“CALL THE POLICE,” I COMMANDED, looking up at Lisa.
She reached into her oversized handbag and pulled out her cell.
The young woman wailed and dropped to her knees. “He’s dead. He’s really dead, isn’t he?”
I didn’t have time to console her. Instinct took over. I checked for a pulse while I waited for Lisa to update the police. “He doesn’t have a pulse,” I told her, trying to find any sign of a pulse on Mitchell’s other arm.
“Is he breathing?” Lisa asked.
I placed my hand under Mitchell’s nose. “No.” I wasn’t sure if it was my independent upbringing or a typical stress reaction, but my voice sounded clinical and like it was originating outside of my body. The smell of beer assaulted my senses. How much had the man had to drink?
“Any sign of trauma?” Lisa repeated questions from the 911 operator. “Chief Meyers and the ambulance are on their way.”
I assessed Mitchell from head to toe. Shattered glass enshrined his head like a crown, yet he wasn’t bleeding. There wasn’t a weapon nearby, but then again, it was dark. “Not that I can see,” I said to Lisa as the sound of sirens filled the bleak silence around us.
Lisa continued to talk to the operator while I checked the street. Why had the young woman automatically assumed that Lisa had killed Mitchell? What had made her leap to murder?
The felt cap that Mitchell had had on earlier was gone. It didn’t look like he had suffered a blow to the head, but I wasn’t about to turn him over and check. A terrible thought invaded my head. What if Mitchell had succumbed to alcohol poisoning? What if we had overserved him? Or could he have been so drunk that he fell and knocked himself out? Maybe Garrett had been wrong about how much Mitchell had had to drink.
I removed my phone and clicked on the flashlight. Shining it on the ground, I got a better look at the glass shards. No wonder Mitchell smelled of alcohol. The growler of our Cherry Weizen was shattered. My stomach dropped. Where had April disappeared to?
I was about to go talk to the sobbing woman when Police Chief Meyers zoomed up behind us with her sirens echoing and lights flashing. I shielded my eyes with my hand.
“Sloan?” Chief Meyers moved with agility despite her bulky frame. “What happened?” She removed a flashlight from her belt and shined it on Mitchell’s body.
“He’s dead.” I heard the lack of emotion in my tone.
Chief Meyers didn’t take my word for it. She started what I assumed was standard police protocol, assessing Mitchell and the scene around us. A minute later the ambulance arrived. It didn’t take long for the EMS workers to confirm my suspicions. Mitchell Morgan was dead.
“No one leave.” Chief Meyers addressed us. “I want the three of you over on that sidewalk.” She pointed to the right side of the street, to one of Leavenworth’s most popular shops—The Gingerbread Cottage.
The quiet moonlight had been replaced by the sound of sirens, stirring the handful of tourists and locals from the bars. I hadn’t even realized that a small crowd had begun to gather until I walked over to the sidewalk.
The young woman continued to sob and convulse. I wished I had a tissue or something to offer her. I ushered her over to a white picket fence in front of The Gingerbread Cottage. “Let’s wait over here.”
She didn’t resist.
“I’m Sloan, by the way. I don’t think we’ve met.”
Her breath was shallow and choppy. “I’m—I’m—Kat. Kat Kelly.”
“Are you part of the documentary team?”
She wiped her nose with one hand and then the other. “No. I wish. I’m Mitchell’s biggest fan. I would follow him anywhere.”
That sounded odd. I couldn’t help but raise my brow.
“He’s the most amazing actor I’ve ever met in my entire life,” Kat continued, oblivious to my reaction. “Have you seen Crazy House? It was my favorite childhood show. I’ve seen every single episode at least five times. I’m the president of his fan club, and you wouldn’t believe the things he’s done for us and given us through the years.”
Actually what I couldn’t believe was that Mitchell had a fan club. “Really. Like what?” I asked.
“Like this.” She waved a trembling arm toward Front Street, where blue and white flashing lights bounced off the charming storefronts. “He invited me up for the weekend. As president of his fan club, I was going to get an exclusive look at his new film. He paid my way and everything.”
Prior to today I had never heard of Mitchell Morgan. How big was his fan club?
