Deadly News

by Jody Holford

  Because he’d wanted her to stay out of it. Blinking as her eyes adjusted to the darkness, Molly shoved back the covers.

  “I’m on my way into the office. This is news. It needs to be printed. We’re going to do a special edition and have it out by seven a.m.”

  Molly looked at the clock. It was just past midnight. “You want me to come in.”

  She heard the sound of keys and a door opening.

  “I’ll meet you there. It’s been a long time since there was something controversial to put in the paper. Clay confessed. I can’t even wrap my head around it, but it’s our news and we need to print it before someone in a neighboring county picks it up. This is our story and we’re going to share it the way we want it. You in?”

  He confessed? After lying about even being at the scene, he’d admitted to murdering his dad. Her mouth hung open, but she was already moving. Molly wasn’t sure why Alan would offer her a choice on coming in, but there was only one in her mind. “Be there in twenty.”

  Wearing sweats and an oversized hoodie, she grabbed Tigger’s leash and one of his toys and they were at the Bulletin with a few minutes to spare. She parked in the front because the streetlights lit the sidewalks. Alan was already at the worktable. He wore a ball cap, sweater, and a pair of shorts. Molly smiled, despite their reason for being there.

  “Nice outfit,” she said, letting Tigger go say hello.

  Alan crouched down to greet the pup. “Back at you. Hey fella. You’re turning out to be a keeper.”

  He definitely was. Molly shrugged off her laptop and purse and took a look at the layout Alan had started.

  clay reynolds confesses to murdering his father. Well, Molly thought, cringing, it was a headline.

  “Too much?” Alan asked, standing behind her.

  “It’s true, whether it’s harsh or not.”

  “Did you talk to the sheriff?”

  Alan nodded, all but buzzing like a man who’d had too much caffeine and too little sleep. “On the record. They have Clay’s DNA at the scene. Apparently, he and Vernon had argued and Clay punched his father in the face. He admitted to lying about being at the scene and apparently they’d already known he was at your house. Which you didn’t tell me, by the way. Their fighting got out of hand and the result was Vernon’s death.”

  “What were they fighting about? What would have made Clay so mad, he’d kill over it?” Molly said.

  Alan frowned. “Right now, we don’t need why. We just need to be the source people go to for the right information.”

  She knew that. Of course she knew that. But things getting out of hand meant another punch or harsh words. Not a steel mug to the head.

  As they worked together, Alan on Photoshop and Molly on the actual story, Tigger snored at her feet.

  “How did you find out?” Molly asked, covering her yawn.

  “Gretta called Elizabeth in a panic. She called me. I guess Gretta figured I’d post bail for him, but truthfully, she ought to do that. The woman cut and run years ago. Least she can do is stand by her son now.”

  Molly thought about that as she typed up the story, including the quotes from the sheriff and what was known of Clay and Vernon’s relationship. She summarized the events surrounding Vernon’s death.

  “Do we want to add anything else about Vernon and his career or are we doing that in another issue?” Molly asked.

  Alan cracked open a can of cola. “Let’s save it. We can run our regular edition on Sunday. I just don’t want everyone running around speculating. I know they will, but at least this way, everyone is starting from the same point. There’s no way to limit the gossip, but with both the death and the arrest happening to two of my employees, I feel like we should be the ones to lead the conversation.”

  It made sense, as much as anything could, going on three in the morning.

  “You spoke with Vicky,” Alan said as they worked.

  “I did. Your wife is lovely. And very brave.”

  Alan glanced over and their eyes met. Molly saw the gratitude in his. “She’s my whole world. If I felt even a fraction of what I feel for her for this paper, I probably would have taken better care of it. Mind you, I didn’t do such a great job taking care of her, either, did I?”

  Molly stopped typing. “You can’t do that to yourself. You’re giving her everything she needs.” She didn’t know what else to say, as she couldn’t fathom how hard the entire thing had been on him and his family.

