by Jody Holford
“Wh-wh-what?”
“Would you like me to drive you to the police station?”
She wailed louder. “Why would I want to go there?”
Molly and Katherine exchanged a glance that shared their silent surprise.
“Your sister must have an attorney, Alicia. Come on, dear. She needs your help now. You need to be strong for her,” Katherine said, her voice firm.
The next sob was more of a hiccup. She nodded. “Oh. Okay. Sure.”
It was doubtful that this woman would be any help to her sister, but Molly would take her and see what information she could glean.
Leading her across the street, Molly wondered if she had Kleenex in her Jeep. Checking the back seat while Alicia crawled in the passenger side, she found a box under the seat and passed it forward.
Alicia mumbled a thank-you and seemed to get herself a little more under control.
Molly started the Jeep and pulled into the street, fingers tight around the steering wheel.
“The police said your sister’s alibi fell through. Do you know anything about that?”
Though she kept her eyes on the road, she felt the woman’s glare. “My sister didn’t kill her stupid husband.”
Molly pressed her lips together.
“She didn’t. But what was she supposed to say? Oh, I was making out with my high school sweetheart? It’s not like Jet even cared. God. That guy was all over anything with a pulse. He was a pig.”
Giving her a quick glance when she pulled up to a stop sign, she said, “Your sister said she loves him. Are you suggesting she didn’t? Because honestly, that’s not going to help your sister’s case.”
Alicia wiped her nose and pulled out another tissue. “She doesn’t need help. She didn’t do anything. She’s innocent.”
Molly had thought the same thing until only moments ago. “Well, she’s going to have to give up her affair if she hopes to get released.”
“I’ll talk to her, but she probably won’t listen to me. I told her not to marry that old jerk. But she was so dazzled. He could be charming when he wanted to be, and Amber had money, but she goes through it faster than hair products. If you want the truth, the way we grew up, it’s not a surprise she fell for someone old enough to be her father.”
With one hand, Molly rubbed at her temple. Her head was beginning to pound. These people made reality television look rational.
“Does she have a lawyer?”
Alicia pulled her phone out of the pocket of her designer jeans. “Yeah. We have one. She just spoke to him yesterday to contest the will.”
As she turned at the light, heading toward the police station, Molly frowned. “There’s no way the will has been read yet.”
Looking up from her phone, Alicia shot Molly a bleary, red-eyed glance. “Of course not. But that didn’t stop Jet’s wench of an ex-wife from rubbing it in her face.”
That she could easily see. It might have been when their fight occurred. Trying to breathe through her nose, Molly wondered if taking Amber’s sister to the station would serve any purpose. Alicia greeted someone on the phone as Molly parked the Jeep. She continued to explain the situation in a far calmer voice to the person on the other line.
It was hard to offer privacy when she didn’t lower her voice in any way. Holding the door to the station open, she cringed when Alicia’s voice rose several octaves.
“That’s what we pay you for, so why don’t you get your lazy butt down to this nowhere town and deal with it?”
She jabbed her thumb on the screen, ending the call. “Useless.”
Approaching the counter, Molly gave a small wave to Priscilla and wished she could shoot her a warning. Alicia stomped her high-heeled feet to where Pris was typing and slammed her hands down on the counter.
“My sister is being illegally detained by your police officers. I demand to see the person in charge.”
Molly stepped back a little. She saw Ed and Amber sitting in chairs beside one of the desks, both cuffed. Ed’s eyes found Molly, and his gaze seemed to fill with anger. Chris was standing near them, but even with him facing away, Molly could read the frustration in his body language. He put both hands on his hips and dropped his head.
Sheriff Saron came out of his office and looked at Chris. “You want me to deal with this?”
Chris’s head rose, and he shook his head. Turning, the only indication he gave that seeing Molly surprised him was the slight flare of his eyes and nostrils. He focused on Alicia. Coming to the counter, he leaned over it, folding his hands together as casually as if they were old friends.
“Let me give you some advice,” he started. Alicia opened her mouth, and Chris raised a hand. “Nope. This is the part where you listen. Your sister?” He hooked a thumb over his shoulder. “I’m going to talk to her and her idiot friend. You have two choices. You can stay on this side of the counter, ready to support them when the decision as to whether or not they’ll be staying in our fine facility comes down the pipe. Or you can say one word—swear to God, just one—and I’ll invite you back here to join them. But see, if that happens, I’m going to lose my patience and need a bit of a break. Which means instead of taking care of this now and getting some answers, the three of you can cuddle up in a cell until my blood pressure lowers. Do you understand your choices—and nonverbal replies are strongly suggested.”
Alicia nodded, her eyes comic-book wide. Chris had delivered the entire speech with such a quiet authority, Molly was sure no one who wasn’t standing right beside him even heard it.
Her fingers itched to high-five him. He glanced at her, saw that Alicia was going to hold her tongue, and turned back to the room. Sheriff Saron’s lips twitched, and he headed back into his office.
“Uh, I’ll just leave you here to wait. Good luck,” Molly said.
Priscilla pulled her bottom lip between her teeth, and when her gaze met Molly’s, she could see she was trying hard not to laugh.
