“Then what?”
“I went to his parents. They’re poor folk, but good. They forced Steve to marry me. They forced him to stick around till the baby was born. Debts were piling up, and Steve couldn’t focus on his studies. His grades dropped and he lost his scholarship. He got angrier and angrier at me and his parents. He kept saying that all three of us were conspiring to keep him tied.
“Finally, one day he ran away. He wrote us a note, telling us he’d never come back. He even informed the police, in case we tried to put a missing case on him. He left us to our own fate, and went out to make his.”
“But why Wisconsin?” Nolan wondered. “I mean, why not NYC or California?”
“Because he was an ardent devotee of Blake Dowell,” Martina said. “I should have figured he’d be here. He hero-worshipped Blake, and I guess he wanted to be the next Blake.”
“So why did you come into town all these years later?” Nolan asked.
“Why? Because he wrote to me. He’d never officially divorced me, you see, and now he needed me to sign the papers. Well, I was willing to sign, as long as we did it face to face. I wanted to spit in his eye just once. I wanted to show him that me and my baby, lovely little Caroline, that we’re doing fine without him, and that he made a mistake. That’s why I came up here.”
“The same day he was murdered,” Nolan said.
“I had nothing to do with that,” Martina said angrily. “I should have known you’d try to imply-”
“I’m not implying a thing,” Nolan said. “I’m just saying, there has to be a reason. Did you meet him at all?”
“No. My flight was delayed, and I got lost on the way,” Martina said. “I was planning to meet him today. I didn’t reach here till about 2 am. Poor Irma had to stay up for me.”
Nolan gave Bluebell a look from the corner of his eye. So Martina had no alibi, really.
“The thing is, why did he suddenly want to divorce you?” Bluebell asked.
“He was getting married, I assumed,” Martina said. “To you.”
“Not to me,” Bluebell said. “He broke up with me last night.”
Martina let out a shrill little laugh. “He did? Classic Steve. Top class jerk. So who was the unlucky woman?”
“There’s a third woman?” Nolan shook his head. “I have no idea.”
“I do,” Bluebell said. “Selena Boyer.”
*****
Chapter 9
Selena Boyer
A Google search had told Bluebell that Selena was the head of a new start up in Milwaukee. Remembering that Steve had been away on business in Milwaukee all of last week, Bluebell realized that it must have been Selena he’d been meeting.
Following what she considered his last wishes, Bluebell emailed Selena, introducing herself as a close friend of Steve’s and letting her know about Steve’s tragic death.
A day later, Selena drove over, insisting on meeting Bluebell personally. She was a tall brunette dressed in a classic blue skirt suit with a Hermes scarf tied around her neck. Despite how elegant she looked, Selena had puffy red eyes that told a different story about her emotions.
“I haven’t been able to sleep since I heard,” Selena said, as she sipped coffee on Bluebell’s table.
“I’m so sorry,” Bluebell said. “Were you and Steve…” She choked on the last word, “close?”
“We were planning to get married.” Selena put out her hand, and showed Bluebell a ring. “I guess he must have told you? But Steve was always so secretive.”
With effort, Bluebell controlled herself. She’d guessed this, of course. It made sense. It made perfect sense why he’d broken up with her and asked his wife to sign divorce papers at the same time. He was clearing the field for Selena.
“So was it love at first sight for you?” Bluebell asked.
“Love?” Selena laughed. “No. I cared tremendously for Steve, but we both knew this was a business decision. I have a trust fund that matures either when I turn 30, or when I get married. He and I needed that capital to set up our firm. We needed to do it fast, too. Steve said he had info on Dowell’s operations, and a new product they had planned. If we set up our firm first and got to market early, then we could make millions, and Dowell would lose millions.”
“So you were ready to marry Steve?” Bluebell asked. “Just for this?”
“Just?” Selena said. “This business is my life. Earning millions is all I’ve dreamed of since I was a little kid. My family used to have a grand fortune. We had a name that was recognized across five states. But then, my father wasted his life on cards and alcohol, and all the family money too. That’s why my grandfather put all my money into a trust. That money is rightfully mine, and marrying Steve seemed as good a way as any to get it.”
