Deadly Vows

by Jody Holford

  When she arrived at the house, there were fewer vehicles than the day before or even earlier that day. She didn’t see Sam’s truck, which likely meant he’d taken Tigger with him, either to work or to his home. She paused, mid-step and bit her lip, staring at the Victorian. Before she could decide on a plausible excuse for heading to the main house, the groom rushed out the back door and hammered down the steps. Shoving his hands into his hair, he cursed loudly before noticing Molly standing there in the middle of the driveway.

  She couldn’t tell whether it was rage or anguish or some terrible combination of both marring his features. The bride’s mother came out, far calmer than he had, to join him. It only occurred to Molly, in that moment, that she hadn’t seen the bride’s father anywhere.

  “You need to settle down, Blake. Maybe this is for the best,” Patty said, her tone openly condescending.

  Chantel and Blake. Sounds good together, I suppose. Neither of the guests seemed to care that she was standing there.

  Blake whirled on his mother-in-law-to-be. “The best? You have no idea what’s best for us. Everything is about you. Your childhood home, your dream wedding. Chantel didn’t leave because of me. She left because she was tired of you trying to run the show.”

  He pointed at her, stepping closer, his face scrunched up in a way that perfectly matched the venom in his tone.

  Molly tilted her head. “Um, sorry to interrupt, but what do you mean she left? Where did Chantel go?” Had she gone to speak to the police? Gone home? Or was she just getting some space to clear her head? Molly couldn’t fault her for that.

  Patty turned as if just noticing they had an audience. “You’re the reporter. You work for Alan.”

  She sighed. “Editor actually. But yes, we met yesterday at the newspaper. Is Chantel all right?”

  Blake dropped his hands at the same time Chantel’s mother took a few steps closer to Molly. “How do you know my daughter?”

  Why is this what matters? “I met her this morning while I was walking on the beach. She seemed upset.”

  Blake groaned. “God. I knew I shouldn’t have let her go off on her own. I knew it.” He turned to look at Molly. “What did she say?”

  It was difficult to gauge his expression. “Not much. We only chatted for a few seconds, but I know she came back here. And Katherine mentioned she and her bridesmaids were getting ready for manicures and pedicures.”

  Patty and Blake shared a look. Molly threw her hands up. “Simple question: is Chantel okay?” This wedding was turning out to be fodder for a Twilight Zone episode.

  “You’re a reporter?” Blake asked.

  Molly stopped herself from rolling her eyes. Barely. “An editor. I work for the paper.”

  “But you must dig up stories? Find out things right? And you live here, in town?”

  She hunched her shoulders up in a slow shrug. She didn’t want to mention her living arrangements. “Yes.”

  He came nearer, his face so close she could smell the hint of cigarettes on his breath. “Chantel went missing about an hour ago. We thought she’d gone up for a nap, but she’s gone. Please. The cops aren’t taking it seriously. Someone needs to. Put an ad in your paper, show her picture, something. Anything. Please, I’m begging you.”

  Molly’s blood ran cold. She stared at him while feeling Patty’s eyes watching them closely. Now she knew two things for sure: the bride-to-be was missing and the man who’d argued with Skyler the night before was the groom-to-be.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Molly’s skin went cold despite the heat of the day. She stared at Blake and Patty, unsure of what to say or do. It was one of those suspended moments, like in the cartoons—everything stood still and in a second, a flurry of movement would create a whirlwind around them. Only, it didn’t. The air was thick with more than the summer heat and when tires crunched along the gravel, their heads turned in unison to see the sheriff’s cruiser pull up.

  Katherine came out of the house, her mouth tight and here shoulders ramrod straight. She closed in on the group, coming up to Molly’s side.

  “Hi sweetie. You shouldn’t be here in the middle of this,” she said quietly, but took Molly’s hands and squeezed, as though she needed the connection. The anchor. Molly’s head spun. So the police had come to question everyone…had that included the bride? Why were there more questions mounting than answers?

