Material Witness (4 page)

Matt continued to squirm under his mother’s gaze, scuffing his right shoe against the sidewalk, leaving streaks of mud.

That was it. Suddenly what she’d seen came back with crystal clarity, but instead of feeling relief, a shiver crept down her spine, causing her to draw her sweater tighter around her shoulders.

A light storm had passed through the evening before. She recalled waking in the middle of the night to the sound of rain dripping on her roof. As she rolled over, reached out, and stroked Max, she’d breathed a prayer of gratefulness she wouldn’t need to water her garden before work.

Rain.

And gardens.

And mud.

Minutes earlier, when she’d first arrived and seen Mrs. Knepp, when she’d first run toward her, the initial thing she’d seen, even before it had registered that the woman was dead, were large muddy footprints, one on each side of the body.

Almost as if someone had stood directly over her lifeless form.

Which left Callie with two questions.

What was Mrs. Knepp doing in the bushes of Callie’s shop?

And who had stood over the old lady as she died?

Callie watched Andrew Gavin step out of the cruiser. A second police vehicle arrived, which held Captain Taylor. She knew both men quite well, given her history with the police department since her arrival in Shipshewana fifteen months ago.

Gavin was a teddy bear at heart, though physically he looked to Callie like he’d been discharged from the Marines just last week. Thirty-one years old with blue eyes that could turn to ice if you were threatening the citizens of Shipshe, all six feet of Andrew Gavin was muscular in a military way. It was something he hadn’t lost from the four years he’d spent serving overseas for Uncle Sam. His brown hair was still cut regulation length, and his brows framed eyes filled with concern as he hurried in her direction.

Captain Stan Taylor followed a few steps behind.

Callie barely remembered her grandfather, but she imagined he might have looked a lot like Officer Taylor. Warm brown eyes, bushy white brows, and a protruding stomach gave him a grand-fatherly look. Taylor’s wife constantly implemented new plans to reduce his waistline, but none had been successful to date. More importantly, he’d been kind to Callie when she’d first been under suspicion of murder her first summer in Shipshe.

Taylor took the lead. “Did we receive that call correctly, Callie? Has there been a death?”

She’d remained fairly calm since hearing Max’s furious barking, but now that Gavin and Taylor were here, her sense of detachment fled.

She raised her hand to point toward the body at the far side of her parking area and — now that she knew her friends were safe, that her worst fears were allayed — her entire arm began to shake uncontrollably.

“Over there, facedown on the pavement.” Callie began walking with them to the body. “She might have … she might have fallen over.”

“She didn’t fall,” Aaron said. “A man pushed her.”

Everyone turned to stare at the small boy in the wheelchair. He didn’t blink and didn’t look away. He waited — eyes wide, wool cap pulled down over his ears, right hand resting on the wheel of his chair.

The shaking spread to Callie’s legs, and she had to sit down in the middle of the sidewalk.

Did Aaron just say someone had pushed Mrs. Knepp?

But pushing someone onto the concrete wouldn’t kill them. Would it? How could it?

Yet she was dead.

Mrs. Knepp was dead.

Whoever had pushed her had left her body less than fifty feet from the front door of Callie’s shop.

And whoever had done it was still running around loose.

D
EBORAH WAS CONTENT
staying inside the door of the quilt shop, even after Callie had whispered that she’d found a body on the corner of the lot.

When Martha had first come in, she’d sent her oldest directly to the fabric table to help with orders, then hurried to the back to make the emergency phone call.

All the while her mind had insisted there must be some mistake. This couldn’t be happening again.

Then Melinda had fled out the door to check on her boys, Callie had come to talk to her ever so briefly, and the officers had arrived in their police cruiser and walked over to Callie.

Deborah was a practical woman. She understood death was part of life. She’d personally sat beside death’s door several times in her thirty-three years. But it had been less than twelve months ago that she and Esther had stopped by Reuben’s pond and found an Amish girl floating facedown in it. Five months before that, Callie had been suspected of killing the town’s newspaper editor. Surely there was a limit to the amount of violence in the world. It didn’t make sense that they would find themselves in the middle of a death once again — and so soon.

