Deadly News

by Jody Holford

  Calliope brought their check over and though Molly attempted to pay, Sam wouldn’t let her.

  As he shifted to put his wallet back in his pocket, he arched a brow. “Though I wouldn’t turn down having you stop by my work with a box of cookies some time.”

  Small. Towns. Molly rolled her eyes. He was teasing her again and it was working. She bit her lip, but it didn’t hide her smile.

  “I see you’ve been talking to Officer Beatty.”

  “One of the brake jobs I did today was his. He may have mentioned it.”

  “They were just cookies,” she said. Regardless of what they were doing, Molly only danced with one partner at a time.

  “How many?” Sam slid out of the booth and offered her his hand.

  “How many what?” she asked, sliding her own into his and acknowledging to herself how good it felt.

  “Cookies?”

  Molly laughed. “Six.”

  Sam squeezed her hand, lacing their fingers together. He leaned in, close enough she could smell the crisp scent of his cologne. “I want twelve.”

  “You two on your way?” Calliope came back over, looking like she’d cooled off some. Her red hair was no longer trying to escape her ponytail and her cheeks weren’t as flushed as they’d been when she was dropping off food. Molly saw her glance at their clasped hands, saw the smile tweak her lips, and appreciated the woman’s restraint from saying a word about it.

  She only pointed at Molly. “Gossip session. Soon. I might just come by your little carriage home for a visit.”

  The idea thrilled Molly. “Any time. I mean it.”

  They said good night and walked out of the diner. Sam released her hand when they got to their vehicles. He leaned against the driver’s door of his and she did the same on the passenger side of her Jeep.

  “So? Find anything in those photos?”

  “Not yet. I don’t know if I should pass it over to the police, but from what I can tell, there’s nothing in there anyone would kill over. Maybe it has nothing to do with the Phillips family after all, but the timing…I just can’t stop feeling like it isn’t a coincidence.” Molly tugged her purse up on her shoulder.

  “Maybe the killer took it.”

  That was her fear. “I thought about that, but why leave everything else in the car? It didn’t look like anyone had been in there before us. Other than Vernon. But if you’re right, and you could be, then it is likely it was related to the interview or at least the family.”

  Sam straightened and stepped closer so Molly had to crane her neck. “It’s not your fault, Molly. Not one bit.”

  She nodded, but her eyes watered. She had to keep telling herself that.

  “There’s a good chance—if something was in there—it has nothing to do with the family. You just can’t know. I’m worried you’re going to make yourself crazy trying to sort it out.”

  She just might. Sam ran a hand down her hair just before he stepped back and the gesture tugged at Molly’s heart like an anchor. Or a buoy.

  “Watch out for yourself, okay?”

  “I will. Thank you for dinner.”

  “My pleasure.”

  He waited until she was in her Jeep, belted, and backing out before he got in his own truck. Streetlights lit the darkness like the stars that were popping out in the sky. Happy feelings—despite recent events—swamped Molly. She was settling in, making friends. She liked her job and the town felt like home. Take murder out of the equation and it was almost too good to be true.

  Don’t look for negatives. Be happy. She was. But as she pulled up to her carriage home, she wondered, How long could it last? Everything ended. Some things sooner than they should, some long after they should.

  Molly couldn’t shake the feeling that the interview and Vernon’s death were tied. But what evidence did she have? Clara had no issues with the interview going to print, so clearly she wasn’t hiding anything. There’d been nothing in the box to suggest dark secrets. Savannah had given Molly a strange vibe, but maybe she was just an awkward teen. Sam could be right about Callan, though she hadn’t told him about seeing his anger that day. She trusted the police enough to think that if Elizabeth was guilty of anything, they’d have held her at the station.

  Which left her…where, exactly? Go back to the start. In Molly’s mind, that was still the interview. If she took out all of the little bits in between—the suspects—what she knew was Vernon hated her, she’d forced him to go somewhere he hadn’t wanted to go, he’d been strange that night on the phone, after the interview, and then he’d wound up dead. Without all of the people clouding the timeline, the connection between his death and his job shouted at her.

