Act Two

by Denise Grover Swank

  Belinda.

  I found my phone and typed out a text with shaky fingers.

  Roy’s furious with me and I’m scared he’s going to take it out on you. Be careful.

  I hit send and felt close to tears again. It would be my fault if Roy hurt her. But I shook my head as the thought floated through. That was a typical enabler excuse. I would not take ownership of my brother’s abuse.

  I heard a knock at the door and startled. With the pepper spray in hand, I moved over to the door and looked through the peep hole—something I should have done earlier, though I would have opened the door to my brother anyway. But this visitor was standing at the top of the staircase with his back to the door, holding a pizza box with the Marcos Pizza logo.

  I ran a hand over my hair, worried about what I looked like. After setting the pepper spray on the table, I ran my thumbs under my eyes to wipe away any mascara that might have smeared from my cry. Then I opened the door and asked, “How much do I owe . . .”

  But my voice trailed off because I knew who it was before he turned all the way around.

  “What are you doing here, Brady?”

  He was grinning, but his smile fell as soon as he saw me. “What happened?”

  I shook my head. “Why do you have my pizza? Why are you here?”

  “What happened?”

  “Who said anything happened?” How bad did I look? “What are you doing here?”

  “I promised to tell you what I found. I considered asking you to meet me at the station tomorrow, but after what happened last time, I thought it might make you more comfortable if I came here.”

  “Oh.”

  “Can I come in?”

  “Yeah.”

  I turned my back to him and started toward the kitchen, resisting the urge to cringe. There were still signs of my struggle with Roy—not many, but Brady was sure to pick up on them, especially since he already thought something was wrong.

  To his credit, he didn’t say a word as he set the pizza box on the counter.

  “What did you find out?” I asked as I squatted and picked up my laptop. The lid had been opened, but thankfully the screen wasn’t cracked, and the sign-in page opened when I swiped my thumb over the trackpad. I closed the lid and set the computer on the other side of the island, then picked up my purse and returned it to the bookshelf.

  I eyed the pizza box but was now too nervous to eat.

  “Why don’t we sit down?” he asked. “Where would you be most comfortable?”

  There was that word again. Comfortable. He was here with bad news. No one ever made sure you were comfortable for good news.

  “The barstools.”

  I took a seat and he sat next to me.

  “I talked to several people today,” he said, looking into my eyes, “including your father’s boss and Shannon Morrissey’s husband, and they all said the same things—your father was having an affair and he conspired with Mrs. Morrissey to take one million dollars of Mr. Morrissey’s money.”

  “And?” I asked. He didn’t seem like the kind of guy to be so easily dissuaded, and yet I sensed his hesitation. As though he was holding on to bad news.

  His eyebrows rose. “And I talked to your brother.”

  “You talked to Roy?” Roy had told me that, but I didn’t trust him. “What did he say?”

  He looked into my eyes. “Maggie, your brother confirmed that your father was having an affair.”

  “I see,” I said. “And did he say how he knew for certain?”

  “He said that he caught them.”

  I stared at him, hiding my disbelief. “Did he give any details?”

  “He said something happened about a month before your father disappeared. You were at dance class one night, and Roy hung out with your father. They stopped at a coffee shop so your dad could talk to a woman. Shannon Morrissey.”

  “So? That doesn’t mean they were having an affair.”

  “He said he saw them kissing.”

  “Did you talk to anyone else?” I asked.

  “Maggie,” he said, his voice low. “Even if I thought there might be something there, my boss has told me to drop it. The case was closed, and he wants to leave it that way.”

  “I see.” And I did. All too well. Roy had lied his ass off. I hadn’t taken a dance class since I was ten—something I had lamented after moving to New York. My brother had deceived Brady to throw him off the trail, and then he’d come over and threatened me to stay away too.

  All after Walter Frey had been killed.

  Something terrible had happened to my father, and my brother was helping to cover it up.

