Chapter Five

~ Maddie ~

It’s an awkward ten-minute ride from the church to Riley’s condo. Charles is gripping the steering wheel at ten and two. A frown furrows his brow. He makes no attempt at conversation.

Todd appears to give in to his hangover and sleeps most of the way.

I do my best to resist the urge to fill the silence.

The less said the better.

Instead, I focus on the beauty of the cold, cloudless December morning. The sky is a gorgeous shade of robin’s egg blue and the sun is shining, reflecting off the rise and fall of mountains on the horizon.

That has to be a good omen, doesn’t it? Like a beacon of hope?

We follow the ribbon of road that winds away from downtown Hemlock toward the Birkshire Condominiums, which sit on the outskirts of town. In between, we pass Hattie’s Grocery Store; the Lily Pad Pottery Shop, where husband and wife Lily and Jed sell their wares out of a building on the shoulder of the road in front of their house; the grass parking lot where tourists can park to hike down to Hemlock Falls; and various farms and produce stands.

Intermittently, I glance at my phone hoping all is well back at the church, but there is no word from Jenna. No news means good news, or at least status quo. I can’t wait for the moment I can text Jenna and tell her all is well on our end and we’re on our way back to the church with Riley.

Then she can rest easy, because my determined daughter will not let a word of this secret mission slip. She’ll make sure everyone remains happy and wedding festive, none the wiser that the groom went missing.

When we turn into the Birkshire Condominiums parking lot, Charles double-parks in front of the mid-rise building and pulls out his cell phone.

“Nothing,” he snarls. “No call from Riley. Get on the stick, dammit.”

Charles tosses his phone onto the dashboard. It hits the windshield with a thud, lands sideways and rings, as if the blow has shaken loose the call we’re waiting for.

Finger hovering over the phone, ready to answer, he glances at the screen and mutters a couple of choice words. “It’s Patricia. She’s the last person I want to talk to right now.” He tosses the ringing phone away and hits the steering wheel with both hands before unbuckling his seat belt. “I’m going up. I’ll grab that lazy son of a by the ear and walk him down the aisle myself if I have to. It’s time he grew up. I’m tired of making excuses for him. Can’t even get himself up and ready on his wedding day. That sorry piece of—”

The words are swallowed up by the sound of the slamming car door.

“Let’s go with him,” Todd says. “He might need our help.”

“Should we let Charles have a moment alone with Riley?” I say.

“No. I’m afraid Charles is going to kick Riley’s ass. If we’re there, it might save him from showing up to his wedding with a black eye.”

I want to ask him why he didn’t take better care to look after Riley last night. Why he didn’t stay with Riley at the condo. But they are grown men. Todd has his own place here in town. Being a groomsman doesn’t necessarily mean he is agreeing to a sleepover the night before the wedding. Charles is right. It’s past time for Riley to grow up and take responsibility for himself.

If not for Jenna, whose business has so much riding on this event turning out successfully, I might suggest that we let Riley suffer his own lumps.

As I walk with Todd toward the building, the wind whips around us. It’s colder than I had anticipated. I shiver and glance around at the beautifully landscaped grounds that have been designed to withstand freezing temperatures. However, the empty parking spaces don’t hide the fact that sales of units in this new state-of-the-art building have been less than stellar. Charles and his partner, Bobby Don “BD” Fox, have plowed through every possible obstacle to develop this condominium project. The land had formerly been a farm owned by the Bingley family for generations. After the patriarch Ed Bingley passed away and his wife, Agatha, went to an assisted-living facility, their heirs had been forced to sell the land to cover the cost of her care.

Charles and Fox had submitted a lowball offer and ramrodded their plans to develop the farmland by putting in a complex of mid-rises and shopping centers anchored by a big-box store and other brand name shops.

The shops would be on the ground level with condos on the top. The standalone Birkshire Condominium was the first phase in the development and it hadn’t proven very successful.

Most of Hemlock’s residents feared the sleek new development would change the face and feel of the quaint mountain town. Despite the loud protests, Buxston and Fox had managed to convince the city council to approve their plans. The council touted that they were pro-development because it was good for the local economy.

I don’t disagree. If a shopping center brings people from neighboring small towns to Hemlock, it means more business for shops like mine and for Jenna’s business.

The Main Street shopping district where my boutique is located has an old-world European village feel, and the small business association, of which Jenna and I are both members, is committed to preserving the integrity of downtown. Because of that, I believe there isn’t any harm in developing the outer edges of our small town.

But not everyone feels this way.

Even though the council approved Buxston and Fox’s plans for the Birkshire Condominiums phase, the project wasn’t without its strife. The condo has been finished for a year and a half and is still only forty percent occupied.

