Authors: Sarah Biglow
Footsteps pounded on the hard-packed ground and Chris came into view. Kalina had no idea where he'd come from but he didn't look out of breath. On the other side of the table, Mrs. Grant pressed one hand to her chest, tears glistening in her eyes. She'd calmed down from her rant about the scones.
"Dear Lord, this can't be happening."
It was barely audible above the crowd yelling for help, but Kalina heard it. The statement seemed an odd reaction and it piqued her curiosity. She bent down and gently tugged AJ to his feet and away from the dead woman. Chris took up AJ's spot and studied Mrs. Davies. "Who saw what happened?"
AJ raised his hand. His fingers trembled and he quickly closed them into a fist to keep from shaking. A few other people inched forward, mumbling that they had seen what happened. From across the tent Captain Cahill approached, cell phone in hand. He pressed it to his ear and, amid the rumbling of the crowd, Kalina heard him request an ambulance. Ellesworth wasn't big enough to have its own morgue. She'd no doubt be taken west to Salem. Chris stood up and waved people back. "Everyone, I need you to back up. Do not touch anything on this table." He turned to AJ. "I'm going to need to talk to you. Why don't you come with me?"
"I'm coming with him," Kalina said.
"Did you see anything?"
"No. But you can't question him alone. He's only fifteen. He has a right to a parent or guardian present during questioning." She knew a little about criminal law, thanks to a law student she'd dated briefly during her first year of business school.
Chris looked unhappy about the intrusion but didn't object further. They headed over to an empty table at the back of the tent while Captain Cahill set up a perimeter of folding chairs around the body. It seemed an odd thing to do unless there were suspicious circumstances surrounding Mrs. Davies' death.
"Okay, AJ. Tell me what you saw." Chris produced a notepad from his pocket. He came prepared for anything.
"I was in line for fried dough. Aunt K. wanted some, and Mrs. Davies was sitting there having a cup of tea. Everything was fine and then she just started choking and bent over like she was going to throw up." He put his head in his hands. "I never saw anyone look like that."
Kalina took one of his hands in hers and gave it a firm squeeze. "It's okay. You did good."
He looked up at her through watery eyes. "But... I should have done something to help."
Chris leaned over. "Did you see anyone tamper with her tea?"
"N-no. I don't think so. God, was she murdered?"
Chris shook his head. "I don't know. But by all accounts she was in good health. Usually, when a healthy person drops dead it's not from natural causes. I'd like you go down to the station and give a full statement."
"Does he have to do it right now? He's in shock."
Chris's face softened. "No. Just make sure you get down there in the next day or so. If this turns out to be a murder investigation then we want to get people's recollections down as clearly as possible."
Sirens blared, sounding a prolonged wail from behind the food tent. Flashing red lights cast a bright glow over the faces of the crowd still gathered to watch. Somehow the captain had obtained a bullhorn and held it up to his mouth.
"Everyone, I need you to clear out and let the medics do their job. Please return to the fair and enjoy the rest of your day."
Despite the sudden loss of one of their own, Kalina had no doubt the townspeople would continue to buy and sell wares throughout the rest of the day, no one wanting to pass up the chance to make a charitable donation—if not for the altruistic reason of being a good citizen then for the tax write-off come the following April. Two uniformed paramedics climbed out of the ambulance and approached Captain Cahill. Chris had gone off to interview other potential witnesses and Kalina turned her attention to Mrs. Grant. She still sat in the same spot, staring at Mrs. Davies.
"AJ, I want you to call your mom and have her pick you up. You don't need to be here right now."
"What are you going to do?"
"I'm going to have a little chat with Mrs. Grant. Something about this whole situation seems strange."
"Aunt K., don't get involved. Please."
"I'll be fine. Now go call your mom."
AJ wandered off. Kalina headed for the beverage table and picked up two bottles of water before retreating to Mrs. Grant. Chris reached out a hand to bar her path. “You aren’t a detective, Kalina. You need to let us do our job.”
“I’m just bringing her some water. She looks like she could use it.”
She sidestepped his outstretched arm and proceeded to sit down beside Mrs. Grant. The woman hadn’t torn her gaze away from the corpse, even as the paramedics loaded her onto a gurney and rolled her to the back of the ambulance. Kalina pressed an opened bottle of water into the woman’s free hand.
“Mrs. Grant, are you all right?”
Finally, Mrs. Grant blinked several times and turned her attention to Kalina. “I’m sorry. What?”
“I just wanted to see if you were all right.”
“Well, of course I’m not all right! My friend just died.” Almost instantly, her demeanor changed. Her body sagged and she took a swig of water. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to snap at you.”
