Deadly Vows

by Jody Holford

  She tried not to ask, but couldn’t help herself. She leaned forward, not noticing the way his hands gripped the edge of the counter. “What’s with the cops out back? Everything okay? I saw Corky and he was pretty flustered.”

  “You can’t interview Skyler.” Kip’s voice came out like gravel pouring down a rickety slide.

  “She’s expecting me.”

  He shook his head. “You don’t understand.”

  Surely the cook hadn’t changed her mind and left a message with the front desk to tell Molly she was unavailable.

  “Maybe you could call her and tell her I’m here. I promised I wouldn’t take much of her time.”

  Kip leaned forward, looking left and right despite the empty lobby. “She can’t be interviewed. She’s dead.”

  Chapter Seven

  Molly stared at the front desk clerk, unsure she’d really heard what she’d heard. Dead? How? Why? Her heart skipped a few beats like it needed to lay down for a rest. Then it was up and off like a shot, pounding so hard in her chest, her breath caught.

  “I’m sorry. Did you say dead?” She whispered the words as she leaned across the counter.

  Creases formed around his eyes as he squeezed them shut and nodded in slow motion. When he opened them, his gaze shouted with misery.

  “Good thing it’s the end of the summer or this would seriously impact business.”

  Molly’s eyes widened. “A guest died and you’re worried about business?” She pulled her phone out of her purse, irritation bubbling.

  He had the decency to look down and mutter an apology. “As far as guests go, she wasn’t exactly nice.” His tone was defensive.

  Molly texted Alan and Elizabeth to let them know the little she knew. You chastised him for thinking about business while you’re thinking in headlines. Still, people had to know and it was better to get accurate information out to the public rather than frenzied gossip.

  “That’s why the police are here?”

  Kip nodded. “They’ve been here for over an hour. They’ve got the catering crew. What do you call it when they can’t leave?”

  “Sequestered?”

  He pointed at her. “Yes. And the staff from last night have to come in. Everyone has to be questioned.”

  Were they being questioned as witnesses to events or as suspects? She wondered if they already had a suspect in mind and Molly’s thoughts jumped back to the argument from the night before. “Did she have any visitors?”

  “None that checked in, but the cabins are kind of an anomaly now since the fence that enclosed them was taken down to be replaced.”

  Molly frowned. “There hasn’t been a fence since I moved here.” The area was wide open, but the pool was still enclosed.

  “Exactly. It’s never been put back up so it limits our security.”

  A woman came through a door behind the counter. Her curly red hair made her look like Raggedy Ann. “Kip, the police want surveillance footage. I’ll watch the front.”

  Kip sighed. “Okay.” Then he looked at Molly. “You helped find Vernon’s killer when he was killed, right?”

  She nodded, unsure where he was going with this. Her phone buzzed in her hand with a useless update. Nothing like death to make all other things seem inconsequential in comparison.

  “Can they blame me if I’m in charge of the hotel? Like negligence or something, like when a person gets drunk and is in an accident and the bartender can be blamed?”

  Arching a brow at his train of thought, she shook her head slowly. “I don’t believe you can be responsible for her death just by renting her a room. Unless you are connected directly to her death.”

  Another thought struck her at that moment: Skyler was a miserable woman—unfriendly as well as unhappy. Did she end her own life?

  She wanted to ask, but couldn’t form the words. Instead, before Kip slipped out the door, she asked, “Who found her?”

  Kip turned. “Corky Templeton.”

  Molly groaned. No wonder he’d been even more off than usual. She left through the front of the hotel, going back to where she’d seen the homeless man but he wasn’t there. Walking around the hotel, she saw the coroner had arrived. Other patrons were gathered around the police tape and barricades that had been set up. She spotted Officer Chris Beatty, Sam’s friend, speaking to a couple of people as he urged them to step further back. He saw her approach and she was almost positive she saw his jaw tighten.

