Blogging is Murder: A Jade Blackwell Mystery

by Gilian Baker

  The girl at the front desk showed no recognition, even though I’d been there just the day before. Bored as ever, she handed me the required pass, checked her clipboard and told me where I could find the security office.

  Before going there, I first headed to the HR department to verify both Jack and Sophie had been here on the day of Connie’s death. They had.

  Mac, the security guard was waiting for me. He showed me how to use the projector and then he went back to his work. Mac liked to whistle to himself as he worked.

  I went back all the way through that day’s security film, watching people come and go. It was like watching some of the French films I’ve seen—just when you think the tape is stuck, someone walks across the screen.

  My eyelids were heavy and my vision blurry by the time I’d finished. Though I’d seen quite a few entrances and exits by Sophie, she was never gone for over ten minutes. I hadn’t seen Jack at all except for his early arrival and the grand exodus at the end of the workday.

  Happy that was over, I thanked Mac, turned in my badge and departed, hoping I’d never have to come back. I dragged to my car downhearted. This seemed like a lesson in futility. I was getting nowhere and the grind of it was wearing me down. If it hadn’t been for Liz, I’d have given up. Heck, if it weren’t for Liz, I wouldn’t be doing it at all. I’d be tapping on my keyboard back in my cozy home office… sigh.

  Both of the coworker alibis seemed to check out, at least on my end. And it seemed those were the hours that needed accounting for. If both Jack and Sophie were at work all that day, they couldn’t have added hemlock to Connie’s other herbs. Lucy was following up with Mattie, but I still believed Phyllis hadn’t done it.

  Well, shoot. I didn’t think I had it in me to keep up this pace. If we had to start again with a wider net of suspects, I didn’t know what I would do. What had started out as a crusade to help my friend had turned into what felt like a fruitless pursuit. How did the heroes in the mystery books I loved so much do this day after day? It was tedious, dispiriting and frustrating.

  On the verge of tears, I was tempted to just go home and wallow in my feelings of inadequacy and ineffectiveness. What did it matter that Lynch knew I was friends with Liz? I was in no mood to deal with him, anyway. But having decided I would ask him about it, I forced myself to drive in the direction of his office. If there were any justice in the world, he’d be available to talk when I arrived. Then I could call my investigative day done. I’d go home, take a nap and then get back to the work that bought cat treats.

  It took every ounce of energy I had to traipse up to the building and into the reception area. To my surprise, there was an actual receptionist there this time.

  “Hello. How can I help you?”

  “I’m Jade Blackwell. I’ve been following up with Dr. Lynch on a case concerning a previous client. Is it possible for me to speak with him?”

  “I’m afraid he’s not in today.”

  “Shoot.” I was sourly tempted to just forget the whole thing. “Look, I’m from Aspen Falls, and I’d hate to go back home empty handed, only to have to come back tomorrow. Do you know where he is? Or maybe you could contact him to see if he’d be willing to meet with me. It will only take two minutes.” I was begging, but at that point, I didn’t care. If this didn’t work, I had no intentions of driving all the way back over here another day just for this.

  “Well… I don’t normally do this, but he has mentioned your name and the situation he’s been helping you with. Let me call him to see if he’s able to speak with you today.”

  I thanked her and sat down to wait. In hushed tones I heard her conversing with him. I almost hoped he said no.

  “Dr. Lynch said he would be happy to talk to you at his home.”

  “Great.” I got the address and punched it into my phone’s GPS once I was in the car. Then I sped off to get this little task out of the way.

  Dr. Lynch’s home was only a short ways away from his office. It was a beautiful area with mature trees that were already budding. The grass was already nice and green and the houses large. Each house sat on a couple of acres, so there was lots of space between them to afford privacy. That would be a pleasant, quiet street to live on. I was appreciating his spring flowers in the front of the house while I waited for him to answer his doorbell. After a wait, I rang again. He knew I was coming right over. Where was he?

