Act Two

by Denise Grover Swank

  “You won’t. I already tried.”

  “Then let me try,” I said. “I have nothing to lose.” That wasn’t true, but I’d work it out.

  “There were four of them,” she said, looking nauseated.

  I nearly cried with relief.

  She turned quiet. “Your father. Walter Frey. A dentist—and an accountant. They all knew about the embezzlement. Frey was Steve’s attorney. Your father was his financial planner. The accountant handled his money.”

  “And the dentist?” I asked.

  “I don’t know.” She took a shaky breath. “Shannon said all four of them knew he was dirty, and they were planning to take him down. Shannon was helping them.”

  “So what happened?”

  “Steve found out. Your father and Shannon were going to speak to the county prosecutor, but the night before, they disappeared.”

  “My father went to meet Walter Frey,” I said. “Where was your sister going?”

  She swallowed. “To meet your father.”

  I nodded, trying to keep calm. This was big. This was huge. “So the police never looked into Steve Morrissey?”

  “The other three refused to talk. It was my word against theirs. They knew Steve would have them killed.” Fear tightened her features. “Talking to you now could get me killed. It got Walter Frey killed.”

  I reached out and took her hand. “No. Sydney. If he wanted you dead, don’t you think he would have had you killed back then, after you talked to the police? Why do anything now?”

  She took a deep breath and nodded.

  “You don’t need to get more involved. I’ll get a copy of the police report so I can find your statement and use it.”

  “No, Magnolia. I only told you so you’ll know what’s at stake. Steve won’t be happy if this gets dragged out into the open again. He knows how vocal I was after they disappeared.”

  “If anyone asks how I know something, I’ll say it’s from the police report.”

  “But you don’t even have one.”

  “No, but I know how to get it.”

  Chapter 17

  The police station was quiet when I walked in. I didn’t recognize the receptionist at the desk, not that I was surprised. Last time, I’d come in on a weekend.

  “Is Detective Bennett in?” I asked as I approached the window. I probably should have called him first, but I was a witness in a murder investigation, which surely gave me a justifiable reason to show up and talk to the detective who took my statement.

  But now that I was here, I was paranoid. One, I was sure the police were behind Walter Frey’s mysteriously missing cell phone, not to mention the note. And two, by requesting this police report, I was declaring my intentions to Walter Frey’s killer. I was also worried Brady wouldn’t give it to me. He thought I’d accepted the official storyline about Daddy, and I wasn’t sure how he’d interpret my continued interest. I considered asking the receptionist how I could get a copy, but the fewer people who knew about this, the better. Might as well take my chances with Brady.

  She gave me a bored look. “What’s this in regard to?”

  “The Walter Frey murder.”

  “Detective Frasier is handling that case. Do you want me to ring him?”

  “No. Detective Bennett, please.”

  She narrowed her eyes, looking like she was about to protest, but then picked up her phone and dialed an extension. After speaking with someone in a hushed tone, she hung up. “He’s out to lunch,” she announced.

  “Do you know when he’ll be back?”

  Her bored look was back. “No. But I’ll be happy to take your name and number and have him contact you.”

  I forced a smile. “No, thanks. I’ll just come back later.”

  I stepped outside and stood in the sunshine, closing my eyes as the gravity of what I’d learned from Sydney sunk in. My father had tried to do the right thing by going to the county prosecutor, and it had cost him his life. Did I really want to pursue this?

  “Maggie?”

  I opened my eyes, preparing myself to see Brady. He and another man close to his age were walking toward me from the street. “Hi.”

  The other man gave me a weird look, almost like I was a sideshow freak, but Brady didn’t seem to notice.

  “What are you doing here?” Brady asked as he stopped in front of me. “Is everything okay?”

  “Yeah. Actually, I stopped by to see you.”

  He gave me the smug smile of a man who just learned he was declared People’s sexiest man of the year.

  I couldn’t help grinning. “While your ego is truly astounding, this is an official visit.”

  He laughed and then turned to his friend. “Owen, this is Magnolia Steele. Magnolia, this is Detective Owen Frasier.”

  Owen could be complicit with whatever was going on in the station—after all, it was his case—so I needed to be very careful. I assumed a role: a young woman trying to win him over because she was interested in his friend. I beamed with a megawatt smile as I held out my hand. “Nice to meet you, Detective Frasier.”

  He smiled back as he shook it. “Call me Owen if you’re a friend of Brady’s.”

  Continuing to play it light and breezy, I shot Brady an ornery smile before looking back at Owen. “I’ll keep that in mind, Detective Frasier.”

  Owen burst out laughing and clapped Brady on the shoulder. “You’ve met your match with this one, Bennett.” Then he turned his amused gaze to me. “I wholeheartedly approve of anyone who doesn’t fall at his feet.”

  I gave him a haughty grin. “No chance of that happening.”

  Owen laughed again. “I hope to see you again, Magnolia Steele.” Then he looked over at Brady. “Good luck, man. I think you need it. See you inside.”

  I had to admit that Owen Frasier didn’t seem threatening, but could I really trust him after only a few seconds of pleasantries?

