Deadly News

by Jody Holford

  The way he leaned forward a little made it seem like he was still relaxed. Easy. But the serious gaze changed the tone.

  “I took this from Vernon’s car. I’m sorry. There’s nothing in it, not that I can see. But, I wasn’t sure if I should return it to the family or bring it here, so I brought it to you.”

  He straightened, looked at the box. “You took this from his car after his death?”

  She nodded.

  “I drove you to the newspaper office. You didn’t take it with you.”

  Molly looked at her lap. “No. I went back later.”

  “Was his car locked?”

  Staring at her jeans as if they were the most fascinating thing on earth, she nodded with her head down. “Yes.”

  The quiet made her stomach roll, but she kept her gaze down. Breaking and entering didn’t look good on anyone’s record.

  “And you knew how to break into a car?”

  Molly’s gaze snapped up to his. There was a slight quirk to his lips. It matched the arch of his brow. Molly cleared her throat.

  “Y—y—yes?”

  He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose with two fingers. When he lowered them, opening his eyes, his stare pinned her, making her heart skip a beat.

  “Lying to an officer of the law isn’t a great idea, Molly.”

  Nope. Definitely hadn’t been on her to-do list, but throwing the cute mechanic, who did no more than help her, under the bus wasn’t on that list, either.

  “I know.”

  She pulled her hands onto her lap and clasped them. He glanced at the box, then back at her.

  “But you’re still saying you broke into the car on your own to get this box?”

  She stretched her lips upward into what she hoped looked like a smile. “Yes. That’s my final answer.”

  His lips twitched. “It’s not a game show, Molly. Why’d you take it? What is it?”

  “It’s the story Vernon was working on. He’d gone out to interview Vanessa Phillips and she gave him a box of photos and such.”

  Officer Beatty—Chris—pulled the box toward him and lifted the lid. “Can’t imagine he got much from the woman. Never can tell which days she’ll be lucid.”

  Molly’s heart clutched like a giant had stepped on it. “I’m sorry? What do you mean?”

  Chris frowned. “It’s only a rumor, mind you, but I heard she’s in the early stages of dementia.”

  Molly felt like she’d been punched in the chest. Her breath caught painfully. If Vanessa Phillips was ill, would Clara have been fine with the interview being published? She’d said her mother was saddened by Vernon’s passing, but hadn’t mentioned anything else. Savannah had such a strange vibe. Like she’d been groomed to say and do the right things. Because image matters. But if image mattered that much and the elder Phillips was losing her memory…

  Was that what got Vernon killed? “Oh.” Molly couldn’t think of what else to say.

  He shifted through the contents, flipped through a couple of pictures. “You keep anything?”

  “No!” She breathed through her nose. Photos on her own phone didn’t count. “Of course not. I just wanted to look through it. I…I couldn’t help feeling somewhat responsible for Vernon’s death.”

  Chris leaned back in his chair. “Why’s that?”

  She worried he was going to grab a notepad or quickly put his uniform back on and make this official, so she rushed through her answer. “I pushed him to be more thorough with the Phillips story. He didn’t want to interview her and even after he agreed, he didn’t want to go out to her house. Then I make him do it and he hates me for that and for being basically his new boss and then all of a sudden he’s dead.”

  Chris digested this. She could see him doing it—moving her words around in his head to sort them out.

  Finally, he leaned forward. “It’s not your fault, Molly.”

  Her throat thickened. “But you let Elizabeth go home despite the emails, so you obviously think she’s no longer a suspect. I haven’t seen Clay again, but I’m guessing if you were worried, you’d have arrested him. And Callan didn’t do it because he was with Bella.” She slapped a hand over her mouth.

  Officer Beatty—he was definitely in officer mode, even without the uniform—stiffened. “You trying to do our jobs, Ms. Owens?”

  She cringed. “No. Of course not. I think you and Sheriff Saron are wonderful. Very kind and certainly thorough, but like I said, I felt a certain…weight of responsibility and couldn’t just let it go.”

