~ Maddie ~
Early the following morning, I meet Jackson at the Hemlock Police Station. We’re sitting in his office, which I take as a good sign. At least he didn’t haul me into the interrogation room.
In fact, once we sit down—each of us in chairs in front of his desk—he hands me a cup of coffee he picked up from the Briar Patch, the bakery across the street from my shop, where we usually meet most mornings before work. Jackson has been a huge help with police procedure for the cozy mystery series I write.
Because of the early hour of our meeting, we skipped the Briar Patch and opted to meet here instead. It feels odd to be at the police station. Yet another facet of the surreal happenings of the past twelve hours.
I think the coffee is a sweet gesture until I realize he’s using it to soften the blow he’s about to deliver.
“Look, I’m just going to cut to the chase, Maddie. Did you send Kellen Corsi the beehive?”
I don’t even try to hide my hurt. I’m tired from lack of sleep and upset because my friend is dead. This is personal. And he’s asking me if I did it?
“We went over this yesterday, Jackson.” My eyes well with tears and I hate myself for losing control, but I’m an emotional mess.
“I’m sorry, Maddie. I know you didn’t do it, but I have to ask you for the official record.”
I do know he has to ask the question so I can deny that I had anything to do with Kellen’s death, but it still upsets me.
I cross my arms and glare at him. “I did not send Kellen Corsi the beehive.”
“But you did give her a large white box with a yellow ribbon embossed with Blissful Beginnings Bridal Boutique, which is the name of the shop you own, correct?”
“Yes, I did give her a box like you described. I packed the box myself and I gave it to her after I picked her up from the airport yesterday afternoon.”
“What was in the box you gave her?”
“There was a wedding dress that Kellen was supposed to wear in this weekend’s fashion show.”
“That’s all? No beehive?”
My jaw drops. I can’t believe he’d ask such an awful question.
“No, Jackson. There was no beehive in the box I gave Kellen. Why would you even ask me something like that?”
“I need to get your denial on the record.”
“Okay, for the record, no, I did not put a beehive in Kellen’s box. She is allergic to bees. Plus, putting a sticky, drippy beehive in a box with an expensive one-of-a-kind wedding dress would ruin the dress. Bees and honey do not mix with silk. I would never do something like that. And for that matter, where would I even get a beehive?”
“That’s something we need to figure out,” he says. “Where the perp got the beehive.”
His use of the word we gives me pause and softens my frazzled nerves.
“You believe me, don’t you, Jackson?”
He looks up from his notebook.
“I would never hurt Kellen,” I say. “Or anyone for that matter.”
“I know you wouldn’t. However, the fact remains, someone did. We need to figure out who else had access to that box or one just like the one you gave to Kellen.”
“I packed the boxes last week. They’ve been in the office in my shop ever since.”
I start to add I should know because the four giant white boxes have been in the way and I’ve had to maneuver around them all week, but I think better of it. I do add, “The boxes were tied closed with the yellow ribbon. Though I didn’t examine her box to see if anyone had messed with the ribbon before I gave it to Kellen at the hotel, I would imagine it wouldn’t be possible to stealthily slip a beehive into a box like that with all of us standing around the car.”
“Who else has access to your office?”
“Alicia,” I say.
Alicia Lopez is the assistant manager at Blissful Beginnings. She’s like family.
“But Alicia doesn’t know Kellen. She would have no reason to hurt her. Plus, I know her. She’s like a sister. She wouldn’t do something like that.”
“Anyone else?” Jack asks.
“Well, Jenna, of course. But…”
He looks up from writing in his notebook, and I give him my best don’t even go there look.
“You know Jenna would never hurt anyone,” I say. “We’ve already been down that road with the Riley Buxston case. So, let’s just cross my daughter off the list.”
“She’s not on anyone’s list any more than you are,” Jackson says. “However, since she runs her business out of the office, that means she had access to the box that was used in the crime. For process of elimination, she gets a mention.”
He’s right. Jenna operates her wedding and event planning business, Champagne Wedding and Event Designs, out of an office in my shop. When she’s not with a client, she helps out around the shop, which, to Jackson’s point, gives her free run of the place.
I shrug. Still, I know she didn’t have anything to do with Kellen’s murder. I can tell by the look on Jackson’s face that he knows that, too.
“Whoever did this knew that box was intended for Kellen,” he says. “We’ll run prints on the beehive. Would anyone else have had access to your office?”
“Jenna, Alicia, and I are the only ones. I mean, sometimes, Jenna meets with clients in the office, but she never leaves them unattended and I’m quite sure we’d notice if someone tried to smuggle in a random beehive.”
Jackson nods as if conceding I have a point.
“Let’s start at the beginning again. I want you to tell me everything that happened between the time you took the boxes from your office and we found Kellen dead in her suite in the hotel.
I give him the rundown, concluding with, “I gave Kellen the box when we arrived at the hotel. I needed her to try on the dress so we could make any needed adjustments… before the show.”
