to leave town, and you know that’s what they say in all our mysteries. They must think I’m the prime suspect.” Molly choked on what sounded like an intended laugh.
Lizzie looked at her watch. She could stop briefly at Molly’s on the way to school. A hug was definitely in order.
“Look, Molly, I’m sure they don’t think that. They know you, after all. I can stop by for a couple of minutes before school, if you’d like. Maybe have a quick cup of coffee?”
“Would you mind, honey? I’d surely appreciate it.”
Lizzie grabbed her large tote bag, called out good-bye to the cats and left. On the drive over to Molly’s, her thoughts were a jumble of questions about the murder, so she tried to simply concentrate on the scenery. She loved this time of year, still early enough in fall for the autumn cherry trees to be in full bloom, their white flowers a bright contrast to the deeper-colored maple leaves.
She made a left on Sequoia and drove past the freshly painted Federal-style, two-story house belonging to the parents of her childhood friend Cindy Blake. How different the paths they’d chosen: Cindy, now a cardiac surgeon at a hospital in Atlanta, and married with two children; Lizzie, back in their hometown after five years away at college, a short stint working in Montgomery and more schooling— and she was still single.
Not that she regretted any of it. She loved her job, singingin the community choir was a passion, and she had many friends, old and new. Ashton Corners would always be home. She liked knowing she’d bump into someone she knew each time she went downtown, that memories of growing up could be sparked by a photo in the daily newspaper, and yet, the town had grown to offer enough variety so she could do something different every evening of the week if she so wanted.
Molly had two cups of coffee in china mugs and a plate of warm cinnamon buns on the kitchen table when Lizzie arrived. Lizzie sat on a stool at the counter that divided the kitchen work area from the banquette. After some tentative sips of the hot brew, a taste test of the buns and yet another pledge to herself to run longer the next day, Lizzie got to the point.
“Do you have any idea how the gun went missing?” She had her own idea, which started and ended with the deceased.
“I’m not sure how long it’s been gone. I’ve not had a reason to check the display case.” Molly smoothed an unruly strand of gray that had worked its way out of the red bow anchoring her hair at the base of her neck. She tucked it behind her right ear. The bow matched the red in her striped linen blouse, which looked snappy with her khaki pants. “It could have been taken months ago, for all I know. Or last night. Do you think maybe the stranger took it before Andie found him?”
“I’d bet on it. It’s the simplest scenario, and that’s usually the right one. The study is right next to the front door, after all. And we don’t know how long he was in the house alone. Did you mention it to Chief Dreyfus?”
“No. It was Officer Amber Craig who came by. She said she’s investigating the case.”
That surprised Lizzie. Wasn’t it important enough for the chief to stay involved? If Molly was being implicated, the case should be at the top of his priority list. Maybe she should talk to him. Or maybe she should butt out. For now.
“What’s she like?” Lizzie asked.
“She’s pretty new in town, so we hadn’t met before. She seems efficient but not overly friendly. Like she must walk around with her teeth gritted all the time.”
“How about talking it over with Bob Miller?”
“I don’t want to unleash him on our poor chief,” Molly said with a sigh. “Bob’s already got a stick up his backside about the boy.”
“Well, what about calling Jacob Smith then? He must take cases other than those involving pigs.”
A giggle escaped Molly’s lips. “Oh dear. I do suppose I should consult a lawyer.”
“Just to be clear on
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