Rumor has it they couldn’t sell the sixth-floor penthouse unit, which is why Charles and Patricia purchased it at a deep discount and gave it to Riley and Grace Marie as an engagement present.

When we pass through the double glass doors leading into the building, Charles is waiting in front of the elevator.

“Charles, we thought we’d come up with you.”

He frowns. “Suit yourself.”

Even though it’s cold outside this morning, the lobby feels stuffy as we wait in silence for the elevator. The building, with its green-tinted glass and shiny chrome, looks as if it was ripped from a big city like Atlanta and transplanted in our small mountain town. I suppose it looks out of place in an area where mountains, cabins, and farmhouses comprise the landscape.

If Riley ends up not going through with the wedding, will his parents take back the condo? It is customary for brides and grooms to return gifts after canceled weddings.

It’s such a lavish gift. I wish I could be that generous to Jenna but redoing the lower level of my house was the best I could do. Even then, Jenna insisted on chipping in on the reno cost and paying rent.

She said it was a win-win for both of us. It would help me with the mortgage, and she could stick to her budget while she grows her event-planning business.

If I had the means, I would shower Jenna with gifts and privilege, but having to work for everything has helped my daughter become the strong, responsible woman she is today.

My phone sounds a chime alerting me to a text from Jenna. “Any updates?”

“In the lobby of the condo now. Waiting for the elevator. Will send you an update as soon as I know more.”

“Yes, please. Patricia was looking for Charles.”

“Yes, she called, but he didn’t pick up. Shouldn’t be much longer now. More soon.”

The elevator arrives. After we step inside, it’s a straight shot to the sixth floor. The doors open right into Riley’s home, where the first thing we see is his body sprawled on the marble foyer floor. He’s lying in a pool of blood. A broken crystal—something—a vase or a pitcher, whatever it is, is lying in large pieces around him.

“Riley!” Todd and I rush forward.

Todd shakes him. I take his pulse.

Nothing. He’s nonresponsive.

His sightless eyes are open. His neck is twisted at an odd angle and his curly blond hair is matted with clotted blood.

Riley Buxston is dead.

It looks as if he’s been clubbed over the head with whatever the glass object was that’s now in pieces on the floor. It’s so surreal, I feel disassociated from my body, as if I’m looking down on the gory scene from above.

“Riley!” Charles has fallen to his knees next to his son. “Get up,” he pleads. “You’re getting married today. Riley, get up.” Sobbing, he falls forward over his son’s body and slaps at his cheeks. Then feels for a pulse at the base of his neck. “No. No. No.” His words devolve into to keening howl.

Charles’s hand is bleeding. He must have hit one of the crystal shards.

“Hey, buddy, be careful,” Todd says.

He bends over and begins moving the broken glass.

“Todd, stop touching things,” I say. “This might be a crime scene. You’re contaminating it.”

He gasps. “You’re right.” He attempts to put the hunks of glass back where they were.

“Come on,” I say. “Help me get Charles off of Riley. We need to go downstairs. We should stay down there until the police arrive.”

The elevator ride down seems to take a week. Todd’s on the phone with 911 by the time we reach the lobby.

I dial Jackson Bradley’s number. He gave it to me in case I had a question about police procedure or fictional murder or some other story element in between our morning coffees. I’ve never called him. I’ve been shy about how it might look.

More importantly, it felt like it would be unfaithful to my husband for me to call Jackson at home rather than saving the questions for the Briar Patch.

But this can’t wait. I never thought the first time I called his number would be when I stumbled onto the scene of what looks like a real murder.

Charles collapses into one of the chrome and leather chairs and buries his face in his hands. He whimpers and rocks back and forth like he’s catatonic.

I’m not sure what to do. But Jackson will. He usually has weekends off, but I need to talk to someone who can tell me what to do.

He picks up after one ring. “Maddie?” He sounds surprised.

“Jackson—” My voice shakes. “I’m sorry to bother you on your day off.”

“Is everything okay? What’s wrong?”

“It’s Riley Buxston. I think he’s dead.”

The emergency vehicles arrive first. I thought they would’ve gotten here faster, but it doesn’t matter now. It probably didn’t take them that long. In a situation like this time slows down. The minutes feel like hours and everything that is normal ceases to exist.

A medic takes the elevator key card from me. I don’t remember how I ended up with it. A whirlwind of action ensues. A couple of medics with a gurney push past me. I jump out of the way and they disappear into the elevator. Another one tends to Charles. I feel like I should be doing something, but I don’t know what, and even if I did, I’d just be in the way.

I can’t get the image of Riley’s lifeless eyes out of my mind. I shiver as it sinks in that it’s the first time I’ve ever seen a dead body—a person who might’ve been…murdered. I’ve written about murder in my books, but never has it happened to anyone I know. In fact, if someone did kill Riley, this might be the first murder to ever have happened in our close-knit community.