I squeeze my eyes shut as I realize we need to cancel the show. With all the chaos, I haven’t even thought about that until now, but we can’t go on with it now that our star is dead. I hate myself for even wondering about this now, but—
“Jackson, Kellen was supposed to wear the finale outfit, a vintage wedding gown. Did you happen to see it when you were in the room? That’s what was supposed to be in the box I gave Kellen when she arrived.”
Another wave of grief crashes over me.
“I didn’t see it when I was up there. I think I’d remember something like a wedding dress.”
“This one wasn’t a huge voluminous number. It was sleeker. It was slinky and kind of boho looking with wide lace sleeves. Someone could’ve looked at it and thought it was a nightgown.”
“Doesn’t ring a bell, but I can ask the detectives who worked the crime scene what they saw. If it was in the Blissful Beginnings box, it will need to remain in evidence for a while. Sorry, Maddie.”
“I don’t care about the dress as much as I care about Kellen and what happened to her. But I would like to know what happened to the dress. Was there another box in the room?”
Jackson shakes his head.
“Maybe someone was in the room and opened the one I packed and ditched the dress? It’s such a weird situation. How would somehow get their hands on another box and ribbon just like the one I gave her? I mean, I suppose it could have been from someone else who bought something from the store.” I shrug, at a loss.
Jackson sips his coffee. “That’s a great thought. Do you keep a record of sales?”
“We do keep a record of who buys dresses. Brides sign up to be on our mailing list. Of course, we’d have credit card records.”
“We’ll need to look through them and see if anything pops out. I think we’re on the right track. At least we’re asking the right questions. Why would someone put a beehive frame in a box from your shop? You said you gave Kellen the box when you got to the hotel. Where was it before you gave it to her?”
“It was in the back of my SUV.”
“Did you hear any buzzing or did the box feel heavier or different than it should’ve when you handed it to her?”
“No. Nothing out of the ordinary.”
“And it didn’t look like anyone had tampered with it.”
I shake my head. “I loaded the four boxes into the back of my SUV, met the other three women from the writers’ group at the hotel just as we had arranged. I drove us all to the Asheville airport to pick up Kellen.”
“Were you ever away from your car?”
“No. Well, I mean I got out of the car when we got to the airport in Asheville to hug Kellen and load her luggage into the back, but if anyone would’ve been lurking around my car with a big white box, I would’ve seen them.”
“How long has it been since you last saw Kellen?” Jack asks. “Were there any weird vibes between you?”
“Weird vibes? I’m not sure I understand what you mean.”
“Did she act strange or upset about anything?”
“I saw her from the time it took to drive from Asheville to the hotel and then at the hotel, until she checked in and the bellman accompanied her up to her room. It wasn’t exactly intimate time together. She did get a phone call when she was in the car. Based on her reaction, she didn’t seem thrilled about it. When we got to the hotel, she said she needed to return the call and went into the lobby. She must not have been on the phone long because in a matter of minutes, she had checked in and was back outside with us. We were going to have dinner, but we never got to that. We were all so excited about spending time with her.”
“Are you sure?” he asks.
“Of course, I’m sure. I love Kellen.”
“I know you do, but what about the others?”
I give Jack the rundown of the writers’ group dynamics and Kellen’s meteoric rise to fame and her subsequent move to Manhattan to be in the thick of the publishing world.
“Would anyone you know want to see her dead?” Jackson asks. “Anyone in your writers’ group?”
I shake my head. Then I remember seeing Olivia. The thought makes me stops and draw in a sharp breath.
“What?” Jack asks.
I wave him away. “No, it’s nothing. I’m sure it’s nothing.”
“I need to hear it, Maddie. Let me decide if it’s nothing.”
“There’s a woman named Olivia Knowles. She… how do I say this… there was a little professional jealousy when Kellen’s career took off. Olivia claimed that Kellen plagiarized her work. There was even a lawsuit, which Olivia ultimately lost because it was ridiculous. It dragged on for a while. After Olivia lost the suit, she stopped writing mysteries and started writing romance. But I can tell you this. I invited every member of the original writers’ group and after Olivia learned Kellen was coming, she bowed out claiming she was behind on a deadline, but that was months ago and she was definitely at the hotel yesterday.”
Jack’s brows shoot up. “How can you say this is nothing, Maddie? This is the most substantial lead I’ve heard yet.”
“Jackson, I don’t believe Olivia would ever hurt Kellen.”
He looks up from his notebook. “So, this Olivia gets disgruntled enough to bring a lawsuit against the victim. What was the lawsuit about? What work did she think Olivia stole from her?”
“It was Kellen’s first book. Oh. Oh, boy.”
“And what was that book?”
“The Sting of Death.”
Jackson levels me with a stare. “The book that Kellen was supposedly killed in the same manner as the victim she wrote about?”
Oh, no. I realize how damming this looks. “Oh, Jackson, Olivia is a hothead and can be insufferably arrogant, but I can’t believe she’d kill anyone, much less Kellen. And why would she stay around afterward?”
