Molly picked up a double chocolate shake from Callan’s ice cream shop before climbing in her Jeep to head to the retirement center. Until the car show at the end of last summer, Molly had never explored this side of town. This time, though, instead of turning right, which led to the RV and trailer park, Molly went straight. Left would take her to the homeless shelter, an industrial area, and a lot of farmland. She knew the retirement place overlooked the ocean, but she was surprised to see there was also a nine-hole golf course. She wondered if it belonged to the facility or the city.
Either way, it was nice to see, as she walked from her Jeep to the doors, that several seniors were out enjoying the surprisingly sunny day. She was there under the guise of doing more in-depth interviews for the actors in the play, but her real intention included finding out who might have reason to kill Magnolia. She’d decided to start with Deb for two reasons: she was more approachable than Magnolia’s children, and she remembered hearing rumors about the two women arguing over a man who also lived on the premises.
The building was a two-story, L-shape with well-kept grounds and a lovely view of the ocean. Even with the sun, this close to the water the breeze swept up around Molly. Inside, the reception area looked more like a hotel than a seniors’ residence. High-backed bench seating was arranged in a conversational style, facing each other so people could sit and chat, creating an immediate welcoming feel. Something akin to a reception desk lined the back wall where an insignia of two people embracing caught her eye. It was one of those metal wall art designs, and it struck Molly as quite elegant. She didn’t know where the seniors in Britton Bay were getting their money, but she would bet some of Bella’s lemon loaf this place came with a huge price tag.
“Hello,” a young woman with dark shoulder-length hair greeted. She looked like she’d spent several hours in the sun, and Molly wondered if she’d recently been out of Britton Bay. There hadn’t been a lot of tanning weather. “Welcome to The Next Step. Are you visiting someone who resides with us?”
“Hi. Yes, I am. My name is Molly Owens. I’m with the Britton Bay Bulletin. I called ahead and mentioned I’d like to interview some of your residents who are participating in the spring play.” She pulled her press lanyard out of her purse and showed the woman.
“Ahh, yes. Nice to meet you. I really like the changes you’ve made to the newspaper. I love the opinion column and your online presence,” she said. Her name tag read Yvonne.
“Thank you, Yvonne. I appreciate that. Would it be possible for you to let Debra Connors and Beau Harrison know I’m here?”
“They’re already waiting in the dining area,” Yvonne said. She pointed down the hallway to Molly’s left. “Just head that way. It’ll be on the left across from the elevators.”
“Thanks so much.”
The dining area resembled a cafeteria, but instead of people just eating there were several tables of people playing checkers, chess, and cards. Fortunately, Molly recognized Debra and Beau from the rehearsal she’d seen bits of. They were holding hands and laughing about something, their equally gray heads bent close together.
Weaving around the tables, Molly smiled at those who looked her way and approached the older couple.
“Hi there. I’m Molly Owens with The Bulletin,” she said.
They pulled apart and looked up at her with easygoing smiles. No murderous vibes yet.
Beau stood, offering his seat even though there were two empty ones at the table. “Nice to meet you. Please, have a seat, dear.”
Molly sat and Beau took the chair closest to Debra. She reached out and shook each of their hands.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Debra said. “You look familiar.”
“I was helping out with painting the set,” Molly said, setting the camera on the tabletop and her bag on the empty chair.
“Before the murder,” Debra said, nodding.
Okay, no skirting around it. “Yes. I’m terribly sorry about Magnolia. I’ve never been in a play but I’ve heard that the cast and crew can become very close.”
Debra rolled her eyes and made a slight scoffing sound but Beau’s lips turned down.
“Terrible thing,” he said.
Debra’s shoulders stiffened, putting the slightest bit of distance between her and Beau. “Poetic justice.”
Molly covered her surprise with a cough. “Excuse me?”
“Deb,” Beau admonished, his eyes turning fierce. “It’s not right to speak ill of the dead.”
“It is when she did all she could while she was alive to make my life miserable,” the woman replied.
Molly felt like she was watching a television show, simply observing from behind the screen.
“You just let her get all up in your feathers,” Beau said, smoothing a hand down her back. Or…her feathers.
Molly bit her lip to keep from smiling at the image that popped into her brain. “So, you weren’t a fan. That much is clear. I guess the police talked to everyone after they realized it was a murder?”
Deb turned her attention back to Molly. “We went back into the station the morning after. Repeated our statements. But Judd —I always knew there was something creepy about Judd—was arrested almost immediately.”
From Chris’s earlier hint, Molly gathered that whatever statement Deb had given before Judd was arrested was a lie. But why would she have lied if she hadn’t known that Magnolia had been murdered before that news went public?
Molly opened her notebook and picked up her pen. “Well, thank goodness it got wrapped up quickly. I’m so glad no one else was on set at the time.”
Debra glanced away but it was Beau who spoke. “A blessing. Who knows what would have happened.”