  They finished up just before five and Alan said he’d take care of getting the couriers to drop papers off at the bins and stores. It was the first time in many years that the Bulletin had done a midweek run. Molly was both sad—for the reason behind it—and happy—to be part of it.

  Alan locked up behind Molly, a tired smile on his face when he waved. As she pulled out onto Main Street, the sun was lifting itself from the depths of the ocean. Even with her eyes heavy and her body weighted down by the need for sleep, she couldn’t help but pull into the parking lot closest to the pier.

  “Come on. Let’s watch the sunrise,” she said to Tigger.

  The empty beach offered a kind of peace Molly hadn’t expected. So much had happened over the last several days and she felt like she’d been stuck in one of those human-size rotating balls. Constantly spinning. Now it was over, but nothing felt still. The breeze kicked up bits of sand, but Molly didn’t mind. She and Tigger found a spot, close to the water, and settled in, sitting side by side to watch the sun bleed several shades of orange and yellow across the sky.

  When she felt as if she could fall asleep, right there in the sand, she tugged on Tigger’s leash and they headed back to the car. By the time she got into the carriage house, she barely managed to slip off her hoodie and sweats before she crawled into bed. Even in her tired state, she knew she didn’t want sand between her sheets.

  * * * *

  Tigger’s bark snapped Molly out of a sound sleep and had her shooting out of the bed before she even realized where she was. He ran back and forth between her bedroom and the front door like he didn’t understand her lack of enthusiasm over having a visitor. A knock sounded—probably not the first, if Tigger’s excitement was anything to go by. Molly grabbed her robe and swung it over her body as she shuffled her feet to the door.

  When she pulled it open, the last person she expected to see was standing on the other side. Bearing gifts. Molly practically drooled.

  “Did I wake you?” Bella asked, her tone raising a bit in surprise.

  Molly ran a hand through her hair, got it tangled halfway, and gave up. She stepped back. “Yeah. I have the day off. I was at the paper most of the night.”

  Bella nodded. “Right. I saw it. It’s a good article. Disturbing and shocking, but well written.”

  Molly shut the door behind Bella, her stomach growling at the sight of the square, white box with little muffin imprints on it.

  “Thank you. It was a hard one to write, but Alan wanted it out first thing.”

  She led Bella into the kitchen area and started the coffee. Her unexpected visitor sat on one of the stools. Molly needed to be a tad more awake to figure out what it was Bella was doing at her house at—

  “Holy goodness! It’s noon?” Molly said, looking at the time on her stove.

  Bella laughed. “Yes. Hence the surprise when I realized I woke you.”

  Turning, her mouth watered as the coffee began to drip and she tried again to smooth her hair. “It’s nice to see you. I wanted to apologize again for the other day. I was out of line.”

  Bella glanced down at the pastry box and busied herself with opening it. “That’s actually why I came by.” Her eyes popped back up to meet Molly’s.

  “When the news came out this morning, it kind of hit me that not only did you work with both the…victim and the killer, but you found Vernon and you had to write about Cl
ay. I was embarrassed the other morning when you were so…inquisitive about Callan and me, but you’ve had so much going on. The last thing you need is someone holding a grudge over something so small. I’m sorry I overreacted.”

  Relief rushed out of Molly’s lungs in one fast breath. “You didn’t. Like I said, I was out of line. Finding Vernon’s body was horrible. I felt like I had to find answers and I’d heard he and Callan fought and it’s ridiculous, I know now, but I just wanted to rule him out. I’m sorry if that makes things worse, but I want to be honest so you know why I was asking. The very last thing I want is to have any animosity with anyone, really. But most of all with the very best baker I’ve ever met. I have a near-obsessive love for your scones,” Molly said.

  Bella’s laughter chimed through the room and Tigger joined in, jumping up on her leg for attention.

  “You’re in luck. That’s exactly what I brought,” Bella said, sliding the box over.

