by Eryn Scott
Hadley sat and let her finger trace over the beautiful knots in the dark wood.
“Can I get you anything to drink?” Barry asked, moving into the kitchen.
“I’ll take a tea with honey, please,” Hadley said. She wasn’t thirsty, but she knew Barry loved to host guests and didn’t get to do it as often as he liked.
“Same here, thank you.” Paul sent Hadley a quick wink which was his way of telling her to relax.
In an effort to do so, she pushed her shoulders back and pulled in a deep breath. By the time she exhaled, Barry returned with a pot of honey.
He placed it on the table and said, “Kettle’s on. So what do you wanna know?” He looked up from his cracked fingernails and let his gaze settle on Paul.
Paul’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, probably buying himself one more moment. “Barry, this business with Charlie isn’t looking great.”
Barry’s white mustache moved as he pressed his lips together and nodded. Hadley felt like crying as she recognized the anguish sitting behind his eyes.
“If there’s anything you can tell me that might shed some light on why you’re all over the crime scene, I think it’s time for you to come clean.” Paul lifted his eyebrows, and though the gesture appeared intimidating, Hadley knew he was being much gentler than he normally would’ve been with a suspect.
The old man ran a hand over his beard. Just as he was about to say something, the whistle of the kettle stopped him. He held up a shaky finger and disappeared into the kitchen for a moment. He returned with a teapot and three stacking mugs.
“This needs to steep a bit,” Barry explained as he set them down and then returned to his seat.
Hadley and Paul watched him.
Barry sighed. “By now I’m sure you know it was Charlie who was to blame for the loss of so many of my bees.”
Paul nodded. Hadley held her breath.
“I think there was a moment when I very much wanted to hurt that man,” Barry said, lowering his gaze to the table like a man ashamed. “It’s possible if I was my younger self, I may have. But, no”—he shook his head—“I didn’t kill Charlie.”
Opening his mouth, Paul was about to say something when Barry held up his hand to stop him.
“However…” Barry added. “I did want to let him know his actions had consequences.” Patting his chest, Barry pulled a folded piece of paper from the breast pocket in his flannel shirt. “I wrote him this note, threatening him to leave the market and Stoneybrook in general or else I would sue him for damages.”
Unfolding the letter, the older man flattened it on the table and pushed it closer to Paul and Hadley. Hadley scanned the handwritten text—letters which were simultaneously careful and precise, but also showed the slight wobble in his hand. Concentrating hard, Hadley tried not to let her lip curve up in appreciation as she read the man’s threat. Between Barry’s love of reading and his late wife’s career in journalism, the warning was the most eloquently worded thing Hadley had read in a good while.
“But why do you still have this?” Paul asked. He pushed the note back toward Barry once he seemed sure Hadley had a chance to read it too.
Barry sighed. “I couldn’t go through with it. I put it in his van, on the driver’s seat, but I didn’t even get back to my booth before I turned back and retrieved it.” Barry tapped his temple. “Nina talks to me still, tells me what I’m doing wrong. And she did not like me leaving the note like that. Told me, Barry, you talk to the man face-to-face or not at all.”
Hadley remembered Barry’s wife, Nina. She was as kind as she was strict. The woman held everyone around her to the highest standards, but you couldn’t be mad at her because she also held herself to the same expectations.
“Is that why you were acting so odd the morning Charlie died?” Hadley asked Barry.
He nodded. “I was shocked, first of all, but then I began to worry my fingerprints were going to be all over that van of his. When Paul didn’t come knocking right away, I thought maybe someone else was at the top of your list, but then Hadley came sniffing around about the type of bees I kept, and I knew it was coming. I’m just sorry it took you coming here for me to come clean.”
Barry reached over and began pouring tea into the mugs, handing one with a spoon to each of the James twins. He opened a jar of beautiful, amber honey. They each took a teaspoon and then Barry used his finger to clean up a drip on one side before recapping the jar.
Paul stared as Barry attempted to wipe the stickiness off his finger and onto a cloth napkin.
