Molly caught Sam’s frown before she turned her body on the bench to better face Calli.
“Who’s missing?”
“Corky.” Calli ran her fingers up and down her soda glass absently.
“Now Calli, he never stays in one spot long.” Sam patted her hand.
Corky Templeton was a homeless man who lived on the streets of Britton Bay. He’d been around so long that no one could really remember when he’d first appeared. He didn’t seem to have family in the area but the residents of the town took care of him however they could. He typically refused to stay at the local shelter just outside of town unless the weather was beyond survivable. Merchants and townsfolk alike treated him to food and beverages but Corky didn’t ask for anything. If he was in an okay mood he’d chat your ear off, but if he was wound up he’d try his best to convince a person someone was after him.
“Why do you think he’s missing, Calli?” Molly asked as a couple of patrons came in, the bell jingling at their arrival.
“He hasn’t been in here in over two weeks. He comes every morning for coffee. Coffee here, day-old muffins from Bella—he won’t take the fresh ones. I know he wanders and he’s gone days in a row before without showing his face. But I can feel it in my bones. Something isn’t right.”
Dean appeared at their side. He put a basket of homemade chips on the table.
He shook Sam’s hand and gave Molly a wave. “What’s not right is pulling people into your conspiracy theory. He’s fine, Calli. As much as we think we know him, we don’t know if he drinks or does drugs. Could be he’s off doing that. You can’t be everyone’s mother.” Dean put his hand on his wife’s shoulder and squeezed, looking at her with affection and concern.
Calli shook her head. “Something isn’t right.”
“Have you talked to Chris?” Sam asked.
Molly was trying to remember the last time she’d seen Corky. Not in a while. He usually wandered around town. He cleaned up the community garden by the park, collected bottles, and hung out at the pier. But Molly hadn’t seen him anywhere in longer than she could remember.
“Chris said he’d keep an eye out and tell his patrol guys to do the same, but there’s no one who can really report him missing, right?”
“No. Probably not. But maybe we could do a notice in The Bulletin. Just make more citizens aware that he hasn’t been seen in a while.”
The bell rang from the kitchen, pulling Dean’s focus. “That’d probably put her mind to rest, Molly. Well, on that subject at least.”
That brought a small smile. Dean went back to the kitchen and Calli got up from the table. “It would. That would be great, Molly. I just…he’s one of us, you know?”
Molly smiled at the woman whose heart was as bright as her smile. “I do. I’ll get something on the website today.”
Picking up her soda glass, she straightened her shoulders and put her smile back on. “Let me go grab your lunches.”
Molly smiled after her, turning her head to see Sam looking at her. “What?”
He shook his head, a gentle laugh escaping his lips. “Nothing. I just like how invested you are in everything.”
“She’s not wrong. He is one of us,” Molly said as Calli approached again.
“He is. And so are you.”
Calli dropped off their meals. Molly dug into hers with gusto. She was hungrier than she’d realized. She and Sam talked about the upcoming summer season and the idea of getting away together for a few days. They talked about finishing up the back deck and sitting on it under the summer stars. Molly’s heart was wrapped up in both of those things. But her brain was having a hard time staying focused. She kept thinking about Corky and Magnolia, and how nothing was ever as simple as it seemed.
* * * *
Molly spent the day going over Jill and Elizabeth’s stories, making tweaks and changes before working on the layout pages for the next edition. The newspaper went out on Thursday mornings and most of the week was focused on getting everything ready for a Wednesday afternoon printing. Since today was Wednesday, they needed to make sure all of the content was ready to go. It still thrilled Molly that there was an actual printing press in the basement of The Bulletin. She loved going down there and inhaling the scent of the ink and listening to the sound of the papers whipping through the machine. They could have had the paper sent out, but Alan was a traditionalist at heart. They would likely have to digitize by upgrading their machine, but for now she liked the old-school nature of it.
With the layout set to go—Alan would do the printing—Molly was wrapping up her day and getting ready to go home. She pulled up the paper’s Facebook page and scanned the comments to her post.
She’d found an old picture of Corky and posted:
Corky Templeton hasn’t been seen in his usual hangouts for a while. If you’ve seen or spoken to him lately, please comment below. Several concerned citizens have mentioned his absence.
There were already over fifty comments. Molly read through them and decided, based on what people said, that it had been at least a week since he’d last been spotted. She hated the thought of him out there on his own. Others had tried to help him, bringing him into the shelter, even offering him a place to stay, but he was proud. Molly pulled out her journal and made a note to do some digging on Corky’s family. Maybe it was time to see if he had any roots in the area or if he’d just landed here like she had.
She closed her laptop, ready to lock up because the others had gone home and Alan was in the basement. But Jill came rushing through the back door of the building just as Molly was double checking the small kitchenette they all used to ensure it was tidy.
“Hey. What are you doing back here?” Molly asked, loading a couple of mugs into the dishwasher.
Jill shook off her hair, letting Molly know the rain had started again. Removing her jacket, her breath coming in and out in short bursts, she walked over to Molly.
“They’ve made an arrest,” Jill said, the words rushing out of her in an unusually high octave.
Molly reared back. “What?”
“They arrested someone for the murder of Magnolia Sweet.” Jill rubbed her hands together, probably to warm them.
“How? It’s only been a day. Who is it?” Her thoughts tumbled. Judd, over the body. Someone who looked like Tiffany, leaving. The silence of the auditorium. The busy parking lot. Had she walked right past a murderer?
“All their evidence points to one person. I’m not entirely sure yet what it is but I was leaving the station when I heard who they were heading out to arrest.”
Molly’s nerves were stretching thin. “Tell me. Who is it? Do we know them?”
“You might not. But a lot of us do. It’s Judd Brown. Our old school janitor.”