by Jody Holford
“I’m sorry you had to go through all of this. Where did they leave things?”
A deep, breathy sigh came through the phone. “Vernon and I had exchanged some emails. When Clay let them know I’d warned him to stop blackmailing me, they brought in his laptop and printed out the exchange. They went through the entire thing with me. Point by exhausting point. Eventually, they let me go. They said they’re satisfied, for now. But I didn’t kill him, Molly. Can’t they see it makes no sense?”
Nothing made any sense. Molly leaned against the open doorframe, being careful to avoid looking down at the crushed flowers. Instead, she watched Tigger dance across the lawn. The sun was still high in the sky, but the breeze cooled the early evening. Nothing made sense to her—not Alan and Elizabeth, Clay’s lies, Callan’s temper—none of it. She didn’t see how it all fit. Maybe Elizabeth had told the police the truth and just didn’t feel comfortable telling Molly? She doesn’t really know you, so why would she open up? Maybe she had told the police everything and if they let her go, it was because they’d cleared her as a suspect.
“I’m sorry that all of this is happening,” Molly said.
She wasn’t exactly sure what was happening, since Elizabeth’s explanation only led to more questions. But they weren’t questions she felt comfortable asking.
“Thank you. You’re such a sweet girl. What a terrible thing you’ve walked into. Don’t let it scare you off. We need you,” Elizabeth said.
The sentiment was like a good bear hug. It was nice to be needed. Plus, she liked the job and wanted to stay.
“It takes more than that to scare me,” Molly said. In truth, what really scared her was the idea that the items lying on her counter could be clues to Vernon’s death. Clues he wouldn’t have had if she hadn’t forced him to go to the house. With Elizabeth cleared as a suspect—if that was true—that was one less person to focus on. She glanced over at the papers and pictures. It’s not your fault. She still didn’t know why he died and clearly, neither did the police. All the more reason to keep digging. She might not have swung the cup, but if the cause of his death had been in that box, she owed it to Vernon to find the killer.
Chapter 14
Molly parked beside Sam’s truck, but he was already inside. Nerves crested like waves in her stomach. Even though they were showing up separately, they’d be eating a meal together. In a small town, dining together at the local hot spot was the equivalent of having a date broadcast over the jumbotron at a sporting event.
Sam waved from a booth near the kitchen, which was far more private than the spot she’d chosen the other night in front of the window. Being a Monday, there weren’t that many customers. Molly made her way back to Sam as Calliope came out of the swinging door that led to the kitchen. She carried an oval platter piled with delicious-looking fried foods in one hand and two plates in the other.
“Hey doll. How you doing?” Calliope paused briefly and Molly couldn’t imagine standing there balancing all that weight.
The smell of the food she carried made Molly’s mouth water. “I’m good.”
“Back in a sec,” the perky redhead promised.
Sam stood when Molly reached the side of the table. She sat across from him and he took his seat. They stared at each other a moment. Under the table, Molly ran her thumb over her jean-clad thigh, telling herself not to be nervous. It had been a long time since she’d had a date and an even longer time since she’d wanted—so badly—for one to go well.
“You look like you might bolt,” Sam said. One side of his mouth quirked up.
“I won’t. Doesn’t mean it didn’t cross my mind. But I won’t.” Might as well be honest.
Sam folded his hands together and stretched them out on the table. Molly kept hers where they were, on her lap, but maintained eye contact. I’m no chicken. Just a crocodile? Mortification made her want to squirm as she recalled her words.
Sam pulled his right hand from his left, turned his wrist and gestured with his index finger to lean closer. Molly leaned her upper body in.
“How about if I promise to work hard not to give you a reason to bolt. Would that relax you a bit?”
Hmm. Mr. Mechanic was perceptive. She knew she couldn’t base her future on her past and not every man—heck, not every person—was out to rip her to shreds. But a girl had to at least attempt to protect her slightly dented heart.
“That sounds…doable.” She put her hands on the table.
Country music pumped through the speakers just loud enough to hear over the talking and laughing. Dean was hollering to someone in the kitchen. When he saw Molly through the pass, he lifted his spatula and winked.
Molly looked back at Sam. “Sorry. I’m being weird. I guess I was just a little nervous.”
Sam’s smile didn’t help with that. “It’s all right. Nothing to be nervous about. Just two friends having a bite to eat.”
Right. She could tell by the way his gaze was nearly lighting her on fire that both of them felt something a little bigger than friendship. But it was a nice start.
Molly picked up a menu, glancing up when she heard Calliope’s laugh bounce through the place. It made her smile and finally, she exhaled a deep breath.
“What’s your favorite?” Molly asked.
Sam was looking at his menu. His eyes met hers over the top of it. “Well, they don’t serve crocodile, so that’s out.”
Oh. My. God. She could feel the red on her cheeks. She pulled the menu closer to her face so Sam couldn’t see her. But she could hear him laughing his handsome butt off. She giggled despite the bone-deep embarrassment.
“You’re terrible,” Molly said around a laugh from behind the menu.
“Aw, come on. That was the cutest thing,” Sam said, tugging at her menu.
“Nope. Go away. We’re eating like this.”