“I’m from Salem, Oregon, so he had to pay for my train ticket and a hotel room.” Her voice was full of pride.
I wondered how Mitchell had found a hotel room, especially when he’d been so vocal about his subpar vacation rental. “That was nice of him,” I commented, trying to keep her talking. Her petite frame quivered, but at least her guttural sobs had stopped.
“That’s the kind of guy he is—I mean was.” She started crying again.
I put my arm around her shoulder. Kat fell into me.
A few feet away Lisa was talking to the group of gawkers who had come to see what was going on. The quaint white stucco buildings and dark timbered awnings seemed to give off an eerie vibe. Could this really be happening in our village?
“Did you see anything before Mitchell collapsed?” I asked Kat.
She trembled. “What do you mean collapsed? He didn’t collapse. She killed him.”
“You saw her kill Mitchell?” I stared at Lisa, who was making a call on her cell. She paced in front of Shoe Haus, a cobbler’s shop that had been in business for over thirty years. A wooden sign carved in the shape of a shoe swung above Lisa’s head.
Kat wiped her nose again and pulled away from my shoulder. “No. I mean not exactly, but it had to be her. She was the only one around.”
“I’m not sure I follow.”
“Mitchell asked me to meet him here. We were going to hit a bar and then he was going to give me my hotel key and a pass to Oktoberfest.”
We both paused when the EMS workers covered Mitchell’s body with a sheet.
“Oh my God! Oh my God. Oh my God. This is really happening? Is it really happening, or am I in a bad dream or something? Maybe you should pinch me.” She rocked back onto the white picket fence. Giant gingerbread cutouts dotted the front lawn. It was a strange juxtaposition—sweet decorations against a backdrop of death.
“Sadly, it’s not a dream.” I looked away. The thought that I had touched Mitchell’s dead body a few minutes ago made my stomach queasy. “Okay, so you came downtown to meet Mitchell. Then what happened?”
“I got here, and I couldn’t find him. He was supposed to be at some pub around the corner, but they were already closed.” Her voice was shrill. She rocked back and forth onto the tips of her toes. Her feet must be freezing in flip-flops, I thought, rubbing my arms. Had the temp started to drop, or was I feeling the effects of shock?
I figured she was talking about Nitro.
“This is my first time in Leavenworth, so I went around to every place that was open to try and find him. The bartender in the bar across the street told me that he had seen Mitchell heading for the tent, so I tried there next.”
“Is that when you saw Lisa?”
She shook her head. “No. I looked everywhere in the tents, but he wasn’t there. I tried calling and texting, but he didn’t respond. I wasn’t sure what to do next. Then I heard him yelling at someone, so I ran out here. It all happened so fast. There was the sound of shattering glass. The next thing I knew, I saw that woman over there.” She caught her breath and pointed at Lisa. “Running away from Mitchell’s body and Mitchell lying dead on the ground. He didn’t collapse. She killed him, and she was fleeing the scene,” she repeated.
I inhaled through my nose. Was Kat distraught, or could she have seen something? I glanced at Lisa, who was digging through her purse for something. She didn’t look like a killer. Not to mention, what possible motive could she have for killing Mitchell? Aside from him complaining about her rental properties. Lisa was a professional. She was used to dealing with client demands. I couldn’t picture her snapping.
Kat chomped her nails. “This was supposed to be the best day of my life. Now it’s the worst.” She buried her face in her hands as more tears spilled out.
Chief Meyers directed a team of police officers and EMS workers. I watched as they loaded Mitchell’s body into the ambulance. Although I didn’t share Kat’s deep affection for the man, the fact that he was dead gave me a moment of pause. As the ambulance backed away, a hush fell over everyone. The frenetic energy of people coming out to see what the drama was had been replaced by a mournful stillness. Even Chief Meyers gave the ambulance a two-fingered salute.
Next to me, Kat collapsed on the sidewalk. She used the fence to support her back as she hugged her knees to her chest. Part of me was envious of her emotional outburst. My coping strategy as a foster kid had been to keep my feelings bottled up. Being overly tearful or seeking physical comfort from strangers wasn’t in my DNA. I had learned to go inward in times of stress, and for the most part, it worked. The exception had been meeting the Krauses and having Alex. They had cracked a piece of me open, and I had never been the same since.
