~ Jenna ~
Even though the fashion show will likely be postponed, the members of the Hemlock Homicide Heroines writers’ group decide to keep their original reunion plan to meet at Mom’s at six o’clock for dinner.
Now, the reunion has morphed into a true-crime brainstorming session.
“If everyone would be more comfortable, I can go downstairs after dinner and leave you all to your sleuthing,” I say to my mom as I set out four wineglasses.
Home for me is the lower level of Mom’s house. And, no, that doesn’t make me a millennial living in my mom’s basement. Her house is built on the side of a hill. When I moved back to Hemlock after college to start my event-planning business, we had the bottom floor converted into an apartment of sorts for me. We enclosed the stairs between the floors and put doors at both ends so we each would have privacy. Call me a nerd, but my mom is my best friend. I like living this close to her and she likes having me around. We respect each other’s space. I help her with the mortgage. It allowed her to keep her home that was much too big for one person after my dad went missing.
“Unless you have something else you want to do,” she says. “Everyone was looking forward to you being here. But you might want to set out another wineglass. There will be five of us.”
“Five? Who else is coming?”
She looks a little sheepish. “I didn’t feel right having everyone over and not inviting MJ,” Mom says, as she pours a bag of chips into the large bowl with painted flowers that I gave her for Mother’s Day.
“Wow, really?” I say. “I mean, I guess I can understand that, but isn’t MJ still close to Olivia? Aren’t you worried she’ll take issue with you calling Olivia a person of interest?”
Mom shrugs. “It’s not like we’re saying she did it. All we know is that she was at the hotel last night.”
“Sneaking around like that sure does make her seem like she was guilty,” I add.
“I wouldn’t call it sneaking around. She parked in the parking lot. She just didn’t hear us when we called to her.”
I can’t help but smirk. “So either she was majorly preoccupied and didn’t hear you or she was ignoring you. I can’t believe someone can be that unaware of what’s happening around her.”
We exchange a knowing glance. “Or should I say that self-involved that she’s unaware of what’s happening around her.”
“That’s Olivia for you, and if she was ignoring us, that means she knows we saw her. If that’s the case, I’m sure she’s already talked to MJ. I’d like to find out what MJ knows and get a read on how she acts when we bring it up.”
“That’s a good idea and that’s why you’re a good mystery writer.”
Mom laughs. “Would you like to plead my case to a publisher?”
“Happy to be of service, but in the meantime, why don’t I open the wine so it can breathe?”
As I’m uncorking the merlot, someone knocks on the door. Mom’s Pembroke Welsh corgis, Aggie and Homey, short for Agatha Christie and Sherlock Homes, respectively, sound the barking alarm and race her to the door.
“Stay back! Sit!” she calls over their barking. When they quiet down, I hear her greeting one of her friends.
She and Fran come into the kitchen, the dogs at their heels. “Hello, Jenna.” She bends to scratch the dogs behind the ears as Mom sets something in a bakery box on the table and prepares to put the sunflowers Fran brought in a vase. “I’m glad you’re here. The way you helped your mom solve the Riley Buxston case last Christmas, we could use your perspective.”
“I don’t know how much help I’ll be, but I’ll try.”
I didn’t exactly help Mom solve the case as much as I nearly got myself killed when I inadvertently fell into the path of Riley’s killer. Not an experience I’d care to repeat, thank you very much.
“The flowers are pretty,” I say, as Mom sets the leaded crystal vase in the middle of the table.
A sad look washes over Fran’s face. “If I remember right, sunflowers were Kellen’s favorite. She had them in her wedding bouquet.”
We’re all quiet as we regard the bright yellow flowers as if we’re observing a moment of silence out of respect for Kellen. I suppose we are. It dawns on me that tonight will probably turn into a private memorial of sorts for her as her friends, minus one who could very well be the murderer, gather.
Another knock on the door sounds and the corgis give a repeat performance of racing to the door. Only this time, I’m the one who follows them.
When I open the door, both MJ and Hailey are standing there, bearing bottles of wine, food that’s wrapped up so I can’t tell what it is, and more flowers.
“Come in,” I say as I usher them in. “Did you two ride together?”