“You’re gonna need both those hands if you get another burger, doll,” Calliope said.
Molly lowered the menu. Great. More witnesses to her dorkitude. “Hi Calliope.”
The waitress tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and tipped her head. “Hi Molly. How you doing? I heard you walked into something awful. You holding up okay?”
Closing the menu, realizing that the switch in topic had doused both her embarrassment and her smile, she nodded. “I’m okay. I’ll feel better—like everyone else, I’m sure—when the police know who did it and why.”
Sam lowered his menu, his expression serious. “They will. They’ll get it sorted.”
Calliope clucked her tongue. “I sure hope you’re right, Sam.” She waved a hand dismissively and then pulled a notepad from her apron. Her bright green T-shirt read Waitress Power. “Enough of this sad talk. What can I get you two?”
Sam glanced at Molly, waiting. “I’ll start with a cola, but I need another minute with the menu.”
“Same,” Sam said.
“Back in a sec,” Calliope said.
Molly started to pick up her menu, but Sam’s long fingers pressed it down. She looked up through lowered lashes, feeling her face warm again.
“You know I was just teasing you, right? I like the way your cheeks flush pink when I do.”
She bit the inside of her cheek. “That’s fine. Just be warned that as soon as you do something silly, I’m going to tease you mercilessly over it.”
Sam chuckled and removed his hand. “Duly noted and may I just say, you spend any amount of time with me, I’m positive I’ll give you a reason to do just that.”
The idea of spending more time with him certainly appealed. They decided to order the appetizer platter and share. It had looked so good going by, Molly wanted to give it a try and it was something she’d never get on her own.
Calliope took their order when she brought their sodas and to Molly’s surprise, didn’t say anything about the two of them being together. Just wait ‘ti
l she catches you alone and she’ll mention it. Molly smiled, knowing she was right.
Sam told her about his day, doing a couple of brake jobs and some office work.
“I hate that part of it, but I can’t see paying someone for what I know how to do,” he said. He took a drink of his cola.
“I guess not, but if you dislike it and can afford to have someone else do it, it’ll free up your time for doing more of what you love. Which I’m guessing is the working-on-cars part.”
“It is. I’m going to give it the summer and see where I’m at. If things just keep getting busier, I’m going to have to hire someone to take over that part.”
“Did you text your cousin?” Molly asked.
Sam snapped his fingers and pointed at her as he dug his phone out of his pocket with his other hand. “I did. Let me see your phone; I’ll put her number in there for you. You can call her whenever you want. I don’t know if you need to talk to Alan or if you want to talk to her first and then him, but I told her you’d be in touch.”
Molly slid her phone over, trying to think of a way to subtly suggest he put his own number in with his cousin’s. She didn’t realize how out of practice she was at the whole dating thing.
“What’s your cousin’s name?”
Sam’s thumbs were tapping over Molly’s screen, but he glanced up with a smile. “Jill. You’ll like her.”
As he slid her phone back to her, his own buzzed. Molly tried to hide her disappointment. Why didn’t you just ask for his number? He looked down at his screen with a smile and she tried not to let that irritate her. It’s fine. Lots of people text during dinner. On dates. When he started tapping a response to whatever had come through on his phone, Molly bit her lip, tilting her chin down so Sam couldn’t see her frown. Maybe she was misreading his signals. Maybe they weren’t signals at all. Could be they really were just two friends grabbing a bite to eat. Molly slid her own into the side of her purse, but it chimed loudly, signaling an incoming text. She ignored it because that was the polite thing to do.
“You going to answer that?” Sam asked, lowering his phone.
With a tight smile, Molly shook her head. “It can wait.”
Sam’s brows furrowed together. “What if it can’t? What if it’s important?”
She doubted it was, but now she also doubted it wasn’t. She pulled her phone out with a huff. Molly was grateful she didn’t have a mirror in front of her, because if she did, she’d be staring at a reflection of herself grinning like a smitten idiot.
Sam: I’m glad you said yes to dinner. I have your number now and it won’t be the last time I ask, just so you know.
Molly glanced up and met his playful gaze. “You think you’re funny.”
He nodded and picked up his soda. “Sort of.”
He was right, but no way would she admit it. Now you have his number and from the sounds of it, the promise of another date. She slipped her phone into her purse as Calliope brought their food.
“I’ll come back in a minute and top up your drinks,” she said, bending to set the tray down.
“Mmm, this looks delicious, Calliope,” Molly said.
The waitress straightened and took a deep breath, letting it whoosh out. “I am overheating like oysters in the fryer. So, when did this happen?” she asked, waving between them.
Molly was happy she hadn’t taken a bite of food or she might have choked on it. Sam was clearly more used to Calliope’s nature. He winked at Molly, putting both of his feet on the outside of her crossed ones. The gestures sent ripples of excitement up her spine. Deep trouble. As if she didn’t already have enough on her plate.
“Settle down, Calli. Molly and I are just having a bite to eat. It’s not hot in here. You feeling okay?” Sam asked. He set an appetizer plate in front of Molly and then himself.
“Nothing hiring a little summer help won’t cure,” she said. She put a hand on her shapely hip and gave Molly a pointed stare.
