Deadly Ride Page 10

Someone else approached the counter. “Uh, seemed like his girlfriend. Could have been his friend, I guess. I left her at the car and had to go walk a few others out to the lot. Sorry, I gotta help this person.”

  Molly let the conversation go verbally, but in her head, all she could think about was the fact that both Candice and Brian had been alone after saying good night. Which gave either of them opportunity.

  Greg smiled at her when the customer left after paying, but she didn’t probe anymore, and that seemed to relax him.

  “Busy time to start a new job,” Molly remarked.

  Greg nodded just as Calli came behind the counter. “Wasn’t supposed to be. These folks staying in town means there’s no time to stop and chat, doll, but I’m looking forward to catching up tomorrow at Sarah’s.”

  “Me, too,” Molly said.

  Calli showed Greg how to do something on the computer as the other waitresses came to pick up orders. Spinning on her stool slowly, Molly noticed that neither Brad or Herman were in the diner. She wondered how many of the drivers were staying at the RV park. Looking around, she saw that Brian and Candice weren’t around either.

  She wasn’t looking when someone slid onto the stool next to her, but she turned back toward the counter, wondering why, with all the empty stools, the person would slip in right beside her so they were elbow to elbow.

  “Molly Owens, right?”

  Molly turned her head to look at the speaker, a man about her age. He looked familiar, but she couldn’t place him.

  “That’s right. And you are?”

  He offered his hand. “Ed McLaren. PBN News.”

  Molly shook his hand. “You here specifically because of Jethro’s death or because of the car show?”

  He smiled. “Direct. I like it. Planned on doing the car show, got caught up in other things. Showed up late Saturday.”

  She nodded. Greg came over to ask if they wanted anything to drink while they were sitting. They both said no, and Molly checked the time on her phone.

  “You’re sticking around?” she asked. “Waiting to see what comes of Amber Harkaw’s reward announcement?”

  She thought about the fact that Jet owed money. “Do you know if she has the funds to support the reward?”

  He smiled, leaned his elbow on the counter. He was attractive in a polished sort of way. Slicked back, sandy-brown hair and a camera-ready smile. She didn’t like the way he crowded her personal space with just a look.

  “Her last husband left her a sizable inheritance.”

  Of all the things she thought he might be about to say, that wasn’t one of them. Without meaning to, she leaned in. “Amber was married before? To someone who died? How do you know that?”

  “We have resources. Amber’s first husband died of a heart attack. The death was ruled natural. She was young when she married him. But yes, I’m positive she has the money.”

  Molly’s lips pressed into a pout. Amber was young now. Before she could think about all of the implications, someone tapped her on the shoulder.

  She looked up and saw Sam standing beside her, his brows scrunched, a not-so-happy look on his face. It was then she realized how close she and Ed were physically. The information he’d shared had done exactly what he’d hoped—drawn her completely in. But Ed, even with his slick looks and handy information, couldn’t hold even the weakest of candles to Sam.

  Slipping off her seat, she stepped into him and wrapped her arms around his waist. “Hi. This is a coincidence.”

  His arms wrapped around her, but when she looked up, she saw his gaze was on Ed. “Thought I’d grab some lunch.”

  Ed and Sam stared at each other. The air went thick, and despite the noise of patrons and clanging dishes, Molly felt like she’d been pulled into a vortex of strange silence.

  “This is Ed McLaren. He’s a reporter for the Portland Broadcasting Network. Ed, this is Sam Alderich, my boyfriend and owner of Sam’s Service Station.”

  It took them a second longer of staring, but Sam released one of his arms to shake Ed’s hand.

  “Your shop sponsored the event?” Ed knew his stuff even if he’d arrived late.

  “We did.” The arm still around Molly tightened.

  “Rough go. Sorry about Jethro. Did you know him outside of the Crawl?”

  Sam shook his head.

  A bell rang behind them. “Order up. Hey, Sam.” Dean waved.

  Sam smiled, his body relaxing. “Hey, Dean. I was craving your fries.”