Kat’s ability to release her raw grief made me acutely aware of my rigid body posture and the fact that my mind was ticking through possible causes of Mitchell’s untimely demise.
Chief Meyers moved in our direction. She had one hand on the front pocket of her tight uniform, and the other held a flashlight. “Sloan, a word.” She motioned with the light for me to step away from Kat. Her imposing frame reflected on the street. She was a tall and solid woman with a commanding presence. I sensed that even had she chosen another profession, she would have embodied respect wherever she went.
I followed the illuminated halo on the sidewalk. “What’s her deal?” Chief Meyers asked. I didn’t need clarification to know that the chief was talking about Kat. “Is that the wife? Girlfriend?”
“Fan club president.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Chief Meyers whipped a small spiral notebook from her back pocket and scratched a note in it. “Fan club president?”
“That’s what she told me. You’ll have to interview her, but she said that Mitchell paid for her to come up for the shoot.”
“Anything else?” Chief Meyers clicked her ballpoint pen on and off. “Walk me through what you saw, step-by-step.”
I explained about hearing screams and coming to see what had happened. “Lisa called 911. I checked for a pulse, but Mitchell was already dead.”
“What time was this?”
“Sometime after eleven. We closed then and cleaned up. Probably eleven thirty.”
She made a note. A walkie-talkie attached to her chest crackled. She removed it, clicked a button, and then rattled off a code. “Continue.”
“There was broken glass nearby. I smelled beer. I’m pretty sure that the glass was from one of our growlers. I don’t know if Mitchell had too much to drink and collapsed, or maybe he tripped and hit his head? It’s weird because Garrett and I were just talking about Mitchell and how much he’d had to drink. He was a jerk to everyone at the pub, but I don’t think that was induced by alcohol.”
A hint of a frown tugged at her round cheeks. “I’ll take it from here, Sloan. My team is bagging up the evidence as we speak. I want to hear what else you might have seen, heard. Did you see any movement in the distance? Someone fleeing the scene, perhaps?”
I shook my head. Her questions made it sound like she was operating under the assumption that Mitchell had been killed. “No. It was too dark. I know that he left Nitro with April Ablin, but I haven’t seen her anywhere. And Kat keeps insisting that Lisa killed him.”
Chief Meyers perked up and swiveled her head in Lisa’s direction. “Lisa Balmes?”
“According to Kat,” I said with a nod.
“Did you see Lisa near the body?” She waited with her pen poised, ready to strike the notebook.
“Not near Mitchell. She was by the tent, I think.” I racked my brain to try and remember exactly what I had seen. I thought of myself as being a good witness, but now that Chief Meyers pressed me on specifics, I felt like my mind had gone blank.
“Sloan?” Chief Meyers prompted me when I trailed off.
“She was around, but not by Mitchell’s body.” I retraced my steps from the car. “His arm felt cold when I picked it up, but then again I was in shock so maybe my hands were just cold.”
“Hmm.” She nodded.
The more I thought about it, the more I was sure that had to be true. “Do you know how he was killed? Could someone have hit him? Is that why there was glass around his body?”
Chief Meyers held out her pen. “Slow down, Sloan.”
I thought that was all she was going to say, but her gaze drifted from Kat, who was still sobbing on the sidewalk, to Lisa, who was huddled with a group of locals.
“Just between us, we won’t know for a while, but I spotted a shard of glass in the back of Mitchell’s skull. I’m operating this investigation as a murder. I want you to call me if you think of anything else, and keep your eyes open.”
“Will do.”
She walked over to Kat and crouched next to her. Chief Meyers suspected foul play. In some ways, that news didn’t surprise me. Mitchell hadn’t exactly endeared himself to our community, but at the same time, that meant that someone I knew, potentially someone I cared about, could have killed him.
I waited around until the police gave us the all clear to leave, along with instructions that they would be in touch for further questioning if necessary. My body shuddered as I returned to my car. My feet ached from standing on cold cement, and my mind whirled. Had someone in our easygoing village brutally ended Mitchell Morgan’s life? And why?