  After another minute, my irritation ratcheted up another notch. I was in no mood to be toyed with. Marching around the back of his house, I could feel the lush, loamy grass beneath my feet. He was out in his back flower garden, facing away from me. I opened the gate that lead into the back garden. He turned when he heard the gate.

  “I thought it might be you, Ms. Blackwell. Come on over. What do you think of my spread so far?”

  He’d worked up a light sweat, turning over a section of earth in his garden with a pitchfork to prepare for a late spring planting. His garden was impressive—he had a wide variety of native wildflowers in the long section he was working, while in another big bed he had spring flowers that came from bulb. He must have spent a great deal of time out here. Though I grow vegetables, I was envious. Seeing him at work made me long for the time when it would be safe for me to plant. It wouldn’t be long now, in fact, if I’d been home more, I would have already planted hearty varieties of lettuce and spinach.

  “It’s beautiful, doctor.” I walked over to where he’d been working. “I noticed your apparent green thumb when I was at your office, thriving plants everywhere. You must gain a great deal of pleasure from gardening.”

  “Oh, yes. It’s a great excuse to get outside once the winter is over.”

  Still in awe at the lushness he’d gotten already, I walked the length of each bed, admiring. He watched me as I gawked, enjoying the delight his hard work was giving someone other than himself. I noticed he seemed much less stuffy and haughty when away from the office. He seemed pleased to have his flowers appreciated as all gardeners do.

  He pushed the sharp prongs of his pitchfork into the earth and then leaned his arm against it as he took off his gardening hat and wiped his brow with the back of his gloved hand. “I’m sure you didn’t come here to talk about gardens. What can I help you with on this gorgeous day?”

  Boy, he was a different person in his garden. Too bad I’d been unable to interview him both previous times here. “Oh, yeah. I noticed when I was leaving your office the other day you mentioned I was friends with our client. Where’d you get that impression?”

  I continued to walk slowly down towards him, paying more attention to the combinations of the varieties he had planted next to each other—companion gardening it’s called—than to him. Maybe instead of taking a nap when I got home, I would soak up vitamin D from the warm sun while I worked to get my garden ready. I could even get some of those early seeds in the ground. A relaxing activity like gardening would be much more effective at warding off my fatigue than a nap would.

  “I don’t know. I guess you or Ms. Langdon must have mentioned that you were friends with Mrs. Collins on your first trip to see me,” he chuckled. “Does it matter?”

  I was almost to where he was standing, still distracted. “I don’t know. I guess I was just…” and then I saw them. A grove of hemlock plants, just like the ones I’d seen while doing my online research. I’d already hesitated too long, so I went on, “curious.”

  How should I play this? I couldn’t let on that I knew what the plants were, but I was afraid I’d already done just that. In my surprise, I’d stared right at them and then stopped speaking. It had to be him. I knew it in my gut. He was Connie’s murderer.

  Why had he done it? It didn’t matter right now—I just needed to get out of there. I was alone with a killer in the backyard of a quiet street with the neighbors’ homes spread out too far for my comfort.

  Backing up towards the gate, I tried to act natural in my state of panic. I’d just wanted to know the answer to a stupid question. A
nd look. My inquisitiveness had once more put me in hot water.

  Recognition crossed his face. He knew that I knew. Christian always had said I’d be a lousy poker player because if I wasn’t on guard, all the other players would need to know would show on my face.

  He put his hat back on and pulled the pitchfork out of the ground. A slow, eerie smile spread across his face. “You saw them, didn’t you?” He looked back over his shoulder. “Beautiful, aren’t they? I believe they are the most graceful flower in the entire garden. And so very helpful.”

  The creepy grin was still on his face as he walked towards me. I continued to back-step towards the gate. “Which ones are you talking about, Dr. Lynch? I just came to ask you a question and now I have the answer. I’ll let you get back to your chore.” I knew he wasn’t buying it, but I had to try.

