Authors: Amanda Flower
Dr. Blocken was a suspect for the same reason Mrs. Blocken was, but I still couldn’t fathom a reason why either one would hurt their daughter.
Bree was also a suspect merely because she was present at the picnic, but again, she had no motive. And the thought of fifteen-year-old O.M. killing her sister was more than I’d let myself fathom. I knew some teenagers were violent, and O.M. definitely had an attitude problem, but . . .
Topaz had made it plain that she didn’t know Olivia, and Olivia’s death had cost her a lot financially. If it had been Mrs. Blocken who was found in the fountain, Topaz would be a much more likely suspect. After Topaz, I considered Bobby. He’d just met Olivia the day before she was attacked, hours really. Furthermore, the thought of Bobby up that early on his Saturday morning off from the library was ludicrous.
I added a final name to the list, the most likely suspect, the one person who had indisputable means, motive, and opportunity: Mark. Ina said to solve the crime I must assume that Mark is guilty. He had motive. He still loved Olivia, and she was marrying another man in his hometown. He had means and opportunity. He could have easily pushed Olivia into the fountain and returned to his office at Dexler without any problem. During the summer, the campus was deserted early in the morning. No one would see him. In fact, no one did see how Olivia ended up in the fountain, even with the ill-placed surveillance cameras and Mutt’s rent-a-cops roving the grounds.
My front door opened. Ina ambled in with a mug of steaming liquid.
I hid my list underneath a throw pillow. “Ina, I need to get ready to go to the Justice Center. I have to give Detective Mains a statement. I should get it over with before he throws me in the cell next to Mark.”
She set the mug on the coffee table in front of me. “Now, honey, I know that you’re upset about Mark, but everything will work out just fine, you’ll see. Why don’t you drink this cup of tea I made for you?”
“It’s too hot for tea.”
Ina sat on my rocker stubbornly. “I’m not leaving until you drink every last drop.” She scooted to the front of the chair and planted her feet firmly on the floor. “I’ve heard you rambling around here in the middle of the night. When is the last time you were able to get any real rest?”
I picked up the mug and took a sip. It tasted awful. I gagged.
“It’s good for you.”
I’ll bet it is, I thought.
“I wanted to bring Fella over to sit with you, but I was afraid of what your wild cat would’ve done. I don’t trust that cat as far as I can throw him.”
I took a big gulp and swallowed the last of the tea. I opened my mouth to show her. “See, it’s all gone.”
Ina started telling me a long, detailed account of her and Juliet’s cruise plans for August. “It’s the perfect time of year to see Alaska, don’t you think?”
“Sure,” I said. “I really . . .”
“Juliet is such a hussy. You should have seen the dress she bought yesterday.”
“That’s nice.” I paused, “Oh!”
“What is it?”
“I feel a little woozy.” I sat farther back on the couch, shaking my head.
“You do?”
I started to nod, but the action took too much effort. I stretched my legs onto the couch, and Ina covered me with the orange cotton sheet.
I was in my dorm room in art school. The phone rang, and I answered it. Sobs sounded on the other end. “Mark? Mark? Is that you?” More sobs answered me. “Is everything okay? What happened?”
“I miss her. Why’d she leave?”
“Olivia?” I couldn’t help but ask.
He cried, and I couldn’t get another word out of him.
Suddenly, I was on the telephone with Olivia. “How’s Mark?” she asked.
“Like you care,” I said.
“India, that’s not fair.”
“He’s crushed,” I said.
“He’ll get over it.”
I remained silent.
“Don’t let this thing with Mark come between us,” she said.
The scene changed, and I was just a child. Olivia pushed me on the swing in our neighborhood playground.
“Higher!” I called. “Higher!”
She threw all of her weight against my back, and I soared into the air over the treetops and into the clouds.
Frightened, I screamed. “Stop it! That’s too high! Livie, that’s too high!”
I jerked awake, grasping my thundering chest. Ina was knitting an emerald green scarf on the rocking chair. The light in the living room was dim. The VCR clock read ten after nine. I’d slept for nearly three hours. Templeton perched on the back of the couch, his back arched.
“What happened?” My head throbbed.
“Oh, you’re awake. Did you have a nice rest?”
