~ Maddie ~
“I was able to make some calls while I was babysitting your security system install,” Jackson says as we travel to Honey Mountain Farm to check into the stolen hive frame.
I’m relieved the morning isn’t a total wash for him, but I’m also grateful he was able to oversee the installation today because I’m so exhausted after last night, they could’ve said chimpanzees would stand guard at the doors and windows and I would’ve smiled and nodded.
Because of Jackson’s generosity, I was able to sleep a few hours in the guestroom at his place with my two corgis curled up next to me. Jenna opted to go to Tess’s apartment above the bakery for her nap.
Now I feel like a new person, refreshed and ready to see what we can discover at the bee farm.
“Did you learn anything interesting?” I ask, drinking in the masculine lines of his profile as he navigates the highway.
“Come to find out, both Bella Bellagio and Tom Corsi have air-solid alibis for the day and evening that Kellen was murdered. They were both present at the table-read rehearsal for The Sting of Death.”
I nod. “Can’t say I’m surprised. But I still don’t know what to think. Tom just about had me convinced that he didn’t have it in him to kill his wife, that he loved her and maybe even wanted her back. But then I saw the text from Bella and I realized he was lying to me.”
“I asked Tom about that,” Jackson says. “He said he and Bella downplayed their relationship out of respect to Kellen… after what happened.”
I snort. “Wouldn’t not having an affair be the best sign of respect?”
“Of course,” Jackson says. “But the divorce was final. He was the one who filed, but they had both signed before they left New York for North Carolina.”
“Okay. There goes my theory that Tom had Kellen killed so he could inherit as a spouse.”
Jackson nods. “I don’t think either of them murdered Kellen. After I confirmed their alibis, I tracked down the Manhattan attorney who was handling the Corsi divorce. He confirmed that they signed the divorce papers before coming down for the movie. They had agreed to keep the divorce on the down low to keep Bella from looking like a homewrecker. Kellen was afraid it would adversely affect the movie if Bella was perceived as breaking up the marriage of the woman who wrote the book for the movie in which she was starring. It wouldn’t make her very sympathetic. It would make her even less so if she or Kellen’s ex-husband were charged with Kellen’s murder. The way I see it, Tom and Bella had nothing to gain and everything to lose by offing Kellen. But there’s more. Come to find out, Tom and Kellen had signed a prenup before they got married. It states should they split, each of them was only entitled to what they brought into the marriage. Kellen left everything to the New York Public Library and various literacy organizations. Tom got nothing and he was well aware of that. Besides, he doesn’t need Kellen’s money. He’s a trust fund baby. Apparently his grandfather created some kind of computer software that helped revolutionize banking. I did a financial check and Tom Corsi is worth several billion dollars.”
“Well, how nice for him,” I say. “Still, could it have been a crime of passion? What if he didn’t want the divorce and things got nasty?”
Jackson shakes his head. “Unlikely. Most crimes of passion are committed in the heat of the moment. This one was meticulously thought out.”
“Okay, I see your reasoning,” I say. “With Bella and Tom off the hook, that leaves Olivia and the creepy stalker fan. Any developments on either of them?”
“Abner Dent was picked up on a drunk and disorderly on June thirtieth. According to my contact at NYPD, he was in violation of his parole, so he has been cooling his heels in jail for the past three days.”
“Obviously, I don’t know him, but it sounds like he wouldn’t have the means to pull this off long distance.”
“I agree. I guess we can cross him off the list,” Jackson says.
“That brings us back to Olivia. Have you heard back about the hotel’s surveillance video?”
“John and Shirley English—they own the hotel—have been out of the country and should be back today. Apparently, they won’t trust anyone else with the password for the website that houses the security footage.”
“Really? Not even Omar? He’s their assistant manager.”
Jackson shakes his head. “Nope. Not even Omar and it’s a sore subject with him because he feels like they don’t trust him. I can’t say I blame him. If you trust someone enough to manage your business while you’re away, you should trust him with everything. Waiting for them has delayed the investigation.”
“Since it’s police business, couldn’t you ask them to give you the password over the phone?”
“Normally, yes, but they’ve been on a cruise and don’t have cell service. We could’ve pushed it, called the ship, but since they’re getting home tonight, I decided to wait.”
When we arrive at Honey Mountain Farm, Minnie Owens, the owner greets us from behind the counter of her small retail shop. She’s a tiny, wiry woman who looks to be in her mid-seventies. Dressed in faded jeans rolled up to the knees and a T-shirt bearing the name of her business, she looks healthy and spry.
“Yes sirree bob, I called the sheriff right away and reported the theft,” she says. “They filed a report on it, but said that there was nothing else they could do except keep an eye out for other mischief. They told me to do the same. They said I should invest in those security cameras that record the goings on of people when we’re not around. But, lordy, who can afford a fancy outfit like that? It’s all I can do to pay to keep my lights turned on. How did you come across my frame, Chief Bradley?”
“It was involved in a homicide in my jurisdiction that I am investigating.”
“You don’t say?” Minnie’s brow knits. “How in the world did they use a beehive to kill someone?”
“I’m sorry, I can’t divulge that information since it’s part of the ongoing investigation,” Jackson says. “But please know I appreciate your cooperation.”