“Did you have honey on your fingers when you opened the van door?” Paul asked.
Barry looked down at his hands. “It’s a good probability. I don’t even notice it anymore. Nina used to complain that all of our door knobs were sticky as a child’s fingers.”
“But, I don’t get it,” Hadley said. “Where was Charlie when you were putting the note in his van and then taking it back out? He hadn’t even set up a table at the market. No one had seen him yet.” She turned to Paul. “If he wasn’t in his van, where was he?”
Paul’s eyebrows knit together as he took in Hadley’s question. “You didn’t see Charlie at all that morning?” Paul asked Barry.
Barry took a measured breath. “I thought I did, but I wasn’t sure, so I didn’t say anything.”
“Where do you think you saw him?” Paul leaned closer, setting his tea down on the table.
“I didn’t know the man well, so I couldn’t be certain, but I thought he was across the street, talking to a woman."
Now it was Hadley’s turn to lean forward. “What did the woman look like?”
“Smart dresser, even smarter car.” Barry tipped his head to one side. “Shortish hair, shiny.” He made a cutting motion next to his shoulder to show the length.
Hadley’s eyes went wide. She cut a quick glance at Paul who nodded in agreement.
Vivian.
The James twins both took large gulps of their tea, finishing off the last bit and then stood.
“Thank you for talking to us, Barry,” Paul said, holding out his hand. When Barry stood as well and took his hand to shake, Paul said, “Next time, please let us know this kind of thing first. Don’t wait for me to come to you. If you’re not guilty, there’s nothing for you to worry about.”
Barry tsked. “Sorry, Paul. Nina covered way too many stories about people being wrongfully accused and sentenced for me to believe it. Nothing against you, but until that bumbling sheriff is out of the picture, I’m going to err on the side of not going to jail if I can help it.”
Hadley pressed her lips together to hide a smile.
Paul didn’t look as amused. He clenched his jaw tight for a second before saying, “Before we go, it will speed up our ability to clear your name if we can take some pictures of your bees just to confirm their race?” Paul asked.
“Sure thing,” Barry said. “I’m happy to help put the person responsible behind bars, just as long as it’s not me.”
Hadley and Paul followed him out to the field as he opened a few of the hives so Paul could snap a few pictures of the bees. Minutes later, when they were climbing into Paul’s truck, Hadley shook her head.
“I know it means we still don’t know who killed Charlie, but boy am I glad it wasn’t Barry.” She pushed her seat belt into the clip.
Paul didn’t seem so excited, but Hadley knew he was still frustrated with the man from holding on to such important information. “At least we have another reason to talk to Vivian.”
Hadley lifted her eyebrows. Maybe she shouldn’t have canceled her appointment with the woman.
Watching her for a moment, Paul said, “You’ve been telling me it’s Vivian this whole time. Why aren’t you more excited about this?”
She shrugged. “I just can’t help but wonder how Vivian would’ve gotten a hold of bees and when she would’ve had a chance to put them into the van if he was talking with her. Wouldn’t Charlie have noticed that?”
&nb
sp; “True. So you’re thinking someone put the bees in the van after Barry was there, while Charlie was talking with Vivian?”
Hadley wracked her brain for anyone else who might have access to bees. Then it hit her. She hadn’t thought much about it this morning because she’d been so interested in the house and the views, but now the beehive sitting in the corner of Leo’s property stood out like a red, waving flag.
“Leo’s selling the rental property,” Hadley said.
Paul blinked, obviously unsure what it had to do with anything.
Hadley described how she and Luke had viewed it with Deborah that morning, and how it had a beehive on it.
“I’ll get Kevin over there with a warrant tomorrow to see what kind of bees he’s keeping.” Paul started the truck and drove them back into town.
She nodded, but if she was honest with herself, Leo going to jail for the death of Charlie Lloyd wasn’t much better than Barry.