  Chris had been kind to her during the investigation into Vernon’s death and she and Sam had hung out with him and his girlfriend Sarah more than once. Right now, however, he was in full-on cop mode. A shadow of dark stubble covered his chin and his dark hair was tousled, like he’d been awoken before he was ready.

  “Molly.” His tone lacked inflection, a clear sign that he was in all-business mode.

  She slipped on her own professional persona, despite the fact that her mind felt like it was riding an out of control Ferris wheel. “Officer Beatty. It’s my understanding that Corky Templeton found celebrity chef, Skyler Friessen, dead in her hotel room?”

  Moving one of the ropes that was assisting with keeping people out, Officer Beatty came closer. Over his shoulder, she saw a stretcher being brought into cabin number four.

  “Molly, this is an ongoing investigation. You know I can’t tell you anything.”

  For a second, she wanted to apologize and walk away. You’re standing on front page news and would expect anyone, including Hannah, to get details for a story the Britton Bay Bulletin is obligated to write.

  “I know you can’t say much, but you know as well as I do, gossip will spread through town before the sun is even all the way in the sky. Was she murdered?”

  The tense set of his lips belayed his frustration. “We’re still assessing the situation. At the moment, we cannot release any details to members of the press.”

  Ouch. She arched a brow. “I guess I’ll gather information from the gossip that comes in this afternoon. Thanks for your time.”

  She turned and nearly smiled when she felt his hand on her arm. Turning back, she tried for a neutral expression.

  He leaned in. “We’re still looking into possible foul play. The victim was found on the floor near the door, which was ajar. An early morning swimmer said he saw Corky walking toward it, pushing it open, and screaming. The woman died brushing her teeth from what we can see. That’s it. I’ve sent some officers out to canvas and we’re dealing with it one step at a time. Don’t print anything yet, but that’s what we have so far. If you can keep details out of the paper for now, I’ll share what I can as soon as I can.”

  Molly smiled, but it felt bittersweet. “Thanks Chris. Awful way for you to start your day.”

  He looked back at the cottages then down at Molly. “Hers was worse.”

  She watched him walk away and noticed Corky hadn’t left the area. He hovered near the corner of the far cottage, watching, like he was scared, but couldn’t stop looking. She died brushing her teeth. That’s what Corky had said. Had she been getting ready for bed and gotten a knock at the door? Molly had done that: carried on getting ready for her day while grabbing a newspaper from the front stoop. Everyday normal activities. No big deal. We worry about accidents and disasters and really, you could die right in the middle of your regular routine. The thought terrified Molly so she pushed it out of her head.

  * * * *

  Unsure whether she should head home and see if Katherine needed anything or if she should go into work, Molly sat in her Jeep trying to process it all. She watched as police officers and curious bystanders moved around the scene. She’d been face to face with a crime scene when she’d discovered Vernon dead on his living room floor. The memory sent a shiver through her body. She could go her whole life without ever seeing something like that again.

  When her phone buzzed, she jumped. I
t was Sam so she slid her thumb across the screen.

  “Hey.”

  “Hey,” he said. “You okay?” His voice was warm, wrapping around her like a hug.

  “I don’t know.”

  “You heard about the chef?” he asked.

  She tightened her fingers on the phone, watching as people made way for crime scene techs. Did crime scene techs come to suicides? No one said suicide. But who would kill her—she didn’t even know anyone here. Maybe someone she came with?

  “I did. How did you?”

  “My mom. According to her, Patty was trying to contact the chef this morning for some menu changes and when she couldn’t get through, she called the front desk, flipped out on the guy when he said he couldn’t connect her and then the guy told her she was dead. Patty went to my mom, freaking out about the wedding being ruined.”

  Molly closed her eyes. Never mind the fact that someone had lost their life—the woman was worried about the wedding. “It’s barely eight o’clock. How can so much happen before noon in this town?”

