by Jody Holford
Molly’s stomach swirled. Everyone, including Elizabeth and Alan. Even more so for them than her. Did Alan feel protective of Elizabeth? It would certainly seem so, even to a casual observer. But enough to confront Vernon? In anger? While she never thought much about her curious nature before, all of the questions were beginning to drive her crazy. Every one led to another. She was rethinking her decision not to say anything to the police. She wanted to believe she’d pick up on some sort of killer vibe, but truthfully, she didn’t know any of these people.
“I’m sure the police will get things sorted out quickly. I mean, I know Vernon had enemies, but not many of them could have actually wanted to see him dead.”
She watched his expression, which remained blank—unreadable. Alan picked up the paper and shoved it in his pocket, making Molly’s chest tighten. His brows scrunched together and he pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing loudly, then looked up to meet her gaze. “What a mess. Everything is such a mess. I’m sorry I’ve brought you into all of this drama and conflict, Molly. Things will turn around. I hope you’ll give it time.”
Molly’s breath hitched. He hadn’t addressed her comment at all. Because he didn’t agree that not many people had reason to want Vernon dead? This man didn’t seem like a killer, but who knew what pushed someone to murder? If his marriage was at stake…cheating alone would put his marriage in jeopardy. But would he kill to keep that secret? Would Elizabeth? A few emails didn’t seem like enough motivation to take a life. Who decides what just cause is? Especially when hearts and emotions are involved. No. Sam told her Alan was a good man. For now, she could trust Sam’s assessment. She wasn’t feeling so certain about her own judgment.
She was missing something. Vernon knew something, but Molly didn’t know how to figure out if it had been enough to get him killed. Realizing Alan was waiting for a response, she tried to smile, but fell short.
“I’m not going anywhere. I like it here, despite the circumstances. The paper has gone out, right? Are you sure you want to be here today? I can work on the leads and layout on my own.”
Even having found the body, she was more removed than any of the others and truthfully, she wouldn’t mind being by herself. Too many questions swirled in her mind and it was too hard to think clearly while she was worrying about who she was working with. Had Vernon threatened Elizabeth more viciously in person, maybe prompting Alan to take action? But he was at the office when Molly found Vernon. Didn’t mean he hadn’t stopped by the night before. Maybe Vernon had been lying dead for hours when Molly found him. The questions and possibilities were hurting her brain. But what if the police asked her about Alan and Elizabeth? She had a feeling neither of them told the authorities about the emails.
Her boss’s voice broke into her concerns. “You know what? I’m going to take you up on that. I promise you, Tuesday it will be business as usual. We’ll turn everything around. I’d like to write a piece to honor Vernon. We’ll include the last story he was working on. Leave a spot for that in next week’s issue, okay?”
“Of course,” Molly said, her pitch rising with another tug of emotion.
Tigger picked up on it and hopped off the couch where he’d curled up.
“Cute little guy. I don’t recognize him.”
Alan picked up a stack of papers from his desk and shoved them into his open briefcase, closed it and picked it up.
“You’re sure you’re okay here alone today? I think I’ll tell Elizabeth to stay home as well. She’s quite emotional over the whole thing.” He paused and fixed a curious glance at Molly. “You’re the one who found him and you’re holding up better than any of us.”
Molly picked up Tigger, held him tight. “I’m the outsider. The one least impacted by his loss, though I won’t say seeing him that way…it’s something I won’t forget, unfortunately.”
Alan put a hand on her shoulder and squeezed. “If you’re not up to staying, it’s perfectly fine.”
Unlike the rest of them, her distraction from life was right here in this office. Knowing so few people in town meant that she’d spend her day mostly alone. Might as well spend it working.
“I’m good. Really. Go. I’ll call if I need anything.”
He nodded and walked out of the office, leaving Molly to wonder what would have happened if she hadn’t taken the job. Would Vernon be alive?
The thought threatened to bring her to tears again. It’s not your fault. Look at how many others had reason to want him dead. She shivered. The thought wasn’t really that comforting. The best thing she could do was distract herself with work. Letting Tigger go back to sleep on the couch, she went to search up story ideas for the coming weeks. It was time to bring a little more of the outside world to the not-so-sleepy town of Britton Bay.
* * * *
By late afternoon, both Molly and Tigger were hungry. At least, she assumed he was hungry because when was a dog not down with eating? She closed up the layout she was working on, pleased with her progress. She’d managed to keep her mind busy gathering story ideas for Elizabeth and…
“Hmm. Who will take over Vernon’s position? We’ll need another writer,” Molly said to an uninterested Tigger as she locked the back door.
It still felt so odd to Molly that Vernon was gone. Leaving the Jeep, she walked around the side of the building to the sidewalk that lined the shops of Main Street. Walking along the storefronts would let her window-shop, give Tigger a chance to be seen, and clear her head. Hopefully. Eventually, she wanted to check out each of the little shops along the main drag. The Candy Boutique caught her eye, but with Tigger, she couldn’t go in. She passed the Sip & Sit. Callan was behind the counter, laughing with a co-worker while mixing up a shake.