20
Monday morning found Hadley walking under the purple-and-white-striped awning into Valley Wildflowers for her weekly arrangements. She was definitely not there to snoop about the case, nor had she any mind to say anything to Leo about her interest in his property. Asking him to pick her offer over Luke’s would’ve been unethical… right?
But it didn’t matter anyway, because as she walked into the flower shop, Jessie appeared to be the only one there, again.
If anyone wanted Leo to go to jail less than Hadley, it had to be Jessie. Maybe she could help Hadley out, give her information that could exonerate her father, take him off the suspect list for good.
Jessie walked out from the back, balancing the three arrangements. She patted a rogue leaf off her shirt once she’d set them down.
“So I saw you’re staying at the rental place on the river,” Hadley said, trying to sound nonchalant.
“Yeah. It’s great, isn’t it?” Jessie said with a smile, but it quickly faded. “Oh, no. I didn’t leave a mess, did I? Please don’t tell my dad. He told me I had to keep it nice if I was going to stay there.”
Holding up her hands, Hadley shook her head. “Whoa. No, nothing like that. I saw a bag, and Deborah told me it was yours. The place looked great.”
Jessie visibly relaxed. “Good. I really don’t want to do anything to stress Dad out right now. I know he really needs to sell the rental. He’s under a lot of pressure right now. I don’t want to make it worse.”
Seeing her opening, Hadley said, “Of course. I know what it’s like to be under financial strain, to not know how tomorrow’s going to turn out. That plus this whole Charlie deal, and he’s got to be stressed to the max.”
Jessie nodded along with Hadley’s statement until she reached the part about Charlie. At the mention of Leo’s dead competition, Jessie’s eyes narrowed. “He didn’t kill him; you know that, Hadley.” Her sharp tone was quite a change from the sweet, lilting one she’d used on the phone.
“I want to believe it, Jess, but it’s not looking good. If you have any information that can help take the spotlight off him, please let me know. Until then, Paul’s not doing his job if he doesn’t look into your dad.”
Her face pinched together, tight. For a moment, it seemed like she was going to tell Hadley to leave, but then her features relaxed. “I was running an errand for him in the city, so I wasn’t here. Hadley, I don’t have anything to tell you to take suspicion off him except that I’m sure he didn’t do it.”
Hadley sighed. “Okay, what about Charlie? Do you know anything about him that might point us to someone else who hated him enough to want him dead?”
“I don’t know anything other than how much of a jerk he was to my dad and what a creep he was to me,” Jessie said, then softened as she must’ve realized it wasn’t helping her case. “His assistant manager, Stuart, would know more. That guy has been right beside Charlie for as long as I can remember.”
“Right. I met him.” Hadley nodded. “You know, he seemed pretty disgruntled. Do you think he could’ve done it?” Hadley remembered Paul had interrupted her the first time she’d tried to talk to the young man. Maybe he warranted another visit.
Just as she was starting to build a possible scenario in her mind where Stuart was the killer, Jessie shook her head. “I mean, I would’ve thought that too. The guy’s a complete jerk, even worse than his boss. But I ran into him on my errand. We both go to the same supply warehouse on the other side of the mountains. We just buy supplies for our arrangements whereas they often buy bulk flowers.” Jessie shrugged. “That doesn’t matter anymore. What is important is he was there at the warehouse the same time I was. I remember because we glared at each other the whole time we were shopping. I didn’t get home until well after noon, which means Stuart couldn’t have been here much before that either.”
Hadley chewed on her lip as she thought. She picked at her fingernails, but it appeared all of the polish she’d painted on the other day was already gone. This had been a stressful two weeks, it seemed.
“Okay. Thanks, Jessie.” Hadley balanced the arrangements in her arms. “Maybe I’ll see if I can go talk with Stuart. See if he knows anything.”
Jessie waved goodbye as Hadley left. It wasn’t until she was halfway down the street she remembered she was going to try to put in a good word about her offer on the house. Oh well, she thought. Catching a killer is more important than me getting my dream house. There would be time to talk about the house once this whole murder investigation was behind them.
