by Nancy CoCo
I dove into the water, came up next to the woman, and turned her so that her face was out of the water. I dragged her to shore as I was taught in my high school lifeguard class. I got maybe a yard onto dry sand when I heard someone approach.
“Allie, are you okay?” It was Mrs. Tunisian. She was a dear friend and one of a handful of senior citizens who’d retired on the island. She was dressed as a dragonfly with her hair in a mohawk and a headband with twin antennae.
“I’m fine,” I said, “but she isn’t. She was in the water.” I set down the woman and gasped as I saw it was Mrs. Higer, the head of the Midsummer’s Night Festival. I got on my knees to push water from her lungs when I noticed a dark round hole in the center of her forehead.
Grabbing my phone, I turned on the flashlight.
“Oh, that’s not good,” Mrs. Tunisian said.
Indeed, it was not. Mrs. Higer had been shot right between the eyes. I didn’t think there was anything I could do to save her life.
“Run to the bonfire and get Rex,” I ordered Mrs. Tunisian. Then I dialed 9-1-1.
“Nine-one-one, what is your emergency?” Charlene, the dispatch operator, asked.
“Hi, Charlene,” I said, my voice breathless.
“Oh my goodness, Allie, who’s dead?” It seemed to be a growing theme between Charlene and me.
“It’s Mrs. Higer,” I said. “She’s been shot.”
“Is she alive?”
“No, I don’t think so,” I said. “I found her in the water and when I pulled her out I saw that she had a bullet hole in the center of her forehead.”
“Where are you?”
“I’m at the beach, just at the bottom of the path from Main Street.”
“I’ve got police arriving soon,” Charlene said. “Are you okay? Did you see the shooter?”
“No,” I said, looking around. “I didn’t see the shooter, but her body is still warm, so it had to have happened not too long ago.”
“Does she have a heartbeat?”
I placed my fingers on the side of her neck. “No,” I confirmed. “She’s definitely dead.”
I heard the sirens from the ambulance coming my way. Mackinac Island had banned motor vehicles nearly a century ago. That meant most people got around by bicycle or horse and carriage. I liked to walk everywhere. But when it came to safety, we had a modern firetruck and a modern ambulance. They were the only vehicles allowed on the island.
Rex and Mrs. Tunisian came running, followed by Jenn and Shane.
“Allie, what happened? You’re soaked!” Rex said.
“I was coming back down the path when I saw someone in the water. She was facedown, so I swam out to get her and bring her in,” I said.
“That’s when we saw the bullet hole in her forehead,” Mrs. Tunisian told Rex. “So I went to get you.”
“Did anyone hear a shot?” I asked.
“The fireworks must have covered up the sound,” Rex said.
Two bikes approached. It was Officer Lasko and Officer Brown. Rex waved them down.
“It’s Mrs. Higer,” I said and pointed toward the body. I walked a good distance away from the body so they could take care of things. “Someone shot her in the head.”
“Were you here when she was found?” Officer Charles Brown asked Rex. Charles was a handsome man with a strong chin and short brown hair.
“No,” Rex said. “Allie found her in the water.”
“I pulled her out and dragged her to where she is now,” I explained.
“I went and got Rex,” Mrs. Tunisian said. A crowd had begun to form behind Jenn.
“I’m going to go get my kit,” Shane said. He was our local crime scene investigator. He and Jenn had bought a small bungalow not far from the McMurphy. That was where he kept his kit.
“How did you find her?” Officer Megan Lasko asked. She pulled a notebook out of her pocket to take my statement.
I went over what happened. I knew from experience that I would be asked the same questions over and over to ensure I didn’t change my story or to help me remember something I might have forgotten.
“Did you see anyone else?” Officer Lasko asked.
“No.” I shook my head. “The fireworks must have covered up the sound of the gunshot.”
“What was she doing way over here?” Tracy mused.
“I don’t know,” I said. “I found her in the water, so she could have drifted here.”
“Did you see her at the bonfire?”
“I did.”
“Did you see her leave?” Megan asked.
“No,” I said. “Last I saw her, she was talking with the Alpines about the pageant. It seems Natasha Alpine was disqualified, and her mother and grandmother weren’t too happy about it.”
The ambulance arrived and George Marron stepped out. He was dressed in a blue EMT’s outfit, his hair pulled back into a long single braid. His cheekbones were high and strong in his thin face. His copper-colored skin shone in the light from my phone.
“Hello, Allie,” he said.
“Hi, George,” I greeted him.
“What do we have?” he asked, his voice smooth as sanded wood.
“Mrs. Higer, shot in the middle of her forehead,” I said and pointed toward the body. “I don’t think she needs you. You’d better call the coroner.”
“You’re wet,” he said. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” I said. “Just a little chilled.”
“Is Shane on duty?”
“He went home to get his kit,” I said.
Jenn came over with a beach towel for me. I hadn’t seen her leave, but there was a lot going on and it was dark. “Here,” she said. “You’re shivering.”
I huddled into the warmth of the beach towel. My wings were soggy lace.
“I’ll tape off the crime scene,” Megan said. “The crowds are growing, and we don’t need them trampling evidence.”
“Thanks, Lasko,” Rex said. He and George squatted down to take a good look at the body.
Jenn hugged me. “Are you okay?”
“Yes,” I said, hugging her back. “I’m just chilled from the water. How did this happen without anyone seeing anything?”
“Did you see anyone nearby when you found her?” Rex asked as he stood, leaving the body to George.
“No.” I shook my head. “I didn’t hear anything, either. I think the shot was covered up by the fireworks.”
“Last I saw her, she was talking to the Alpines at the festival,” Jenn said.
“I know,” I said. “That’s when I saw her.”
“We were on the beach and didn’t hear the shot. But that doesn’t mean others didn’t. We’re going to have to interview the people at the festival to see if anyone saw her leave,” Rex said.
“Well, then, you’d better hurry, because people are leaving already,” I said.
“I’m sure that anyone with information will come forward,” Rex said with confidence. He turned to give me a glimpse of the crowd formed outside the tape lines. “It looks like everyone showed up for this crime scene.”
“Maybe even the killer,” Mrs. Tunisian said.
If only things were that easy.
Photo by Lach Craft Productions
About the Author
Nancy Coco is the acclaimed author of the Candy-Coated Mysteries, the Oregon Honeycomb Mystery series, a number of romantic suspense novels, western historical romances, and four additional mystery series written under the name Nancy J. Parra. An air force veteran who rose to the rank of sergeant, Nancy is a member of an online group of female veterans called Romvets: Military Women Who Have Turned the Sword to Pen (romvets.com). She is also a member of Mystery Writers of America and Sisters in Crime. She makes her home near Dallas, Texas. Visit her online at www.NancyJCoco.com.
Nancy Coco will donate a portion of her earnings from this book to the ASPCA.
Learn what you can do to help at www.aspca.org/donate.
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