“How could I have slept that long?” I held the side of my head.
“A little sleeping draft I whipped up. It was my mother’s recipe.”
“What?” I asked. Templeton jumped off the couch.
She kept on knitting. “It’s all natural, all herbal. You have nothing to worry about. I’ve taken it many times myself.”
“You drugged me?”
“There were no drugs involved, and you needed the rest.” She gave me her elfin smile.
I jumped off the couch. I grabbed the arm as I started to topple over. “I can’t believe you did this.”
“It was for your own good. I was helping,” she said, as if that was a completely reasonable explanation for lacing my drink.
I clenched my jaw and mentally counted to ten. I blew out a long breath. “Mains is going to kill me, I was supposed to be at the Justice Center four hours ago.”
“Oh, dear.” Ina hopped out of the rocking chair.
After a minute, the dizziness passed. I grabbed a dark, paint-splattered hooded sweatshirt from my closet and slipped my wallet and cell phone in the pockets of my shorts. “I have to go.”
“Isn’t it too late,” Ina said.
“It’s better that I go now than wait until tomorrow.”
I left Ina in my living room, knowing that she would lock up my apartment for me before she left.
After nine at night, even during the summer, the people of Stripling roll up the sidewalks. Despite the fact that Stripling is a college town, it is not a party town. If the students of Martin are looking for any night life, they drive the fifteen miles to go to bars in Kent.
The Justice Center parking lot was just as deserted as it had been several nights ago when I visited my brother. I walked up the steep steps, both dreading and hoping that Mains would be there. Instead of Mains, I was greeted by Officer Knute, who was again behind the desk. He scowled when I walked in.
“I’m here to see Detective Mains,” I said.
Knute gave me a bored look. “Name?”
“For crying out loud, you know who I am.”
Knute’s face was impassive. “Name?”
Through gritted teeth. “India Hayes.”
“Ahh, yes,” he said. “Detective Mains said I was to take your statement if you bothered to show up tonight.”
I kept my mouth shut. I was in enough trouble as it was. I didn’t think that Officer Knute would think twice before throwing me in a cell.
As the reception area was empty, he asked me to write my statement right there. Thirty minutes later, I signed it and handed it to Officer Knute.
With my conscience cleared, I left the station. I didn’t bother to say good-bye.
In the parking lot, I stood under the same lamppost where Mains had asked me if I remembered him, and where I’d lied and told him that I didn’t. I was reluctant to go home. Mark would be moved to a prison most likely the next day if I didn’t do something. I knew there was one person I still hadn’t talked to, who I needed to talk to. I looked up into the lamppost light. Two huge moths knocked themselves silly against the glass. Why did I feel like I’d be doing the same if I spoke to Regina Blocken?
I got in my car and headed to Kilbourne Street.
I knocked on the Blockens’ door with a firm hand. Lights flickered on. The door opened. Mrs. Blocken wore royal blue satin pajamas and matching robe, but her face was still in full makeup.
“I need to talk to you.” As it was a wide doorway, I slipped past her into the parlor.
Fury replaced her shock. “It’s after eleven. How dare you invade my home like this?”
I paced the room. “I need to talk to you about Mark.”
“Whatever you have to say can wait until morning.” She tightened her robe around her waist.
“No, it can’t wait because in my mind it keeps coming back to you. You were the one who was in control of the wedding. You were the one who noticed the engagement picture missing.”
Mrs. Blocken paled, and I knew I had been correct.
“You know: The engagement picture that someone conveniently placed in Mark’s office right before the police got an anonymous tip to search it.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I think you do. You had access to the engagement picture and to the scarf you planted later in Mark’s apartment when the first try didn’t work. I found the engagement picture before the police, by the way.”
“That’s tampering,” she accused.
“Don’t worry. The police already know about it.” I paced the room. I didn’t hear any movement from upstairs, and I wondered where Dr. Blocken was.
A cruel smile played on the corner of Mrs. Blocken’s face. “You can’t prove anything.”
“You’re right,” I admitted. “But you and I both know it was you. You’ve been waiting to blame something on Mark for years. He was never good enough for your Olivia.”
“Oh, please, you knew that it wouldn’t last.”