“No, we arrived at the same time,” Hailey says in her usual breezy manner.
MJ frowns as she sidesteps the dogs, who are both jumping up on her. Clearly, she wants no part of their cuteness, which the dogs can’t fathom because they believe everyone who visits has come specifically to fawn all over them.
As MJ hitches her large purse up onto her shoulder, she makes her getaway, leaving Hailey to contend with the dogs. To my surprise, she doesn’t scold them as they turn their attention-seeking cuteness on her.
“Aggie, Homie, get down,” I say. “Mind your manners.”
Hailey’s eyes are red as if she’s been crying and she seems quieter than usual.
She crouches down and draws them in. “Come here, my little loves,” she coos in a quiet voice. “Give me some kisses.”
The dogs oblige, dancing around her as they sniff her and lick her cheeks. I pick up the flowers and container she discarded on the wood floor before the dogs pick up the scent of something edible and change focus in that lightning-quick way of theirs.
After a moment, Hailey stands and walks into the kitchen. Everyone is talking at once. I hand Mom the flowers Hailey brought and she puts them into a vase. I play bartender pouring glasses of wine and handing them out. When everyone has a beverage, the talking ebbs and everyone looks to Mom, who has everyone take a seat at the table.
“I’m glad we could all get together tonight. Of course, this wasn’t the way things were supposed to go. This was supposed to be a celebration of friendship. But…”
Mom’s voice catches on the last word.
Fran picks up where she left off. “I think it’s fitting to raise our glasses to our dear friend, Kellen.”
“To Kellen,” everyone says and sips their wine in the silence that follows.
As my mother is serving the lasagna she made, Hailey asks, “So, Maddie, did you follow up with Jack about Kellen’s husband and Bella Bellagio?”
“I left him a message, but he hasn’t had a chance to call me back. I’m sure he was pretty busy today given everything he has on his plate. I’m also guessing he contacted Tom since he is her next of kin. I’ll let you know once I hear something.”
“Are you talking about Bella Bellagio the actress?” MJ asks.
Hailey nods. “Yeah, this morning Fran was telling us that the tabloids caught Tom and Bella canoodling in Asheville. You know, she’s the actress who is playing the lead in Kellen’s movie.”
“You all got together this morning?” MJ sits stiffly in her chair. Her wineglass is poised in the air as if she’s ready to offer a toast. She begins fanning herself double time with the other hand.
I’d heard Mom talk about MJ’s jealous side and I remember Fran grumbling about MJ’s double standard. She didn’t want to be left out of anything—plotting, research trips, shopping, hanging out. But she had no qualms about getting together with Olivia and excluding everyone else. Good grief, sometimes it seemed like high school all over again.
“Fran stopped by the shop,” Mom says. “And then Hailey happened in.”
“Don’t worry no one had fun without you,” Fran said. “We know better than to do that.”
Everyone chuckles except MJ, who looks like she’s sucking lemons.
“You could’ve called me.” She forces a smile. “I would’ve come right over.”
“Of course you would’ve,” Mom says. “We would have called if it had been something important, but it wasn’t. Fran and Hailey were in the area—separately—and they stopped in to say hello. That’s all there was to it. The plan was to get together tonight and here we are.”
MJ looks mildly placated. “So, then, what’s this about Tom and Bella Bellagio?”
“Fran, do you want to tell her what you told us?” Mom says.
“Sure,” Fran says. “But first, MJ, bless your heart, why are you wearing a turtleneck in the dead of summer? No wonder you have to fan yourself all the time. Do I need to take you shopping for a summer wardrobe?”
MJ’s face turns the color of her blouse. “Fran, all this upset has triggered my eczema. It’s acting up and I decided to wear the turtleneck to spare you the ugliness. Do I need to enroll you in manners classes where they teach the difference between polite topics of conversation and what’s taboo?”
Fran apologizes and quickly changes the subject, telling about her internet research and how it turned up speculation that Tom was getting romantic with the actress.
MJ’s jaw drops. “Kellen flew in from New York. And her husband was right here, not even an hour away? With Bella Bellagio?”
“Well, he was in Asheville,” Fran says. “According to the photos, they looked like they were getting pretty cozy.”