“Certainly,” she says. “I’m happy to help. But, good gravy, it would take a devious mind to think of using a beehive as a murder weapon.”
Jackson nods and opens his notebook. “Please tell me where you were on the evening of July first.”
“Well, that’s easy. That’s my grandson’s birthday. My husband and I were with him and our daughter and son-in-law in Greenville, South Carolina, celebrating. He turned two. Cutest little guy you ever saw.”
“Well, happy birthday to him. Your family will confirm that?”
Minnie frowns. “Of course they will. I can call my girl up right now if you want.” Minnie picks up her cell phone, but pauses, finger in midair, before she dials. “You don’t think I did this, do you?”
“These are just routine questions, ma’am,” Jackson says.
“Well, okay, but please don’t upset my daughter.”
“Will this upset her?” Jackson asks.
Minnie nods. “She worries about her father and me being out here in the country. There’s so much meanness these days. But I have nothing to hide.”
As she dials the number, she says, “The fact that it happened while we were gone gave me pause. It’s almost as if the dang thief knew we’d be out of town, but the strange thing is they only took the frame from the hive. Knocked over the whole thing in the process. That’s how we discovered the frame was missing. I hope they got stung.
“The only reason I reported it was because I wanted to send a message to whoever did it that I’m not about to put up with nonsense. Uh-uh. I’m not playin’. First they take a beehive frame. What do you think they’ll do next? Break into the shop and take my money? Well, if they do, they have another thing coming. Ever since then, I don’t leave a cent in the register anymore. So, if they go to all that trouble it’s gonna be for naught. That would teach them a lesson, wouldn’t it? Especially if they’re staring down the barrel of my twelve gauge—Oh, wait. It’s my daughter—
“Patty, it’s Mama. Don’t be alarmed, dear. Everything is fine, but I have Chief Bradley from the Hemlock Police Department in my shop. Remember me telling you that someone knocked over some of the beehives and stole one of the frames? Well, apparently, it was used as a murder weapon.”
Minnie is silent for a moment, but we can hear Patty’s exclamation through the receiver.
“I know, I know,” Minnie says in a soothing voice. “Honey… No, don’t worry—”
I hear Patty say the words sell that farm… too much work… worry about you.
“I appreciate that, honey, but we can talk about it later. Right now, the policeman wants to ask you some questions. And don’t bother asking him anything because he won’t answer you on account of the on-going investigation.”
Minnie hands the receiver over to Jackson, who promptly confirms that Minnie and her husband were both in Greenville, South Carolina, on July first and her mother has date-stamped photos to prove it.
When Jackson hands her back the phone, Minnie immediately pulls up the pictures and starts showing off her family.
“This is my daughter, Patty, and her husband Bryan. And this little guy is Bryson. Isn’t he the cutest little thing? Light of our lives.”
Jackson smiles at the phone.
“Do you have any kids, Chief?” Minnie asks.
“I don’t.”
“There’s probably still time for you and your wife.” She smiles at me. “There is nothing in the world like grandkids, but you have to have kids before you can get those.”
“Oh! No, I’m not—” I stammer. “We’re not—We’re just friends.”
“Oh! I’m sorry,” Minnie says. “I just assumed. You two look so natural together. I thought he’d taken the missus for a ride-along.”
My cheeks warm.
“Are you married, Chief?” she asks.
“No, I’m not. Can you please tell me how to spell your daughter’s first and last names? I need that and her phone number for the records.”
As Minnie gives Jackson the information, I stand there drowning in the sinking realization that not only is Jackson half a decade younger than me, he doesn’t have kids. We’ve never even talked about whether or not he wants children. At forty-five years, my baby-making days are behind me. I have my daughter, who I love more than anything. I don’t want to deny Jackson that joy, but I have to be honest with myself. Now, I don’t know what to do with this new thing between us. I’m not good at casual romance, but how can I ask Jackson to give up one of life’s greatest gifts—a child of his own?
I blink away the thought, knowing we’ll have to discuss it soon, but now isn’t the time to dwell on it. To distract myself, I look around the small retail shop that sells beekeeping supplies, books on the subject and gardening, as well as home-canned honeys, and jams, jellies, and preserves, and various honey-related cosmetics and products for face and body.
As I browse, Minnie is showing Jackson more photos and saying, “These pictures should prove that I’m not your murderer.”
I want to tell her we never thought she was, because every new piece of evidence seems to point to Olivia Knowles. Then I have an idea.
I take my phone out of my purse and scroll to my social media account. I pull up Olivia’s profile and snap a screenshot.
“Minnie, perchance, have you ever seen this woman around here?”
I hand her the phone and her eyes bug and then her mouth settles into a tight line.
“That is the woman who tried to sue me because she said my honey gave her food poisoning. The judge threw the case out of court and made her pay my court costs. Said there wasn’t enough evidence that my honey was tainted. Well, you know what? It ain’t. Oh, no, but that didn’t stop that so-and-so from getting on our company Facebook page and slamming me. I finally had to block her.”
Suddenly, Minnie draws in a sharp breath. “Chief, this woman is nasty enough to use a beehive frame to kill someone.” She taps on Olivia’s picture with her index finger. “I think you’ve got your murderer right here.”