  He shook his head. “Callan Blair? Why’d you suspect him?”

  Molly felt her neck warm. “He argued with Vernon.”

  Chris chuckled. “Everyone who knew him argued with Vernon.”

  He sighed and put the lid back on the box. “Let us do our jobs, Molly. It’s not your fault and certainly not on you to find the killer.”

  “But who do you even have as suspects? I was thinking, if Vernon felt like he was onto something—which is why I thought whatever it was might be in that box—maybe his phone records would be worth looking at.”

  Once again, he shook his head, but this time he stood. He pulled a small, square leather folder from his back pocket and flipped it open. A gold and blue police badge sparkled even in the dimly-lit room. “You have one of these?”

  Molly lowered her gaze. “No. Of course not.”

  “Then let us handle things.”

  It wasn’t a request. She nodded and pointed at the box. “Am I in trouble for the box?”

  He picked it up. “Not this time, but I’m going to advise you to find a better hobby than breaking into cars. I’ll take a look through this and then return it to Mrs. Phillips.”

  “Okay.” She felt like a scolded child.

  Chris walked her to the lobby. “Trust us, Molly. We may not get a lot of this sort of thing, but we’re taking it seriously. We’re following every lead. Just because we don’t post it on Twitter, doesn’t mean we’re not doing it.”

  Ouch. “I didn’t mean to imply otherwise,” she said, hoping he could see—hear—that she meant it.

  “I know. You’re new in town and this is about the worst welcome anyone could have had. But we got this covered. All you need to do is work on making Britton Bay your home. It’s a good one.”

  She could only nod, knowing she was trying to do just that. Still, as she drove to Alan’s home, which was on the upper bluff of the bay, Molly couldn’t shake the feeling she was missing something. Something right in front of her.

  Chapter 17

  Molly arrived at the adorable cottage-style home with a clutch of flowers and a bottle of what she was assured was good red. The home was smaller than she’d expected, given Alan’s family’s long history of success in the town. But as she pulled her Jeep over to the side, where an area had been paved for extra vehicles, she saw the view. Getting out of her Jeep, she grabbed the flowers and wine and took a deep breath. Elizabeth was already there. Molly had parked beside her. Everything is fine. You would know if you couldn’t trust these people. Molly froze. That was her biggest problem. She didn’t trust herself to know.

  The air coming in off of the ocean was vitalizing. Waves crashed loudly below, welcoming her to this secluded, little piece of heaven. Alan’s Mercedes was parked in the carport behind a bright red sports car. The front yard was a grass mound leading to the cliffs and Molly fought the urge to go to them and just stand there, looking out at the water.

  It overwhelmed her sometimes, how insignificant they all were in comparison to the world around them. Would anyone miss her if she wasn’t here the next day? Of course they would. Get out of your mood! She couldn’t help it. Handing over the box to Officer Beatty had felt akin to giving up. Though he assured her they were looking into everything, she got the impression it wasn’t their biggest priority. Vernon mi
ght not have been a nice man, but no one deserved to die at the hands of someone else. She pulled out her phone. She trusted these people, but she wasn’t going to be the babysitter walking back into the house in a slasher film.

  Sam

  Hey. It’s Molly. I know we trust everyone in this town, but just in case, I’m at Alan’s home having dinner with him, his wife, and Elizabeth. I’m wearing a pair of dark blue capris and a pink and white striped top. If it should come up. You know, like if you have to say what I was last seen wearing.

  She pressed send, feeling like an idiot. But a smart one. Her phone rang a second later and Sam’s laughter came through the speaker.

  She whispered over the sound of the water. “It’s not funny.”

  “You’re right. It’s not.” But he was still laughing. “I’m sorry. But that has to be the most unique text I’ve ever read. It sounds like you look very cute, though.”

  “You’ll feel bad if something happens to me.”