How am I going to tell Jenna? Even though my daughter isn’t in love with Riley anymore, she is bound to take the news hard. Riley was so young. Too young to die. It’s so shocking.

Poor Grace Marie. This was supposed to be the happiest day of her life, and it will soon become a living nightmare. And someone has to tell Patricia. Charles is in no condition to do it right now.

How does anyone tell a mother her child is dead?

The thought hits like a punch in the gut. I start shaking and I feel vaguely nauseated.

Then Jackson walks through the lobby’s glass doors. The sight of him with his honey-brown hair, mahogany eyes, and bulky body makes me feel better.

He’s dressed in jeans and a leather bomber jacket with an emerald green scarf tied around his neck. The scarf looks homemade. I wonder if his late wife had knit it for him before she died. He doesn’t talk much about her, just as I don’t talk about Frank’s plane going down. That they’ve never recovered his body, leaving me in a strange eight-year limbo somewhere between faithful wife who won’t give up on him being found alive and woman who doesn’t feel guilty about seeking refuge in the arms of a man like Jackson.

But he’s holding me now, and I’m losing myself there, in the smell of his leather jacket and aftershave. It’s like his arms are holding me together so I don’t fall apart.

After a moment, he asks, “Are you okay?”

I pull back and reclaim my space. “I don’t know. I—I can’t believe Riley Buxston is dead. He’s getting married today.”

A sob racks my body and hot tears fall.

Jackson hugs me again.

I’m tempted to cry on his shoulder, but this isn’t about me. “His father, Charles, is the one I’m worried about right now.”

I nod toward Charles, who looks to be in shock as a uniformed officer kneels next to him.

“Maddie, tell me what happened?” Jackson asks. He pulls a pad of paper and a pen from his coat pocket.

I shrug, realizing I don’t know details. Seeing Riley dead in a pool of blood has left me in my own form of mild shock.

“I—I have no idea,” I say.

“Tell me everything you know. Start from the beginning. How did you end up here? How did you find him?”

I take a deep breath to gather my thoughts and start from Jenna calling to say no one could reach Riley.

Jackson is writing down everything I say, which is fine. I guess. I want to help him catch whoever did this.

I start to mention that Riley came over to see Jenna last night, but something stops me. Instead, I say, “There’s something you should know.”

I tell him about Todd moving the pieces of glass. “He was only trying to help because Charles cut himself on it when he collapsed on top of Riley.”

My voice catches on the last words. The tears start again and spill down my cheeks. Jackson offers me a neatly folded white handkerchief.

It strikes me that this is a day for firsts, because I don’t know that I’ve ever met a man who carried a cloth handkerchief. Frank didn’t…

“I need to get to Jenna. I don’t want to tell her over the phone because she is going to be so upset. She’s coordinating the wedding. She’ll have to break the news to Riley’s fiancée, and his family. She’ll need to tell the guests the ceremony is canceled. Can you drive me to the church?”

I glance at the clock on my phone. “It’s supposed to start in less than an hour.”

I have several texts and a missed call from Jenna, who is probably exasperated with me right now since I haven’t been keeping her updated about the missing groom.

“Maddie, I need to go inside and assess the situation and talk to my officers. Give me ten minutes and I’ll take you to the church.”

I understand he can’t just leave, but I don’t have ten minutes. I don’t really have a choice since Jackson is the chief of police, and even if it is his day off, he has to do his job.

Through the glass doors, I spy Todd standing outside, his focus is on his phone. He’s still wearing those ridiculous flip-flops. I worry that he’s cold, but more than that, I hope he’s not texting anyone. The last thing we need is for word to get out before we break the news to the family. I push through the doors.

“Would you drive me back to the church?” I ask. “I need to tell Jenna what’s happened. She’ll need time to figure out how to break the news to the family and guests.”

“Sure,” Todd says. “I’ll come back and stay with Charles and drive him back to the church. He probably won’t be in any shape to drive himself.”

Todd sounds lucid and together for the first time this morning. Leave it to adrenaline to zap a hangover.

“Thanks, Todd.” I glance at his phone. “I’m sure you wouldn’t, but please don’t share the news about Riley with anyone until after the family knows. I’d hate it if they found out through the Gossip Brigade.”

“Of course.” He shoves his phone into his pocket.

“I’ll get the car keys from Charles and let him know where we’re going.”

I reenter the lobby. Some residents have gathered. Jackson is interviewing them, asking if anyone saw or heard anything suspicious. The police has strung yellow crime scene tape across the elevator.

After Charles gives me the keys, I walk over to Jackson. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but I wanted to let you know Todd is driving me back to the church.”

“Sorry I can’t take you myself, Maddie. I know this is hard on you.”