  She needed to go and meet with Vanessa Phillips face-to-face. Maybe then she’d be able to stop obsessing about a possible link. If she could prove that she hadn’t sent a man to his death by being overzealous and demanding, the happiness she wanted to grab hold of like a lifeline had a better chance of sticking around.

  Chapter 15

  Even though Molly agreed that Callan’s alibi was probably airtight, the need to be sure—along with a hard-core love of Bella’s scones—had her dropping by Morning Muffins on her way to work the next day.

  She’d walked from the carriage house, figuring it was a good way to counterbalance all of the delicious food she’d been packing away. Morning Muffins had a small lineup of customers and a few people sitting at the bistro-style tables scattered throughout the small space.

  Bella handed a coffee and a small bakery box to the customer in front of her and caught Molly’s eye. She waved and Molly waved back, getting in line. The woman in front of her turned and looked up at Molly. Snow-white curly hair fell to her shoulders and beneath the lines time had left, she was still quite attractive. Except that she was frowning at Molly quite severely.

  “You’re the new girl from California, aren’t you?” the woman asked.

  It seemed safe to assume there was only one recent California transplant in Britton Bay, so Molly nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”

  The woman shook a gnarled finger. “Don’t try your slick manners on me. It won’t work. My Shannon has had her eyes set on Sam Alderich for years now. Don’t need no big-city girl stepping on her toes.”

  Eyes turned their way and amusement warred with embarrassment. Molly cringed and gave a rough laugh. “Um. Okay?”

  Who was Shannon? Who was this woman?

  “Leave the girl alone, Cora,” the man in front of them said. Also older, he gave Molly a weathered smile and beneath the brim of his ball cap, his eyes crinkled.

  Cora turned to the man. “Never you mind, Henry. Your grandchildren are all married off. You got great-grandbabies on the way.”

  Henry chuckled and put a hand on Cora’s arm. Molly glanced ahead and saw Bella had her bottom lip between her teeth. She gave a small shrug and lifted her hands in a what can I say gesture.

  Molly sighed. She’d known the risk of having dinner at the restaurant last night, but so few people had been there, she’d forgotten the way things worked. Someone always knew someone else to pass information on to. Then why can’t you get any information on Vernon and the night he was killed?

  Would the question ever stop haunting her, she wondered as a conversation swelled around her. From the bits and pieces she listened to while she waited her turn, the older crowd—Molly realized everyone in the small bakery was elderly—was debating whether Sam would be better off with Shannon or Molly.

  When it was finally Molly’s turn, Bella leaned forward and covered the hand Molly had placed on the counter.

  “I’m so sorry. Tuesdays are twenty-percent off for seniors, so there’s always a pile of them in here. Usually, it’s the best gossip session around and pretty fun to listen to, but I’m sorry you got dragged into it.” The baker leaned in further still.

  “Cora’s been tryin
g to marry Shannon off to Sam or any man who’ll have her since she graduated from high school.”

  Molly couldn’t help but chuckle and lean close. “Is there something wrong with Shannon that she can’t get a date without her grandma’s help?”

  Bella leaned back and straightened her shoulders, a sassy grin lighting her face. “Not if you ask her. That girl is more full of herself than a hot-air balloon.”

  She didn’t mean to laugh, but it felt good and the tension in her shoulders eased. “I wasn’t looking to steal the town bachelor. We’re just friends,” Molly said.

  Bella winked at her. “That’s the best way to start.”

  It was like the conversation gods were laying out the red carpet for her. Play it cool. In her mind, Molly rolled her eyes at herself. She wasn’t great with subterfuge.

  “I’ll take six of your blueberry scones,” she said. “And a large coffee.”

