Chapter 14: Chapter Fourteen

~ Maddie ~

Early Wednesday morning in the Briar Patch Bakery, I can’t keep my mind on my work. All I can think about is talking to Jackson and telling him my theory about Jenna being too short to have killed Riley. Even though I was itching to talk to him, I wrote at home Tuesday. I forced myself to wait a day because I figured if the police did catch on that someone had entered the condo, the timing of my epiphany might look suspicious if I told him any sooner.

I’m hoping he’ll stop by the bakery this morning like he usually does.

I look up every time I hear the jingle bells on the door announce someone’s arrival. From my table in the corner, I can’t see very well because the crowd waiting in line to purchase takeout goodies is blocking my view. It doesn’t help that the windows are decorated with canned snow and a huge Christmas wreath with gold garland and red ornaments is hanging on the glass door.

It’s crowded, as usual. That means the bells have gotten a good workout. So have my nerves. Finally, I give up on doing anything productive on the story. I power down my laptop and slide it into my bag.

This time when the bells jingle, Jackson walks in. He smiles and walks toward me.

My traitorous stomach tilts sideways and releases a swarm of butterflies. Most of the women who cross his path probably have that reaction. With his honey-brown hair, mahogany eyes, and his hundred-watt smile, the man is gorgeous, and he knows it.

I remind myself he tried to pin Riley’s murder on my daughter. The butterflies disappear.

When he reaches my table, he hesitates. “Frosty the Snowman” is playing in the background and the smell of orange and cinnamon from Tess’s specialty scone of the day perfumes the air.

“Am I welcome here?” Jackson asks with a tentative smile. His expression looks as if he wants to joke about how we left things the last time we spoke.

“Of course you are.” I smile at him, and I swear a flood of relief washes over his face. “Sit down.”

As soon as he does, Tess appears with his coffee. “See, Chief, I told ya she’d be back.” She arches a brow at me and takes his order, a hot apple fritter.

Things are officially back to normal.

I hope.

After Tess heads to the kitchen, I lean in and lower my voice, beginning without preamble. “I have proof that Jenna didn’t do it.”

“You do?” He sips his coffee. It must be too hot because he grimaces.

“I do. Have you factored in that she’s only five feet tall and Riley was well over six feet?”

“He was six-four and three-quarters, to be exact,” Jackson says, then blows on his coffee. “He was a big guy.”

“I contacted Bebe Bailey. She gave Riley and Grace Marie the decanter as a wedding present. It’s Waterford. The pattern is Lismore. It measures nine and three-quarter inches with the stopper. There’s no way Jenna could’ve clubbed Riley over the head with it. She’s just not tall enough. That proves she’s not the killer.”

“I came to that conclusion last night.”

I wait for him to say the magic words—that she’s officially not a suspect—but he doesn’t.

“And?” I prod.

He takes his time blowing on his coffee before he takes another casual sip. Irritation needles my skin.

I give him a palms-up full body shrug. “Jackson. Then that means that she’s exonerated, right?”

“Of course she is. In addition to that, the coroner said that due to the angles on the bottle and the wound on Riley’s skull, the perpetrator is likely lefthanded.”

“Jenna is righthanded.” I’m tempted to jump up and hug him, but I don’t.

“I’ll call Ian McCoy and tell him. I probably should’ve told him first, but since were here… Actually, last night, I almost called to tell you, but then I got a call from one of the neighbors at the Birkshire Condominiums who was concerned about some suspicious people. She thought they might have been coming and going from the crime scene.”

Oh, no. Oh, boy.

“Really?” I say and compose my expression into something I hope looks like casual curiosity.

He pins me with a gaze and nods. “Yeah, the neighbor reported that three people—two women and a man—took the elevator up to the penthouse. Then a short while later another man went up. She said she saw two women up on the rooftop deck walking around. You wouldn’t know anything about it, would you, Maddie?”

I try to swallow the lump in my throat, but it feels like it’s about to suffocate me. I cross my fingers under the table as I prepare to lie. When I open my mouth, the decisive no I meant to say comes out as a squeak.

“What was that?” he asks.

I clear my throat and sip my coffee. “I think I’m getting a cold from this weather. Why would you think I’d know something about it?”

“Maybe because you made it clear that you were launching your own investigation to clear Jenna. But you’re much too smart to cross a police line and potentially contaminate a crime scene, right?”

I put on my most serious, concerned face and nod. “Do you have any leads? What about Nicole and Grace Marie? Maybe Nicole’s back in town?”

My right leg is frantically pumping up and down. I make a conscious effort to stop it and sit perfectly still. Not only am I trying to change the subject, I want see where they rank on his list of suspects.

