by Jody Holford
Chapter Eleven
They didn’t talk much as they walked back to Calliope’s vehicle. Molly was on information overload. There were too many variables—too many people—to really get a handle on what the heck was going on. Sam had texted while they were chatting with DeeDee. So had Alan and Hannah. Molly needed to get to work. Hopefully Jill had found out something from her end and they could piece a few things together. She had a feeling Sam’s cousin would want things sorted as soon as possible for her aunt’s sake as well. How is Chantel handling this? If she was already distraught this morning, this news can’t be going over well.
“You okay, sugar?” Calliope asked as they made their way back onto the freeway.
“It’s just a lot. I’m not sure how to make sense of any of it.”
“Thank goodness there’s police for that then, right?”
There was a strong hint of suggestion in her tone, making Molly stare at her friend questioningly. “Didn’t you ask earlier if we were investigating?”
Calli shuddered. “That was before DeeDee’s description. Sounds nasty. I don’t want you involved in something that’ll end nasty. Leave things alone and let the professionals handle it.”
She would. Molly had no desire to be smack dab in the middle of another murder investigation. But she also couldn’t walk away from a puzzle. Especially one that had people she cared about on the fringes of it.
“I wonder if the bride and groom will still get married,” Calliope mused.
Molly—who’d turned to stare out the window as the world whipped past—turned to look at Calli’s profile.
“I hope so. I can see both sides of it. Everything is planned and set so I hope they do. But on the other hand, this is one heck of a stain on a very important day.”
Calli nodded. “You’re right. This is why I’m glad Dean and I didn’t go for all of the pomp and circumstance, you know? We just needed each other and our families. Got married right at the end of the boardwalk as the sun set. The tourist season was over, we were in love, and the day was perfect. Wouldn’t change a thing.”
Molly leaned her head back against the cushion and sighed. “How’d you know Dean was the one?”
Calliope laughed. “The person you choose is the one. There’s no magic formula, honey. Relationships, and marriage in particular, take work. You don’t stay together because you’re still so over the moon for each other, though I’ll say Dean and I are and we’re lucky for it, but we promised each other we’d stick it through. No matter what. We’d figure it out, the good and the bad and we’d be loyal and honest to each other always.”
Interesting, Molly thought. Like a blend of fate and reason. Maybe something bigger than anyone could see pushed two people together, but they were responsible for keeping themselves that way. More than anything anyone else had said to her about love and forever after, Molly found comfort in these words. Because it made her feel like even though she might not have a choice about falling so hard for Sam, she did have a choice to make it work. To make it last.
“You want me to drop you at the newspaper or home?”
“I’d better head to work. We’ve got to get something in the paper quick. Once word gets around social media about Skyler, I have a feeling we’ll have some extra visitors in town. Her ‘tough girl makes good’ story is still hot right now and her tragic ending is going to pull some of the big media outlets.”
“I don’t understand capitalizing on death. Would it hurt so much to spread some good cheer? To not always focus on the horrible things happening in the world?” Calliope rarely sounded jaded so her tone surprised Molly.
“It wouldn’t hurt, no. It just wouldn’t sell.” Molly wasn’t jaded either, but she knew how the world worked—or at least how news got sold. Though their intent had been to capitalize on the joy of the wedding and the tie between the past and the present. We should still work with that. It could be a sideline to what everyone would really be thinking about.
She gave Calliope a hug when her friend pulled up in front of the Britton Bay Bulletin. It was then she remembered Tigger and had a little flash of panic to go along with a tightening in her stomach. Poor guy. She’d given him no attention all day—just left him to his own devices. Before she entered the building, as she waved to Calli driving back toward the diner, she called Sam.
“Hey,” he greeted. His voice eased the tension that ratcheted through her body. Soothed her like she’d slipped into a warm bath. Oh, boy. You are so in trouble.
“Hi. Are you at work?” She immediately gazed down the street toward Sam’s shop.
“No. I’m back at my mom’s. The cops showed up to interview everyone who interacted with the chef. They can’t find one of the cooks and the bride and groom have been fighting loud enough to put on a show for everyone.”
Molly closed her eyes on a sigh. “Your poor mom.”
“She’s handling it. Brandon is here so that’s settling her nerves some.”
Molly opened her eyes and her mouth quirked. “Sam.”
“What?” She heard the little huff of air. Of irritation.
“She deserves to be happy.”
“I know. Why are we talking on the phone? Come home so we can talk in person.”
Her heart went into a spasm, jolting in her chest. Come home. What happened when she got too attached and things fell apart? Even people who were only days from pledging their eternal love to each other couldn’t be sure things would work out in the end. Anything could happen. Who could be sure? For as long as she could remember, very few things in her life had ever stayed constant. She’d moved from state to state, sometimes country to country. They’d lived in over a dozen places by the time she was a teenager. Different schools, different friends. Nothing ever lasted. Your parents did. Through all of that. And you and Tori are still close even though you’ve moved.
“Molly,” Sam said, his voice low.