  His laugh didn’t ring with the usual joviality, but still, it settled her stomach. “Not the sleepy-nothing-ever-happens-place California was, is it?”

  A smile tugged at her lips, despite the situation. “No. Not at all. I’m trying to decide if I should head home and see if your mom needs anything or if I should go to work. I don’t see Patty or her daughter making the day easy on your mom.”

  “I’ve got Critter covering my jobs today, so I’m heading over to see if I can do anything.”

  She shook her head, scrunching up her face. “Why do you guys call him that?” She’d only met the mechanic once and he seemed perfectly nice for such a weird nickname.

  “You don’t want to know.”

  She sighed. “Probably not. Okay, I’ll head to the paper, but will you text me if Katherine needs anything?”

  “How about I text you even if she doesn’t?”

  This time her lips just turned up without warning. “That sounds good. Sam…”

  “Hmm?”

  What? What did she want to say? It felt like words were spinning around in her heart and her chest, but they were all crashing into each other like bumper cars, leaving her with nothing.

  “I’ll see you later.”

  “Sounds good.”

  They hung up and she waited a few more minutes while the coroner’s vehicle drove off. Police officers continued to chat with people and the door to Skyler’s room was still open. She didn’t see Corky anywhere now. Maybe one of the officers had taken him into custody. Now and again, they’d bring him into the station, get him warmed up and fed. Had he seen anything significant? She hated seeing him so flustered. Maybe I should just head to the paper. She stared out the window, watching people watch. It made her feel like she was removed from the situation. Like she was watching the making of one of those cop shows. If the cops and coroner were already there, what time did they find her? Molly shivered, thinking about the argument from the night before. She and Sam had gone back to the house around ten.

  Molly squeezed the steering wheel tight. Her phone buzzed, breaking through the strange trance she felt locked in. Surprise scrunched her eyebrows together when she saw it was Bella calling. As she answered, she saw some of the catering staff, including the male sous chef, huddled in one of the other cabin doorways. Perhaps sequestered was too strong a term if they could watch what was happening.

  “Hi Bella,” she greeted.

  “Molly. Can you come to the bakery?”

  The male chef lit a cigarette and moved out of the huddle, swiped at his left eye with the sleeve of his shirt.

  “Uh, I’m actually heading into work. Can I stop by later today?” She’d told Chris gossip would fly, but she didn’t want to be the one to set it free. Still, she had to bite down on her tongue so she didn’t explain her current whereabouts. She wondered how people who’d been on the receiving end of Skyler’s sharp tongue would feel about her death. If it’s murder, someone might be feeling guilty. Or vindicated.

  Bella sniffled loudly into the receiver, redirecting all of Molly’s attention.

  “Please, Molly. I need your help. A police officer was just here.”

  “What? Why?” Molly started her Jeep.

  “She wanted to question me about Skyler Friessen’s death.”

  Air trapped itself in Molly’s lungs, making her chest ache from the pressure. “I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

  She hung up and pulled out of the lot. Traffic was rarely a problem in Britton Bay and this morning was no different. The hotel was snuggled in between clusters of trees with beach access. There were more people standing around the cabins than at the beach, but she was sure that would change as the day progressed. She still couldn’t believe that there’d been another death. She shivered at the thought, her skin feeling itchy and tight.

  Despite being an editor, death was something she read about online or in the news. She’d never had it so close to home and now, within the span of three months, she knew two people who’d died. Vernon’s death had been a shock—actually seeing a lifeless body was something she’d never forget. Would Corky? On television, people rushed to the bodies and felt for a pulse or listened for breathing. When she’d stumbled upon Vernon, there’d been no need. Should she have done that? Rushed to the body to check for signs of life when there were clearly none? At least Corky had screamed. She didn’t for a second believe that he had anything to do with Vernon’s death. Corky was harmless. Sadly, he would now also be scarred with the memory of what he’d seen today.

