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“Stand back.” Mitch moved automatically into detective mode. “Chris, can you come and take a look?”
Chris bent down near the prone figure and shook his head. “He’s dead. This metal trash can lid could be the murder weapon.”
“What about the camera man?” Zoe glanced wildly around. “Is he okay?”
“Good question,” Mitch said.
“I can’t see him.” Martha looked this way and that.
“I’ll have to call this in.” Mitch dug out his phone. “I’m sorry this happened tonight, Zoe.”
“Thanks.” Zoe gave him a wan smile.
“Is everyone okay?” Father Mike hurried toward them. “Does someone need help?”
“I’m sorry, Father, but it looks like Nathan Nettlefold was murdered,” Mitch said grimly.
“The poor man.” Father Mike looked shocked. “I’ll pray for him.”
“Nathan!” A male voice called. “Hey, we’ve got to get going. What are you doing ...” the voice trailed off and the cameraman came into view.
“Detective Mitch Denman.” Mitch flashed his ID. “There’s a situation.”
“Is Nathan okay?” The cameraman paled and craned his neck to see who lay on the sidewalk. “Oh, man.”
“I’m afraid Nathan’s dead.”
“What am I going to do?” The cameraman’s eyes widened. “Are you sure he’s dead? I’ll have to call my boss and—”
“First, I need to ask you some questions.” Mitch led him a short distance away from the scene and took out his notebook.
“Do you think the metal trash can lid really killed him?” Zoe frowned and took a step toward Nathan’s body.
“I think it could, if it was at the right angle, or Nathan could have hit his head at the wrong angle on the sidewalk when he went down,” Chris said.
Sirens sounded, and a couple of uniformed officers got out of the vehicle. They nodded to Chris, and started securing the scene.
“What about the people still inside the town hall?” Father Mike asked.
“Keep them inside until Mitch says otherwise,” Chris advised.
Father Mike nodded and hurried away.
“What about us?” Martha asked, sitting down on her walker seat, looking shaken in the cold wind.
“I’ll ask Mitch as soon as he’s finished questioning the cameraman,” Chris said.
“I’m sorry.” Lauren touched Zoe’s arm.
“Brrt.” Me too.
“Thanks.” Zoe tried to smile. “It was such a great night ... until this happened.”
Mitch finished up with the cameraman and strode over to them. “You might as well go home,” he told them. “You too, Martha.”
“Oh, good.” Then Martha seemed to realize what she’d just said. “You know what I mean.”
“You do look tired.” Zoe eyed her critically.
“Is the minibus still taking people home?” Lauren asked.
“We can run home and grab Chris’s car and come back for you,” Zoe said. “We walked over.”
“Thanks.” Martha looked relieved. “You girls are good to me. Let me check with—”
“Martha!” Father Mike waved to her. “The minibus is departing in a few minutes.”
“I’ll be there,” Martha called, and then turned back to them. “I’ve got to get going. But thanks for your offer, Zoe. I’ll be at the café on Tuesday. I’m going to get me one of your new mugs and catch up on all the gossip.” Sounding more like her old self, she heaved herself up from the walker seat and trundled toward Father Mike.
“What about Mrs. Finch and Ms. Tobin?” Lauren asked.
“Brrt.” Yes.
“We’d better check on them,” Zoe said. “And Hans.”
“I’ll come with you,” Chris said, “and then we’d better go home. Let the police do their job.” He nodded toward Mitch, who was in deep discussion with his officers.
Lauren was glad to see Mrs. Finch being shepherded onto the minibus by Father Mike, who told them Ms. Tobin had gone home before Nathan’s body had been found. Hans sat in the minibus, and he waved to them from the window.
“Everyone’s accounted for.” Zoe sounded satisfied.
“I can’t see Brooke and Jeff, so I guess they’ve left,” she said.
“The same with Molly and Claire.” Zoe nodded. “That makes sense, because Claire probably wouldn’t want her staying up too late.”
They started walking home. Lauren was glad she’d brought a little black cardigan for the cold night air. The wind blew her hair around her face, and she pushed the strands back with her fingertips.
Annie led the way, sniffing this way and that, but also seemed to be glad to be going home.
Lauren had turned on the porch light when they left, and now the warm, golden glow beckoned her to go inside and try and get cozy.
“I can’t wait to read Thelma’s story about tonight,” Zoe stated. “And find out who killed Nathan.”
“Brrt!”