  She glared at Patty. “You are going to stop now. While you’re paying to stay, this is my home and I understand it is a very stressful, trying time, but I won’t have this continue. Clearly you and your son-in-law do not get along. One of you is going to have to find alternative accommodations if you can’t work through your differences. If you feel the need to cancel the rest of your stay, I will refund you for the rest of the time, providing you see to it that all of the wedding preparations are taken down and dealt with. I simply won’t have this kind of bickering and unrest in my home. You need to pull together instead of pointing fingers and assigning blame. I’ve asked the sheriff to join us,” she stated.

  Once again, Katherine impressed Molly. The woman was all class and pure strength. The sheriff wandered over, his long stride eating up the ground between them. Molly didn’t miss the affectionate gaze he cast on Katherine before addressing the group. At over six feet tall, Brandon Saron was an imposing man, but it wasn’t just because of his height. He had a face that could be gentle and compassionate but could easily turn hard like stone if he sensed injustice. He wore his own clothes, jeans and a pullover sweater, rather than his uniform.

  “Molly. Nice to see you again.” He stared at her a beat too long and she had to fight the urge to look down at her shoes or exclaim, “I didn’t do anything!”

  “Now folks, I am truly sorry for all of the upset surrounding what should be a wonderful occasion, but it sounds like there’s a little too much tension. I think Katherine’s suggestion that one of you find alternate accommodations is a good one. I’m sure we can work something out with the hotel.”

  “Where the chef was murdered? Are you crazy? That sounds like a fine idea if we want to be next,” Blake said, shoving both hands in his pockets. Under his breath, not nearly quiet enough, he added, “Small-town cops.”

  Katherine closed her eyes and breathed deeply before scowling at Blake. Molly wasn’t sure she’d ever seen Sam’s mom scowl. Sheriff Saron crossed his arms over his chest.

  “Seeing as this small-town cop knows about your misdemeanor assault charges, I’d be very careful about what you mutter under your breath, son.”

  Blake’s eyes widened and Molly’s heart sank into her stomach like a rock being tossed into the sea. He’d argued with Skyler, threatened her and he had a history of violence.

  “God. I knew you weren’t good enough for my daughter,” Patty said, throwing her hands up in the air.

  Blake’s shoulders scrunched slightly, but he kept the sneer in place. “Those charges were dropped.” He turned to watch Patty go. “Your daughter loves me and that drives you crazy. Too bad for you that only makes her want me more.”

  Patty didn’t respond as she headed up the porch steps and made her way into the house.

  Looking back at Molly, Blake pleaded with his eyes. “Can you help me find Chantel?”

  “Molly,” Sheriff Saron said, a warning clear as Waterford crystal in his tone.

  Molly hoped the grin she gave him didn’t resemble a grimace. “I’m staying out of it. I just came to see if Katherine needs anything and to get the names of the bridal party and caterers for the newspaper. We’re doing a comparison on the house as it is now and as it was in Patty’s day, but we thought we’d mention the wedding and try to keep the focus on that.”

  Sam’s mom gave her a warm smile that clearly indicated she knew Molly was, at least partially, full of it.

  “I’m glad to hear it. The last thing you need is to be caught up in
another murder case,” the sheriff said, glancing at Katherine.

  Her heart beat against her ribs. “So, it is a murder?”

  “When were you part of another murder?” Blake asked. Molly had forgotten for a second that he was even there.

  “Old news. Sheriff?” She kept her gaze on the older, distinguished and handsome lawman. He and Katherine looked good together. The thought flitted in and out of her head and likewise, so did the hard tone of Blake’s voice when he threatened Skyler. Was that somehow the reason for Chantel’s sudden disappearance?

  Looking at Blake, eager for him to be out of earshot, she kept her tone gentle and said, “There’s another hotel if you’re not comfortable staying at the closest one. It’s just outside of town so you’ll be plenty close.”

  Trying to keep the hope out of her voice so he didn’t suspect her of wanting to speak to the sheriff about him, Molly added a smile to the suggestion.

  Blake’s lips puckered together in a pout. “Fine. I don’t want to be here if Chantel isn’t anyway.”