“It’s not a problem. You have a job to do. But, Jackson, do you have any idea what happened?”

Jackson’s mouth narrows into a thin line. He stands and walks me to the door away from others.

“We’re calling it a homicide, Maddie.” His voice is low. “Judging by the evidence we’ve found, it looks like Riley died from blunt force trauma to the head. Of course, we’ll need to wait to get the coroner’s report before we can make an official ruling. The autopsy will tell us more.”

My phone rings again. I don’t have to look at the screen to know it’s my daughter calling.

“I need to get to Jenna and help her break the news to the others.”

“The minister can help her tell the family,” Jackson says. “She shouldn’t have to shoulder that responsibility alone. Have the minister call me if he has any questions.”

“Thanks, Jackson. I hadn’t thought about having him help. It’s going to be hard enough for Jenna to process that Riley is dead. I don’t know if you know this, but they dated all through high school.”

I hesitate but my gut tells me it will look bad if I don’t mention Riley’s late-night visit.

“There’s something else you might want to know.” I hope I sound natural. “Jenna mentioned that Riley stopped by her place last night. He was questioning whether he wanted to go through with the wedding, but she was able to calm him down.”

Jackson’s brows rise.

Uh-oh.

“Jenna saw Riley last night?” Jackson asks.

I nod.

He frowns. Actually, it’s a full-on scowl.

I wish I would’ve kept my big mouth shut because I don’t like the look on Jackson’s face.

“Yes. She told me she did.” I start to add that Jenna had driven Riley home because he was too drunk to drive himself, but I have a sick feeling that I’ve already said too much.

My daughter only had Riley’s best interest at heart. But Chief Jackson Bradley doesn’t know her as well as I do.

“What time was this?”

It’s okay. Jackson’s job is to ask all the questions, no matter how indelicate, and to gather all the evidence no matter how invasive.

“I don’t know. She didn’t mention the time.”

But I can figure it out. It was late. I had a cup of tea with her right after she got home from dropping off Riley. She acted perfectly fine. Like herself.

I know the mother bear in me is jumping to protective conclusions. Even if my daughter did see Riley last night, there’s no reason for anyone to think—

“Look, I need to go, Jackson. I need to help my daughter.”

“I’ll need to speak with Jenna as soon as possible.”

I raise my chin a couple of notches and square my shoulders. “I’m sure she’d be happy to help you in any way she can. But, Jackson, just give her some time to wrap her head around what’s happened so she can do her job, okay?”

Jackson nods, but he doesn’t seem happy about it.

As I turn away, I’m sick with the thought that I may have caused my daughter to become a person of interest in Riley’s death.

Todd and I ride in silence as he drives me back to the church. On the way, I ponder how I would plot this murder in one of my mysteries. What would my main character, Aubrey Christiansen, do?

I take a notebook out of my purse and jot down the bits and pieces that are flying around in my mind.

Riley Buxston is dead. Charles, Todd, and I found him this morning. Riley visited Jenna last night. Jenna drove him home.

Oh, dear God. Was Jenna the last person to see Riley alive? Of course, she wasn’t the last person to see Riley. The last person had bludgeoned him to death.

My daughter had no reason to murder Riley Buxston.

She is not capable of committing murder. Period. I heard her come in. She came directly upstairs to talk to me about Riley’s surprise visit. If she had hit him, she would’ve had blood on her clothes. Blood was splattered all over the marble foyer floor. There was no blood on Jenna’s clothes. And she was calm.

Only a sociopath could sit there and drink a cup of tea and pretend to be concerned about the person after bashing him over the head.

He’d been drunk.

He’d had a car drop him off at her place.

She drove him home because she was concerned for his safety. She could’ve called an Uber and had someone else take him to his place, but she was concerned about him bolting so she drove him home herself.

Right after she left his place, she called Ben. Ben had been acting very weird. Stuffing his drunk brother into a hired car. Being unavailable last night and so harried this morning.

And there was Grace Marie’s performance yesterday at the shop.

I jot down everything, but it doesn’t make me feel any better to accuse others when I’m feeling sick about someone looking askance at my own daughter.

But the truth remains. Someone killed Riley Buxston.

I try to blink away the mental picture of Riley lying on the floor—his glazed eyes; his grotesque twisted neck. All that glass. The blood.

I shiver and take a deep breath as I close my notebook.

Who would murder Riley Buxston?

When we arrive at the church parking lot, I thank Todd and send him back to the Birkshire Condominiums to be there for Charles. After he’s on his way, I pull out my phone and text Jenna. “I’m in the church parking lot. I need you to come outside.”

“Where have you been? People are asking questions. You know I can’t leave the church now.”

“Jenna, there’s been an emergency. Just come out here right now.”