  Chapter 12

  The real question was what I wanted to do with this information. “You think my father ran off?” I asked.

  He gave me a sad smile. “Yeah, Maggie, I do. I’m sorry.”

  I nodded. Should I tell him that my brother was lying? If Brady’s boss had told him to let the investigation go, I didn’t see the point. I was sure Brady would take my brother’s word over mine after my emotional outbursts and my admission that I’d been close to Daddy. My statement was biased. What if I told him about my brother’s visit fifteen minutes ago?

  But there was my mother to consider. I’d seen genuine fear on her face. One man was dead. What if she was next? We didn’t have much time left together, and I wanted her last months to be as peaceful as possible.

  I’d sit on my suspicions for now. “So what happened to Mr. Frey?”

  “He was robbed.” He stiffened slightly and studied me closely. “His wallet and his phone were missing.”

  “His phone?”

  “Yeah.” He hesitated and seemed to choose his next words carefully. “I know you mentioned seeing his phone. So I need you to think back and be certain you saw it.”

  Shock reverberated through me, leaving me speechless. I was positive I’d seen the phone. I almost asked him why someone would have taken it, but the answer was glaringly obvious. I said instead, “Did you find anything else?”

  “Like what?”

  I’d already told him about the phone, which was mysteriously MIA, so why hold back? “I thought I saw a piece of paper under his hand. Did they find it?”

  His cop face was back. “You didn’t mention that.”

  “I just remembered it earlier. I hadn’t had a chance to tell you yet.”

  He hesitated for a split second, then shook his head, looking wary. “To the best of my knowledge, nothing else was found. However, it was raining and windy. The paper could have disintegrated or blown away. Did you see anything on it?”

  It was possible he was acting, but if so, he deserved a Tony Award.

  That begged the question of what had happened to the paper and the phone. Because both had been firmly wedged in Mr. Frey’s hand. Someone had taken them. I’d bet my only pair of Louboutins that the names on that paper had something to do with my father.

  If Brady wasn’t investigating my father’s case anymore, I was going to have to do some digging of my own. Which meant I couldn’t tell him. He had begun to earn my trust, but what if he was involved in this somehow? Even if he wasn’t, there was a chance he could unintentionally tip off the person who’d taken them.

  “Did you see anything on the paper?” he asked again in a quiet voice.

  I shook my head. “I was freaked out and it was all a blur. Maybe it was trash.”

  “Are you sure? I need you to be honest with me, Magnolia.”

  I couldn’t read the emotion in his eyes. Fear? Worry? Did he think I was losing my mind? “Nothing.”

  He looked disappointed with my answer. “Did you remember anything else? Anything at all?”

  “No. Nothing else.” I ran a hand through my hair, suddenly exhausted. “I’m sure it was nothing important.”

  Thankfully, he let it go, but the topic he moved on to wasn’t an improvement. “What happened in your apartment before I showed up?” When I gave him a confused look—I’d have to get used to this
role: innocent girl, no secrets—his eyes narrowed. “The laptop?”

  “Oh,” I said, pretending to feel like an idiot. “I accidently knocked it off when I heard you at the door.”

  “And your purse?”

  “The same.”

  “So why is there pepper spray on your table by the door?”

  “A woman living alone can never be too careful.”

  “I see.”

  And that was the problem. He did, all too well.

  He leaned closer and lowered his voice. “You know I can help you, Magnolia, right?”

  “Like you helped me before?” I asked, inserting just enough bitchiness to get him to back off.

  “That was a unique circumstance. Even you have admitted that.”

  I leaned my head back and groaned. “I am not having this conversation again.”

  Brady stood and moved toward the coffee table, scanning the room.