Hurrying out of the station, Molly got in her car and rested her head on the steering wheel. The day’s events were dizzying. She texted Jill and asked for updates, and let her and Alan know she was checking in with Sarah before heading back to the office. She could use a break from the crazy.
The police station was only about fifteen minutes from Sarah’s shop, which was just off Main Street. There were a few cars in the lot. She parked and went through the front door. A woman and a little girl were painting mugs at one of the tables, and two other older women were painting ceramic animals.
As the bell jingled over the door, Molly froze. From the cleanup room, a slight, dark-haired woman with a streak of cobalt blue down the center of her head emerged. Sarah came right after her, and Molly arched her brows when her friend saw her standing there.
“Hi, Molly. I didn’t figure you for a day painter.” Sarah came over to her while the other woman took a dish of water to the mother and daughter.
Sarah whispered, “That’s Naomi.”
Molly whispered back, “I put that together. What happened?”
Naomi said something to the little girl that made her laugh, and it was impossible to swallow down her shock. She hadn’t expected Sarah to press charges. Not really. In fact, she expected there’d be a little friction between Chris and his girlfriend when she didn’t. But she sure as heck couldn’t have predicted finding Naomi helping customers in Sarah’s shop.
Naomi walked to the older women and asked if they needed help. Molly and Sarah looked on.
“What’s your name, dear?” one of the women asked. She was wearing a bright white sweater covered in cherries. Her gray hair was curly and long. She held the paintbrush as though it was delicate, and her glasses perched low on her nose.
“Naomi,” the woman said quietly.
Woman? Girl? Molly couldn’t wrap her head around it.
“Sarah, how old i
s she?” Molly kept her voice low.
“Just turned eighteen. She stays at the shelter about twenty minutes from here. She’s working off the cost of the supplies she used.”
Naomi grabbed more brushes for the women, glancing sideways frequently to where Molly and Sarah whispered.
“Is that safe?”
Sarah grinned. “You sound like Chris. Even when she broke in, she didn’t hurt anything. She’s coming in a couple of hours a day, and I told her that at the end of each shift, she can have an hour to use the supplies.”
Molly turned and stared at her friend with awe. “That’s…so kind.”
Naomi wandered over, hesitantly, as though fearing one of them might yell at her. “Um, sorry to interrupt, but the little girl wants to paint something else. Can she just choose something?”
There was a selection of ceramics on a shelf along one of the walls. “Yes. She can. Naomi, this is Molly, my friend.”
Naomi eyed her warily. “You were here last night? With the car guy?”
“Car guy?” Molly folded her hands over her chest to hide her surprise.
“Yeah. He owns the auto shop, right?”
“He does.”
“He’s cute.”
Molly bit back her grin. “He is. Sarah says you stay in the shelter.”
If she’d had hackles, they would have revealed themselves. “So?”
Molly softened her gaze. “So, how long have you been staying there?”
The teen shrugged.
“Do you go to school?”
Molly figured it was a defense mechanism when the teen stared back blandly and answered sarcastically. “No time. I’m really busy these days.”
“Hmm. I can see that.” Molly smiled. “It’s nice to meet you, Naomi.”
Another shrug, and she walked away to show the little girl the choices.
Molly turned back to Sarah. “You know nothing about her.”
She nodded. “I know. But to be fair, I don’t really know anyone in town that well. I’ve only connected with a few people, and that’s because those people have been kind and welcoming. What if you and Sam and Chris hadn’t pulled me into your circle? I’d probably be standing here alone. Everyone needs someone to take a chance on them. Besides that, Chris put the fear of…well, of him, into her so I think she’ll toe the line. Either that or just disappear. But I get the sense she wants to be here. There’s no reason she can’t be, and I’d rather it was during the hours when I’m open.”
Feeling a new appreciation for her friend, Molly gave her an impulsive, hard hug. “You would have found your people with or without us. But I’m glad we became friends.”
Sarah laughed, patted Molly’s arm. “Me, too. But I should get back to work. Everything okay?”
Not wanting to share official news by word of mouth—seeing as she was working hard to make the Bulletin, online and print, relevant and important to the town—she shook her head.
“But check the Bulletin’s website in about twenty minutes,” she said with a smile.
She left and headed back to the office. Sometimes things that seemed bad at first had a way of turning into good things. Like when her tires had the air let out of them and she’d met Sam. Molly was glad that even if not everything was falling into place, some good had happened in Britton Bay this week.
She’d report it, for sure. But there was another headline that would capture the attention. Time to get back to work and write it.
Chapter Twenty
Britton Bay Bulletin @TheBulletin ⃰ 19 minutes
Amber Harkaw arrested for the death of her husband.
Jill took care of the article online, but Molly updated the Facebook page and Twitter. Jill had touched base with Priscilla and confirmed that Amber had lied about her alibi, but would only say she’d been waiting by one of the fences for Jet to return. When he didn’t, she’d hitched a ride with another, unnamed driver. Molly couldn’t fathom not telling the police about the affair. Maybe Ed would tell them since he seemed to want to protect Amber so much.