Jackson grimaces at me, shooting me a look that seems to say, Murder 101.
Ugh. “Killer returning to the scene of the crime.” My stomach feels like a lead ball is floating in it.
“How can I get ahold of this Olivia Knowles? I’d like to ask her some questions.”
“Jackson, there’s no proof that she did it.”
“I’m not saying there is. I just want to talk to her. If she’s as innocent as you think she is, everything will be fine. She’ll clear herself.”
The problem is, the more I think about things, the more I believe Olivia could be capable of doing this to get back at Kellen, but I can’t say that to Jackson. We have no proof. I’d hate to implicate an innocent person.
I pull up Olivia’s phone number in the contact list of my cell and share the info with Jack.
“Thanks,” he says. “Let me make sure I have this right. You invited her to be part of this fashion show and reunion weekend, but she declined after she learned Kellen would be there, then she shows up at the hotel anyway?”
I nod.
“What was the circumstance when you saw her?”
“We were all standing in the parking lot trying to wrap our heads around everything that had just happened and what we were going to do. We were trying to figure how to get in touch with Kellen’s husband, Tom, and then I saw Olivia walking out of the hotel’s front doors.”
“And then what?”
I told Jackson about how we called to Olivia, but she ignored us.
“So, she either didn’t hear you or she ignored you.”
I nod.
“What was her demeanor like?”
“Well, it’s hard to say. She got into her car and drove away.”
“Does she live around here?” Jackson picks up his phone and looks at the text with Olivia’s contact information that I shared with him.
“She lives in Asheville now. After the lawsuit, she moved and, as I said, she stopped writing mysteries and found success in the romance genre.”
“Hm,” Jack grunts. “Good for her.”
“And after that she didn’t need us anymore, so she pretty much cut all ties.”
I regret saying that as soon as the words are out of my mouth.
“I’m sorry, that sounded snarky. Just disregard it, please.”
“Sometimes the truth comes cloaked in snark,” Jackson says. “Is Olivia the type who uses people?”
“You might say that. In the past, she seemed to have two modes. She either surrounded herself with people who worshiped her or people who could help her in some way. She didn’t have much use for the in between. But, then again, it’s been at least five years since I’ve spent time with her. People grow and change. Now that she’s found the success with romance writing that seemed to elude her when she was writing mysteries, maybe she’s changed.”
“Is she the type of person who would harbor a grudge after all these years?”
“I don’t know, Jackson. As I said, this is the first time I’ve seen her in years.”
“But she was pretty mad at Kellen when she thought she stole her work. Tell me more about that.”
“Well… Okay… So the six of us used to meet once a week and we would talk writing. Each person got a certain amount of time to talk about anything they wanted to discuss—sticky plot points, characters who weren’t behaving—we’d share things we’d learned about the industry. You name it. As long as it was writing related, the floor was yours for a half hour. So, one night Kellen came in with an idea—at this point she wasn’t yet published—and it was clear that it wasn’t working. Well, Olivia suggested that she draw on her biggest fear and somehow work that into the plot. Kellen said that her fear was bees because she was allergic. We all sat there and helped her hammer out the bones of what would become The Sting of Death. I guess Kellen and Olivia met again, after our usual weekly meeting. At that point, Olivia had pegged herself as the most important member of the group because she had just gotten an agent and had promising interest from a publisher. It appeared that her star was on the rise. So, she had taken Kellen under her wing and had decided that she was going to help her. But the thing about Olivia was what she considered helping was more like she would take the best opportunities for herself and whatever was left over she’d toss to her protégé. Know what I mean?”
Jackson looks up from the tablet on which he’d been taking notes and nods.
“So when Kellen queried that same publisher and ended up selling the book on proposal—that means she sold the book on a few chapters and an outline, not the finished book—Olivia went ballistic. Turns out the publisher had ultimately rejected Olivia’s book, but she’d purchased Kellen’s. Olivia accused Kellen of stealing the idea from her and going behind her back to get in touch with the editor. It got so ugly. She actually made Kellen cry.
“And, as I told you, it ended in a lawsuit that I guess Olivia lost—she can’t talk about it because of the non-disclosure. Even so, we believe it didn’t turn out in her favor since she’s not gloating. I shudder to think how much money Olivia spent on that vendetta.
“I remember thinking, good grief, can’t you just be happy for your friend?
“Not long after that, Kellen married Tom Corsi, who had been her agent, and moved to New York. A few years later, Olivia quit the group and started writing romance.”
Jackson glances over at his office door as if to make sure it’s closed. Then he looks back at me. “If I tell you something in confidence, do swear you won’t repeat it?”
I lift my right hand. “I solemnly swear.”
“There was a message written in red on the inside box top. That’s what makes me believe that someone wouldn’t have had time to slip the frame in when you had your back turned.”
“What did it say?”
Jackson picks up his cell phone and pulls up a photo and hands the phone to me.
The photo shows a white box top that definitely resembles the type I use in the store. Next to it is a large plastic container with a lid on which someone has written—Open for a surprise!