“My God, Steve led a ridiculously complicated life,” Bluebell said. “Did he ever tell you that he was married previously?”
“Sure.” Selena nodded. “I was the one to suggest that he divorce her as fast as possible. After all, I didn’t want to risk any lawsuits when we got big. And trust me, with Steve’s fantastic inventions and my business sense, we were bound to be big. But it’s all over now. Dowell won. He killed Steve, I’d wager.”
“He’d be a suspect,” Bluebell said. “Unfortunately, he was in Miami that day.”
Selena laughed. “Sure, that’s what he says. He probably has enough money to pay for witnesses too.” Dejectedly, she got up. “I guess the only real mystery is, where did Steve hide that data he got from Dowell? If we could only find it, we’d find a way to prove Dowell did it. I know we would.”
Bluebell nodded, and then brightened as a thought hit her. “Selena, were you and Steve official business partners in any way?”
“Sure.” Selena nodded. “We’d begun the process of merging his company with mine a month ago. If I was marrying him, I demanded that we share everything 50-50. Why?”
“Because that means Steve’s office is technically your office too,” Bluebell said with a big smile.
*****
Sheriff Catherine wasn’t very pleased when Selena made that request.
“Well, the place is still sealed,” she said. “It’s a crime scene.”
“Please, Catherine. We only want to look about,” Bluebell said.
“Why? Think you might find a clue?” Catherine laughed.
“There was something I wanted to get a closer look at,” Bluebell said. “Camilla mentioned she saw a long scratch along the wall.”
“Sure.” Catherine nodded. “She told me about it too. It doesn’t get me any closer to figuring out how the killer got inside the room. Those keys were specialized, and the lock maker has verified that there were only three copies in existence, all of which were accounted for. The landlords are in Madison and had their copy in their safe. The cleaning lady had hers with her. The actual keys were found lying next to Steve’s body. None of it makes sense. Looks like whoever did it might just end up going scot-free.” She gave Bluebell a wry smile. “Lucky them.”
Bluebell flushed. “I didn’t do it, Catherine.”
“Never said you did,” Catherine said. “Won’t be likely to say it either. This is the perfect crime. Whoever did it must know magic!”
“So you won’t let us in the office?” Bluebell asked. “Selena here is the owner, you know.”
“No luck.” Catherine smiled. “But look, if all you wanted to know about was that long scratch on the wall, I’ve got a photo.” She brought up her phone, and showed them both. “See? It’s just some fault in the paint, most likely. Look at the black and yellow stain next to it. Some kind of mold, probably.”
“Right.” Bluebell felt strangely disappointed. “I don’t know what I was thinking, Sheriff. I guess if you can’t figure it out, neither can we.”
“Well, I’m not giving up,” Catherine said, with determination. “I’m going to make sure the killer is behind bars, no doubt about it.” She smiled. “Well, I don’t want to keep droning on about the case. Wh
y don’t we-”
“Wait a second!” Bluebell yelped. “Can I see that photo again?”
“Sure.” Catherine nodded. “I don’t see why not. Just-”
But Bluebell was staring into it, looking like she’d just found diamonds on her plate. “Catherine, I’ve got it! I think I’ve got it! I know how it was done.”
*****
Chapter 10
Conclusions
After Bluebell told Catherine her theory, she spent the next few days waiting in agony for a phone call. In between, she had a visit from Oliver.
“Mathilda is still in custody,” he told her. “But I think the jury’s convinced that she only cast a love spell. As well as we can figure out, when she cast it, Steve was already dead, and that caused a minor explosion to occur. That explains why you woke up with no memory of the previous night. Mathilda said she woke up the same way, panicked, and tried to disappear. But we’ve got a task force set up now to figure out how this was done. It’s clear that some magic was used.”
“I’m not so sure.” Bluebell smiled.