Molly looked up again, smiling at him. “Were you guys together? Heading to rehearsal? It was a horrible scene to stumble on, I can tell you that.”
Debra’s eyes narrowed. Beau pulled her closer, his fingers tightening around the woman’s shoulders. “I’m sorry you had to go through that, dear. It’s awful. Just awful. Fortunately for us, rehearsal never starts until seven. My Deb was getting her hair cut and colored. I was playing a round of golf when I got the news. Just terrible.”
Chris must have checked on her hair alibi and found a hole. “You know,” Molly said. “I don’t mean to get off topic and I’ll get to the interview in just a moment, but I’ve been putting off getting a haircut. You know how it is when you have to find a new stylist. Who does yours?”
If she hadn’t been looking right at Debra, she may have missed the way the woman’s eyes widened. She wouldn’t, however, have missed the way Beau’s head dropped and how he took up a sudden fascination with his fingers on the table.
“Oh, our hair is so different. I don’t think you’d do well with my girl. Besides, she does her hair out of her house. She’s a good friend of mine. There is a place about twenty minutes from here, a few blocks off of Main Street—Lox. I’d try them. Or if you’re desperate, Crazy Cuts.”
Molly nodded, wrote down Lox for show. “Okay, thanks. What’s your friend’s name?”
“Why?” The word was sharp.
Molly put on her most innocent smile. “I just wondered if she was in the play, too.”
Debra’s features softened. “Oh. Yes, actually. She is.” She leaned forward. “Cora. Cora Lester.”
Molly wrote down Cora’s name before flipping to the interview questions she’d made up. She remembered now that Cora was a hairdresser. She’d heard it more than once in passing. Molly also remembered, quite distinctly, that Cora and Deb were not friends.
Moving quickly through both interviews, she noted that Beau and Deb finished each other’s sentences with the ease of a long-term couple. If she weren’t a little wary of Debra, she’d find them quite sweet.
Standing to leave, she snapped her fingers. “I keep forgetting to ask someone. With Magnolia’s passing, who has taken over as director?”
Beau leaned back in his seat, stifling a yawn. “Oh, that sweet girl, Tiffany. She’s a born director. Getting her chance to shine, now isn’t she? Magnolia had people set to come out all the way from La-La Land to watch the opening night. Reckon Magnolia will still get the credit, what with Tiffany only taking over the week before, but it’ll be her that does the meet and greets with the big shots.”
Well, Molly thought as she gathered her things, didn’t that just work out perfectly for Tiffany.
* * * *
Molly returned to The Bulletin at the same time as Jill. They walked through the front entrance together, finding Elizabeth and Hannah working together at the layout table.
Hannah smiled and waved. “You’re back. How were your interviews?”
Jill hung her bag on the coat hook by her desk. “Mine was good. I went and talked to Judd. He’s doing surprisingly well for someone who just got out of jail.”
“I’m glad to hear that,” Elizabeth said.
“Is he married?” Molly slipped off her coat.
“No. Never has been. He lives over on Fairway in the same house he grew up in,” Jill said. She flopped into her leather rolling chair, sending it back a bit.
“I hate to think of him living alone,” Molly said. “Especially right now.”
“His cousin lives with him,” Jill said. “He was there, too. He wants us to run something in the newspaper to thank the community for standing by Judd. He also asked if I knew anything about suing the Sheriff’s Department.”
Molly leaned against the doorjamb to her office. “Hmm. I suppose if he’s wrongfully accused and convicted and that comes to light, he might have a case.”
“It’ll be a long road. From what I’ve heard, it’s not looking good,” Alan said, coming out of his office to join them.
Molly was dying to tell them that even Chris didn’t think Judd was the real killer, but she knew how fast word spread in this town. Chris was trusting her to do some digging under the radar. Sharing the information with a room full of people who enjoyed puzzle solving as much as she did was asking for trouble. Most importantly, if word spread, it could alert the killer.
She had more suspects than she’d started the day with, but what she really needed to do was speak to Judd. Her phone buzzed so she slipped into her office, letting the others carry on with their conversation.
Sam: How much do you love me?
Molly grinned as she typed.
Molly: I’m not sure there’s an accurate way to measure it. How much do you love me?
Sam: Enough that even if you were one hundred miles away and craving lemon loaf, I’d bring it to you.
Molly’s smile widened.
Molly: Are you one hundred miles away craving lemon loaf?
Sam: Not quite. More like fifteen miles and needing an inch and a half wrench that I thought was in my toolbox. In exchange, I will bring you all the lemon loaf you want from here on out.
Her heart swooned even as her stomach reminded her, she needed to eat.
Molly: How about I bring both? Where are you?
Sam: Granger Farm. You take a left instead of the right that takes you to the RV park.
Molly: On my way.
Molly: Also?
Sam: …Yes?
Molly: I love you more than lemon loaf.