I shrugged. “So I did, but my brother didn’t. He really loved her. He still loves her.”
“So, you are here to tell me that your brother is innocent, and that I framed an innocent man.”
“Yes. I can assure you that the last thing Mark wanted in the world was to hurt Olivia.”
She glowered at me. “I suppose you also think I killed my daughter.”
“No,” I said honestly, because as much as I disliked Mrs. Blocken, that was the one thing I could not picture her doing.
Mrs. Blocken was silenced by my unexpected answer. She fell into the armchair in tears. “Then who did?”
It was a rhetorical question, so I didn’t answer. Her pain filled the room like an unexpected storm that comes on a summer night with violence and speed.
I looked out onto the darkened patio and remembered Olivia that day at the picnic. When I remembered her another person came to mind. Bree. Bree who was bustling around the party following Olivia’s every command, taking the maid of honor responsibilities to the extreme. But why? Why had she behaved that way? A prick of unease crawled up my spine.
“What do you know about Bree?” My voice was low.
She looked up. Her perfect makeup was ruined. “Bree?”
I sat across from her. “Yes, it’s important. What do you know about her?”
She blinked and rubbed her cheek, smearing mascara into her hairline. “She’s a sweet girl.”
She looked pointedly at me, silently saying that I was not. The fire was back in her eyes. I was relieved. I found a sad Mrs. Blocken made me more uneasy than an angry one.
“She was always helping Olivia with this and that. I don’t know how many times I called Olivia, and she said that Bree was there helping her with this project or that project. Also, Bree was always volunteering at Kirk’s gym.”
“Why?” I asked.
“Why what?”
“Why was Bree so helpful?”
“Why wouldn’t she be? Olivia was her friend.” Again, she looked pointedly at me.
“That’s true to a point, but all that helping out sounds like it was more than friendship.”
Mrs. Blocken’s eyes narrowed. She pulled tissue from her robe pocket and dabbed at her eyes. “What would you know about what it means to be a friend?”
I let that comment pass. “Why would Bree volunteer at the gym? Kirk’s business was making plenty of money. He mentioned at the picnic that he just opened a new fitness center. He can afford to pay someone.”
“I know that Olivia was giving her money.” She was on the stairs. Neither Mrs. Blocken nor I had noticed her. I wondered how long she’d been standing there. How much had she heard? She came down the stairs in a rock band nightshirt.
Mrs. Blocken looked up, shocked. “What are you talking about? Olivia wouldn’t do that.”
O.M. shrugged. “I overheard them talking before the picnic. Bree asked Olivia for a check, and Olivia said that they would talk about it later.”
I felt very cold as my brain put the pieces into place. “O.M., this is important. Did you see Bree the morning that Olivia was attacked?”
O.M. bit her lip. “No, I was asleep.” Her eyes darted away.
She was lying, and we both knew it. Her eyes flicked over to her mother.
“Whatever it is, I promise you won’t get in trouble,” I said.
“You can’t make any such promise,” Mrs. Blocken said.
I shot her a look so fierce that it silenced her immediately. That was the first time in the history of the world that anyone had silenced Mrs. Blocken with a mere look.
O.M. swallowed. “It was about seven in the morning. I was just getting home.”
“You stayed out all night?” Mrs. Blocken roared.
O.M. shrank away from her. “My band had a gig, Mom.” Her voice was small like a child’s. “I knew you would never let me go.”
“Of course, I wouldn’t let you go. You’re only fifteen.”
“Mrs. Blocken, please,” I said. I turned to O.M. “What happened?”
“When I got home, I was just going to slip upstairs. I knew Dad would have already left for the office, and that both Mom and Olivia sleep late. But when I got there, I saw Olivia in the kitchen window, already up, so I had to hide out by the garage. I didn’t know how I was going to get inside without her seeing or hearing me, and I knew she would tell Mom if she caught me. Finally, around seven thirty, just when I thought that I couldn’t stand it any longer and was going to go inside and face my sister and Mom, Bree pulled up in this tiny red car. She didn’t get out. Olivia must have been looking for her, because she ran out and jumped right in.” O.M. looked down. “I remember thinking at the time how lucky I was that Bree came and got her.”