by Jody Holford
“I’m sorry she’s gone, but I doubt she’ll be missed by many.”
The woman didn’t even turn around to say the words. It was almost as if she’d said it to herself. Molly wondered why, if that were true, the chef sounded so forlorn when she’d said it.
* * * *
Molly woke before Sam. She took a moment to stare at his handsome features, so soft and peaceful in his sleep. His hair was an adorable mess, making her fingers itch to smooth it out. Tigger whined and she slipped out of bed to let him out. Pulling on a robe, she let him out the back door into the small fenced yard behind the cottage. Shuffling to the kitchen, she started some coffee and turned on her laptop. While it booted up, she grabbed two mugs and pulled out the muffins she’d bought. It would work for breakfast, but she really needed to do some shopping.
She poked around on the internet, looking for information on Kyle and Shannon. There was a brief bio on Shannon on the contest website, along with other members of Skyler’s team. About her recipe, which she called Star Fall Macrons, Skyler was quoted saying, “Like all artists, I draw inspiration from life.”
Molly scrunched her brows trying to figure out what that even meant. Kyle had a Facebook page that only confirmed Molly’s thoughts of him. He was a player and judging by the number of selfies he took, an arrogant one. Under jobs, he had a long list of restaurants and when she cross-checked, there were four that matched Skyler’s job history.
“Which means you’ve known about her allergies for a long time.”
“You know you’re talking to yourself, right?” Sam asked, coming into the room. He rubbed a hand over his face, blinking at her. He was cute in the morning. He’s cute all the time. She couldn’t stop her smile. Just seeing him pulled her away from the negativity swirling in her brain over the murder.
“Good morning,” she said as he came closer. He crowded her, wrapping his arms around her from behind and pressing a kiss to the crown of her head.
“Morning. Did I snore or something?”
He had a little, actually, but she angled her head to give him a confused look. “What?”
He gestured to the screen with a nod of his head. “Looking for a replacement?”
Molly laughed and Sam squeezed her again before going to the cups and pouring them both coffee.
“I’m definitely not looking for anyone to replace you, as if that’s even possible. But, if I were, it would not be this guy.”
Jumping off her stool, she walked to the door and let Tigger in. When she came back, Sam was sipping his coffee.
“That’s the sous chef, right? I still can’t believe you said he hooked up with one of the bridesmaids.”
“Yes. It appears his heart mends quickly.”
Sam smirked at her, setting down his cup and pushing hers across the counter to her. “Hate to say it, but guys like that don’t think with their hearts.”
That wasn’t news to Molly, but it did make her wonder. “Even if he didn’t love her, he might have killed her out of anger.”
Sam shrugged. “Guys like Kyle aren’t usually willing to put in the energy. But maybe he wanted to teach her a lesson or something. He poisons her, but thinks it’ll just make her sick?”
“Maybe.” Molly went back to the computer, sliding onto the stool. “I have a bad feeling about him.”
“I know. But that doesn’t make him the murderer.”
She couldn’t disagree. “Can you call Chris and ask him about meeting with Chantel? I’m going to text her and tell her as soon as she tells her mother to call off the wedding, we’ll see to it that he goes to her and takes her statement.”
He broke one of the muffins in half and set it on a plate. “Sure. I have a couple of brake jobs today and some paperwork. You want to do something different tonight? Go see a movie, go swimming? Something to get your head out of all of this?”
She did. But she also knew her head would stay submerged until they caught the real killer. “Why don’t we take Tigger down to that spot on the beach you showed me earlier this summer?”
Taking a large bite of the muffin and tossing a bit to Tigger, he nodded. Molly grabbed the dog food and filled the pup’s bowl.
“I need to get into the paper,” she said, taking the other half of the muffin.
“Text Chantel first,” he said, coming to give her a kiss on the cheek before he went to get dressed.
She smiled after him and typed a quick text.
We can get Officer Beatty to come to you first thing, but you need to tell your mom. Everyone is just waiting here, Chantel.
The bubbles popped up instantly. I sent her a text and told her I didn’t want to see or talk to her and to tell everyone to go home. I just want Blake released.
Molly stared at the incoming message and shook her head. She understood the frustration and the anger, but surely, with the trouble everyone had gone to for her wedding, she could have been mature enough to have a conversation with her mother. Maybe it was a good thing the wedding had come to a halt since it was more Patty’s vision than Chantel’s, but it was still the bride’s responsibility, in Molly’s mind, to be accountable for her behavior. She owed it to her guests to reach out to her mother and the wedding party.
After Sam arranged for Chris to meet with Chantel, Molly and Tigger headed to the Britton Bay Bulletin. Parking behind the building, where she’d found Tigger not so long ago, she was shocked when she saw who was waiting there for her.
Getting out of the Jeep, she lifted Tigger to the ground, hanging onto his leash. “Mrs. Lovenly. This is a surprise.”
The woman was still polished, from her perfectly coifed hair to her shiny white heels, but the dark circles under her eyes gave her away. “I need to know you aren’t going to do an article on Blake being the murderer. I can’t have my daughter subjected to that kind of ridicule.”