“I understand. Mrs. Grant, can I ask you something?” The woman nodded. “You said something earlier, right after Mrs. Davies died. You said that this couldn’t be happening. What made you think that?”
Mrs. Grant took several long gulps of water and fussed with the hem of her blouse. “I … I don’t know what you mean. I suppose I was just shocked. It all happened so quickly.”
“Do you think it was murder?”
Mrs. Grant raised an eyebrow just as Chris approached. “Don’t you?”
“Kalina, that’s enough. Go back to your booth and let the cops handle this. Please.”
Kalina didn’t believe Mrs. Grant’s explanation. There had to be more to it, especially if Mrs. Davies’ death wasn’t an accident. But she allowed Chris to lead her out of the tent and back to the promenade. She expected him to return to questioning witnesses but he kept a solid grip on her elbow all the way back to her tent.
She pulled her arm free. “You don’t trust me?”
“You always had a thing for sticking your nose in other people’s business. The best thing you can do is make sure your nephew gives his statement while his memory is still clear. Okay?”
“Sure thing.” She leaned one hip against the edge of the table in her booth. “But, you know, it’s odd.”
Chris pivoted to face her, his normally electric blue eyes clouded by frustration. “What’s odd?”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “If Agatha was murdered, if someone slipped something into her tea, this is an awfully public place to do it. I mean, I’m no expert but isn’t poisoning more of an intimate way to kill someone? You don’t usually hear about people keeling over in the middle of a crowd because of something they ate or drank.”
“You aren’t wrong.”
“And Mrs. Grant seemed surprised that it was Mrs. Davies who keeled over. Almost like Mrs. Grant expected it to be her kicking the bucket instead.”
“That’s all very interesting, but, as I said before, let the professionals do their jobs. Okay?”
She held her hands up, signaling surrender. “You got it.”
No way was she backing off now. Being back home had reignited a sense of loyalty she’d missed while being away. If someone had killed a member of her town, she was going to do everything she could to find out why.
Ten minutes later, Kalina stood by the car, loading the last box of merchandise into the back seat. Her sister, Jillian, appeared from the gravel lot behind the refreshment tent and her expression warned that she was not pleased. She stalked over to Kalina’s booth.
“What the hell is going on? You said you’d look after AJ for the day.”
“Mrs. Davies is dead, Jill. It looks like it could be murder and AJ saw it happen. I wanted him home with you guys. That’s all. I’m just trying to look out for him.”
Jillian collapsed against the hood of Kalina’s car. “Oh God. He didn’t say … just to come pick him up.”
Kalina pulled her older sister into a firm hug. “He’ll be okay. He has you to lean on.”
Jillian rubbed at her eyes to dry them and composed herself. “You’re right. Thanks for letting me know.”
“You’ll need to make sure he goes down to the police station to give a statement. I promised Chris he would.”
“Chris?”
“Detective Christian Harper.”
Jillian let out a hiccup of laughter. “So you finally ran into the ex?”
“Yeah.” Out of the corner of her eye, Kalina spotted Mrs. Grant making her way to the parking lot alone. “I have to go.”
Without another word to her sister, she raced off in the hopes of intercepting Mrs. Grant. She had to jog to catch the older woman. “Mrs. Grant, can I offer you a ride home?”
“No. Thank you. I just want to be alone.”
“I don’t mind. Really.”
Mrs. Grant glanced around as if she feared they were being watched. “Tomorrow. Come by for morning tea.”
“Thank you. I’ll see you then.”
It wasn’t the sit down she’d been hoping for but it would have to do. Kalina made her way back to the booth to make sure she hadn’t missed anything when she overheard Chris making a phone call.
“This is Detective Harper. I need a forensic unit sent to the home of Mrs. Agatha Davies. I’ll meet you there.”
She turned around as he ended the call, hoping he hadn’t noticed her eavesdropping. She didn’t want to end up on his bad side but any little bit of information could help her know what questions to ask Mrs. Grant the next day. As she climbed into the driver seat of her car, she realized she had the perfect excuse to be near Mrs. Davies’ house when the forensic team arrived. With a mischievous grin, she started the engine and headed back to the center of town.
Fifteen minutes later, she pulled up across the street just as a CSI team climbed out of a van. Chris stood waiting for them on the front porch of Mrs. Davies’ house. She stayed put until they had all gone inside to begin their work. With a folder of pristinely packaged comics—including the latest Conan the Avenger release from Dark Horse—she climbed out of the car and knocked on the front door of the house on her side of the street. She raised her hand to knock a second time when the door flew open from the inside, revealing a middle-aged man in a bathrobe. A wad of used tissues protruded from a pocket.
“Sorry to bother you, Mr. Morgan, but I was in the neighborhood and wanted to drop these off.”