Unless…unless Amber really had done it and Ed didn’t believe she was capable. She still couldn’t believe the turn of events, and though she wanted to see things solved, something wasn’t settling correctly in her mind. It was like laying a blanket over rocks–no way to smooth things out without removing what was underneath.
Jill came into her office, waving a piece of paper. “So, I have a friend who is pretty good with computers.”
Molly glanced up from her computer screen. “Do they want a job?”
Jill laughed and took a seat. “I don’t think Alan can afford him. Anyway, you know how they always say ‘Follow the money’?”
Closing her laptop, a grin on her face, Molly leaned back in her chair. “Do they?”
Jill nodded. “You know they do. Every good cop show does, anyway. Well, I had my friend follow the money. And guess where that fifty thousand dollars went?”
Excitement danced over her skin. “Tell me.”
Jill slid the paper across. It was screenshots of two different bank accounts. One showed a deposit and withdrawal of fifty grand. The second showed a deposit from the first account for the same amount a few minutes later. Molly squinted to see what she was looking at.
“I suspected it was a payoff he didn’t want to make public. This is Jethro’s account, I’m assuming?” She pointed at the one on the left.
“Yup,” Jill said, leaning forward and putting her finger on the second image. “And this one here is Ed McLaren’s account.”
Her friend’s smile widened, and she tapped the paper several times. “He paid off his wife’s ex. For what? I think it was a get-out-of-her life payoff.”
“Makes sense.” Molly wondered if she could find a way to ask Ed some questions. “I’m not sure who that makes seem guiltier. Ed takes money and promises to stay away from Amber, but never plans to and kills him instead. Or Amber finds out her husband paid off her ex and kills him out of anger? To get him out of the way? Because she’s aiming to be a serial husband killer but has only one death under her belt?” Nothing was seeming too ridiculous or far-fetched at the moment.
A heavy sigh left Jill’s lips. “I don’t know. I really don’t. I’m not as good as you are with solving these types of puzzles. Do you think the police know about the payoff?”
“They’d have Jethro’s financial records for sure. They knew who inherited his estate. I still think the murderer had to be a guy. Chris wouldn’t comment on it, but think about how much force would have to go into a blow that caused death.” Though rage was a powerful emotion and if Amber had enough of it, it was possible.
“She did lie about her alibi.”
That troubled Molly. If Ed and Amber said they were together, they’d essentially cover for each other. Like Brian and Candy? Unless the exchange of money confirmed the two had a motive to do it together. “Was that because she or Ed was killing Jethro or because they were together right under his nose, and for whatever reason, they don’t want that to get out?”
Jill stood up and grabbed her paper. “I’m going to leave those questions to you, but at least now we know where the money went. I loved what you told me about Sarah and the girl who broke in. I’d like to do a human-interest piece. I’m not sure how shy the kid is, though. You think she’d be open to an interview?”
Since she was more used to skulking around in the dark and definitely had an edge of suspicion toward others, Molly couldn’t say. “Why don’t you call Sarah and feel her out. Maybe after things settle? I’m not sure where she’ll go from here.”
Walking to the door, Jill stopped and turned back. “I think I might head out to the shelter. I feel like there’s more we can do as a community, and it’s time someone reached out to them.”
Guilt tugged hard. This was what they were supposed to be doing—t
racking down stories that impacted their residents and supporting those in need by bringing awareness to them. We are. But she was also consumed with figuring out why it didn’t sit right that Amber was under arrest for murder.
“Do that. We could maybe do a series of articles in the coming weeks.”
“Okay. See you later.”
Molly drummed her fingers on her desk, not opening her laptop again just yet. She wondered how long it would be until Amber’s lawyer showed up.
Unable to just sit there, even if she did have copy to edit, layouts to organize, and story ideas to develop, Molly grabbed her jacket and her bag. Packing up her laptop, she told Alan she was leaving and headed to her Jeep.
Using the process of elimination, she drove to the Sea Side Shangri-La, Britton Bay’s only hotel. The town also had a motel and several bed-and-breakfasts. By next summer, there’d be a new hotel; a large developer had purchased a large lot at the far end of the beach, opposite where Molly lived. The city council had posted plans and updates on their website; it was something else the Bulletin should be more focused on.
When she’d moved to the seaside town, she couldn’t have predicted that murders would pull their focus away from small-town, local news.
Pulling into the parking lot of the hotel reminded Molly of the last murder. A not-quite-celebrity chef had been killed in one of the rooms. It had been at the very end of the summer, and Molly couldn’t help but wonder if it would impact reservations next year.
She got out of her Jeep and went into the hotel. She recognized Kip Martin, who held several positions including front desk and concierge. He waved when he saw her, giving her a wide, friendly smile. With smooth, ebony skin and perfectly coifed black hair, he looked more like a GQ model than a hotel manager.
“Hi, Molly. How are you?” He closed the magazine he was reading.
“I’m good. You?” The last time she’d seen him, he hadn’t been anywhere near as relaxed as he appeared right now. Knowing there was a dead body in one’s hotel tends to create internal chaos that spills over. She knew that type of situation too well.