  He kept coming, inching closer. “When Karen called to say you wanted to visit me here to talk, I thought I’d try a little experiment to see if you’d recognize hemlock when you saw it. I was willing to take the risk, though I must admit, I was hoping you would stay oblivious as ever. Sorry I have to add you to the list of casualties, but considering how the experiment went, well…” he dropped off the last part of the sentence, for which I was appreciative.

  It was futile to go on with my innocent commentary, so I sped up to reach the gate in hopes of getting away. I ran into something and realized I had gone too far to the right and missed the gate. I was backed up against the fence and he was almost within reach.

  That’s when I heard it. In the quiet of the area, I heard the explosive sound of a muffler. He heard it too, and it drew his attention away long enough for me to rush over and open the gate. I slammed it shut just as he was threatening to impale me on his pitchfork.

  I ran towards my car trying to remember what I’d done with the keys when the sheriff’s Range Rover thundered into the driveway. It came to an abrupt halt within inches of me, and Crystal jumped out of it. She barreled her way through the gate and somehow managed to grapple with Lynch until she got the pitchfork out of his hands. It was magnificent. I stood on watching in disbelief as she kicked the back of his knee and he went down on the ground with a thud. She was reciting his rights while handcuffing him when Ross arrived in a sheriff’s cruiser. And that, as they say, was that.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Phyllis poured more fragrant Jasmin tea into my cup. “But how did Crystal know where you were and that you were in danger?”

  “She told me later that she had wondered about the comment he’d made about me being friends with Liz. Then, he called the sheriff’s office to ask how the investigation was going. He got patched through to Crystal since Ross was out of the office.”

  I took a sip. “Even though he made it sound like he was concerned about justice for his patient and wanted to know if there had been any further developments, she had a feeling something was off. She called Gabby to see what she thought of the situation, and when Gabby told her I was going back to Chesterton again, she hung up and came flying to the rescue. She knew she might be putting too much stock in her intuition, if there is such a thing, but she said it was too strong to ignore. I’m so glad she listened!”

  “And Liz is back home?”

  “Oh, yes. She’s been home a few days and is already working on her idea to expand her business based on the idea she got to help other bloggers protect themselves from cyber-threats.”

  “She’s got spunk, she does. I want to meet her someday. Now, tell me why he did it! You don’t think of a psychiatrist goin’ ‘round killing people, for heaven’s sake!”

  “It took a few days to get the story out of him, and it took another psychiatrist using the tools of the trade to get him to spill the whole thing.” I took a sip of tea. “So it seems he’d had a spot of trouble while working in another state and his license was revoked. So he moved to a remote area and set up shop, figuring us wild country folks wouldn’t check up on him.” I crossed my eyes and stuck out my tongue, and she cracked up laughing.

  “I told you he was arrogant. Anyway, Connie had hacked into his system and found out all about his skeletons. She’d been hinting around for a while she knew, but when she got tired of playing cat and mouse with him, she came out one day in a session and demanded payment to keep quiet.”

  “Wasn’t she upset he wasn’t a real shrink no more? She was paying him to help her, so why didn’t she leave and find someone else?”

  “Remember, I told you she suffered from Narcissistic Personality Disorder Anti-Social Personality Disorder . She didn’t think like you and I do. She saw a way to score big money while being able to watch him squirm up close and personal in their weekly sessions. Besides which, she didn’t think she needed a psychiatrist. She only continued to go to make sure her inheritance check kept coming in.”

  “That doesn’t explain why he killed her. I mean, the average person don’t think of murder as a solution to a problem, do they?”

  “I would like to think not. But I guess we never really know what’s going on in someone else’s head. But get this… the forensic psychiatrist has diagnosed him with Narcissistic Personality Disorder Anti-Social Personality Disorder , too. Can you believe that? They were playing each other.” I shook my head, still in wonder at the strangeness of the whole thing. I could chuckle about it now since some time had passed, though I doubt I could ever go to a psychiatrist, even if my life depended on it.

  “So who put the note on your windshield? Was it that sneaky Jack Taylor?”

