by Lin, Harper
“This is unbelievable,” I said.
Nick looked pale. He had dark circles under his eyes and his hair wasn’t neatly combed and gelled as it usually was. He came over and hugged me.
“Are you okay?” I asked Nick.
“Fine.” He tried to look brave, but it was obvious that the scene made him queasy. I took him into the library, while Sterling hovered nearby.
“What happened?” I asked Nick. “Start from the beginning.”
He sighed. “Yesterday night, I ate dinner with Martha. I didn’t really feel like celebrating the new year. Martha was kind of glum too because her son had plans and wouldn’t be spending New Year’s Eve with her. So we both decided just to retire early. I went up to my room and dozed off. Never heard a thing. Then I find her like this in the morning…”
I nodded, knowing that when Nick was asleep, it took a lot to wake him. It was why he usually set three alarm clocks when he needed to wake up for early shoots or important events.
“Poor thing,” I said. Nick’s eyes were rimmed with red and he was rocking from heel to toe as he spoke as a way of soothing himself.
“Your boyfriend seems to think I had something to do with it,” he continued.
“I just want to get all the facts,” Sterling said. “You were the last person to see Martha and the first person to find her dead. It seems a bit odd that you didn’t hear anything. There was a sign of struggle. Martha could’ve been screaming for help. You’re telling me that you didn’t hear her scream or hear any voices at all?”
“Like I told you,” Nick said through gritted teeth, “I’m a deep sleeper. Plus my room is at the end of the hall. It wouldn’t have been loud enough to wake me.”
“It’s true,” I told Sterling. “Nick doesn’t wake up very easily. I can attest to that.”
“There’s no sign of a break in,” Sterling said. “Nick’s fingerprints are everywhere and I wouldn’t be surprised if they were on those needles as well.”
“I’m a guest here!” Nick exclaimed. “Of course my fingerprints are going to be everywhere. If they weren’t I wouldn’t be alive, would I? But I can assure you that they are not on those needles. I’ve never even seen those needles before. She usually knits with normal needles.”
“We’ll see about that,” Sterling said. “Didn’t you have some anger issues on the set of a film a few years ago? Where you reprimanded a crew worker and there was a recording of you swearing and having some sort of nervous breakdown? Maybe that temper of yours got the best of you. Maybe Martha didn’t make your chicken dinner the way you liked it and you got peeved.”
Nick’s face grew red. “Not that this is any business of yours, but there was a reason I was angry at that crew member.”
I knew the story. The crew member in question had been secretly filming Nick on set and selling gossip about him to the tabloids. The guy ultimately got fired, but unfortunately, his video of Nick freaking out over his invasion of privacy still leaked and went viral.
“I’m not some spoiled actor. Martha and I got along great. Emma can attest to that. She was here a few days ago.”
Sterling looked at me in surprise.
“I was here,” I admitted. “Nick wanted to talk so I came over for tea. He was indeed very friendly with Martha and she seemed to like him. There’s no reason why Nick would want to hurt her.”
Sterling grew silent, his grey eyes dark and stormy. I could feel him tensing up.
“Even so, the circumstances surrounding Nick is questioning.” Sterling turned to Nick. “As much as I hate to say this, you have to stay in town until we find out more.”
With that, Sterling turned back to the scene of the crime to rejoin his team. Nick rubbed his face with his hands.
“It’s okay, Nick,” I said. “We both know you’re not guilty.”
“This is a disaster,” he said. “How can she be murdered?”
“Is the door locked at night?” I asked. “Or did Martha keep the door open for any last minute guests?”
“She locked it,” he said. “At least she usually did. She had a curfew. At ten o’clock she would lock the doors, so if I ever needed to go out, I had to tell her so she could give me a key to let myself in late at night. I remember her giving me a lecture about not staying up late or doing anything ‘sinful’.”
“And what time did you go to bed?”
“Around nine thirty.”
“Did you sleep right away?”
“No. I was probably up until 10:30pm watching TV before I dozed off.”
I smiled, imagining Nick falling asleep in front of the TV. It was a common habit of his and I usually had to turn the TV off for him and put a blanket over him.
“This means that she must’ve let the killer in,” I said. “It was probably someone she knew.”
“She didn’t seem to be too well-liked,” he said. “She constantly complained that she wasn’t invited to any New Year’s Eve parties.”