  The laughter stopped. “You’re absolutely right. I’d feel terrible if something happened to you, Molly. So if you really feel like you’re in any jeopardy, get in your Jeep right now. I’ll meet you somewhere.”

  Tears stung her eyes. His willingness to take her seriously even when she was being ridiculous was making her fall for him, even more than his smile.

  “I’m being stupid. I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I’m fine.”

  “What’s wrong with you is you had to see something no one should have to see. I know you have reason to suspect just about everyone, honey, but I’m telling you, I grew up with a lot of these people. When my dad died, Alan stepped in, made sure my mom and I had everything we needed. He helped my mom with the funeral arrangements when I was useless to her.”

  Sadness dug a hole right under her heart, just big enough for it to sink down into. Even through that, the endearment sent sparks along her skin, making her wish he was with her for dinner tonight.

  “You’re right. I guess I just don’t trust my own judgement. I’ve thought people were trustworthy before and I’ve been wrong.”

  She looked back at the house, then at the water. She needed to get inside.

  “We’ve all been wrong before. Maybe you should forgive yourself for believing in someone so you don’t second-guess yourself when you’re ready to do it again.”

  Like the waves did to the rocks below, happiness pushed against her, nearly knocking her back a step.

  Deep breath. “Okay. I’m going inside before I’m late.”

  “Night, Molly. Maybe you could text me when you get home?”

  She owed him that much and she liked that he wanted her to. “I can do that.”

  “Probably too much to hope you’ll tell me what you’re wearing later?”

  Molly laughed and all of her unease dissipated, trickling away so she could breathe.

  “Good night, Sam.”

  With the last of her moroseness gone, she walked the cobblestone path to the arched doorway that led to a small porch. The front door was painted a bright burgundy.

  Shifting the wine under one arm, she knocked. Within seconds she heard footsteps. Alan answered, looking freshly shaven and…relaxed. He wore a pair of jeans and a T-shirt, which made Molly smile. He looked different out of his suit.

  “You made it. Come on in,” he said, stepping back and opening the door wider.

  When Molly crossed the threshold, the warm colors and charming decor immediately made her feel at home. This was not just a house. It was where a family lived. Loved. Counted on each other. As Alan shut the door, she slipped off her shoes, looking at the dozens of frames lining the wall of the entryway. His family and him—a timeline of happiness. She couldn’t equate the man she knew, the man in these photos, with a cheater.

  When she turned, he had his hands in his pockets, waiting patiently.

  “Sorry. I love photographs.”

  “No worries. We do too. Vicky was a professional photographer for a while. She used to help with the paper.”

  His voice trailed off and Molly wondered if he’d stopped before the word until. She’d helped with the paper…until.

  She stood facing him, meeting his gaze. It was a warm and kind one. One she knew she could trust. She handed the wine over. He gave a little start and pulled his hands from his pockets to accept it.

  “Thank you. You didn’t need to do that.”

  “My mom and dad would be appalled if I hadn’t,” Molly said.

  Following him along the light hardwood floors, Molly was charmed by the arched doorways and huge windows. If she ever bought a house, she’d want great big windows with a view of the ocean like they had. The hallway led to a quaint little kitchen that, while modern, seemed like a throwback to another time. Sitting at a round table was Elizabeth and Alan’s wife. She was every bit as pretty in person as she was in photographs. She stood, an easy smile making her dark eyes seem bigger.

  “You must be Molly,” she said, walking toward her and pulling her into an unexpected hug.

  Molly returned it lightly, but when her hand pressed to the woman’s back, she felt the outline of bones. Her features suggested she’d always been a small woman, but clearly, she’d lost some weight. From her illness?

  Molly pulled back, brought the flowers around. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Vicky. These are for you.”

  Her eyes lit up and Molly saw the subtle shadows below them. “They’re beautiful. Thank you.”

  The scent of spices made Molly’s stomach growl. Someone knew how to cook.

  “How are you, Molly?” Elizabeth greeted. She’d stood as well.