“Come on, Bluebell, it’s impossible for a normal man to walk through walls,” Oliver said. “Maybe it wasn’t Mathilda, but whoever did it clearly has some access to our spells.”
“If we’re lucky,” Bluebell said, “We might find out the truth very soon. I’m expecting a call any minute now-”
Right on cue, her phone rang.
“We’re on our way to make the arrest,” Catherine said. “Everything you told me matched up. Your theory was right. We have forensic proof of it now. I thought… well, I thought I owed you an apology, and a thank you.”
“You don’t owe me anything, Sheriff,” Bluebell said. “As long as we catch him, I’m happy.”
“So it’s a him,” Oliver said, as she hung up. “Who is it?”
“Want to go see?” Bluebell asked, grabbing her coat. “The police are on their way to make the arrest anyway.”
“I wouldn’t miss it,” Oliver said. “Let’s go.”
“There’s so many people who could have killed Steve,” Bluebell said. “But there was always some piece missing from the jigsaw. I was a suspect, of course, to an outsider that knows all we do, I was the strongest suspect. I have magic in me, which means it’s conceivable that I could walk through walls. I have motive too - I wanted to kill Steve because he broke up with me. Finally, I have no alibi - I woke up with no memory of the night before. That’s why you were really sent by the Magical Ministry, wasn’t it? To keep an eye on me?”
Oliver nodded. “Might as well admit it. All the bets were that you and Mathilda had conspired to kill Steve. Though I’ve known Mathilda for a long time and I knew she wasn’t the kind to kill. I thought you may have forced her to cast a spell allowing you to walk through walls, using the 21st birthday wish as a lever.”
“Right,” Bluebell said. “That’s the only theory that works, isn’t it? It ticks off everything - motive, means, opportunity. Except I didn’t do it. I didn’t kill Steve.”
“So who did?” Oliver asked.
“Someone very clever,” Bluebell said. “Also someone very desperate. I had three people I considered suspects. The first, and strongest, was Steve’s wife. She had motive, she hated him for leaving her. She had no real alibi either - she was driving to our town when the murder happened.”
“But how did she pass through two locked doors?”
“Exactly. That’s where I was stuck. How did she?” Bluebell smiled. “That’s when I realized my second suspect was Blake Dowell - a pretty major suspect. He hated Steve because Steve had stolen information about a product, and was trying to launch a similar product early with Selena’s help. Dowell also had an office diagonally opposite to Steve’s in the same building. Which made me wonder… he had access to at least one key. The key to the building. Which meant he only needed to somehow enter Steve’s office. Just one wall to walk through, not two.”
“Right,” Oliver said.
“But then Blake revealed he had the perfect alibi. He was in Miami when the murder occurred.” Bluebell sighed. “So it couldn’t be him.”
“So maybe it was Selena?” Oliver asked.
“No. Selena had no motive. In fact, she had everything to lose with Steve’s sudden death. She had nothing to do with it. But she was instrumental in making me understand how it was done.”
“So who was your third suspect?”
“Do you remember how you found Steve in Nolan’s car?” Bluebell asked. “Right before you captured his spirit?”
“Yes.”
“Steve told me then that he had never liked Nolan,” Bluebell said. “That Nolan always seemed too much of a goody two shoes to him.” She paused. “Nolan’s my best friend, but I wondered… it seemed silly, of course, but what if…”
“Nolan would have a motive too,” Oliver said. “He could be in love with you, which would make him want to kill Steve.”
Bluebell shook her head. “Nolan’s not in love with me. That’s just silly. But the more I thought about it, the more I realized that there was a way that Nolan could have done it. Nolan could have killed Steve.”
“How?”
“Nolan and Steve were both supposed to fly drones in a tournament,” Bluebell said. “Do you know what those are?”
“Tiny little quadcopters, right?” Oliver asked.
“Right,” Bluebell said. “They are about the size of my fist.” She held up a fist. “Big enough to easily fit into an air vent.”
“But terrible murder weapons,” Oliver said.