  “You are a magician with flour and sugar. Thank you. For those and for taking the chance and coming over here. I was going to swing by your shop and try to apologize again.”

  Molly avoided looking at the scones on her way by the counter to let Tigger outside. When she came back, she grabbed a couple of plates and two mugs.

  “No more apologies. I’d heard about the fight between Callan and Vernon too, but I’ve known them both for so long that it didn’t mean anything to me. Both of them loved to rile each other up.” There was a sadness in Bella’s tone that reminded Molly how much death could shake people up. Change them and make them look at things differently.

  Pouring two cups of coffee, Molly joined Bella at the counter. It was hard to say which was better, the company or the baked goods. Happiness helped wake Molly up. Maybe now that things were getting resolved, she could start building a quote-unquote normal life. She already had a great guy and a good job. She loved where she lived. Adding a few girlfriends to the mix felt like one more brick in the new path she was paving for herself.

  Tigger came bouncing back in through the open back door and attacked his food bowl.

  “Gosh, he’s just the cutest,” Bella said. She picked up her mug with both hands and took a sip.

  Molly had already finished half her cup and was ready for more. Bella had probably been up for hours, though. “He is. I really did not mean to keep him, but honestly, if someone claimed him now, I don’t know what I’d do.”

  Bella’s light blue eyes twinkled. “Not the only cutie you have in your life.”

  Feeling her cheeks heat, Molly set down her cup and broke off another bite of scone, popping it in her mouth and pointed to her cheek.

  Bella laughed. “I can wait until you finish.”

  Once she did, Molly figured if she was going to have girlfriends, this was a good way to start. “I came here pretty certain I wanted nothing to do with men for a long time. Things are still new, but it feels…different. I try to think that things happen the way they’re supposed to, so I’ll just hope it goes somewhere good.”

  The sweet smile on Bella’s face matched the warm feeling Molly had in her chest. “I can understand that. Especially lately. I want to hang onto anything good I can. Be honest: Do you think Clay did it?”

  Unease fluttered restlessly in her stomach. “He confessed. I knew he lied about being at the scene, but if I’m being completely truthful, murdering someone— even in the heat of the moment—seems like it would take far more effort than I’ve seen him exert.” It bothered her that she still didn’t know the why of it. The article she’d typed up this morning simply said that Clay’s DNA was found at the scene, he’d admitted to arguing with his father, and they had a contentious relationship. His claim was things went too far and the death, while he may have caused it, was accidental.

  Bella rose and made herself comfortable on the couch, which was all the invitation Tigger needed to join her. Molly filled her coffee and sat in the chair, curling her legs under her.

  Bella spoke the thoughts Molly had been pondering. “I wonder if it was an accident. You know? He got all mad at his dad and just punched him one time too many. Or too hard. Or in the wrong spot. Things happen like that.”

  Pausing before her cup made it to her mouth, Molly’s lips tightened. Vernon had died from being hit with the stainless steel mug. It had his blood on it and Molly knew the autopsy listed blunt force trauma as cause of death. Alan had been able to get more detailed facts from the sheriff than Molly had from Officer Beatty.

  “I don’t know,” she said truthfully. She tried to picture Clay punching his dad and then just picking up the travel mug and smashing him with it. Why wouldn’t he just keep using his fists as most men were apt to do?

  Okay. You’re barely on your second cup and you think you can make sense of why he did what he did? The mug did seem like a spur-of-the-moment sort of weapon.

  “I’m just grateful he’s locked up. It’s so strange to think of how many times I’ve sold him muffins or scones. And the whole time, he was a murderer.”

  Molly took a long swallow of coffee, then set the mug down on the short table in front of her. “Well, it’s not as if he plotted to kill Vernon. I’d say, from the scene and the way it happened, that it was an escalation of temper and the violence came from that.”

  “Hmm. I guess you’re right. I just couldn’t imagine living with myself if I’d hurt someone. I couldn’t even stand the thought of you thinking I was still mad at you,” Bella said. She gave Tigger some rubs and smiled at him affectionately.