I recalled what Sylvia and Rhonda had said about her and how my Mom didn’t invite her to the party because she was too much of a downer.
“It does sound like she butt heads with others a lot,” I said.
“She can be very judgmental,” Nick said. “And I think she has a lot of bitterness built up, but ultimately I think that she’s a vulnerable person. As far as I was concerned, she was nice to me.”
“And to me too,” I said, recalling how attentive Martha was when I was over for tea.
“She’s just someone who’s used to getting her way, and hates it when others ignore her.”
I was touched by how much sympathy Nick had for Martha. He always treated older women well. He was very close to his mother.
“Well, it looks like you don’t have a place to stay now,” I said.
“That’s right.”
“You’re welcome to stay with me,” I offered.
“Sure,” he said softly. “That would be great.”
Nick smiled at me in gratitude. I smiled back. He was close enough to kiss me, but I stood up from the table. I took a peek out at the crime scene. The photographer had left, but a new man had entered the house.
He wore chunky black rimmed glasses and, when his back was turned to me, I noticed that he was starting to go bald. His face twisted into an expression of pain as he looked down at Martha’s body. Sterling reassured him and took him aside.
“Who would do this?” he cried. “Who would ever want to kill my mom?”
The man began to sob into his hands.
“I can’t be here,” he said. “I can’t look at her.”
Nick came up beside me.
“Shoot,” Nick said. “It’s Craig, Martha’s son. Poor guy.”
Sterling took Craig outside.
I turned back to Nick.
“Get your stuff so we can go to my place.”
While Nick went upstairs to pack, I looked around the place. The forensic team was all over the living, so I sneaked into the kitchen and looked around. All the dishes had been done. The glasses on the drying rack were all spotless. Martha must’ve been a clean freak. I checked the garbage can. It was empty except for a white knitted scarf. I could tell it was homemade. Maybe Martha threw it out because she was dissatisfied with the results, although I saw nothing wrong with the scarf.
Nothing else seemed to be out of place and I was disappointed that I had nothing more to go on.
Nick came downstairs with his leather duffel bag, ready to go. There was little else to do except to find out more about Martha Owens.
CHAPTER FOUR
We passed Sterling and Craig in deep conversation on the porch on our way out. They didn’t notice us so I didn’t say goodbye. I felt sorry for the guy. Imagine seeing your own mother’s murdered body.
“They shouldn’t have let him see her body like that,” Nick said. “That’s not right. It’s traumatizing.”
“I can imagine.” I had also seen a dead body recently and it wasn’t exactly pleasant.
/> We walked for a good ten minutes back to my house, passing the charming, snow blanketed town. It was bittersweet walking with Nick through Hartfield. I didn’t think we’d do so broken up and leaving a murder scene.
“I heard that the inn is haunted,” I said as we walked past the shopping area.
“Haunted?” Nick raised an eyebrow. “Really?”
“So you didn’t notice anything weird? No strange noises, shadows, or anybody pulling off your bedsheets in the middle of the night?”
“No. Do you believe in that?”
I shrugged. “Not really, but it’s fun to think about.
“I guess being in that big house knowing that the other rooms are empty can be kind of creepy. I didn’t exactly want to hang out in the hallway alone in the middle of the night. Why? Have there been ghost sightings?”
“This lady from my mom’s knitting group claims to be sensitive to spirits and that she saw something once in the bathroom.”
“Ohh, a toilet phantom.”
I cracked a smile. “Don’t worry. There are no ghosts at my place. Just a couple of elves living in the attic.”
Both of my parents had met Nick on many occasions and seemed to like them, but this was the first time that Nick ever visited me in Hartfield.
When Mom answered the door, she was shocked to see him. She knew that we had broken up and she wasn’t aware that he’d been in town all this time.
She quickly covered her surprise with a warm smile.
“It’s a lovely home you have, Mrs. Wild.”
My dad came in from the kitchen. “Nick?”
He looked confused as well. They both knew that I was dating Sterling now.
I explained that Nick was here to visit—although I didn’t say that he’d brought a diamond ring along—and what had happened to Martha the night before.
“Oh dear!” Mom exclaimed. “Poor Martha.”
She sat down and looked pale. Dad went to get her a glass of water.