“Nicole Reynolds has been cleared. She was at the hotel the entire night after the bridal party retired for the night. It turns out Tonya was awake and can back up her story.”

“And Grace Marie?”

Jackson shrugs. He’s eyeing me as if he’s weighing his words. “Hotel security footage shows her leaving the hotel around 11:00 p.m. just as Nicole said. She returned around 6:00 a.m. alone. The coroner says Riley’s time of death was between 11:30 p.m. and 1:30 a.m. Grace Marie says she has an alibi. When we showed her the security film, she finally conceded that she did sneak out, but she says she wasn’t alone, and she won’t say who she was with. Sounds like she might have had a pre-wedding last hurrah. She says she can’t afford a lawyer, and she’s asked me to give her until this afternoon, after Riley’s memorial service, to produce her alibi.”

“You agreed to that?”

“I did.”

“What if she runs?”

“She doesn’t have a car. I have someone watching to see who she meets with. To see if we can figure out the identity of her mystery alibi. She indicated it will come as a blow to the Buxstons. So, out of respect for them, I’m giving her until after today’s memorial service to produce her alibi or I’m getting a warrant for her arrest. In the meantime, if she gets too close to the airport or the city limits we’ll bring her in.”

I would find this shocking, except I’m stuck on what he said about her alibi being shocking to the Buxstons.

Then again, maybe Grace Marie is just bluffing, trying to buy more time. Maybe she doesn’t have an alibi. Maybe she did kill Riley.

“Yesterday, after Riley’s neighbor called, we looked at the security film in the elevator,” Jackson says. “I have to hand it to the trio who entered Riley’s condo. They seemed to know what they were doing. The three of them were dressed to conceal their identity. They were wearing ski masks. Interesting, one of them was very short. Maybe five feet tall. The other one was—” He looks me up and down. “Maybe five-nine. The guy with them was a good seven inches taller than the tall woman. They knew what they were doing because they turned their backs to the camera as they rode up. But then there was a late arrival. This guy.”

Jackson pulls out an eight-by-ten photo of a guy in the elevator seemingly unaware that he’s looking right at the hidden camera, not trying to protect his identity.

“Do you recognize him?” Jackson asks.

I weigh my words, careful not to tip my hand that I was in the condo when they guy arrived. “I’ve never seen him before.”

“Hmm… Interesting.”

“What’s interesting?” I ask.

“I think the trio in the disguises and solo guy were operating separately. Footage shows that solo guy left before the trio. Both parties had key cards to access the condo. I had to ask myself who in this town would have keys to Riley Buxston’s condo.”

Jackson is tapping his chin for effect.

I’m about to pee my pants as I sit there waiting for him to answer his own question. I’m adhering to the old axiom, he who speaks first loses. Because if I open my mouth right now the only sound that will likely come out will be pleading ignorance and begging for mercy. Of course, I know how Ben got the key card, but I have no idea how the guy who took the watch got a key.

“Thank goodness it doesn’t really matter,” he says.

“What do you mean?” I manage to whisper.

“We released the crime scene yesterday afternoon. I didn’t want to bother the family with the news until after the memorial. They’ll probably want to hire a cleaning service that specializes in sanitizing crime scenes before they go back to the condo. I mean, who wants to walk through a crime scene. With all that blood and gore?”

He knows it was Jenna and me. He probably suspects Ben. Jackson is smart like that. I weigh whether or not I should just confess.

“If you can identify them will you charge them?” I ask, taking special care to keep my voice from shaking.

“Probably not. Like I said, we’d cleared the crime scene. The trio took such care to disguise themselves.” He makes a tsking sound, but he smiles. “Looks like we’ll never figure out who they are.”

He knows, but there’s no sense admitting it.

“I guess not.”

“Why would they do something so stupid and risk getting arrested?” he asks. “There must’ve been a good reason. I’d love to know what they were looking for.”

I let the words hang in the air for a moment. “I can imagine whoever it was must’ve been pretty desperate to do that. You know, looking for something…important.”

Like evidence for exoneration.

“Must’ve been pretty important,” he agrees.

“Maybe they weren’t searching for a physical object as much as something else. Something…intangible. Hypothetically speaking, of course.”

Jackson nods.

“I mean, consider this, have you figured out how the killer got into the condo without being caught on the security camera?”

Jackson inhales slowly before shaking his head.

“That’s the missing piece of the puzzle,” I say. “Others might have questions like that. They might be trying to solve the puzzle. Hypothetically speaking, of course.”

“I hope this puzzle solver understands, she—or he”—he lifts his chin and looks me directly in the eyes—“cannot interfere with an investigation. Next time there will be consequences.”