There’s no magic formula. Just like other areas of her life, the things that mattered to her, were worth the time she’d invested. She wasn’t being fair to Sam or to herself by keeping a small piece of her heart on reserve. Just in case. So that if things went sideways, there might be something left.
“I have to work,” she said. Then, standing on the sidewalk, with the sun beating down, she leapt. “But with it being so busy at the house, I wondered…maybe Tigger and I could stay at your place tonight?”
Silence rang through the phone like a siren. Deafening. Oh, God. She’d jumped too soon. He knew what she was asking. She hadn’t just invited herself along to some event. She’d invited herself into his home. Further into his life. Overnight. And not because she needed comfort, which had been the reason for the one time he’d spent the night with her.
“That sounds great. That would be great. I…yes. Okay. Um. I’ll see you later, then?”
His voice had gone a little high at the end, which pulled Molly out of her whirlwind of worries. She wasn’t the only one caught up in the emotional storm and wondering whether or not to hold her breath and dive. She could hear it in his voice. He was scared, too. And being scared together, somehow felt safer than going it alone.
“Okay. Oh, I almost forgot. Could you let Tigger out and give him a treat while you’re there? I’ve been gone all morning and I feel bad.”
Sam chuckled. “Don’t feel bad. He’s been by my side since I got back here. I figured you wouldn’t mind if he kept me company.”
She didn’t. She didn’t mind at all. The fact that he’d naturally done so, including her pet in his activities was another push on her already wobbly heart. “Thank you. I’ll see you tonight.”
“I’m looking forward to it.”
So was she. Or she would be, when she got her heart to beat at a reasonable speed again.
Chapter Twelve
After hanging up and taking a few deep breaths, Molly went through t
he front door of the Britton Bay Bulletin, the sound of the bell overhead making her smile. People walking in off the street were greeted with a small sitting area and a view of desks and partitions. Behind those less than attractive makeshift cubicles, the door to her office on the left and Alan’s office on the right could be seen. The gray wall near the back of the mostly open room had a doorway into the small kitchen, staff area, and bathroom. On both sides of the doorway, old, framed editions of the Britton Bay Bulletin adorned the walls. The first issue ever printed was on there and sometimes Molly caught herself just staring at it, fascinated by the idea of one man starting up something that would impact so many lives. In the basement, the printing press took up all the room.
“Hey, Molly. How’d your morning go? I can’t believe you had the misfortune of running into another crime scene.” Elizabeth was coming around one of the partitions with a mug in her hands.
Molly felt an uncomfortable shiver. “It was eventful. I’m not sure what kind of scene it was. I don’t think there’s been a ruling on the death yet.” She couldn’t share what she’d learned just yet. She’d made Chris a promise, so for now, the information she’d collected would have to get stored away in a file labeled ‘what the heck is going on?’
“Could be accidental, but from what I’ve heard about the chef, I wouldn’t think so,” Jill said, coming out of Alan’s office, papers in hand. She gave Molly a pointed look, her eyes questioning.
Molly set her purse on Clay’s desk, which was closest. He wasn’t occupying it so there was no reason not to.
“Did you talk to anyone at your aunt’s?” Molly needed to get a notebook and start jotting down what she’d found.
Elizabeth looked back and forth between the two women. “Oh, no. I see what’s happening here. You two knock it off right this minute.”
Frowning, Molly looked at her colleague and tried to figure out what she was talking about.
“What’s the matter, Elizabeth?” Alan came out of his office, phone in hand. Dressed in a suit, as usual, his dark hair was graying at the sides, giving him a distinguished look. He reminded Molly a bit of her dad, though, even as a sergeant in the army, her father was far more relaxed than Alan ever appeared to be.
“These girls aren’t thinking about reporting the news, Alan. They want to uncover it.”
Alan gazed fondly at Elizabeth. She was best friends with Alan’s wife and they were quite close. For a very brief period of time, after she’d started at the paper, Molly had speculated on how close they were. It was another reminder of how off her instincts could be, but she pushed that unwelcome thought deep down into her brain.
“It’s important to dig to find the truth. If they happen upon something in the name of good writing, I’m sure they’ll take it to the police.”
Jill winked at Molly. “That’s right, Elizabeth. Neither of us are looking to take down any perps.”
Snickering at her television cop lingo, Molly picked up her purse and walked past the group of them. “We need to debrief about what we want to say. Give me ten minutes to get organized?”
“Sure thing, Boss,” Jill said.
“Hey. That’s my title,” Alan teased.
“Nope. You’re Big Boss.”
Alan laughed and so did Molly. In her office, she stored her purse in the bottom drawer of her small, pine desk, then took a moment to center herself. A lot had happened in one morning. She looked around the nondescript, perfectly square office that she called hers and thought it was time to add a little personality to the place. She was staying. She knew this in a way she’d never known before. Molly had lived in enough towns, enough homes, to know that Britton Bay felt different. She hadn’t been so sure when she’d arrived in town and certainly not after Vernon’s death. But she felt like she was home. Here, at the bed-and-breakfast. In town. With Sam.