  Brady watched his friend walk inside, shaking his head a little in amusement, before he turned back to me. “We don’t know anything new about Walter Frey’s case.”

  “That’s not the case I’m interested in at the moment.” I paused. “I was wondering if you could get me the report on my father’s disappearance.”

  He took my arm, led me over to a low concrete wall, and then gestured for me to sit with him. “Maggie, I told you the case is closed. Your father was having an affair.”

  Protesting would likely get me nowhere, but there was another way I could play it, and it might just save my ass for at least a little while longer.

  “I know,” I said quietly, looking down at my hands in my lap. “I finally realized that everyone is right.” I mustered up a few tears, just enough to add to the role but not enough to overdo it. “The thing is, I never got closure. Daddy just left—no note, nothing. I never got to really grieve what happened. But if I had the police report and saw everyone’s testimony with my own eyes, I think I could finally let this rest.”

  He gave me a wary glance.

  “I know it might be a lot to ask, especially since I coerced you into investigating it.”

  He sighed and leaned his forearms on his thighs. “You didn’t coerce me. I thought there might be a legitimate angle.”

  “And now?”

  He sat up, looking frustrated. “It still seems pretty damn coincidental that a man you were supposed to meet was murdered. But I’ve already looked into the only thing linking you two together. Walter Frey was robbed. It was just unfortunate timing.” Yet the way he said it made me think he didn’t quite buy it himself.

  “If it’s too much trouble to look it up . . .”

  He shook his head. “I have a copy on my desk. It’s not a matter of looking it up. I can make a copy for you in a matter of minutes.” He studied me. “I think I’m more concerned with what you plan to do with it. Whether there’s a connection or not, looking into your father’s disappearance is what put you and Walter Frey in the same location that night.”

  I sat up straighte
r and swiped at the corner of my eye. “I’ve learned my lesson about my father, Brady.” Only not at all like he presumed I meant. “I hate to put you on the spot like this, but I’m asking anyway. Please?” I gave him a pleading look, and he released a long groan.

  “Okay,” he finally said, looking none too happy about it. “I’ll get you a copy, but I want something in return. Do you have plans tonight?”

  Oh crap. He was going to ask me to go out with him. I tried to ignore the fluttering ball of nerves in my stomach and affected a wary look. “Why?”

  “I want you to stay home tonight.”

  I blinked, certain I’d heard him wrong. “What?”

  “Even though there’s no official link between you and Walter Frey’s murder, I’d feel better if you stayed home. Or maybe at your mother’s. Keep out of the public eye until we have a better handle on who did this.”

  “You can’t be serious. Do you have any solid leads?”

  He grimaced. “No. The bar didn’t have cameras on the parking lot, and no one’s used his credit cards yet.”

  That was because they hadn’t murdered him for the credit cards, but I wasn’t going to suggest that. “You’re asking me to be a hermit for an indefinite period of time.” He didn’t answer, and I fought my rising irritation. “Brady, I can’t stay home tonight. I already have plans with Colt.”

  He tried to look nonplussed, but I could see my news bothered him. “Are you working on a catering job with your mother?”

  “No.” I considered dragging it out to make him suffer, but I didn’t see the point, not with a copy of the report on the line. “We’re singing tonight. At the Kincaid.”

  “Are you trying to get signed to a country label?”

  “No. I just miss performing. We sang pretty well together at the Embassy, so he asked me to sing with him again tonight. Plus, it’s a chance to earn some money from tips.”

  He watched me with a worried expression. “Do you trust this guy? You can’t have known him very long.”

  I gave him a teasing grin. “I’ve known him about a half day longer than you.”

  He didn’t smile.

  “Brady, tell me what’s really going on.”

  “Officially, you’re free to go about your business.”

  “But unofficially I’m not?”

  He rubbed his head in frustration, then turned to face me head-on. “I’m worried about your safety. I have no hard evidence. Just call it a hunch.”

  Resisting the urge to tighten my hold on my purse, which still contained my gun, I said, “I appreciate your concern, but I’m okay. I promise. I’m being extra vigilant, just like you asked. Plus, you forget I lived in a big city, and cautious was my middle name. Besides, the Kincaid is a large bar. There will be tons of people around.”

  He didn’t look convinced. “That doesn’t mean you’ll be safe.”

  “I have to do this, Brady. I can’t let Colt down, plus I really want to go. I’ll stick with Colt the entire time. We’re driving there together.”

  He hesitated and then said, “Please, just be careful, okay?”

  “I will.”

  Standing, he pushed out a heavy sigh. “I have to get inside. Will you be home in about an hour?”

  “No, I’m having lunch with my sister-in-law.”

  “I have to go interview someone, so I’ll leave a copy of the report on your front porch.”

  “You’re going to get me a copy?” His reluctance filled me with guilt, although I had no idea why. “Thank you, Brady.”

  “I may text you later to check on you. I’d appreciate it if you’d respond so I know you’re okay.” I would have believed he was trying to hit on me, but I saw genuine concern in his eyes, which filled me with renewed fear. What did Brady know that he wasn’t telling me? Did he suspect his friend had stolen Walter Frey’s phone?

  “Thanks,” I said, meaning it and wondering if I should rethink this solo investigation.