  She pulled up to the bakery in under the ten minutes she promised and was surprised to see a closed sign on the door. Getting out of her Jeep, she debated going to the back of the building, but like she’d been watching for her, Bella appeared through the glass and hurried to unlock the door. Mr. Elbury, who owned the pet store next door to Morning Muffins, pushed open his door just as Bella did hers.

  “Morning Molly!” He gave a friendly wave then glanced at Bella. “You all right, dear? You’re always open earlier than I am.”

  Bella looked at the store proprietor as if he’d spoken in a strange language. It was then Molly noticed the puffy redness around Bella’s eyes. She started to speak and a tear trickled down her cheek.

  Molly stepped forward, putting a hand on Bella’s shoulder, and waving to Mr. Elbury said, “Bella’s not feeling good this morning. One of those nasty summer colds. Have a good day, Mr. Elbury.”

  The older man frowned, running a hand over his gray beard. “Oh. Okay. Feel better. I’ll bring you over some soup later. You know my Celia makes the best soup in town.”

  Bella still said nothing, but at least she nodded.

  Molly widened her smile. “Don’t let Calliope hear you say that.”

  He laughed, as she’d intended and then Molly nudged Bella so they went inside before he engaged them in a full conversation about his wife’s soup making prowess.

  When Bella’s hands shook as she turned the lock, concern bolted through Molly’s entire being. “Bella, what’s wrong? What’s going on?”

  The baker, who at twenty-five ran one of the most successful shops on the strip, pulled in a shuddering breath. Her light brown hair was pulled back into a messy pony-tail, wisps of hair escaping the band. She shook her head and wrapped herself in a hug, her fingers digging into her own biceps. Just as Georgie had mentioned, it was rare to see Bella mad; it was also rare to see her so flustered.

  “A police officer just stopped by and asked me about Skyler Friessen and whether or not I knew she was dead.”

  Molly put an arm around Bella and pulled her farther into the bakery. The right wall, which butted up against the pet store exterior, had no windows so Molly chose a table there and guided the shaking woman to a seat.

  “Why on earth would they ask you if you knew?”
One thing Molly had learned through years of editing people’s thoughts and words was that what others said, was not always what the listener heard. People shifted words in their brains, attaching emotion and meaning to sometimes meaningless statements.

  Bella sniffled again, fresh tears filling her eyes. “Because the last thing she drank was one of my lattes.”

  Chapter Eight

  Molly knew the baker was out of sorts when she said nothing about Molly slipping behind the counter to make some tea. The display case was full of fresh pastries, muffins, and cinnamon buns. Molly’s stomach growled but she ignored it and set about making two cups of regular tea. Bella sat at the table, looking down at her folded hands, sniffling quietly. Opening one of the small fridges under the counter, Molly grabbed some milk and added it to both cups. When she put it away, she noticed that the cash register had a balance.

  “Were you already open this morning?” Molly asked, bringing the steaming mugs over. If nothing else, the tea would soothe the chill of this morning’s events.

  Bella nodded, accepting the tea. “We opened at five like usual. Actually, Trina opened this morning. I came down at seven and by seven-thirty the officer showed up.”

  Molly frowned, blew on her tea, wrapping her hands around the mug.

  “Was it busy?”

  In a town like Britton Bay, most of the customers were regulars but there was still a steady stream of strangers stopping by most of the local businesses. But at five a.m.? Anyone who wasn’t a regular would have to stand out.

  Bella shrugged. “Trina didn’t say anything about it being any busier than usual.”

  Sighing, Molly set her mug down. “Bella, are you okay?”

  The woman frowned at her, setting her tea down with a bang. Liquid sloshed over the sides and Bella teared up again as Molly grabbed napkins from the dispenser and sopped up the mess.

  “Of course I’m not okay. I was questioned by the police.” She wiped around her mug with a napkin then took the crumpled, wet wad and slipped out from the booth, taking it to the trash.