~ Maddie ~
“A tarot card reading is not substantial evidence.” Jackson’s eyes are smiling as he watches me over the rim of his coffee cup. The mirth in his mahogany gaze belies his no-nonsense tone.
“I know that,” I say. “I don’t put much stake in Hailey’s tarot card reading on a regular day. She’s… uh, how do I say this… She’s a student in the art of spiritual guidance.” I punctuate the statement with a smile.
“The only reason I brought it up is because of the way everyone reacted to Olivia’s assertion that all of us had reason to want revenge on Kellen.”
Jackson raises a brow. “Do you?”
“Do I what?” I ask.
“Maybe I should’ve said did you. Did you want revenge?”
“Absolutely not.” I look around the Briar Patch bakery.
The place is buzzing as it usually is every morning that Jackson and I meet here for coffee. Usually, we’re discussing hypotheticals for my mystery plots. Today, the murder is real.
“I did not want revenge on Kellen Corsi. I had no reason. She was under no obligation to introduce me to her editor. She never said that to me and, for all I know, Olivia is saying that to do a sleight of hand. Take the focus off herself and plant a seed of doubt that someone else is the perp. It’s not out of character for her.”
“What do you mean?” He bites off a piece of scone and chews it while he waits for me to answer.
“Olivia is a smart woman. She always wants to have the upper hand, always wants the last word. When MJ called and told her we were talking about her, she didn’t hesitate to drive over from Asheville and lay it on the line that we were all wrong and she had a mountain of so-called evidence to prove her case. She’s always had to be bigger, better, louder, tougher, and stronger than everyone else.”
“So, she’s still the top suspect on your list?” Jackson asks.
“Is she on yours?” I counter.
“You know I can’t discuss the details of an ongoing investigation,” he says.
“Then I won’t either.”
Jackson isn’t saying this to be mean, but fair is fair. If he can pump me for information, then he has to throw me a bone.
Tess Harrison, the Briar Patch owner, walks over with the coffee carafe and offers a refill. I’m thrilled for the interruption.
“Good morning, you two,” she sings. “How’s the fashion show shaping up, Maddie?”
Ugh. The fashion show. It will have to be postponed, but Jackson asked me to hold off talking to the ladies’ league board until after Kellen’s husband arrives to identify the body and makes an official statement to the press. A lot of people volunteer their time for this fundraiser, donating food and services. The sooner I can tell everyone the better, but it makes sense to wait, because if I tell them now, all I can say is that Kellen’s unavailable. Out of respect for Tom, I can’t tell them she’s dead. Word would get out.
Frankly, I’m surprised Jenna hasn’t confided in Tess.
The two have been best friends since they were in elementary school and usually share everything. But since it’s almost Fourth of July weekend, she’s busy with catering other events in addition to our fashion show that’s not going to happen, and Jenna is trying to get as much lined up behind the scenes so the cancelation goes as smoothly as possible once we can make the announcement.
Tess’s face goes somber as she lowers her voice. “Any word on when they’re going to release the name of the person who died at the Hemlock Inn?”
“If it’s not one person pumping me for information, it’s another.” Jackson’s words sound friendly enough, but there’s more than a grain of truth and irritation in them.
Tess blanches. “Sorry, I’m just curious. I mean, rumor has it the person was murdered.” She pauses, carafe poised midair, but Jackson doesn’t bite. “If that’s true it’s the second murder around here in less than a year. It’s a little scary to think that two people have died in Hemlock after this being a safe place for so many years.”
Again, Jackson stays mum.
Tess shudders. “I don’t mean to overstep, but I would like to know if we should be concerned for our safety. I mean, that’s a two hundred percent increase in the murder rate.”
Jackson grimaces. “In this day and age, it’s always a good idea to be aware of your surroundings, but I have every reason to believe that Hemlock is not turning into a dangerous town.”
“Yeah, well, tell that to the gossip brigade.” Tess raises a brow. “Not sure if y’all have heard, but they want to put together a neighborhood watch program. I know they have to go through the police department to do that.”
I want to say, Isn’t watching the neighborhood what they’ve always done? Watching all the happenings around town and whispering about it behind their hands. But that wouldn’t be very nice. Neither would a quip about snooping in a formal capacity.
“It hasn’t come across my desk yet,” Jackson says. “But I’d support it if for no other reason than it brings the community together. How can that be bad?”
Tess smiles. “I agree.” She looks fresh and pretty this morning. Her long, blonde hair is swept back into a ponytail. The peach T-shirt peeking out from the crisp white apron she’s wearing showcases her summer tan.