  He started toward the building but then turned back to me and lowered his voice.

  “One more thing.” He paused. “Don’t talk about the Walter Frey case or your father’s case to anyone.”

  “You already told me that.”

  “No. I mean anyone. Police included.”

  Oh, God. He did suspect them. Should I tell him what I knew?

  He gave me a soft smile. “From the look on your face, I’m scaring you. It’s just that a few of the detectives know I’m interested in you. We all tease each other, and I don’t want any of them to annoy you.” He paused. “Promise me.”

  It seemed like an odd request, but since I already suspected someone in the department might not have my best interests in mind, I had no problem agreeing to this one. “I promise.”

  I left the police station a lot more frightened than when I’d arrived, but the gun in my purse gave me reassurance. Once I was in the car, I pulled out my phone and called Belinda. “I’m headed to my apartment, if you want to meet me there.”

  “I’m finishing up a proposal, but I’ll be there in about twenty minutes.”

  “See you then.”

  After I drove to my apartment, I parked in the spot next to the garage and headed for the stairs, but the swaying of the curtain in the house’s kitchen window caught my eye. I already had Ava’s attention. I might as well talk to her now.

  I walked over to the back of the house and rapped on the wooden screen door. She waited a few seconds before opening it.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked, looking me up and down. “It’s not Wednesday.”

  I latched on to her opening. “Actually, I don’t think we set a time for me to come on Wednesday.”

  “You said you wouldn’t know until you got your schedule. Do you have it?”

  “Uh, no. But if I’m off, what time would you prefer for me to come over?”

  The look she gave me told me she wasn’t falling for my ruse. “Eight.”

  Ugh. Eight? But I had brought this on myself. “Thanks. I’ll let you know as soon as I find out.”

  She continued to watch me through the screen, waiting for my next move.

  “Miss Ava,” I said, wishing I’d thought this through better. “I know you have your hand on the pulse of the city—”

  She looked down her nose at me, which was impressive since she was several inches shorter than me. “Is that your way of calling me a gossip?”

  I had to salvage this situation, and fast. “What? No!”

  “What do you want to know?”

  “I want to know what you know about Shannon Morrissey and my father.”

  Her eyes widened, and then she grinned. “You don’t beat around the bush, do you? You’re just like your mother.”

  My back stiffened. “I’m going to take that as a compliment.”

  “As long as you’re not going against me, it is.” She shifted her weight. “So what do you know about them?”

  “I—”

  She pushed the door open. “Maybe you should come inside to discuss this.”

  I walked past her into the kitchen. “So you believe all the rumors.”

  “Sit.” She gestured to the small table.

  I did as she said and placed my hands in my lap. “What do you know?”

  “You need to learn patience, Magnolia Steele.”

  “I’ve been patient for fourteen years, Miss Ava. I’m done with patience.”

  She grabbed the tea kettle from the stove, then moved to the sink. “After waiting fourteen years, five minutes isn’t going to cost you a hill of beans.”

  Of course she was right, but it still ticked me off. She was playing with me. We both knew it, but there wasn’t a damn thing I could do. She was going to tell me gossip about some torrid affair, and I was going to have to sit here and listen, because that’s why I was here. To find out what everyone had said.

  After she filled the kettle, she set it on the stove and turned on the burner. I was surprised when she sat down across from me and folded
her hands on top of the table. “There were rumors, of course.”

  I watched her and waited, and this obviously pleased her, because she graced me with a satisfied smile. “The key is that those rumors popped up after their disappearance, not before.”

  It took me a second for her words to register. “Wait. Are you saying they weren’t having an affair?”

  She straightened and slightly turned her head, giving herself a regal air. “I have no idea if they were or weren’t. All I know is that rumors don’t usually start floating around after two people have disappeared together. An affair starts quietly, discreetly, and then the couple gets cocky. Sloppy. There was no sloppiness.”

  Disappointment washed through me. I’d hoped she would reject the idea of an affair altogether. “So you’re saying they were clever.”

  “I’m not saying any such thing. I’m only saying if they had an affair, it was either brand new or they were more careful than most.”

  I pushed out a breath as I looked down at my hands.

  “Shannon wasn’t happy in her marriage. Steve Morrissey is not an easy man to live with.” She paused. “He had peculiar proclivities.”

  I glanced up. “What does that mean?”

  Her mouth pursed. “Ladies do not speak of such coarse things.”

  “So it’s about sex.”

  Her lips pinched tighter.

  “Steve Morrissey had a fetish,” I said, more than asked. “Did Shannon know before she married him?”

  “I highly doubt it. Their courtship was a whirlwind. She told him she was pregnant, and they married a month or so later.”

  “I know she had a son before she married him, but I didn’t realize they also had a child together.”

  “They didn’t. She miscarried shortly after the wedding.” She gave me a smug look that suggested she didn’t believe it. “Rumor had it that he didn’t introduce his peculiarities until after her miscarriage, but once he began to make his demands, she started looking for a way out that wouldn’t leave her destitute.”

  My brow furrowed as I tried to read between the lines. Then it hit me. “Mr. Morrissey had a prenup.”