  “You got it. How are you settling in?” Bella asked as she pulled a flattened box from beneath the counter. With a few quick twists, it was ready to be filled.

  “Pretty well. I really love the carriage house and…well, work has been…good in spite of everything.”

  Using tongs to grab the scones, Bella looked back over her shoulder. “What an awful thing for you to see. You’re holding up?”

  “I am.”

  Bringing the box over as she closed the top, Bella’s gaze was serious. “Are the police getting anywhere?”

  “I’m not sure. Last I heard, the suspect list had shrunk.”

  The bell chimed and a few more seniors shuffled in. Molly needed to hear Bella’s answer for herself. Before the woman could turn and grab Molly’s coffee, she practically blurted, “So, speaking of starting as friends, you and Callan? Over at the Sit and Sip?”

  Way to be subtle. Bella’s skin flushed and her eyes nearly glazed over. Molly couldn’t help but smile. Regardless of anything else, there was no hiding the fact that Bella was smitten.

  “Yeah. Finally. Been waiting long enough, I’ll tell you that.”

  The seniors chatted loudly behind Molly as they waited their turn. Molly leaned in.

  “It’s pretty recent, though?”

  “Yeah. Takes men twice as long as it does us to figure out what’s been there the whole time, right?”

  Molly wasn’t sure about that, as she didn’t have the best track record with relationships, but she was willing to take the baker’s word on it.

  The seniors were crowding her a little, trying to see what yumminess Bella’s shelves held.

  “You guys met up after his last poker game, right? The other night?” The night Vernon was killed.

  Bella’s eyes narrowed slightly and a different flush washed over her cheeks. You’re just being intrusive now. But she had to know. Sam trusted his friend, but as Molly knew all too well, men lied.

  “We did. Listen, Molly, it’s getting a bit busy again. I’m going to grab your coffee,” Bella said.

  Regret lodged itself in Molly’s stomach. She’d crossed the line being so forward and more than that, she’d been rude. Putting money on the counter, Molly waited until Bella came back with her to-go cup.

  “Bella, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be rude or cross a line.”

  The baker studied her for a moment. “It’s okay.”

  Molly didn’t feel like it was, though, but with seniors at her back, needing to get to work, and Bella shut down, she knew it was time to go. She could fix this later, she hoped.

  “I think it’s nice that you’re happy. I love when things work out for good people,” Molly said. She hoped Bella could see she meant it.

  Though it had only a percentage of its usual glow, Bella smiled. “Thanks. Me too.”

  Molly caught Cora’s glare on her way out the door. Without meaning to, she’d made herself an enemy there. She had a feeling it would be easier to get Bella to forgive her misstep than it would be Cora.

  When she showed up at work with scones, Alan and Elizabeth pounced on them immediately.

  “Bless you, sweet girl,” Elizabeth said, taking a bite.

  Her hair was down today, making her look younger, but the dark circles under her eyes suggested she’d had a restless night. Molly didn’t exactly want a long list of people disliking her, so she didn’t ask any questions about the day before. If the police were satisfied with her answers, she should let it go.

  Alan leaned on the work counter, polishing off his scone without a word. Wiping his hands with the napkins Bella had included, he made a sound of satisfaction.

  “That was exactly what I needed. Thank you, Molly.”

  “No problem.” She broke off another piece of her own.

  The elephant in the room was starting to toss his trunk around, but she held firm. No more nosy questions. For now, anyway. If the police were satisfied, so was she. Besides, she’d sense something if she were working alongside someone capable of murder, wouldn’t she? Had Vernon sensed something that night?

  “I should be thanking you for a lot more than just scones. The layout for the next paper looks fantastic. The story ideas you want to run with are high quality. With only the three of us for now, we won’t be able to follow up on all of them right now. Which is fine, because with all that’s happened, the town isn’t going to be too focused on the paper.”

  “That’s understandable,” Molly said. She popped the last bit of scone in her mouth and grabbed a napkin.