MJ waves away Fran’s correction. “Asheville is just thirty minutes away. That’s basically right here.”
She narrows her eyes and pushes salad around on her plate with her fork. “So, let’s see. Kellen is having marital problems. She turns up dead and her husband and his mistress are holing up a stone’s throw away. No, that doesn’t sound suspicious at all. Are you kidding me?”
Eventually, the conversation shifts and we spend the rest of the meal remembering Kellen and sharing memories of her. We all shed some tears and share some bittersweet laughs. Finally, our plates are empty and our hearts are full.
“If everyone is finished with dinner, why don’t we move into the living room where we’ll be more comfortable,” Mom suggests.
“You all go ahead and I’ll clean up,” I offer.
“Absolutely not,” Fran says. “We’ll all help with the dishes later. We need you to listen with an objective ear to see if we’re overlooking something obvious.”
“Wait a minute,” Hailey says. “What do you mean listen with an objective ear? I thought we were gathering to honor Kellen.”
“That goes without saying,” MJ says. “Personally, I can’t think of a better way to honor her than to use our mystery writing skills to help solve her murder.”
Hailey thrusts out her bottom lip and shrugs. “You’re right. I’ve just been so upset since everything happened, I can’t even think straight.” She sobs and tears start falling from her eyes. “I just can imagine who would do that to her. She was such a lovely person. She had her whole life ahead of her. It just makes no sense.”
MJ sighs. “It’s what she would’ve wanted, Hailey. We need to figure out who did this to her.”
I share gazes with my mom and I wonder if she’s thinking of Olivia. I know I am. But I’m wondering how anyone is going to broach the subject of Olivia as a suspect since MJ is so protective of her friend and might not have considered that Olivia could be the one who wanted Kellen dead.
“Oh, look at me,” Hailey says. “I’m such a mess. I feel like such an idiot crying like this.”
“It’s okay, honey.” MJ puts her arm around Hailey’s shoulder and gives her a squeeze. “We’re all torn up over her.”
Hailey sniffles and swipes at her tears. Mom hands her a tissue and she uses it to carefully blot under her eyes.
Fran appears at her side with a goblet. “Why don’t you sit down and have another glass of wine. Wine makes everything better.”
Hailey accepts the glass and takes a long pull of the deep red liquid.
“So, do you really think Tom would kill his own wife?” MJ asks as she settles her ample frame on one of the armchairs. “They seemed like they had everything in the world going for them.”
“Who knows?” Fran says as she walks around with the bottle of wine topping off everyone’s glasses. “It certainly doesn’t rule him out, does it?”
“If we’re making our list,” Hailey says, “I think we need to talk about Olivia, too.”
MJ stiffens. “What about Olivia?”
“We can’t ignore the fact that she showed up at the hotel last night after she told us she was too busy with her deadline to join us.”
Yes! Go, Hailey.
“Look, I am not going to sit here and talk about her when she’s not here to defend herself,” MJ says. “She’s my friend just like you’re all my friends. I wouldn’t talk about any of you like that.”
I catch Fran rolling her eyes.
“Have you spoken to her since everything unfolded?” Mom asks.
MJ glares at her. “Did you not hear me? I said I’m not going to talk about Olivia if she’s not here to defend herself. I would extend that same courtesy to each of you if you were the subject of gossip. So, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go to the little girls’ room. When I come back, I hope we can change the focus of this get-together.”
After MJ leaves the room, the four of us stare at each other dumfounded. Finally, Fran breaks the silence.
“You can’t say we didn’t expect this from her.” She sips her wine. “I guess we should admire her loyalty to her friend.”
“Yeah, but Kellen was a friend, too,” Hailey says. “And if Olivia is so innocent, why isn’t MJ jumping in there to prove it? That sounds fishy to me.”
We talk about everything and nothing for a while.
Just as we realize MJ has been gone for a long time and we start to wonder if we should go check on her, there’s a knock on the door.
“Did she go outside?” Mom asks.
“Maybe she went for a walk to get her head together,” Fran suggests.
“If so, maybe she locked herself out?” I say as I walk into the foyer and answer the door.
It’s not MJ I see standing there. It’s Olivia Knowles looking quite murderous as she shoots daggers at me with her eyes.