  He stormed off and Katherine stared after him longer than Molly. When their gazes met, she shook her head. “I thought having a wedding here would be wonderful. It never occurred to me that the entire event would be marred by tragedy.”

  Molly started to reach her hand toward Katherine’s, but the sheriff beat her to it. He looked at Sam’s mom with so much affection, Molly’s breath caught in her lungs.

  “No one could ever have predicted this, Katherine. It’s not your fault.” He looked at Molly, his gaze not nearly as gentle as when he looked at the woman he was clearly falling for.

  “Are you on the record?”

  Molly nearly scowled. It was like she was paparazzi in L.A. or something. “No. And for the record, not all journalists and reporters are slime. When the Britton Bay Bulletin provides information to Britton Bay, we want it to be factual and informative. It’s not a tabloid. And I’m not even one of the writers.” She hated the petulant tone in her voice. But, seriously, she cared about this place and these people, too, and she’d given no one any reason to think otherwise.

  “Of course it’s not, honey. Brandon wasn’t suggesting that. I think everyone is just stressed.” She eyed the sheriff, raising her brows and, not so subtly gestured to Molly with a nod of her head.

  The sheriff sighed so heavily, Molly almost smiled. “I know you’re good at what you do, Molly. I like you, which is why I’m going to tell you to stay out of this. You can go on the record with saying it is being ruled a homicide, but we do not feel the public is in any danger. You, however, with your tendency to snoop, need to be careful.”

  She felt like a child scolded by her father. It didn’t help that she had to quell the urge to stomp her foot. “I do not snoop. But I thank you for the information. Katherine, is there anything you need? Anything I can do?”

  Katherine shook her head, removing her hand from the sheriff’s to rub her own arms briskly, despite the heat. “No. It’s actually quiet right now. The bridesmaids are all in one room texting the bride nonstop. Chantel took off right after the pedicures. Blake should be packing up. I’m not sure where his groomsmen are, and Patty, well. Patty is Patty. Brandon, what about Chantel?”

  He rubbed a hand over his face in such a naturally male gesture of frustration that Molly smiled. “She’s probably just blowing off steam. We have no reason to be concerned yet. It’s been less than two hours.”

  “Um, about that…the whole concern thing…” Molly stopped, pressing her lips together. Should she say it in front of Katherine?

  Brandon straightened, going on alert. “What is it?”

  “Last night, Sam and I heard someone arguing with Skyler. After speaking to Blake just now, I recognize the voice as his.”

  The sheriff—even thinking of him as Brandon seemed akin to calling teachers by their first names—put a hand to Katherine’s shoulder. “Why don’t you go in, honey. I’ll be in shortly to make sure Blake heads on his way.”

  She nodded and smiled at Molly. When she left, Molly’s worry flared. Even strong people could fall. “She’s tired. Visibly. I’ve never seen her at less than one hundred and fifty percent.”

  He, too, watched Katherine go. “She’s an incredible woman. She’ll be okay.” The tone of his voice suggested he’d make sure of it.

  Looking back at Molly, his mouth in a tight line, he studied her just long enough to have her wanting to squirm. She stayed perfectly still.

  “I’m letting the deputies handle this one unless they need me to step in. In particular, Officer Beatty is taking the lead. With my…uh, connection to Katherine, it seemed best. I’ll need you to go talk to him and tell him what you told me. You’re sure it was Blake?”

  “Unfortunately, I’m positive.” She put her hands in her pockets and rocked back on her heels. It was about the only thing she was positive about right now.

  “What were they arguing about?”

  Molly related the argument but cut herself off when Blake came stomping down the steps, a duffel bag thrown over his shoulder.

  “Blake.” Sheriff Saron’s voice would have stopped anyone in their tracks, regardless of their name.

  Blake looked over. “Yeah?”

  “Why don’t I take you over to the hotel? You don’t have a car here, correct?”

  Pursing his lips together, considering, Blake finally shook his head. “No. Thanks.”

