“Oh, the poor dear,” Helen murmured.
Nans changed direction and walked straight to Holly, ignoring the officer’s half-hearted attempt to redirect her. She crouched down beside the folding chair, her voice warm and gentle. “Sweetheart, I’m Mona. Are you hurt?”
Holly looked up, eyes red and swollen. “No. I’m fine. I just—“ Her voice cracked. “I just found him there. Under all those boxes and shelves.”
Helen pulled a clean handkerchief from her purse—linen, embroidered with tiny flowers—and pressed it into Holly’s hand. “Here, dear. Take your time.”
“I came in early to grab supplies for the craft booth,” Holly said, her voice trembling. “The door was unlocked, which was weird, but I figured Stanley was already here. He’s always early. Was always early.” She pressed the handkerchief to her eyes.
“Did you see anyone else?” Ruth asked gently, her iPad held low and unobtrusive.
Holly shook her head. “No. Just Stanley. Under the shelf. I screamed and called 911.”
Ida reached into her purse and produced a peppermint, wrapped in red and white cellophane. “Emergency sugar helps.”
Holly took it automatically, unwrapping it with trembling fingers. “Thank you.”
“Holly,” Nans said softly, “did you notice anything unusual? Anything out of place besides the collapsed shelf?”
Before Holly could answer, a voice rang out. “Mona, I hope that’s not you I hear back there.”
Jack’s voice carried from around the corner, resigned and weary. Nans knew Jack well, he was married to Lexy and the town’s lead detective. To say that Nans and the ladies had had a few run ins with him over investigations was to put it mildly.
Jack stepped into view. He was tall, solid, wearing a dark coat over his suit. He had the weary look of a man who’d already had a long morning and suspected it was about to get longer.
“Good morning, Jack,” Nans said, standing and brushing off her coat.
“What are you doing here?” Jack asked, though his tone suggested he already knew the answer.
Nans tilted her head, her expression innocent. “I could ask you the same thing. I thought this was just an accident.”
The ladies exchanged knowing glances—Ruth’s eyebrow lifted slightly, Ida’s mouth quirked, Helen’s gaze sharpened.
Jack’s mouth twitched. “We’re doing our due diligence.”
“Ah. Due diligence,” Nans said, nodding slowly. “That’s what we call it when something isn’t quite adding up.”
“Nans—“
“We’re not interfering,” Nans said reasonably. “We’re simply offering community support during a difficult time.”
Jack’s gaze flicked to each of them in turn—Nans with her serene expression, Ruth with her ever-present iPad, Helen looking gentle and grandmotherly, and Ida clutching her purse like it contained state secrets.
His eyes landed on the purse. “What’s in there, Ida?”
Ida hugged it to her chest. “Personal property.”
“Snacks,” Ruth clarified.
“Emergency provisions,” Helen added.
Jack pinched the bridge of his nose, exhaling slowly. “You can’t be back here. This is a crime scene.”
“Aha! So it is a crime!” Nans said.
“Like I said, we are investigating.” Jack closed his eyes briefly, the expression of a man counting to ten. “Fine. But you stay here. Do not cross that tape.”
“Of course not,” Nans agreed.