  “That’s what they all say. Pretty sure this order is yours, so you’re in luck.”

  Greg grabbed the bagged-up order and set it on the counter. “There you go, ma’am.”

  She smiled and grabbed the bag. “Molly.”

  His cheeks went pink. “Right. Molly. Hey, Mr. Alderich.”

  “Hey, Greg,” Sam said.

  Molly looked up at him and offered the takeout. “Great minds. I was just about to bring this to you.”

  Sam’s gaze, his stance, and the set of his jaw all softened, and Molly’s heart gave a hard tug.

  Taking the bag with one hand, he hooked a hand around her neck and pulled her closer. “Share it with me?”

  She nodded, her heart rate speeding up. She glanced at Ed, who was watching them. “Nice to meet you.”

  “You too, Molly. I’ll see you soon, I’m sure.”

  Sam glared at him and didn’t say goodbye as he took Molly’s hand and led her out of the diner.

  “Bye, love birds,” Calli called as the door swung closed behind them. Molly bit her lip to keep from giggling.

  Sam glanced down at her as they walked, hand in hand, toward his shop, which was only a few doors down from the diner.

  “Are you trying not to laugh?” One side of his mouth quirked up.

  “A little, yeah.” She let the wide grin take over her face.

  Sam stopped abruptly, and she turned so the front of their bodies were touching. The breeze from the ocean slid over and around them, but standing on the sidewalk, looking up at him, she didn’t feel the chill.

  “Sam.”

  He sighed. “Molly.”

  Putting her hands on his chest, she stared a moment longer. “Are you okay?”

  Sam brought a hand up to her hair and smoothed his palm down the length of it. “I just feel out of sorts, I think. I wish Chris would update us. I’ve got a bunch of the drivers hanging out at the shop. It’s cool, but it’s like Jethro’s death is hovering over every conversation.”

  “I’m sorry.” What else could she say?

  “It’s not your fault. In any way. Let’s do something tonight. Head out of town and see a movie or something. You’ve got the paint thing tomorrow night, right?”

  “Yes. I’m sure it’s still on. Tonight sounds good. I’d like that.”

  He pulled her into a hug, and she held on tight, wishing the last few days weren’t weighing so heavy on him.

  “You go have your lunch. I’m going to head back to work and get some stuff out of the way so we can forget about everything else tonight.”

  Sam leaned back. “Thought you were sharing my fries.”

  “Next time.”

  “Not tonight, though. Let’s go somewhere that doesn’t serve fries,” he suggested.

  “Oh. That sounds intriguing. I like it.”

  She kissed him goodbye, and her heart tumbled a little more when he watched her cross the street. She waved when he was outside of his shop and then headed back to the Bulletin.

  Jill was at her desk. Elizabeth would be back from her vacation by the end of the week.

  “Hey. Where are Alan and Clay?”

  Jill looked up from her computer. “Alan is in his office chatting with ad people. Clay said he was going to take photos.”

  Molly stopped short of rolling her eyes. They mi
ght need to let him go after all. The paper came out on Thursday, which meant it was all hands on deck every Monday and Tuesday. They were already short several pair of hands.

  Glancing at Alan’s closed office door and knowing they’d be tied up for the rest of the afternoon getting the paper ready, she gestured to her own office with a tip of her head.

  “Got a minute?”

  Jill smiled. “Sure.”

  Without a word, they went to Molly’s office and shut the door.

  “What’s up, Nancy Drew?” Jill sat down in the chair on the other side of Molly’s desk. She ignored the teasing and grabbed a piece of paper and a pen, and sat in the chair beside her friend and colleague.

  She wrote down Jethro’s name in the center of the page. Jill leaned in as she drew lines to Candice, Amber, Brian, Brad, and Herman. She put down each of their connections to Jethro and then a possible motive for each.

  Jill traced the line that led to Herman. “Wait, Jethro owed Herman money?”

  Molly nodded. “A lot of money. And he admitted to being there after Brad was in the gallery on Saturday night. Amber said Herman texted Jet, and she caught a ride with another driver.”