  I got to my feet and followed him. Part of me wanted to tell him about Roy’s attack, but my mother was already pissed at me. How would she take it if I had Roy arrested? She seemed in denial that Roy’s violent streak was a mile long, so she’d likely blame it on me. And what good would it do? He’d probably get what amounted to a slap on the wrist, and for all I knew, he might take it out on Belinda. It would serve me better to let Roy think he’d won the war and do some digging on the sly. Brady wasn’t going to keep investigating, and I was more certain than ever that Daddy had met foul play. Despite the dangers, I couldn’t let it go, not now. Rather than put me off, Roy had only convinced me to keep digging.

  “What are you doing, Brady?”

  “Admiring your new apartment. Has your brother stopped by with a housewarming gift yet?”

  Oh shit. If he was dropping my father’s case, why would he make that leap? Probably because he knew my brother had been physical with me before. “My mother is my only family member who knows about my new apartment.” Which begged the question: How did Roy know where to find me?

  “Do you happen to have any boyfriends in Franklin other than Colt?”

  “What?” Oh shit. He really was trying to put things together. “No.”

  “And Colt? How well do you know him?”

  “He works for my mother.”

  “Does he have a temper?”

  “No. Colt would never put the effort into threatening someone.”

  He turned to look at me, his face serious. “I never said anything about a threat.”

  Double shit. “A man is dead, Brady. That seems pretty threatening to me.”

  “Fair enough.” He turned his attention to the bookcase. Several books had fallen out in a haphazard manner, and a figurine of a woman in old-fashioned clothes and a bonnet lay on its side. He set one book back in place, then picked up the figurine and examined it.

  I had to get rid of him. “Thanks for paying for the pizza. Do you want me to reimburse you before you go?”

  He turned to look at me. “So you’re kicking me out?” He carefully set the figurine back on the shelf, as though to mock the violence that had toppled it to its side.

  I crossed my arms in front of my chest, flinching when I touched my sore ribs. “It’s been a long day, and I’d like to go to bed. I’m helping with a Bible study tomorrow, and I’d like to look fresh.” That was partially true. I was hired staff, but Miss Ava would want me looking my best.

  Brady’s brows rose. “A Bible study?”

  I dropped my arms and balled my hands into fists. “Why do you sound so surprised? Do you think I’ll burst into flames?”

  “No,” he said, shaking his head. “It’s just surprising is all.”

  “Well, a job is a job. Beggars can’t be choosers.” I pushed on his arm and nudged him toward the door. “Thanks for dropping by.”

  A war raged in his eyes, but his shoulders finally slumped as he accepted his defeat. He walked to the door and stopped next to it. “Maggie, I know you don’t trust easily, and I’ve got even more to make up for after . . .” His voice trailed off, but his eyes held mine. “But I’m genuinely worried about you.”

  “I’m not sure why. I’m fine.”

  He searched my face, lifting his hand to the cheek Roy had slapped, brushing his thumb close to where it had stung. Horror washed through me. Was the mark visible?

  “I want to help you,” he whispered. “Please let me help you.”

  “I’m fine.”

  He sighed as he dropped his hand. “I live ten minutes away. Call me if something scares you. Anything at all.”

  I almost protested, but I had to admit it felt good to have someone care about me. And since I was in literal danger, it was nice to know that someone also had a gun. “Okay.”

  He gave me another long look and walked out the door. I shut it behind him, locking the door knob and the deadbolt. Then I went into my new bedroom and watched him through the window as he made his way down to the driveway.

  Brady’s car was parked at the curb, but he was looking around the bushes and close to the house as he walked to his car. If I hadn’t known better, I would have thought he was casing the place.

  I glanced over at the house and noticed a curtain flutter in the back window. I had no idea how closely Miss Ava had been paying attention, but I had definitely had three gentleman callers in the space of a few hours.

  I was in deep trouble.

  I rushed over to the island and opened my laptop to search for the only whole name on the list. “Gerry Lopez” struck pay dirt. Gerry was actually Geraldo Lopez, a dentist in Nashville. His office was only a few blocks away from my dad’s office. I couldn’t remember much about what the dentist I’d visited as a kid had looked like, but my vague memories aligned with the images popping up on the screen. Plus, there was his name. Daddy had said something to Mr. Frey about Geraldo. It was definitely worth paying Dr. Lopez a visit.