Molly sighed and unlocked the back door of the Britton Bay Bulletin. “Come in.”
The woman followed, her heels tapping against the cement and then the hardwood entry.
“I need my photos back as well. There won’t be a wedding. I told her he was bad news.”
Molly didn’t have time, or the energy, to deal with this woman’s drama. She and her daughter needed lessons in communication. When Molly unleashed Tigger, he went running through the office, most likely to find his toys. She turned and faced Patricia and gave it to her straight.
“I’m sorry about the wedding. But I truly don’t think that the reason behind the wedding not happening is because Blake murdered Skyler.” She hoped, very much, to prove to Chris today that the most likely suspect was Kyle. If what Chantel said proved true and Blake was released, the officer had to at least consider her reasons, right?
“He’s in jail.” The disgust in her tone rivaled the contempt.
“He is. And Chantel believes he’ll be released very soon. Your daughter and you don’t see eye to eye about the wedding. I’m sure it’s been stressful, but in the end, it’s her day and she needs to make the decision. If there’s anything I can print in the paper that would help you make cancelling arrangements easier, I’d be happy to.”
Patricia’s lips quivered. “I just want to watch her get married. I want her to be happy.”
Molly studied her, trying to determine if that was true. “Then why the big fuss over the bed-and-breakfast and the fancy chef?”
Tears filled the woman’s eyes, but Molly wasn’t quite ready to believe they were genuine yet. “Every mother wants to give her daughter what she never had. My wedding, despite the fact that my husband came from money and earned a bucketload of it during our marriage, was plain. There was nothing special about it.”
Molly couldn’t understand how that could be true. “Wouldn’t marrying the person you love make it special enough?”
Patricia’s tears disappeared and she scoffed. “You’re all so
young and naïve. Love doesn’t fix everything. Trust me, when the hard times hit, it’s money and your place in society that are lifesavers, not love. When your husband cheats on you, it hurts a lot less if you can throw his money around like confetti. This was my chance to show my family they were wrong about me. It’s me who has enough money to give my daughter everything she wants and more. Me, who doesn’t have to stay here after these few awful days are over. I’m the one who made it out.” She pointed at her chest, poking her finger into it.
“Do you even know what it is Chantel wants?”
Patricia didn’t answer the question and that in itself was an answer. It was in Molly’s nature to bridge gaps and find solutions. It was how she helped her writers pull stories together to be meaningful. So she gave Patricia something she hadn’t planned on and decided the woman could do with it what she wanted.
“I can tell you. And if you really want just her happiness, you’ll give her this.”
Clearly frustrated with not being the one to call the shots, Patricia’s lips pursed. It felt like time stopped, but eventually, with the slightest nod of her chin, she agreed. “Tell me how.”
Chapter Twenty
At nine a.m., Molly okayed Jill to post the news that the police had a suspect in custody for the murder of Skyler Friessen on the Britton Bay Bulletin’s Twitter feed. Within ten minutes of that, a post went up on the Facebook Event page that existed for Chantel and Blake’s wedding saying that ‘in light of recent events’ the wedding had been canceled.
At ten thirty eight a.m., Chantel texted Molly.
Officer Beatty came to take my statement. Hopefully it’ll be enough. I don’t know how to thank you.
Molly had been crossing her fingers for exactly that text. She was so certain that Blake was the wrong suspect, she had an idea that would give Chantel the closure she needed on this entire week. Molly responded: Can you meet me at ‘our’ spot tomorrow night? I’ll explain after. Both of you.
The word delivered switched to read. Molly stared at her screen, mentally crossing her fingers, then actually crossing her fingers. Please, please.
Chantel responded: I guess. As long as Blake is with me.
Confidence that he would be, rushed through her. Molly’s fingers flew even as she did a mental fist pump. Perfect. See you then.
Jill came into Molly’s office with a hard copy of the article to be printed in tomorrow’s edition of the Britton Bay Bulletin. They’d been running extra issues all week as well as keeping up on their social media feeds. Clay didn’t seem to notice that Jill had taken over that piece. He was good at layouts so Molly hoped he just accepted his limitations.
“Thoughts?” Jill sat in the chair across from her as she handed the paper to Molly. No matter how technology advanced, if Molly was editing a final draft, she needed a physical copy in her hands.
“Let’s see.” Molly focused on the article, which she’d assigned to Jill after they’d pieced all of the little snippets of information they had together.
Gone Too Soon
Story and Photographs by Jill Alderich
Skyler Friessen, 24, passed away this past Thursday, as mentioned in the online edition of the Britton Bay Bulletin. Police are still looking for information regarding the events leading up to her death, but currently have one suspect in custody. Sheriff Saron, of the Britton Bay Police Department stated: “While we truly believe this is an isolated incident, we are treating this as a homicide investigation. Anyone who was staying at the hotel at the same time as the deceased, and who has not been questioned, is asked to come by the station to give a statement. Sometimes, things you think are irrelevant are the final clue we need. We are hopeful that this case will be solved in the immediate future so we can provide closure for the family.”