  “Nope. That was Lynch. He’d asked about our line of inquiry the first time we were there. Not knowing he was involved, we told him where I’d be the next day. Benny coming in and distracting me was just a coincidence. He’d wanted to tell me about Jack being blackmailed, but he was his friend and he couldn’t decide if he should rat on him or not.”

  “That’s crazy. What kinda world are we livin’ in?”

  “Good question. Lynch decided that he deserved to continue his practice of healing the mentally ill, believing it was unfair of someone like Connie to endanger that, so she had to go. He knew there was no reasoning with someone like her—firsthand, since he’s got the same diagnosis as she did. It’s all just too ironic. It’s something straight out of a Shakespearean play.”

  “Well, I wouldn’t know about that, dear, but I’ll take your word on it. Did you ever find out how he got in?” She picked up the pot and realized it was almost empty. “Hold that thought. I need to put the kettle back on. Sleuthin’ is thirsty work.” She chuckled to herself as she walked to the kitchen.

  While she was gone, I continued to think about the chances of both the victim and the villain having the same mental health diagnosis. Based on what the forensic psychiatrist had pieced together from Dr. Lynch’s records on her, Connie hated her parents for not paying for her higher education, like they had her brother. Since she was ‘just a girl,’ she was expected to marry, so a higher education was unnecessary. She had a sky-high I.Q. and used it to make up for the income she would’ve had if she’d been given a higher degree.

  She’d told Dr. Lynch she was justified in blackmailing people because they were just common trash who deserved to pay to keep their dirty laundry from being aired. Since she was smart enough to have ferreted out their secrets, she believed she deserved to profit from that effort. Dr. Lynch had also noted that she was determined to get every penny she felt she was owed to her all those years ago, even if she had to play the game to get it.

  Who knew what the real story of her upbringing was. Everything we knew had been filtered through her disturbed mind. She could have forgone the therapy; the inheritance was a pittance of what she was getting from her victims.

  “Okay, I’m back. I thought we’d try Oolong tea next. It sounds so exotic.” She set the new pot of tea on the tray. “Now, go ahead with the story.”

  I poured fresh tea for both of us. “He got in by picking the lock on her front door.”

  “Well, I’ll
be!”

  “He was proud to tell the forensic psychiatrist he’s a master at picking locks, from years of practice would be my bet. Her routine was well-known to him since they talked weekly about her life. He knew her perchance for preparing all the ingredients for her evening meal ahead of time, so the rest was easy. The luck came when she planned on making something so easy to add the hemlock to. Mixed in with all the other herbs, she didn’t notice a few more.”

  “What about your cyber-security, dear? Did build a virtual fortress around your business?

  “Yep. Magdalena got everything in place, so I’ll be safe and sound. I’ll have her run another risk assessment every few months, just to make sure everything’s tickity boo.”

  Phyllis took a bite of one of the Walker’s tea biscuits I had brought along in the basket full of a wide variety of tea. “What are you going to do now? Won’t it seem dull to go back to sitting in your office every day after all this excitement?”

  “Not in the least. I’m relieved it’s over and that I don’t have perforations throughout my intestines! No, I’m happy to settle back down into my routine. After hearing the whole story, Ellie’s coming home for a long weekend to spend time with us, too.”

  “What about you? Now that your budget is freed up, do you have any plans?”

  “As a matter of fact, I do.” She smoothed down the hair on one side. It sprang right back up as wild as ever. “I’ve decided to move to Aspen Falls. They have a lovely retirement village there, and I’ll be much closer to Mattie. She took me over yesterday and I’m filling out the paperwork. I even talked to a real estate agent yesterday afternoon, so this place will be on the market soon.” She was grinning like a little kid, her eyes all lit up.

  “That’s wonderful, Phyllis!”

  “Yep, with the extra cash I have now, I can afford to get out of here. And they have all kindsa activities at the village. There will be people my age and things to do. Heck, I might not even need my new TV.”