you’ll just all blind yourselves in the bargain, and it’ll serve you right. You’re all against me. Don’t think I don’t know it—“ Her voice was rising, sounding dry and hoarse. Naomi, looking paler than usual and obviously alarmed, inched her chair a fraction closer to Jane and her mother. Mrs. Pryce thrashed her cane around, knocking it against a few chairs before she settled it firmly on the floor and started to rise. But she fell back in her chair heavily.
    “You!“ she said, suddenly focusing on Bob Neufield. “You got just what you deserved, and don’t try to tell me otherwise. You depraved pretty boys don’t deserve to have the opportunity to serve a fine country like this—”
    Bob Neufield drew himself up and looked as if he’d been stabbed in the heart.
    “Mrs. Pryce, you must be quiet!“ Missy said, looking around frantically. “What’s the matter with you?“
    “I’ll get you some more water. Just settle down.“ Grady spoke to her as if she were a badly behaved child.
    “You’ll blind yourselves. It’ll serve you right,“ Mrs. Pryce said. Her glare had turned to a squint and she was shivering uncontrollably.
    Ruth Rogers had risen from her chair; she put one hand on Mrs. Pryce’s forehead and grabbed her wrist with the other. Mrs. Pryce struggled. “Take your hands off me! How dare you touch me, you disgusting woman!”
    Ruth hung on, looking at Missy. “She’s feverish and her pulse is very fast.“
    “I’ll call an ambulance,“ Missy said, coming around the desk and racing from the room.
    Jane looked at her mother. “Is there anything we should do?“
    “Let’s clear a path for the medics.”
    Mrs. Pryce was still raving and trying to get away from Ruth, who was keeping her firmly in her chair. Ruth’s frail sister, Naomi, was helping to hang on to the elderly woman, who was showing surprising strength. Jane, Shelley, and Cecily started pushing the chairs to the side of the room, making a wide aisle. Desiree Loftus, looking terrified, got up and started helping them. Bob Neufield was standing back, looking like a military guard who was under orders not to react.
    They could already hear the sirens. “Here, let’s get out of the way,“ Grady said, and with Bob Neufield’s help, started pushing everybody except Ruth and Naomi toward the door. The women started snatching up their belongings and going into the hallway.
    Jane was nearly run over by three ambulance attendants as she left. She slipped past them and leaned against the hallway wall. “I need some fresh air,“ she said, feeling woozy.
    Cecily grabbed her arm and steered her up the stairway and toward the exit. Just as they reached the foyer and front double door of the city hall, one of the doors was yanked open, nearly spilling them outside.
    “Jane! Are you all right?“ Mel VanDyne said, steadying her.
    She looked up. “Just a tad faint. What are you doing here?“
    “I was in the