“You’ve had more happen in a week than most of us do in six months. Next day off you have, you and me? We’re having a full-out gossip session.”
Cornered, Molly could only nod. “Yes, ma’am.”
Calliope laughed and grabbed their glasses. Molly looked at Sam, who was waiting patiently to dig in.
Molly picked up a crisply breaded chicken strip and broke it in half. “I get the impression not many people say no to Calliope or your mom.”
Sam’s laugh was warm. He picked up a mozzarella stick. “I’ve never met any who would.”
Once Calliope brought back their drinks, they dug into their food a bit. Molly didn’t want to keep bringing Vernon up, but his murder was always in the back of her mind. She was surprised when Sam brought it up first.
“So, you got me thinking about Callan and Vernon’s argument. The one you said Calli told you about?”
Pulse picking up, Molly nodded around a mouthful of potato popper.
“Callan brought his car in yesterday and I asked him about it. Like I thought, it was about Vernon cheating him out of money a few games ago. I wasn’t at that one and I didn’t see it go down. He was miffed, but he didn’t seem all that angry about it.”
Because he’d extracted his revenge? “Do you think he’s telling the truth?” Molly asked.
Sam shrugged. “No reason not to. He’s not being looked at by police.”
Yet. But that didn’t mean they wouldn’t be interested in finding out the two men had been at odds or that Callan had quite the temper. But would anyone kill over some poker winnings? It scared her that she knew the answer was yes.
“So if they fought because Vernon did steal or cheat, do you think that would wind Callan up enough to actually kill him?”
Molly leaned in. The restaurant was quiet with just a few other couples scattered throughout, but still, she didn’t feel right about everyone knowing their topic of conversation.
Sam leaned back, wiped his mouth with a napkin. “I don’t. I really don’t. But… I was trying to think like a suspicious newspaper editor,” he said, pausing for a smile.
Molly’s heart flipped over like Tigger when he wanted rubs. “Cute.”
“I asked him, casually, what he’d gotten up to after poker the other night. The one Vernon skipped out on.”
“And?” Molly’s heart tripled its pace.
Sam’s cheeks brightened slightly. “He didn’t do it.”
Frowning, Molly put down the chicken wing she’d chosen. “How do you know?”
Sam picked up his soda and took a long sip, stirring the ice in the bottom with his straw. His eyes darted over her head, but she waited patiently.
“He was otherwise occupied,” he answered when he set the glass down.
Molly snorted, then slapped a hand across her mouth. Sam’s grin widened and he laughed. Taking deep breaths, Molly removed her hand.
“I’m sorry, but it wouldn’t be the first time a man has fabricated that sort of information. You can’t possibly know.”
The twinkle in Sam’s eye kept the conversation amusing enough that Molly was able to push Vernon to the back of her mind for a moment. Just while she teased Sam about having absolute faith in his friend’s tall tales.
Sam pointed at her, wagging his finger jokingly. “Jaded city girl. But, I did think the same. Then I popped by to grab some muffins from Bella. I said something about Callan and she turned about twelve shades of pink. I wasn’t looking to embarrass her—I don’t even remember why I brought up his name. But all of a sudden it was like we were back in high school and she asked if he’d said anything about her. Then she told me they’d met up the other night after poker and she had a real good feeling about things.”
Molly leaned back, not sure whether to laugh at Sam’s high school comment. She wasn’t purposely trying to pull him into a he said-she said situation. Especially with people he
’d known most of his life.
“I wasn’t trying to pull you into anything,” she said in a quiet voice.
Sam pushed the mostly empty platter to the side of the table. “You didn’t. You just made me curious. So I asked some questions. But, you have to admit, it does clear Callan from the list. One less worry, right?”
Why didn’t he think she was crazy for even having a list of people?
Still. She wasn’t entirely convinced. Molly wondered if there was any way to find out Vernon’s time of death. Would Callan have had time to go to Vernon’s after poker, before meeting up with Bella?
Sam frowned. “You’re thinking somethin’ unpleasant.”
She forced a smile. This was his friend. And sort of their first date. She didn’t want to wreck the evening. “No. Sorry. You’re right. Callan probably had other things on his mind if he was on his way to meet up with Bella. I spoke to Elizabeth tonight before I came here.”
“How is she?” Sam asked.
“She’s home.” Biting the inside of her cheek, she decided to take a leap of faith. He’d trusted in her enough to question his friend. She could return the favor and share her thoughts. She leaned forward and told him about the conversation.
“Why wouldn’t she just be open about the emails? She said the police found them on Vernon’s computer. Even when she told me that, she wouldn’t say what the cops suspected Vernon of blackmailing her for—but she and Alan must know how their relationship looks to an outsider. How it obviously looked to Vernon.”
Sam rubbed his hand across his mouth and then folded his arms on the table. “Maybe she’s embarrassed? I mean, whatever it is, and I don’t think it’s cheating, it’s enough to make her look suspicious to the police. That can’t be an easy thing for her or for Alan.”
Molly sighed. “There’s just so many unanswered questions.”
Sam’s lips quirked. “Good thing there are police officers trying to answer them, huh?”