  Staring at the paper, Jill tapped her finger on the desk. “Okay. So Herman may have murdered him because he owed him money. Doesn’t really improve his chances of getting paid.”

  Molly tapped her fingers. “Jet and Herman got into a fistfight about the money. Tensions were obviously running high, but he said he walked away with Jethro standing.”

  “Well, he wouldn’t say he killed him. But I thought you didn’t think Brian was likely. And didn’t you say he was with the ex?” Jill pointed to Candice’s name.

  Molly nodded. “But the kid I just talked to at the diner said he walked Candice to the pickup van, alone.”

  Jill rubbed her forehead. “Okay. So that keeps them both in it. And the fight with Herman explains what I found out from the ME. Jethro had severe bruising in the abdomen, likely from a fist, and several facial bruises. One was older than the rest. I don’t know why, and neither did the ME.”

  Pushing back from her chair, Molly stood, wishing they were outside, walking on the beach, like maybe the fresh air could help filter her thoughts. “Jethro said he hit his face in the RV. He had a black eye on Thursday night.”

  Leaning back in her chair, Jill picked up the pen and twirled it between her fingers. “Okay. Herman could be lying. Maybe he took the fight to a new level, picked up the crowbar, smashed Jet with it, but didn’t intend to kill him? Wiped it down and left.”

  It was definitely a possibility. As Jill said, Herman wouldn’t be getting paid anytime soon, if at all. His best chance of getting paid was if Jethro was alive.

  “What about the ex-wife? You said they were kissing. Maybe she went after Jet once the kid walked her to the car. He tells her to leave because, as he told Brian, he needed to get current wifey home. She gets mad. Swings the crowbar at his head when he tells her he can’t choose between her and Hawaiian Barbie.”

  Walking back and forth in the small space was not productive, so Molly took her seat again. “Jet was a big man. It seems so difficult to imagine a woman having enough force behind a swing to kill him.”

  Jill waggled her eyebrows comically. “Sexist, but not if she distracted him.”

  Molly smiled. “True. Scorned lover?”

  A knock came about two seconds before the knob turned, and Alan popped his head through. “Girls’ club meeting?”

  Molly and Jill laughed. “Not so much. Just talking about Jethro.”

  He came all the way into the room. “Of course. What other topic is there? You solve the murder yet?” He smiled at her affectionately.

  “Of course not,” she said, shooting Jill a look that she hoped said shh.

  “We need to get going on the paper. We’ll do the feature on Jethro that Jill wrote, but I’d still like to include some lighter pieces about the show. Your interview, Molly, and the list of drivers and vehicles. Maybe we do something fun like a game to match the car to the driver?”

  Grinning, happy with the distraction, Molly stood up. “That’s a great idea. Very fun.”

  “Perfect. I’ll put a pot of coffee on. Won’t be as good as Elizabeth’s, but it’ll get us through the next few hours.”

  Jill poked Molly in the shoulder as they went back into the main office space. “Put it out of your mind for a bit. Sometimes things fall together on their own. Plus, I bet those guys with badges are still poking around.”

  Molly’s laugh cleared the last of the cobwebs from her brain. “I think your cold left you with a stronger sense of humor.”

  With a mischievous smile, Jill nodded. “I was always funny. You’re just paying more attention now.”

  Molly was always paying attention, sometimes to too many things at once. She needed to learn how to compartmentalize better. Newspaper now. Sam later. And everything else could wait.

  Chapter Thirteen

  The space Sarah had rented for her shop was adorable. It hadn’t been when she’d taken over the lease a few months earlier, but Molly, Sam, Chris, and several others had chipped in to make it cozy and bright.

  In addition to offering lessons in a variety of mediums, Sarah did paint nights, sign painting, pottery, and jewelry workshops. Those could be private events or public ones. She had her first bridal party booking next week, which was the reason behind the Tuesday night gathering.