Unless Luke put in an offer she couldn’t beat, of course. Hadley shook her head. She couldn’t think about Luke anymore, or she was going to have to wear a mouth guard to protect her teeth from all the grinding.
Hadley spent the whole day on Monday in her kitchen making jam. She hadn’t realized it, but between packing, running around looking at houses, and investigating Charlie’s murder, she needed a full day alone in her kitchen.
There was something inherently calming to her about being surrounded by the sugary, tart smell of the jam as she cooked it and transferred it into the jars. Not to mention it was predictable. All Hadley had to do was follow her recipe and everything would turn out sweet and wonderful. She needed those kinds of results after weeks of nothing going as planned, it seemed.
Her bike ride home was lovely. Sunset was a few hours off still, but low clouds were blocking the hottest of the sun’s rays, and it sounded as if the crickets were rejoicing in the reprieve after a heat-soaked day. Their chirps rose up from the fields and mixed with the tonal melodies of songbirds and the rhythmic rushing of sprinklers. The peace of nature felt as if it had fully enveloped her by the time she reached her road.
But it all fell away as she noticed Tyler’s car sitting in the driveway.
To be honest, their divorce was still fresh enough she hadn’t registered his car’s presence as wrong at first. Seeing Tyler’s sporty, black sedan in that spot had been commonplace since the year before when he’d bought it to get better gas mileage for all of the trips he had to make over the mountains for work.
Right. Work.
At the reminder, Hadley’s face grew red. Not with anger, but embarrassment. She’d almost kissed the man the other day, had let him pull her close and tell her he missed her as if he hadn’t been the one to push her away in the first place.
Hadley skidded her bike to a stop a few hundred feet back, wondering if she should go to Suze’s instead and wait until he left. Maybe she couldn’t be trusted around Tyler.
It was in times like these she wished her parents were here. Sure, Hadley was a thirty-year-old woman with a successful business. But sometimes she just needed her mom to brush her hair back out of her face and tell her how strong she was, and she needed her dad to call her “buddy” and remind her any boy who dared hurt her would have to answer to him.
Just thinking about them made her feel stronger, though, and Hadley pedaled the remaining distance to the house, determined to stand up to Tyler just as strongly as she had the day she
’d told him she wanted a divorce.
He was sitting on the porch steps squinting at his phone when she came to a stop just outside the fence. Stepping off the bike and unclipping her helmet, Hadley wheeled the bike down the small hill and propped it up against the side of the house so it was protected under the eaves.
“You would fit right in with Seattleites,” he said when she walked up. “They bike everywhere. A lot of people don’t even have cars if they live downtown.”
Hadley held the chin strap of her helmet, tight. The reason she still rode a bike was in part because of all of their money he’d thrown at his affair. It was the same reason her jam kitchen still had a sign in the window saying, “Retail Space Opening Soon.” While she wanted to renovate the front part of the kitchen into a small shop, she just didn’t have the funds to do so after he’d depleted their savings.
But yelling at Tyler about all of that wasn’t going to make her feel any better. Instead she released her grip on her helmet and said, “What’s up?”
“We didn’t quite finish yesterday.” He stood, putting his phone away in his back pocket. Stepping toward her, Tyler placed a hand on her arm. “I thought we could pick up where we left off.”
From the twinkle in his eye and the soft tone he was using, there was little doubt in Hadley’s mind that he was talking about something other than packing.
And even though her heart beat so fast and hard in her chest she thought it might break free, she pulled in a deep breath and shook her head. She placed her hand over his. Instead of holding on to it—like he must’ve expected with the way his eyes lit up—Hadley moved his hand off her arm.
“Ty,” she said, sighing. “We’re over. You made that very clear. You can’t come back here and play house with me just because you’re feeling sentimental and homesick, or whatever’s going on here.”
His handsome face fell. That was one thing Hadley had learned growing up with Tyler Henley; the man was not used to hearing the word no. He was also one of the most stubborn people she’d ever met.