Morning Muffins was quieter, being late afternoon, but a few people sat in the fold-up chairs Bella kept outside. The awning over all of the shops would keep them dry if the rain hit. She smiled at an older couple who cooed at Tigger, who sniffed at positively everything. Continuing on, she passed a gift shop, a small bookshop, a teashop, a pet store—which she’d be checking out on the way back, and an empty unit. Prime real estate. She wondered who owned the shop. Perhaps they’d like to advertise in the Bulletin.
Molly waited at the crosswalk that led to the beach, seeing heads turn as she walked past. The new girl always drew interest. The new girl who found a dead body? That was small-town gold. Which, she admitted, was another reason to just walk along the beach rather than go into one of the shops. Not only was she tired of asking herself questions, she didn’t feel like answering any right at this moment, either.
There were several families hanging out on the sand. A group of teens close to the water tossed a bright green Frisbee around a circle. Tigger tugged on his leash and sand fluttered up.
“We should get you a couple toys when we pick up food,” Molly said.
She stopped and smiled at a couple holding hands. They smiled back as they crossed her path. Music thumped from someone’s docking station and laughter rippled through the shore. It was a good place, but like everywhere else in the world, it wasn’t safe from tragedy or danger. From the often scary truths of life.
She and Tigger walked along the water, listening to the waves. He was curious but didn’t go in, which was probably a good thing. He might be cute, but wet dog was not a great smell. When her stomach rumbled, she realized she hadn’t grabbed food. Heading back, she stopped at the pet store. A broody teen with several piercings helped her choose some kibble, a dish, and a couple of toys. With that done, Molly decided she couldn’t put off her final chore of the day any longer.
She got Tigger into the Jeep, made a quick stop at home to drop him off, and then headed to the police station. Hopefully by the time she got there, she’d figure out a way to get some more information on where the police were at with the case.
On the way, she passed a small convenience store and decided to pop i
n for a long overdue lunch. She grabbed a delicious-looking pastry from their small selection of baked goods. Looking at the chocolate chip cookies, Molly decided they might make sweet-talking some details out of Officer Beatty or the sheriff a little easier. And if not, they were a nice gesture. As she placed the individual cookies in a box, a flash of messy blond hair caught her eye. Heading out the door was a man who looked too much like Clay to not be him. Molly’s heart pounded. He wasn’t supposed to be here. It could have been someone who just looked like him. With what looked like a pen cap between his teeth?
A teen wearing a green apron, pushing a cart of boxed apples, smiled at her. “Finding everything all right, ma’am?”
Molly nodded. She hadn’t seen the man’s face. It could have been anyone. Clay wasn’t the only scruffy looking, shaggy-haired blond in town. But maybe she’d mention it at the station.
Gobbling her own pastry on the ride, she walked toward the station carrying her purse and a box of cookies. It was a faded red, mostly brick building. Unless there was a basement, it looked to only be one floor, but it was wide. Glass doors read Britton Bay Police Station. Inside, there was a small, rectangular foyer with scuffed, but remarkably shiny, white tile. Straight ahead was the front desk and to either side were wide hallways.
A tall woman with her hair pulled back in a tight bun sat at the long counter that separated the lobby from the…what was it called? Bullpen! Ha. Thank you, Veronica Mars! Several officers walked, talked, or sat at desks in the wide open area behind the counter. The receptionist wasn’t wearing a police uniform and Molly briefly wondered how many non-officers worked at the station. She might edit more than she wrote, but she was curious by nature. The woman looked up and smiled.
“Hi there. How can I help you?” Her name tag read Priscilla.
“Hi. My name is Molly Owens. Sheriff Saron asked that I stop by the station today. Is he or Officer Beatty available?”
Priscilla typed something into her computer, then looked back at Molly with a tight grimace. Her voice was lowered when she said, “You found Vernon East’s body.”
Nausea rolled into Molly’s stomach like a wave. She nodded. “Unfortunately.”
The receptionist shook her head, leaning closer. “You poor thing. I read your article online. Very tasteful. Just give me a minute and I’ll grab Officer Beatty, all right? Sheriff isn’t in right now.”
“Thank you.” It was probably selfish that she felt pleased about the Bulletin being read online.
Some of the desks were pushed together, front to front, while others were separated by gray partitions. At the very back of the room were closed doors. Priscilla walked behind one of the partitions and came out a moment later with Officer Beatty. He waved at Molly and nodded at something Priscilla said.
Despite being dressed in full uniform, his eyes had a kindness that made him seem approachable. He was tall and lanky, built kind of like a runner. Molly could see him chasing down a suspect with ease.
“How are you doing, Ms. Owens?” he greeted.
Priscilla went back to the computer as Officer Beatty unlatched the small gate at the end of the counter and came around.
“It’s Molly. Please. And I’m okay.”
She walked beside him as he gestured down one of the wide hallways she’d passed on the way in.
“Fingerprinting is this way. Molly,” he said, giving her a small smile.
She passed over the box, then froze. “I brought cookies, but it’s not like a bribe or anything.” Or was it? She wanted information, didn’t she?
Officer Beatty laughed. “I’m not sure what I could give you in exchange anyway, but I’ll happily take cookies. Wasn’t necessary, but thank you all the same.”
