Vivien Sweet might not have had the reputation for publicly dressing down those around her but she knew how to play the game. By the time she arrived, her brother in tow, she was over an hour and a half late. The others had gone home but Alan stuck around.
Removing her oversized sunglasses as she entered, Jeffrey holding the door for her, her mouth was set in a brightly painted flat line.
Alan looked up from where he was seated at Elizabeth’s desk. “You must be Ms. Sweet.”
He stood and came around the table and her lips curved slightly upward. “Vivien. And this is my brother, Jeffrey.”
“Alan Benedict, and I believe you know Molly Owens, our editor,” Alan said as Molly joined them.
“We do. Molly. Nice to see you. We’d really like to clear this up quickly. I’m not quite sure why it was declined. I assure you we have more than enough money.”
Jeffrey snickered. “Especially now.”
Both Alan and Molly’s mouths dropped open. Vivien shot her brother a hard look. The smile slipped from his face. “Let’s just clear this up, shall we? How much do we owe for the full page?”
“Alan will address that with you, but Vivien, would you mind following me to my office. I have a few follow-up questions for you.” Molly gestured toward her office on the other side of the room.
Vivien’s tanned shoulders, covered by the straps of a silk tank top, stiffened. “I don’t see why. I’m not giving interviews. I don’t want to talk about my mother anymore. My brother and I are grieving. We’d just like to pay this and leave.”
Molly glanced at Alan but pressed forward. This could end badly. “It’s about Tiffany.”
“The director?” Jeffrey asked.
Molly wasn’t looking at him when he spoke. Instead, she watched the way Vivien’s eyes widened just a fraction and her fingers, still free of nail polish, gripped her purse strap.
“Clear up the bill, Jeffrey. We’ll just be a moment.” She walked past Molly and into her office.
Now or never. Molly closed the door to her office and, instead of sitting behind her desk, chose to press the advantage of close proximity. Vivien didn’t make eye contact when Molly sat in the chair beside her. Their knees almost touched but Vivien remained stiff and aloof.
“You said you arrived the night after your mother’s death,” Molly said, giving the woman a chance to correct herself.
Vivien’s eyes flicked up and then beyond Molly. “So?”
“So, that’s not true.”
The woman’s crystal blue gaze met Molly’s. She wouldn’t have been surprised to feel smoke come out of her head just from the heat of that glare.
“Excuse me?”
Molly folded her hands together and leaned forward. “We don’t have a lot of time. An innocent man has been accused of murder, and my guess is once the funeral is said and done, you and your brother will not be sticking around.”
Vivien leaned back, taking her time crossing one leg over the other. She wore dark navy dress pants that rode high on her waist, her pale pink tank top tucked in.
“Why would we? My mother wanted to live here. We never did. And Judd Brown was arrested because he was guilty.” A mean smile tipped her painted lips upward. “Unless the true killer is the only other person who arrived at the theater far earlier than necessary.”
Aaand you just showed your hand. “I wasn’t really that early, but it begs an interesting question. How do you know I was even supposed to go to the theater?”
Vivien fiddled with her purse. “I…it was in the police statement that you were there. Why were you there?”
Molly smiled. “To meet your mother and ask for an interview. Tiffany told me it was a good time. You know Tiffany, don’t you?”
Watching the woman roll her eyes, Molly bit back a grin. “The director?” she prodded.
“Of course, I know her. I hired her,” Vivien snapped, uncrossing her leg and shifting in her seat.
“You did. You argued with her before your mother’s death. You lied about having been at the theater and you don’t need to deny that. I already know it’s true. You also lied about your arrival. Now, I don’t much care when you got into town or what your relationship with Tiffany is, but what I do care about is someone getting blamed for something they didn’t do. It wasn’t Judd. And I can’t help thinking that if, God forbid, something ever happened to my mother, I’d want the real killer brought to justice.” Molly paused, taking a breath. “Unless, of course, I had a hand in her death.”
Whether she’d ever done any acting, Molly didn’t know, but in her personal opinion, Vivien’s gasp of shock was completely genuine.
Her expression went from surprise to outrage and she shot up from her seat, pacing behind the chair. “You think I killed my own mother? What are you, a lunatic?”
Molly worked to keep her voice very even as she stood up and leaned against her desk. “I’m not. I’m just an editor at a small-town newspaper who knows that all of your dots aren’t lining up. And if someone doesn’t follow this, Judd Brown could go away for a very long time.”
“I didn’t kill my mother. If you print that, or anything like that, I’ll have so many lawyers all over you, you won’t be able to take a breath,” she said, pointing at Molly.
“And you’d be able to afford that, wouldn’t you? As the primary beneficiary for your mother’s estate.”
Vivien stopped pacing and gave Molly a glare that could have chilled the sun. “How do you know that?”
“My job is to find out things,” Molly said, her voice free of emotion. Not entirely true, but she was finding out something right now—Vivien was definitely hiding things.
“Your job is to report the truth,” Vivien spat.
Molly stood straight and closed the distance between them. “You’re right. Why don’t you give it to me? Where were you when your mother was killed? What did you fight with Tiffany about?”
Vivien leaned into Molly’s space, so close she could practically taste the expensive perfume. “You are nothing but a small-town busybody. Tiffany is my employee and I argued with her about her job. I showed up a few days early to try to support my mother, which, like this, was a waste of my time.”
She pushed past Molly and yanked open the door. “Jeffrey? Let’s go.”
Jeffrey followed behind his sister, glancing at Molly but not saying a word. When they left, Alan walked across the room to Molly.
“How’d that go?” He folded his arms over his chest.
“Not great. She’s still hiding something but I don’t think she killed her mom.”
“Who does that leave?” Alan met her gaze.
“Jeffrey, though I have my doubts. But at the moment, I’m almost certain that it was Tiffany. There’s something going on between those two women.” Molly sighed and started moving around the office, tidying up, her mind swirling in circles.
“What are you thinking?” Alan walked to the front door and locked it.
Glancing up, she said the first thing that came to her mind. “I need to find evidence that links Tiffany and Vivien. Texts, emails, anything. What if Tiffany killed Magnolia for Vivien for whatever reason but Vivien has no idea?”
Walking slowly toward her, Alan gave her a look that reminded Molly of her dad. “Then that means Tiffany is a very dangerous woman and you should be careful.”