  I then set to work looking up “–rritt” and “–ogers” in combination with Dr. Lopez’s name with no luck at all. Considering I didn’t have complete names, I wasn’t all that surprised. At least I had the dentist.

  It was a start.

  I tossed and turned for most of the night. When I wasn’t waking up in a cold sweat from nightmares about my brother beating the crap out of me, I was trying not to get paranoid about Walter Frey’s phone. It had definitely been in his hand, but the police claimed it had been stolen. Was someone in the Franklin Police Department dirty? I wasn’t too shocked given my own experience, but I’d attributed that to Detective Holden, the man who had seemed out to get me. As far as I knew, he was nowhere near this case. What bothered me the most was the question of Brady’s possible involvement. In the end, I decided he was just as much in the dark about the phone as I was. He’d insisted he was trying to prove himself to be trustworthy, so why would he tell me the phone had been stolen when he knew I’d seen it?

  The next morning, my first thought was worry for Belinda, followed fast by the realization that my whole body was sore. Thankfully, she sent me a text while I was in the shower, telling me she was okay, which put me somewhat at ease. Of course, she could have been lying, but I decided to play Pollyanna and take her at her word. Maybe I could find the time to drop in on her later and see her for myself.

  I tried to push it all out of my head when I knocked on Miss Ava’s door at 8:55. I hoped my punctuality would help make up for my evening activities.

  She opened the door and looked me over with a critical eye through the screen door. I was prepared for that. Since I still hadn’t figured out what garden party attire entailed, I’d worn a pale pink dress and cream cardigan with kitten-heel, sling-back shoes—ivory, of course. Miss Ava was old enough she might still stick to the “no white before Memorial Day” rule.

  She kept the door closed after assessing me from head to heel. “You don’t dress like a hussy.”

  “That’s because I’m not.” I’d been prepared to beg, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. “I have a perfectly rational explana
tion for my visitors last night.”

  “Go on then,” she said in a brisk tone. “I don’t have all day.”

  I wasn’t sure why I needed to justify them at all, but it was her property, and she’d made her wishes known. “You know Colt was here last night. He gave me a ride home. He said he was going to stop by and tell you that I’d bring your check this morning.” I pulled the folded paper from my pocket and held it up.

  She looked pleased . . . though still a little grumpy. “I’m surprised. Most young folks don’t know how to write checks these days.”

  “The second person was . . .” Did I want anyone to know Roy had come to see me? Probably the fewer the people who knew, the better. “Was a family friend. I’m sure you noticed that he didn’t stay long. He just wanted to say hello.”

  “And the third?”

  “Detective Brady Bennett. With the Franklin police.”

  “Are you in some kind of trouble with the law?” she snapped back.

  “No,” I assured her, lifting my hands. The check was still in my right hand, but I figured it couldn’t hurt to wave it at her. “I haven’t done anything wrong. Colt and I sang at the Embassy the other night.”

  “A man was killed there.”

  “Yes, and I was the one who found his body. Detective Bennett took my statement and came by to check on me last night. To make sure I felt safe and give me an update.” I wasn’t sharing the intricacies of the situation, but why should I? Everything I was saying was true—to a point.

  “Are you in danger?” she asked.

  “No. Detective Bennett was just being cautious.”

  “I see.”

  “I assure you, Miss Ava, I am a very quiet and low-key tenant. I’m working two jobs—three if I count helping you. I won’t have time to stir up trouble, much less have a social life.”

  “Well . . .” she said, her gaze narrowing on my check. “I guess I can overlook things this once. Just don’t make it a habit.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  She pushed open the screen door and let me in, snatching the check from my hand as I passed her. After showing me around her kitchen and discussing the menu, she put me to work setting up the dining room table in an elaborate tiered display. She’d obviously prepared all of the food herself without any help.