He had a nice laugh—hearty and deep. If he’d gone to school with Sam, they were close to the same age. Having moved around so often, Molly couldn’t imagine growing up in one place, but she liked the idea of settling in for the long haul. They continued walking past more closed doors to one that was open. Inside was…different than Molly expected. It was a small, windowless room with a table along one side wall. The back wall had height measurements in large black numbers along one side. A tall, dark cabinet rested against the wall across from the table.
Officer Beatty put the cookies down and started arranging the tools to fingerprint her. She’d never been fingerprinted before. Glancing at the box, she wondered if she’d left viable prints there. It was horrible to be there because someone had died. But, she couldn’t stop herself from being oddly fascinated by the behind-the-scenes process.
“Come on over, Molly. How are you settling into Britton Bay? Other than…” he said, his voice trailing off.
She gave a gruff laugh. “Other than, I’m doing well. I really like it here. The people are great. Well, except for whoever murdered Vernon.”
She froze again and closed her eyes, covering her face with her hands. In a muffled voice she apologized. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I don’t why I said that. I’m sorry.”
With a gentle laugh, he nudged her shoulder, making her lower her hands. “No reason to be sorry. You’re not wrong. I need to print each finger. It’ll stain, but it’s painless.”
She stepped over to the table, appreciating the kind way he’d let her off the hook. Letting him move her hand, she felt like a life-size doll, her finger being dabbed, rolled, and pressed onto an off-white piece of card stock. In just a few minutes, he handed her a wet wipe for the ink.
“That’s it?”
“That’s it.”
He was good-looking in an all-American kind of way. He had the small- town charm and manners that seemed inherent in Britton Bay. He didn’t make her stomach do pirouettes like a certain mechanic, but he was nice and Molly found herself grateful trustworthy people were looking into this serious crime.
“Any word?” she asked as he picked up the cookies and led her out of the room.
“On the case? No. These things take time. There’s the autopsy, questioning people, following up on what we know of his last two days alive. And with every step comes paperwork. I don’t want you to worry, though. Britton Bay is a safe place. We take care of our community. I’m sorry Vernon’s gone, but he’s the kind of man who thrives on making enemies. This isn’t the norm for our town.”
“I know. Still…it’s unnerving to think the person you’re sitting next to could be the murderer, you know?”
They reached the lobby and stopped walking. Officer Beatty pulled out a card.
“I do know and that’s understandable. Listen, if you need anything or get a bad feeling about something, give me a call. I don’t think you’re in any danger at all, but I trust my gut, so I expect others to follow theirs.”
She accepted the card. Tell him. “I know this might be unrelated or unimportant, but when I came home last night and let my dog out, the flowers under my window were trampled. I took a picture because it kind of freaked me out. And today, on the way over, I was almost positive I saw Clay Reynolds at the Stop and Shop. But he said he was going out of town.”
Officer Beatty pulled out a notebook. “That is curious. Mind sending me those photos? You can text them to me or send them to the email on my card. I can stop by and take a look in person, if that would make you feel better. Did you see anyone on the property?”
She felt foolish now, but also relieved she’d said something. “No. But it was dark when I got back.”
He glanced up from his notebook. “You were coming home from…?”
Molly’s cheeks heated. “Uh…I had a date with Sam Alderich.”
Flames of embarrassment licked at Molly’s skin. It wasn’t untrue.
Officer Beatty grinned. “Sam’s a good guy. I’ll look into whether Clay is still in town. He did say he was going to Portland.”
“Do you think the two things are connected?”
He finished writing and closed the notebook. “Can’t say. But I’ll look into it. You have my word.”
“Thank you. I appreciate that.”
He held up the cookies. “I appreciate these. Take care of yourself, Molly.”
“Thanks. You too.”
The sun was slipping when she left the station and headed for home. Other than the emails, which she still didn’t feel were her business to mention, she’d told them everything. Officer Beatty didn’t seem to think she was in any danger and though he’d taken her seriously when she mentioned Clay, he didn’t seem bothered by the information. Did that mean they weren’t considering him a suspect, despite knowing he lied about being at the scene? At the scene? You aren’t actually a cop, you know. Heck. You’re not even a good Veronica Mars. She’d have chased after Clay and cornered him until he answered her questions without even meaning to.
She should be taking comfort in the fact that it was looking more and more like Vernon’s death had nothing to do with the Phillips interview. That would absolve her of guilt. But if she was truly unconnected, why would someone want to peek through her window? You convinced yourself last night it was a guest. Stick with that until the cops say differently. She nearly slammed the brakes when she realized that if Vernon was killed over something to do with the Phillips interview, she was now the one in possession of those same items. Had she just put a target on her own back?
Chapter 10
A good night’s sleep and an early-morning walk with Tigger cleared Molly’s head and lessened some of the worries she’d dragged to bed with her. She took the now-familiar trail to the ocean, laughing at how Tigger seemed almost frightened of the water. Falling asleep early had them up with the sun. When she rounded the bend that led back to the sprawling Victorian home, Katherine was putting out muffins for the couple Molly had seen the other day.
She waved at Molly. “You’re up early!”