“Oh yes, terrible murder weapons, but excellent ways to drop a key back into a room,” Bluebell said. “I kept thinking about it. That’s how it could be done - the murderer enters the room with Steve, hits him in the back of the head, and then locks the door as he exits. Only before he exits the building, he uses the drone to fly through the air vent with the keys, and drops the keys back next to Steve. Ta-da. No magic needed to leave a body in a locked room.”
Oliver gasped. “Brilliant!”
“Of course, there were a few reasons that it couldn’t be Nolan,” Bluebell said. “For one, he had no motive, despite what you said. For another, he didn’t have the keys to the office building. He might be able to enter with Steve, kill him and drop the office keys back, but then, how could he possibly lock the building doors on his way out? Remember, Camilla Smith, the cleaning lady, told me she’d unlocked the doors when she came in that morning.”
“Right.” Oliver frowned.
“So it wasn’t Nolan either,” Bluebell said. She parked her car. “That’s when it hit me. There was one man who had the opportunity, the motive, and the means.”
Oliver got out. They were at the Dowell Industries building. Three police cars were parked outside, their red lights flashing.
“Not Blake?”
“No. Not Blake. Curtis Stern, Blake’s chief of security,” Bluebell said. “He had opportunity - as chief of security, he had access to the building’s keys because there’s a Dowell office inside it. He had the means too - he’s an avid drone racer. Nolan said he drives a yellow and black drone. As for motive - he would lose his job if Steve were to use the information that he’d stolen. After all, it was his job to make sure that Dowell Industries was safe. He’d told us too, as long as he had a wife and three children to feed, he didn’t care about Steve, he only cared about keeping his job.”
Oliver nodded, mute. The doors to the building opened, and Sheriff Catherine and Deputy Salverson walked out, a crowd behind them, and a humiliated Curtis Stern with his hands behind his back walking between them.
“So that’s what I figured,” Bluebell said. “Curtis persuaded Steve to meet him at his office to talk. Maybe he offered him money, and Steve refused. Angry, and afraid of losing his job, Curtis killed Steve. He locked the door to Steve’s office and dropped the keys inside, using his drone, but he made a mistake.
In his nervousness, he scraped the drone against a wall, leaving a lon
g scratch on it. He also left behind a tiny sample of black and yellow paint, from the drone’s body. Enough so that forensics could confirm it was his. Enough so that my theory could be proved. I expect Catherine will get a confession out of him soon.”
“Fantastic,” Oliver said. “So it wasn’t magic at all, as we feared.”
“Oh no. That was a red herring.” Bluebell smiled. “I guess normal criminals can be ingenious too. They don’t need magic.”
“Well, I’m convinced,” Oliver said.
“Does that mean you’ll let Mathilda go free?” Bluebell asked.
“I guess we’ll have to,” Oliver said. “She’ll want to see you again soon, that is, if she hasn’t lost her will to teach.”
“I hope she hasn’t,” Bluebell said. “I thought about it, and you were right - magic is just a skill. It’s how you use it that counts. Whether you use it for good or bad, that’s what makes the difference.”
“So you’re ready to join us.” Oliver smiled. “Good. Once your skills improve, come see me again. Maybe we can talk about a job. I’ve got need of brains like yours in my department.”
Flattered, Bluebell smiled. “Thanks. But for now, the only job I’m interested in is working at my mom’s Salon.”
“You wait,” Oliver said. “It’ll bore you, sooner or later, and then I’ll make sure you become one of our finest magical detectives!”
The End
Thank you for reading this first story in my new series! I really hope you enjoyed it! If so, Book 2, Murder At The Circus, is available RIGHT NOW ON AMAZON!
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The free story is a Prequel to my other series, “A Murder In Milburn”. It is a culinary cozy mystery series and, in addition to the tasty whodunnits, each book contains a delicious recipe for one of the scrumptious dishes described in that story! (Recipes like mouth-watering Venison Shepherd’s Pie & thirst-quenching Pomegranate Sweet Tea!)
The Locked Room Murder: A Witch Cozy Mystery (A Bluebell Knopps Cozy Mystery Book 1) Page 6