  He and Elizabeth shared a glance. If Molly hadn’t been looking right at Elizabeth, she’d have missed the subtle nod she gave to her employer.

  “I was wondering if you’d like to come for dinner at my house tonight. Elizabeth will be joining us as well.”

  Looking back and forth between them, Molly pushed down the feeling that there was more being left unsaid, than said. “That sounds nice.”

  “I’d like you to meet my wife. We’ve been telling her about you and I think you’ll get along great.”

  The sickly wife who didn’t attend dinner parties or family events, according to Hannah. Hannah!

  Molly nodded. “That’s great, I’d love to. I wanted to talk to you about Hannah. It’s clear we’re going to need to hire someone and with her break coming up, we could utilize both her time and talent. Instead of being a volunteer, we could train her to be a staff writer. I don’t mind putting in the time to help her. I think she’s got a great style.”

  Alan’s smile spread slowly, until it took up his entire face. It was the youngest she’d seen her boss look. “That is a wonderful idea. Something tells me you’re going to be good for a lot of people in this town, Molly. It’s our good fortune we found you.”

  She appreciated the accolades, but could think of a few people who didn’t share the sentiment.

  “Thank you. That’s a nice thing to say. On another note, the police haven’t returned Vernon’s computer, have they?”

  Elizabeth frowned. “Why would they give it to us?”

  Cleaning up the napkins and closing the box of scones so they could get to work, Molly glanced at Elizabeth. “I was hoping they would because his work for the paper is on there. But if they haven’t, I’d like to still go forward with the Phillips interview. I spoke with Clara and she said her mother was fine with it. Which means, I should do a follow-up, since we don’t have her answers.”

  And then maybe she’d get some of her own.

  Alan rubbed a hand over his chin. “All right. That’s a good idea. In fact, you get that arranged and I’ll work on the write-up for Vernon. Once we do get whatever was on his computer, maybe we could compile it, sort of a way to honor him and the last story he was working on?”

  Molly’s stomach cramped. “Okay. Sure.”

  Heading to her office, she told herself that the sooner she connected some dots, the sooner she could figure out why that had been his
last story. Ever.

  Chapter 16

  Molly wasn’t sure what she hoped to gain—other than answers—by stopping at the police station before heading to Alan’s house. She’d tried to contact Vanessa Phillips, but ended up leaving a message. When she left work, she went through the photographs and notes, some letters, and a few journal pages again. There was nothing in it—that she could see—which would push someone to murder. Though she probably shouldn’t have, she’d taken pictures of everything before packing it up.

  As she carried the box into the station, she hoped she wouldn’t get in trouble after the fact. Officer Beatty, wearing plainclothes, was just coming through the gate as she walked toward the front counter.

  “Hey. More cookies?” He smiled at her.

  Little coils of tension tightened along her shoulder blades. “Not exactly. Can we talk for a minute?”

  He glanced at the box again and gestured to the hallway she’d gone down with him the other day. “Sure.”

  “You look like you’re finished for the day. I’m sorry to keep you. I just wanted to follow up on things.” She didn’t mean to ramble and yet she couldn’t stop herself.

  “No worries. Everyone knows everyone’s business here, so I’m sure you’re well aware we had Elizabeth in here yesterday,” he said when they walked into a room across from the fingerprinting one.

  Molly walked to the long, rectangular table that took up most of the room and set the box down. She took a deep breath in and out before turning to face him.

  He closed the door, leaving it open a crack and leaned against the wall. Easy and calm. Those qualities probably made him a very good cop.

  “What’s up, Molly?”

  “Officer Beatty—”

  “You can call me Chris,” he said. He gestured to his clothes. “Off duty and all.”

  “Right. Okay. Chris.” She took a deep breath and noticed his frown. He pushed off the wall and walked toward her.

  “Why don’t you sit down? You okay?”

  She sat, grateful for the suggestion. He sat down beside her and she put her hand on the lid of the box.