  “I’m good. This place is so beautiful. Do you live around here as well, Elizabeth?”

  Vicky got a vase from beneath the old farm-style sink. “Just down the road. Thank God. Don’t know what I’d do without her.”

  The affection in Elizabeth’s eyes for her friend was undeniable. Sam was right. Whatever else may have happened, these people were trustworthy. She didn’t know what the story was, but it wasn’t anything like Vernon had hinted at in his emails.

  “I have a little cottage further down the bluff. Doesn’t have as great a view, but I do love it,” Elizabeth said.

  “Molly brought wine, sweetheart. Anyone want a glass?” Alan set it on the countertop and went to a cabinet by the table to retrieve wineglasses.

  “I’ll have a small glass,” Molly said.

  “I’d better not,” Vicky said.

  Alan glanced at her and Molly wondered if she’d made a mistake bringing the wine. “I’ll grab you a ginger ale. Elizabeth?”

  “Absolutely. After the last few days, I’m likely to polish off the bottle.”

  The three of them laughed and Molly took that as another positive sign. There was nothing funny about being accused of murder, so clearly none of them were worried. She hoped that, aside from being a nice evening, tonight proved informative.

  “Please, sit. Tell me about yourself,” Vicky said as Alan poured wine.

  Molly set her purse on the counter, keeping her phone in her back pocket. She sat across from Elizabeth at the table, noting it’d already been set.

  “Well, I’ve figured out the way things work in a small town remarkably quick, so I’d say you probably already know a few things about me,” Molly said.

  Alan passed her a half glass of wine before giving Elizabeth her quite full glass. He poured one for himself as well.

  “You have learned quickly,” Vicky said, arranging the flowers. “Let me see. You’re from California. Living in the carriage home behind the bed-and-breakfast. Dating the very cute Sam and you have a new puppy.”

  Molly’s mouth hung open a little. Wow. How was it that no one knew who killed Vernon? This town was like walking around in a glass house. She sipped her wine, enjoying the crisp sweetness
of the berry flavor on her tongue.

  “I feel like I’m being filmed. All right, except Sam and I are just friends,” she said.

  Elizabeth tried to hide the twitching of her lips but lost the battle. “I heard Cora asked you not to be so friendly.”

  This time her mouth did drop open. “Is someone following me with a camera?”

  Alan laughed as he opened a can of soda for his wife and poured it into a tall glass. “You’d think, right?”

  Elizabeth sipped her wine and set it down. “I ran into Henry while I was filling up my car. He said to tell you not to listen to what Cora said. And I quote, ‘If Shannon thought less of herself, she wouldn’t need her grandmother trying to marry her off.’”

  Pressing her lips together, Molly wasn’t sure what to say. Despite trying not to, she laughed. “This is like some strange reality show. I’m not sure if I love it or fear it.”

  Alan pressed a kiss to Vicky’s cheek as he set the soda beside her. They exchanged a look that could only be described as loving. Molly’s heartstrings tightened. She could definitely see why Sam believed good things about this man. Then focus on what you actually see. Not speculation or rumors. Or emails that didn’t make sense.

  Vicky joined them at the table with her soda, setting the bright spray of flowers in the center of the table. “So, tell me the parts I missed.”

  “Nothing to tell, really. I was looking for a change of pace and location when I stumbled across Alan’s ad for the editor job. I’m one of those ‘things happen for a reason’ believers, so I took it as a sign. Packed up my Jeep and headed here. If it weren’t for everything that’s happened with Vernon, it would be almost too good to be true.”

  “Nasty business. And scary,” Vicky said, shuddering visibly.

  While Alan checked on dinner and readied a salad, Molly became more comfortable with both Elizabeth and Vicky. By the time they actually started their meal—a delicious spread of roasted chicken, baked potatoes, and a green salad—Molly felt as if she’d known them for much longer than she had.

  “This is delicious,” Molly said, swallowing another bite of chicken.