  “Thanks for coming, everyone,” Sarah said. There were four, large rectangular tables with stools around each. Sarah stood between the two tables at the front of the room. “I’ve put all of the paint supplies out. I just need to grab the canvases, and I’ll show you the painting I’ve created. I’ll walk you through each step, and it really doesn’t matter if you’ve painted a hundred times or never. We’ll work together, but each one will be unique.”

  “Mine will be uniquely garish,” Priscilla joked. Pris worked the front desk at the police station. She was good friends with Bella.

  Calli nudged Pris in the ribs. “You can paint right over it if it’s too bad.”

  The others laughed, and Sarah smiled, waiting patiently. She’d swept her hair over to the side with a bobby pin and looked more like a student than an artist, business owner, and teacher. Molly scanned the room and was pleased to see everyone had shown up. Katherine was perched on one of the stools, Calli beside her, standing. Pris and Bella were leaned against one of the heavy tables. Even Alan’s wife, Vicky, and their niece, Hannah, had come. Jill held up her wineglass and saluted Molly.

  Sarah gestured to Jill. “Special thanks to Jill for supplying enough wine that no matter how anyone feels about their paintings, we might all think they’re masterpieces.”

  When the laughter quieted, she also gestured to Bella. “And thank you, Bella, for bringing snacks. I haven’t decided whether or not to offer a small appetizer menu, sort of like what Bella brought tonight. I might just allow parties who book events to bring their own snacks. Maybe that can be one of the things you offer an opinion on tonight.”

  “We could work something out so it’s a choice for the booking party. I can create a small party package that you could offer on top of the paint nights,” Bella said.

  “I can’t provide wine for all of the parties, though,” Jill quipped.

  They chatted for a few minutes while Sarah went into the adjoining room to grab the canvases. Jill poured wine for everyone, and they caught up on local gossip, which was a refreshing change from talking about Jethro’s murder. Calliope updated them on what was happening at the diner, and Molly could not help but notice the way Hannah seemed to perk up at the mention of Greg. Something there maybe? Hannah was a sweet and smart kid. She’d be graduating in June, and Molly was certain she’d have a bright future. The subject got a bit heavier when Bella told them that Callan, her ex, was still pressuring h
er to get back together.

  “You can file a restraining order if it gets too bad,” Pris said.

  She was the eyes, ears, and hands of the department. She worked the front desk, answering phones, logging complaints, fielding questions, checking evidence, and as Molly had found out not too long ago, pretty much anything they needed her to do.

  “I don’t want to go that route. We went to high school together. We’ve known each other forever. But he wasn’t happy with me either, so I don’t even know why he’s pushing to get back together.” Bella took a sip of her wine.

  “That boy has always wanted what he couldn’t have,” Calli remarked. She wasn’t wrong, but the way she spoke—as if she was so much older than the rest of them—amused Molly. Calli was a mother hen, and the people in this room, along with several other residents, were her little chicks.

  Wondering if Sarah needed help grabbing the canvases for this many people, Molly broke away from the group and wandered to the back room. The space was open and airy, even with the windows closed, because of the time of year. The main room was a bright, cheery yellow, with a mural Sarah had created of the town on one entire wall. It was incredible, and Molly had enjoyed watching Sarah work on it. There was a small bathroom and a mudroom area that would be used for cleaning supplies. Beside that was a broom-closet-sized office, and right next to that was the storage and supply room.

  When Molly stepped in, Sarah sniffled loudly and whirled her way, a tissue in her hand.

  “Hey. You okay?” Molly stepped forward. This room was perfectly square and completely cramped. One side held shelves upon shelves of supplies, all ruthlessly organized. The other side held a bench-like shelf with projects that Sarah was working on. There was a door that led outside to the alley.

  “Yeah. I’m fine. Sorry. I was just trying to make sure I have enough canvases.” Sarah turned again and counted the stack of them she’d put on the bench.

  Another glance at the supply shelves reminded Molly of the evenings they’d spent helping Sarah get her stock ready. Ruthless might have been too mild a term for Sarah’s level of organization. There was no way she went into tonight without having everything she needed.