When asked why he doesn’t believe anyone else is in danger, the sheriff responded, “The way Ms. Friessen passed leads us to believe she knew her killer, either very well or at least enough to engage in conversation privately. This was personal and targeted. Of course, if you see or hear anything that seems suspicious, we recommend calling the station and reporting it. We take care of our own here and that includes those just passing through.”
Molly looked up, her eyes stinging. “It’s so sad. She was so young and ready to move to the next stage.”
Jill sighed. “I know. The really sad part is, I don’t think she was enjoying this stage. She wasn’t a happy woman.”
Nodding, Molly made a few corrections and passed it back to Jill. “It’s a good article. Thoughtful and kind. Has her family come into town yet?”
“Not that I’ve heard. I can find out?”
Molly shook her head. “No. If they’re here, we should let them be. I’m hoping by the next edition, this will all be behind us.”
“Think they’ll release Blake?”
Molly stayed positive. “I’m sure they will. They don’t have enough to charge him.”
Nodding, Jill shifted gears. “I’m heading to the beach. They’re doing the annual end of summer tourists versus locals beach volleyball. I’m taking the camera.”
“Sounds good. I’ll try to check it out later,” Molly said, not really in the mood for a crowd.
“I haven’t seen it in a few years. Vendors set up booths and tables with crafts and food. You and Sam should pop by tonight. There’s a live band,” Jill told her.
“We were thinking of going to the beach so maybe.”
Molly waved goodbye, not sure why she felt so unsettled. They’d reported the news. They were doing their job. It wasn’t up to her to figure out how to prove Kyle’s guilt. Or innocence. She typed his name into her web browser again, scrolling through the few hits she found. In the main office, she heard Clay laughing and Elizabeth joining in. They were getting along better, but truthfully, Molly didn’t know how long Clay would stay at the paper. Jill could cover what he did, but with Hannah going back to school full time in a week, they were already looking at adjustments to their workload.
Worry about that when it happens. The bell they kept over the front door jangled, but Molly figured it was Jill leaving for the beach.
Clay knocked on her door a minute later. She looked up from her search.
“Somebody here to see you,” he said, then stepped aside.
A tall man, probably around her age, with dark gelled hair stepped through the doorway. He wore a blue polo shirt and a pair of dark pants. His posture and smile were what Molly considered “camera ready” and she labeled him as a reporter immediately.
He stepped forward, flashing his perfectly straight white teeth. “Ethan Dorsey. Reporter for the Nevada Times.”
Molly stood, coming around the desk, and shook his hand. “Molly Owens. Editor. Welcome to Britton Bay.”
She recognized the name as she’d seen it attached to many of the online articles she’d read about the competition.
“I was the feature reporter for the Mabel Bay Culinary Competition. I was shocked to hear the winner had passed away.”
“You saw that on Twitter?” Molly leaned against the edge of her desk. She’d noted the increase in followers for their paper.
“I did. She’s got a large following on there and Instagram. Her personality comes across less abrasive online than in person, I guess.”
He’d obviously spent time with Skyler. “Do you want to sit down? I’m sure you’re here to follow up, but if you’re open to it, I wouldn’t mind asking a few questions.”
With a smile too wide for the conversation they were having, he nodded. “Of course. It’s important to share information in our jobs, right?”
Molly nearly replied, “Said no reporter ever,” but since she still wanted answers from him, she bit her tongue. Ethan Dorsey had an agenda. But so did she.
“Are you here to follow up on Skyler?”
He nodded, pulling out his phone and
holding it up. “Just going to take some notes, if that’s all right. And yes. Such as sad end to a very short career. Can you tell me about the event she was catering?”
Interesting. Molly tilted her head. “Did you stop by the bed-and-breakfast?”
His cheeks pinkened. “I did. The owner said she wasn’t answering questions or giving tours of her home. That the best source of information was the police. Since that’s not always the easiest route, I did a little digging and saw that you were in charge here.”
“Actually, Mr. Benedict owns and runs the paper. I’m just an editor.”
“Editor in chief.”
She held his gaze. “What is it you want to know?”
“She had a habit of making enemies in the competition. Was never worried about making friends. She died one day into being here. No arrests made yet. I’m just wondering what happened to our hometown girl and hoped maybe you, as overseer of this fine news source, might be able to give me a few details about her final hours. You’d have considered that, right?”
Why did she feel like she was being interviewed? “It wouldn’t have been very hard. She posted on her Twitter feed well into Wednesday night and we announced her death late Thursday morning.”
He tapped away on his phone, looking up at her while his thumbs flew. “Sure. Sure. But we both know that what you share and what you know are two different things. I looked into you as well, Ms. Molly Owens. You’ve edited for some big magazines, large news outlets, and even publishers. You’re trained to share the information in minimalist form.”
Molly almost chuckled. “Is that what I’m trained for? Good to know. I’m not sure I can offer you much, Mr. Dorsey. You’re right, Skyler didn’t make friends when she got here. I tried to speak to her and she was not receptive. When I asked to interview her about her actual talent, about food and cooking, she appeared more open. Anything to do with the contest set her off.”
She picked up a pen and tapped the tip of it on a notepad. “The police haven’t found anything of significance.”