“Nick has to stay here for a while,” I said. “He’s a witness. I hope that’s okay.”
“Of course it is,” Mom said. “Who would do this to Martha?”
“We don’t know yet,” I said.
Mom stared into space and looked to be in deep thought about who Martha’s killer could be. I wanted to grill her about what she knew, but thought it was best to let her think for a bit.
I led Nick up to the second floor and showed him the guest bedroom, the one next to mine. The room used to be Mirabelle’s, who now lived with her husband in house in the same neighbourhood. Even though Nick and I had lived together for years, having him in such close proximity made me nervous. What if the temptation to be together was still there?
“I’m sorry you had to get mixed up in all of this,” I said.
“Who knew small towns could be so dangerous. In all my years of living in New York, I had never seen a dead body or knew of anyone who was murdered. The irony.”
“Why don’t you lie down and have a rest for a bit? I’ll go down and see about lunch. I’ll come and get you when it’s ready.”
“Thanks, Emma.” Nick smiled.
I couldn’t help but feel responsible. If it wasn’t for me, Nick wouldn’t have had to stay in that inn. Taking care of him was the least I could do.
Downstairs, Dad made his famous chilli, while Mom was still on the couch, digesting the news.
“This is horrifying,” she said to me. “To think that this could happen in Hartfield. I wish there was something that I could do.”
“I’m sorry, Mom.” I hugged her. “Maybe we can do something, by figuring out who would hurt her.”
“That would be difficult because Martha didn’t get along with a lot of people. Even I didn’t particularly see eye to eye with Martha most of the time. She could just be so negative and overbearing that it drove you nuts. But even so, she meant well, and she could be generous under that rough exterior. She doesn’t deserve this.”
“Of course not, Mom. I’m sure we’ll catch the killer. Sterling’s investigating right now.”
She looked up at me. “What is Nick doing here? I thought you were broken up.”
I slowly explained that Nick had been here since Christmas, and that he wanted to get back together.
“Why, that’s wonderful. Although, Sterling…”
“I know, I know. I’m trying not to think about it right now.”
She patted me on the knee. “Don’t worry, honey. You’ll know who the right one is when it’s time.”
“Thanks. Right now I just want to help catch this guy.”
“If I could count all of Martha’s enemies on my fingers, I wouldn’t have enough hands.”
“Was there anyone that Martha particularly hated?”
“Well, I only know Martha through the knitting group. Otherwise, we’re not close enough to spend quality time together.”
“Did she butt heads a lot with a lot of the women in the group?”
Mom thought about it. “Yes. She had plenty of disagreements with Rhonda and Sylvia, because they are the founding members of the group, and Martha was starting to boss the group around more and more, but I’ve known Rhonda and Sylvia for years. They wouldn’t kill her!”
I didn’t comment on that. Sometimes the person you least suspected could surprise you the most. Instead, I told Mom that Martha was stabbed with a gigantic knitting needle.
“Just how big was the needle?” Mom asked.
“They were the thickest I’d ever seen. As thick as my wrist.”
Mom’s eyes grew wide. “Martha didn’t own those needles. They’re Rhonda’s.”
“What? Really?”
“Yes. You can’t find those needles in Hartfield. Rhonda had to order them from an online knitting store and it took quite a while for them to be shipped here.”
“Maybe Martha ordered them too.”
Mom shook her head. “I don’t think so. Rhonda had them during the last meeting, and she was showing it off. Martha really wanted them. If she ordered them that day, the needles wouldn’t have gotten here so fast, especially with delivery being so slow around the holidays.”
“What about express shipping?”
“She would never pay for express shipping. Martha was, well, cheap about those kinds of things.”
I stood up and paced. “Do you think that Rhonda could hate her enough to kill her?
“Rhonda’s one of my closest friends!” Mom exclaimed.
“I know, Mom, but something people do regrettable things when they’re angry. I’m not saying Rhonda did it, I just want all the facts to piece this together. Can you tell me more about what they argued about?”
Mom slowly nodded and considered her words carefully. “Rhonda and Martha have had their disagreements, but they usually tried to be civil about it. Sylvia and Martha butt heads a lot, and Rhonda usually comes to Sylvia’s defense, so Martha tends to feel a bit outnumbered sometimes. But Martha can be bullheaded and downright aggressive when she argues. She can be a bully to many members of the group.”