Pushing away all thoughts that induced belly fluttering, she wrote a list of what she wanted to know and what she did know. The ‘what she knew’ list was way too short. She wondered if Chris would be willing to talk to her yet or maybe one of the other officers. Molly texted Bella and asked how she was doing, then set her phone aside and opened her laptop. She typed Skyler’s name into the search bar and began scrolling through. Who would want her dead? Her angry ex-lover who may or may not be the voice she heard the night before? Bella, for no solid reason Molly could think of? Murder tended to have basic motives. Money, revenge, love.
Molly clicked on a video of the cooking challenge that had been held in Skyler’s hometown of Mabel Bay, Nevada. On screen, Skyler was rolling out a dough, nearly paper thin. Her angular face was hard and focused. She didn’t glance up at the camera even though someone offscreen was asking her a question. The female sous chef who’d asked if everything was okay the night before came into view. She handed Skyler a small, dark bottle of liquid…maybe vanilla? They spoke under their breath and couldn’t be heard before Skyler practically threw the liquid back at her sous chef. Anger flashed on the other woman’s face for only seconds before she nodded her head and moved out of the frame. She returned a second later with a different bottle that looked the same to Molly.
When the screen moved to the host of the competition, Molly clicked stop. There were more videos to watch and lists to make. With any luck, before the wedding on Sunday, there would be some answers. For now, they’d focus on reporting only what they were sure of.
Jill and Alan were waiting for her near the large whiteboard she’d had installed along the wall outside of her office, off to the side of the cubicles. Elizabeth joined them a moment later, taking one of the stools and sitting in front. They often discussed stories, ideas, leads, and where they wanted to go with the various editions of the paper. Today, though, Molly had a different idea.
She wrote Skyler’s name on the board and circled it.
“Are we going to go with her death rather than reporting on the wedding at all?” Elizabeth asked.
“I think we need to touch on all of it. Where’s Clay?” Molly checked the clock on the wall. He should definitely be there.
Alan frowned. “Said he wasn’t feeling well so I let him go home.”
Clay didn’t feel like a good fit for the paper, but it wasn’t really Molly’s job to point that out. She knew he was still dealing with the loss of his father, but he’d been a worse fit even before Vernon’s death. Now, when they actually might need his assistance with the social media, he was not around.
“I can take over social media,” Jill said, reading Molly’s mind.
“Thank you. We need to get something on there. People are still commenting on Skyler’s latest threads. She doesn’t seem to use Facebook a whole lot, but I didn’t get to check Instagram yet.”
Jill made a note. “On it. So the wedding is still on?”
Molly wrote “Wedding?” on the board then drew lines extending from there and wrote the names or titles of the people staying at the bed-and-breakfast. The problem was, she didn’t know either of the sous chefs’ names or those of the bridal party. She frowned at the board.
“I’m not sure. As far as I know, everything is still a go. The last thing Katherine said was they were organizing the spa day to be at the house instead of in town.”
She couldn’t decide if she were in such a terrible position, if she’d choose to cancel or go ahead. On one hand, no one, other than who she’d shown up with, was close to the victim. Could they move forward without it hanging over their heads? She wasn’t sure she could.
“I couldn’t imagine marrying after this. How do you tell your wedding stories? Oh, once they cleared the bridal party of suspicion, we had a wonderful rehearsal dinner,” Elizabeth said, her tone going up an octave as she imitated a bride.
Molly sighed. “Truthfully, I don’t know if I could either.”
Something—some thought or idea was stuck in the back of her brain, hiding under all of
the other thoughts, just there enough to nag at her conscience.
Without really speaking to the people staring at her, she tried to voice her thoughts. “No one in the bridal party knew Skyler. But someone did. Someone knew her well enough to hurt her.” Chantel didn’t want Skyler there. Katherine had said that much, but so had the bride. She’d made it clear her mother was running the show and she wasn’t enjoying it much.
“We don’t actually know that someone hurt her. There’s still the possibility that she died of natural causes or sadly, by her own hand. I think we should focus on the wedding. Mention the death but don’t make it the main feature.” Alan said. He rubbed a hand over his jaw, his eyes crinkled at the corners. He looked…perplexed. Which Molly understood since nothing felt settled in her mind either. But she knew, at least from what DeeDee had said, there was nothing natural about her death.
They talked about doing comparison photos of the bed-and-breakfast back when the bride’s mother had lived there as a child and now, ready for her own child’s wedding. Molly began to wonder if Chantel even wanted to get married in that home. She’d looked so sad this morning when Molly had stumbled upon her. Had she been angry as well? Another mystery. Stick to your own job. Let the cops do theirs.
After assigning jobs, Molly worked on the layout for a solid hour without getting completely distracted by her thoughts. When her stomach growled, breaking her out of the zone, she gave in. Checking with Alan to be sure he didn’t need her there, she decided to head back to the bed-and-breakfast. After all, if they didn’t find out more information, she’d have no stories to edit. Sufficiently convinced, Molly packed up her things and decided today was not a day for office work.