  “Yeah. Hard to say what pushes anyone to the breaking point.” Everyone had their own version of a last straw. That didn’t make it okay. In fact, in Molly’s mind, it just made the world a scarier, more unpredictable place.

  “I should get back,” Bella said, nudging Tigger’s head off of her lap.

  Molly walked her to the door, thanking her again for the gesture of friendship. Tigger whined as they watched Bella walk back to her car. Shutting the door behind her, Molly prioritized her day in her mind. Grabbing her notebook on the way back to the couch, she opened it up, intent on writing a to-do list.

  She flipped past the first pages, the ones with circles and lines leading from Vernon’s name to the people who knew him. She placed several circles around Clay’s name. There was an arrow pointing from Vernon to the interview, with question marks around it. She still needed the transcript. Especially if Vanessa wasn’t going to return her calls. Why had there been such an eclectic mix of items in that box? It didn’t matter anymore, she supposed. Putting the book aside, she picked up her phone and went to her contacts list.

  She nudged Tigger with her foot while listening to the unanswered ring of Vanessa Phillips’s number. She hung up and picked up her book again.

  1. Drop by Mrs. Phillips’s.

  2. Schedule meeting with Jill to talk about a position at the Bulletin.

  Molly felt the childish urge to draw Sam’s name in a heart. She may have had faulty judgment in the past, but she had good feelings about Sam. There was something about his easy smile and the way he looked at her like he really saw her, which made this feel different than her other relationships. Of course, it didn’t hurt that she adored his mother and everyone spoke so highly of him. She smirked at her own thought that he was a man who came highly recommended.

  “Focus.”

  3. Stop by police station to ask if Hannah and Savannah were questioned about damage to the Jeep.

  4. Stop by and get the Jeep. :-)

  With her day mostly set, she went for a shower and got ready to make the most of her first full day off.

  Chapter 22

  Sometimes, Molly wondered why she made lists. Or at least, why she put numbers beside the items. Instead of heading to Vanessa Phillips’s home first, she stopped by Sam’s shop. She hadn’t been inside of the actual building yet, but it was bigger than she expected.

&n
bsp; The lobby was a square, highly functional space. One door led out to the different work bays. Another led to Offices, according to the sign on it. There was a long, tall countertop that stretched across the room. Around the side of it, where employees exited, there was a small hallway that led to the bathroom, which was not for public use.

  Though it smelled of motor oil and air freshener, it was unexpectedly modern. The dark gray tile gave the light gray room warmth and the black-and- white vintage posters of different vehicles made the space seem like a home garage rather than a shop. Molly was about to ring the small silver bell to announce her arrival, as the sign advised—Sam appeared to be very big on signs—when the office door swung open.

  His eyes smiled nearly as much as his mouth when he saw her.

  “Hey. How are you doing?” Coveralls again. How could he look so good in everything?

  “I’m good. I was hoping maybe I could sweet-talk my way into getting my Jeep. I miss it.”

  Sam chuckled and set the papers he was carrying on the counter. He leaned against it, resting an elbow on the top. “Hmm. Give it a try.”

  Her brows came together. “What?”

  “The sweet-talk. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

  When she just stared at him, he arched his brows expectantly.

  Molly’s eyes widened, but she refused to look away. Even with the heat crawling up her neck. “Uh…please?”

  Sam’s laugh took away some of her embarrassment, but she still pulled her bottom lip between her teeth, trying to think of something better to say. She hadn’t expected him to take her literally.

  Reaching out, he tugged gently on a strand of her hair. “That’s weak. You’ll need to work on that.”

  “Ha. I’m operating on less sleep than usual.” She told him about the night, writing up the paper, and Bella’s visit.

  The phone rang, but someone else must have answered it, as it cut off on the third ring.

  “I’m glad you sorted things with her. Not that it was a big deal. It’s crazy to think Clay did this.”