  His gaze connected with Molly’s and she saw something she hadn’t expected to—a genuine concern. He loved Chantel. Whatever else could be said about him, true caring was hard to mask. She should know—she practically tap danced when she thought of Sam.

  Molly nodded and Blake’s eyes brightened. He might be the killer. It didn’t feel right, but he was a definite suspect in her books. But she could look into a couple of things and see if there was somewhere close by Chantel might go. The police wouldn’t take it seriously for another forty-six hours and by then…well, look what had happened in the last twenty-four. Besides, something about her just up and leaving felt strange.

  As the sheriff and Blake turned to leave, Molly called the groom’s name. He looked back at her and she did her best to ignore the weight of Saron’s gaze. “Are all of Chantel’s things still here?”

  Blake shook his head. “No. That’s why the cops won’t do anything. They don’t believe me that something happened. Like Patty, they think she just left me, but I’m telling you, she wouldn’t.” He looked at the house, like somehow it was responsible for everything. “She just wanted to get away from here. Not from me.”

  His glare didn’t seem to concern Sheriff Saron. Molly didn’t know what to say so she hung back and watched them go, a dozen thoughts colliding into each other making her brain hurt.

  As she walked toward her cottage, another thought struck her: the male sous chef. And the female one. Where were they? So far, there was a murder, a missing bride, and two wayward chefs. Things were turning into more of a farce than a wedding and Molly worried that things were just getting started.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Molly pulled her portable whiteboard from her bedroom into the living room. She worked best in front of the fireplace because there was more room to pace. Plus, she could put some food out on the counter and snack while she worked. She dumped some salt and vinegar chips into a bowl, telling herself she’d eat healthy later. You need to go to the police. The sheriff told you to. Since when do you buck authority? I’m not; I’m just getting my thoughts in order.

  At least, she was trying to. Jill or Elizabeth would handle putting together a story about the bed-and-breakfast. They might even be able to pull some archive pictures of it from years ago. They wouldn’t have the story on her desk for editing for a bit yet, so she had some time. And a lot on her mind. She nearly smiled when she realized it was easier to think about the mystery spinning around her than the way
Sam made her feel.

  Pulling the cap off of a dry erase marker, she put Skyler’s name in the middle of the board. What did she know? Off to the right of the board, she made a list.

  1. Skyler argued with Blake.

  2. Blake threatened Skyler around ten p.m. last night

  3. Skyler tweeted at one a.m.

  4. Chantel was crying at the beach this morning

  She drew a line from the first item and put a note that Blake had a history of assault. She was almost positive that Sheriff Saron wouldn’t want her to share that tidbit of information. Speaking of information…she’d looked up the other chefs’ names. Kyle Wilks and Shannon Crombie.

  1. Kyle was sleeping with Skyler

  2. Skyler broke it off the night she died

  3. Likely that Skyler died of unnatural causes

  4. Police suspected Bella because of the take-out drink cup

  5. DeeDee said the body looked bloated and puffy

  6. Skyler had allergies—was she poisoned?

  7. Death being ruled as a murder

  The list was getting longer, but it wasn’t helping her narrow down her thoughts on why Skyler would have been killed. She closed the cap on the marker, then tapped it against her chin. Walking back and forth in front of the board, she could admit that she was short on ideas. Her stomach growled again and she went back to the chips, grabbing a handful so she could nibble on them while she stared at her list. She couldn’t decide if the wedding and the murder were actually connected or if the chef’s death was just really poorly timed.

  Okay. Skyler was possibly poisoned. With what? The food allergies! She wrote allergies beside Skyler’s name. Did the police know about them? Most likely, if they were ruling it a homicide, they had an inkling of the cause of death. But did anyone else know? Had it been an accident or perfectly executed murder? No outside ingredients. Skyler wasn’t friendly, but she clearly set parameters so people knew what she needed. She really did need to go speak to Chris. He might say something that would provide a clue as to why anyone would poison an award-winning cook. Surely, having a lousy attitude or a thousand-pound chip on her shoulder wasn’t a reason to kill.