Something about the way Captain Taylor rested his hand on the
butt of his weapon while he was talking to Aaron, Melinda, and Callie gave Deborah the feeling this was indeed what was happening. Gavin was scanning the area too.
Almost as if the two officers thought … as if they expected to find a dangerous person lurking about
.

Deborah had not actually accepted that there was a dead person outside the shop. She’d hoped perhaps it was a mistake.

Perhaps children were playing a prank or someone had taken ill and merely looked dead.

Watching the officers, the thought crossed her mind that maybe it was more than a death. Maybe it was another murder.

Nein
.

She couldn’t accept that it had happened again — in their town, near their children, and in the midst of their lives.

She refused to believe it.

Until she saw Callie walk away from Melinda and Aaron and point toward the parking area of the shop, after which she crumpled onto the front sidewalk. Until she saw Max try to nuzzle Callie’s face. Then Deborah knew that death had once more found its way into their protected circle.

She dropped the bolt of fabric she’d been holding, pushed through the crowd in the store, and ran outside to kneel beside Callie.

“Was iss letz?”

“I’ve lived here almost a year and a half, and sometimes I still can’t understand a word you say.” Callie’s voice was muffled, since her head remained between her knees. Her knees were propped up, making a tent of the new dark green dress they’d sewn together.

“She’ll be all right, Deborah. It’s only the shock.” Gavin touched their shoulders as he walked by, then turned toward the crowd of people who were spilling out of the shop.

“I’m going to need everyone to remain calm and go back inside.”

“What’s happened?” one of the customers called out.

“Why do we have to go back inside?” another asked. “I’m done shopping.”

“I need to go home to my family.” Deborah thought that sounded like Mrs. Drisban, one of their regular customers.

“I understand, but we’re going to have to ask you a few questions first.” Gavin turned to catch instructions from Taylor, then relayed them to the small crowd gathering at the door of the shop. “The Captain has asked everyone not to leave until we can have you fill out some forms.”

“Forms? Why do we have to fill out forms?”

“Because it’s a requirement in these situations. Now please move back into the building.” Gavin crossed his arms and took up a military stance outside the door.

Deborah had seen a few soldiers in uniform when she and Callie had gone to the museum in Chicago. The soldiers had stopped at a diner where they were eating lunch. Callie had explained to her then that Gavin still acted exactly like them. They’d had a laugh over it, because they’d both been able to picture him in the middle of the group of men, in uniform. He wouldn’t even have needed a new haircut.

But looking at him now, watching him take up that protective stance outside Callie’s door, she realized that what he hadn’t lost when he’d left the military was more than physical bearing or hairstyle. What he hadn’t lost was the inclination to watch over those in his care.

But who was he protecting now?

One thing was certain. No one would leave unless they thought they could go through Andrew Gavin, which they couldn’t. The grumbling continued at the entrance of the shop, but there wasn’t a single person who attempted to move to the parking area.

“We’ll pass out the forms once you’re back inside,” Captain Taylor explained, pocketing his cell phone and walking in front of Gavin. “They ask you to provide your contact information and answer a few simple questions. Officer Gavin will remain here to ensure no one leaves. I have another officer posted at the back
door. This is going to take us an hour or more, so I suggest you all move away from the door and settle down. The more cooperative you are, the faster we can proceed.”

“Proceed with what?”

“Has there been a burglary?”

The questions flew at him rapidly.

“My daughter texted me that you’ve found a dead body.”

Deborah and Callie both glanced up at the same time. The first officers to arrive had quickly cordoned off the sidewalk and parking lot adjacent to the shop. Yellow crime-scene tape now stretched from where Melinda and her boys waited to the end of Callie’s garden area. They’d marked off her entire section of the block. But that didn’t stop a growing crowd of onlookers from gathering outside the crime-scene tape. Quite a few of them had cell phones out. Some were texting, others were talking, and several were taking pictures.

The shoppers reluctantly went back inside as a county vehicle arrived. Two crime-scene techs spoke quickly with Captain Taylor and then began setting up mobile lights.

When they switched them on, Deborah saw the body, the black shoes, dark stockings, apron hem, and plain dress.

Her stomach clenched as if she were seized with a heavy labor pain. “Who is that, Callie?”