He eyed the folder and broke into a broad grin. “I’d have come down you know.”
“I know but it looks like you’ve got a cold and I don’t mind making house calls now and then.”
“Please, come in, come in.”
“Oh, I can’t stay. Just take a look through and let me know what you want. You can pay me later.”
Mr. Morgan nodded vigorously and gingerly took the folder from her. While he browsed, she kept an eye on the house across the street. She wasn’t sure what they were looking for or how long it would take, but she would wait.
Luck was on her side. Just as Mr. Morgan handed back an empty folder with a promise to pay the next time he stopped by, Chris came out wearing latex gloves, holding a piece of paper in a clear plastic evidence bag. She tried to act surprised to see him when he spotted her.
She feigned ignorance. “What’s going on?”
“Police work. What are you doing here, Kal?”
He set the piece of evidence down on the hood of his car. He didn’t do much to block her view. Lucky for her, she’d learned to read upside down a long time ago. The note bore a single line of bold, capitalized text:
LYING IS A MORTAL SIN
. She looked at Chris after a beat. “Mr. Morgan couldn’t make it down to the fair today so I was just dropping off some new inventory he’d ordered.”
“Of course you were. You should get out of here. Let the techs finish up.”
“I’m just trying to help, Chris.”
She spun on her heel and retreated to her car before he could respond. As she pulled away from the curb and did a U-turn, she wondered if Mrs. Grant knew about the note.
That night, Kalina couldn’t sleep. The brief glimpse of Mrs. Davies’ face—a twisted mask in death—invaded her dreams, waking her in cold sweats. She couldn’t imagine how AJ was managing. Sure, she fancied herself a sleuth in theory, but maybe Chris was right. She wasn’t equipped to handle dead bodies.
“Don’t focus on the dead,” she mumbled to herself as the clock on her nightstand clicked over to two o’clock.
Kicking the sheets aside, she padded out to the kitchen to make a cup of coffee. If the day’s events wouldn’t let her sleep then she would embrace being the night owl. For a brief moment she wondered how superheroes like Daredevil managed to get any sleep with the nighttime crime fighting and a day job.
Settling in front of her laptop, steaming mug of coffee within reach, she logged on to the internet with the hopes of finding … what exactly? There was no way Mrs. Davies was on social media. But certainly other townspeople had accounts. And in a town as relatively small as Ellesworth, you were friends with everyone on Facebook. Small mercies. She logged on and scrolled through her news feed. Not surprisingly, lots of people had posted statuses from the Solstice Fair, often with accompanying photos. Photos were good. She scrolled through them all. Many were useless, images snapped at the top of the Ferris wheel or teetering over the first plunge on the roller coaster. But a few from folks her mother’s age—yes, her mother was on Facebook—had posted photos of some of the items they’d purchased and a few people had gotten shots of the pastry judging.
She let out a hiss between her front teeth at a not-so-flattering photo of Mrs. Grant laying into the judges. “Not a good look, Mrs. Grant.”
What she needed was a shot of Mrs. Davies before her untimely demise. The refreshment tent boasted photo-worthy dishes. There had to be someone who had caught her in the tent before she died.
She lifted her mug to her lips but found the contents gone. The clock on her screen noted it was almost four in the morning. She’d been scrolling for nearly two hours and found nothing. Barely stifling a yawn, she retreated to the kitchen for a refill. She’d look for another half hour and then try to get some sleep. She had a breakfast date with Mrs. Grant to keep, after all. Kalina slunk back into her chair and continued scrolling, the infusion of caffeine jolting her nerves and synapses awake. Just as the clock ticked from 3:59 to 4:00 she had a breakthrough. One of AJ’s friends—Devon Landry—had a thing for food and had meticulously photographed the tent’s contents. He’d also dragged AJ into a selfie. It wasn’t much but she could make out Mrs. Davies sitting at the table behind them in the right corner of the picture. She clicked to the next photo in the album and nearly spilled her coffee down her shirt. Mrs. Davies lay on the ground and her body contorted mid-spasm. He’d photographed the murder. The last picture in the album depicted Mrs. Davies surrounded by metal chairs. Captain Cahill—at least Kalina assumed it was him from the back of his head—stood over the allegedly poisoned tea cup, no doubt studying the contents. From the angle of the photo she couldn’t tell if the captain was wearing gloves. But he had to be. He knew procedure. Still, something about the scene gnawed at her mind. There was something to it. She just couldn’t see what. Maybe Mrs. Grant would feel a little more forthcoming when the shock had worn off a little. Kalina downed the rest of the coffee and flopped onto the couch, hoping to get at least a couple hours of sleep.