Someone at the Briar Patch counter calls to Tess. The line is starting to back up. Not unusual for the bakery this time of morning.
“Looks like Lucy needs help. I guess I’ll watch the newspaper for more information on what happened at the inn.”
“Sounds like a good plan,” Jackson says.
“You’re so mean,” I say. “You could’ve given Tess a hint about what’s going on. For that matter, you could throw me a bone to help with my investigation.”
“Since you’re not a cop, you shouldn’t need help with an investigation. Unless you have a question about that book you’re working on.”
Jackson is talking about the latest book in my Aubrey Christiansen cozy mystery series. Even though I haven’t published a book yet, I keep plugging away. So far, I have finished four books in the series. When the magical day arrives that my series is published, I’ll be the most prolific overnight sensation ever to burst onto the cozy mystery scene.
I smile at the thought and because I understand where he’s going with this switch of tactics. “Okay, I do have a question… for my book… even though a certain hypothetical someone already shared a certain secret related to a certain case, I’ll play. And I’ll even share a little tidbit I learned in exchange for answering my hypothetical question. Deal?”
He gazes at me with his brown eyes and my stomach flips, but I remind myself this isn’t the time to indulge my crush on Chief Jackson Bradley. There are many reasons why not—like the fact that my husband is still missing after a failed navy mission and Jackson won’t even talk about his late wife—but right now, we both need to get to work and I need information before he leaves.
“Hypothetically… Let’s say I have a character in my book named Oliv… Olive A. That’s it. And she says she left a note at the front desk of a hotel for another character—the victim, who will turn up dead that same evening that this Olive leaves the note. Do you think the very handsome chief of police or any of his very capable coworkers would discover that note right away?”
Jackson’s brow knits. “So, you’re saying Olivia left a note for Kellen at the front desk?”
I shrug, but it turns into a nod. “Did you find the note or did someone give it to you?”
Jackson shakes his head. “There wasn’t a note in with the evidence. Do you think Kellen got the note before she died and threw it away?”
“Where would she have thrown it away? Kellen was with us until she went upstairs to freshen up before dinner. I suppose she might have picked up the note at the front desk when she checked in, but don’t you think it would’ve been in with her things in the suite? I wish that somehow we could verify the time that Olivia… err… Olive A. arrived at the hotel. I know when she left, but I don’t know when she got there. Maybe Omar could verify that for us.”
“I’ll have someone call and see if it’s still at the front desk.” He pauses and narrows his eyes at me. “That’s a piece of evidence, Maddie. It’s against the law to tamper with it. So, don’t go down there poking around. Okay?”
“Go down where, Jackson? I thought we were speaking hypothetically.”
He rakes his hand through his hair and shakes his head.
“So, speaking of… Hypothetically, if this Olive A. sued the victim, lost the lawsuit, a few years later the victim turned up dead, and Olive A. just happened to get caught skulking around the hotel where the murder happened, shouldn’t Olive A. be a prime suspect?”
Jackson smiles. “One would think. Actually, if the hypothetical police in your book were any good they would’ve already started looking into this Olive character.”
His phone rings and he looks at the screen. “It’s the office. I have to take the call. We’ll talk later. How about if I could cook you dinner tonight?” He tosses out the words as casually as he drops dollars onto the table to cover the bill.
My heart leaps. “Sounds great.”
His eyes meet mine and something passes between us that makes my leaping heart pound. “How about six p.m.?”
“I’ll be there.”
“Good. See ya.” He answers the call as he walks out of the bakery.
I sit there for a moment watching him walk away as I try to process this dinner invitation. Is it a date or is it simply a time to meet privately so he can finish filling me in on what I don’t know about Olivia without the chance of anyone in the bakery overhearing the chief of police discussing a case with a civilian?
All too soon thoughts of how he hinted that Olivia might be the prime suspect elbow their way into my mind. But what about Tom Corsi and Bella Bellagio? I wish I would’ve told Jackson what Fran said about them. For that matter, I should’ve asked what he thought about the accusations Olivia fired out against the members of the writing group. I make a mental note to talk to him about it tonight. I think about my friends—Fran, Hailey, and MJ. They seem no more capable of committing murder than I am and I know I certainly didn’t kill Kellen.
As I finish the last sip of coffee in my cup, I decide I need to start from the beginning of Kellen’s murder and work my way forward to see if I’ve missed anything. The best place to start is the Hemlock Inn.