“It’s Mrs. Knepp.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure.” Callie placed her head back between her knees as Trent McCallister pulled his truck to the curb, then ducked under the crime-scene tape.

He made his way straight to them. Tall, with light-colored hair that reached past his collar, he always reminded Deborah of a teenage boy. It was more than the carefree smile and the clothes that looked as if he’d stolen them off one of the skateboarders down at the park — tonight ragged blue jeans and a “GET FIT”
T-shirt. It was that his hazel eyes seemed to refuse to grow up in spite of the things he photographed as editor, writer, and photographer of the town paper. Or maybe — the thought startled Deborah as she knelt beside Callie — maybe because of them.

“You two all right?” Trent asked.

“We’re fine, but she’s not doing so well.” Deborah nodded toward Mrs. Knepp.

“Almost looks as if she tried to fly from the top of the tree and met a hard landing.” Trent raised his new Nikon digital camera, one with a lens big enough to capture more detail than Deborah cared to see. He clicked off three pictures, then turned back to them. “Were you here when it happened, Callie?”

She shook her head no, but didn’t raise her eyes to meet his.

“What’s wrong with her?”

“Gavin says she’s in shock.”

“Huh. You’d think she’d be used to this by now.” Trent snapped two more pictures and turned back toward Melinda and the boys. “Why are they waiting outside?”

“Oh, my gosh.” Callie’s head popped up. “I forgot about them.”

She jumped to her feet, nearly tripping herself on the hem of her fashionable dress. “I wonder why they’re still waiting by the bench.”

“Callie, I need you to stay over here.” Taylor stepped between her and Melinda. “I know you want to go to her, but she’s fine. They’re all fine. Can you wait here until we take your statement?”

Callie nodded but turned to Deborah as soon as Taylor walked back over to his men. “Why can’t we go to her? What harm would it do?”

“He probably wants to make sure you don’t color each other’s statements. If you talk to each other, you’ll begin to echo what the other says.” Deborah glanced over at Melinda, who now sat on the bench next to Aaron. Matthew sat beside her, staring at the growing collection of officers.

“Melinda didn’t see it,” Callie reminded her. “Aaron did. Aaron was here before I was.”

“Then Aaron is their primary witness.” Trent reached in his pocket and pulled out a treat for Max. “What?” he asked, in response to Deborah’s stare. “I’m a reporter. It makes sense for me to carry dog treats. You never know when I’m going to cross a hostile canine.”

Whistling softly, he walked away.

“He only does that for Max, doesn’t he?” Deborah reached forward, scratching Max between the ears.

“Yes. I think my dog is gaining weight.”

“Are you okay now? Your color’s coming back, but I was worried there for a minute.”

Callie reached down and placed both arms around Max, giving him a giant hug. Then she stood and looked Deborah straight in the eyes. When she did, Deborah realized why Callie had been sitting with her head between her knees.

It wasn’t merely the shock of what she’d seen.

It was the realization of what was to come.

“Deborah, I’d thought maybe Mrs. Knepp had just collapsed — died of a sudden aneurysm or heart problem.”

“Except you don’t collapse with both your arms out.”

“True. It’s an odd position. There’s more though.” Callie told Deborah about the shoe prints on each side of the body and about Aaron seeing a man push the old lady.

“Who would push her?”

“I don’t know.”

“Well, a shove — even onto concrete — can’t kill someone.”

“Deborah, it’s so creepy — someone who I’ve been in a feud with dying. I always thought I’d have time to win her over, but now …”

“It’s not your fault, and you did attempt to gain her friendship. More than once. You know this.”

“Maybe I should have tried harder.” Callie glanced over at Mrs. Knepp’s body, and Deborah noticed the color draining from her face again.

“None of us are able to choose our day, Callie. Don’t look at her that way. Don’t look at her as if it’s your fault.”

“It’s more than her being dead and on the corner of my lot. Whoever Aaron saw push her is still out there. They probably ran away because of Max’s barking.” Callie reached for Deborah’s hands. “And think of this — they were bold enough to harm her so close to my shop, on one of the busiest nights of the year. What kind of person does that? And why?”