Act Two

by Denise Grover Swank

She tapped the side of her nose and nodded.

  “But she’d get his money if he went to jail, because they’d still be married, right?” Still, that didn’t sound quite right. If he was laundering money, wouldn’t all his assets be seized?

  Miss Ava gave me a sideways glance. “What on earth makes you bring up jail? She stole his money and left. And so did your father.”

  “She left her son behind? Just like my father supposedly left his family behind.”

  She lifted her shoulder into a slight shrug. “People in love do strange things.”

  “Only, they weren’t in love,” I said quietly. “She was using my father to get what she wanted—out of her marriage but with the money.” When she didn’t contradict me, I asked, “Why do people believe the other story?”

  “Who’s to say your version is the truth?” Miss Ava asked with a sharp stare. “Who’s to say your father wasn’t using her?”

  I let that settle in for a moment. “Maybe it was a mutual decision. Mutual payoff.”

  “Or maybe they were simply having an affair and they ran off with Morrissey’s money. That’s the least preposterous of all the suggestions.”

  The kettle began to whistle, and Miss Ava got up and walked over to the stove. “Do you prefer Earl Grey or an herbal tea?”

  I shook my head. “Neither, thank you. I need to go.” I stood, suddenly exhausted.

  “Suit yourself,” she said, moving the kettle to another burner. “Maybe another time.”

  I nodded. “That would be nice,” I said absently as I made my way to the door. It occurred to me that while Ava had made this a neat and tidy package, she wasn’t privy to all the information. Would she know anything about the gold? With my hand on the doorknob, I turned back to look at her. “Do you know anything about Mr. Morrissey’s assets back then?”

  She looked surprised. “Well . . . I heard things.”

  “Which is why I’m asking you.”

  “He used your father as his financial planner, and rumor had it that he’d withdrawn a large chunk of his money from your father and was looking for a more stable investment. Something more traditional. Like utility stocks.”

  “Or gold?”

  She hesitated. “Yes. I’m sure there was gold.”

  I opened the door. “Thank you.”

  “Magnolia,” she called after me as I walked out the back door.

  I glanced back at her.

  “Be careful. Sometimes just because you know something doesn’t mean you have to act on it. Some things are better left in the past.”

  I’d heard that again and again lately, but only now did it strike me as odd. We were talking about two people whose disappearance had devastated two families. Not only did my family deserve answers, but so did Shannon Morrissey’s family, and Christopher Merritt’s and Walter Frey’s, and slowly but surely, I was getting them. Besides, Miss Ava was wrong. If my father’s investigation into Steve Morrissey had been act one of the man’s takedown, this was act two.

  I just had to be careful.

  I headed up the stairs to my apartment and waited for Belinda to show up. Now that the sun was out, it reflected off shiny pieces of the ceramic dog. While Colt had contained most of the mess with the towel, then dropped them in the waste bin, some pieces had still escaped. I grabbed a broom and dust pan and was in the process of sweeping them up when I heard Belinda’s knock.

  As soon as I opened the door, she pulled me into a hug and then gushed, “Oh, my word! This place is darling!”

  “Come on in.” I stood out of the way and looked at the door to see if Brady had made good on his promise, even though it hadn’t been an hour yet.

  “How in the world did you find it?” she asked as she walked into the kitchen.

  “Colt. He knows Miss Ava.”

  Her smile faded slightly. “Oh.”

  I narrowed my gaze. “What do you know?”

  “Nothing really,” she said with a slight shake of her head, making the ends of her strawberry-blond hair brush her shoulders.

  I pushed her down on a barstool. “Spill it.”

  She gave me a patronizing smile. “Ava Milton has a lot of power.”

  “So I’ve heard.”

  “And she and your mother are at odds.”

  “Which I also know.” When she started to protest, I held up my hands. “I had no idea until after I signed the lease.”

  “It just seems so odd, don’t you think?” she asked, searching my face. “It all happened so quickly.”

  Something in her voice caught my attention. “What are you suggesting?”

  “Nothing.”

  I sucked in a breath. “Don’t bullshit me, Belinda.”

  “Magnolia,” she said in a disapproving tone.

  “Belinda, I need you to be honest.”

  She hesitated for a moment. “Then I need you to be honest with me too.”

  I eyed her cautiously. What was she talking about? “I thought I had been.”

  “Did you have anything to do with Walter Frey’s murder?”

  I felt the color bleed from my face. “Did Momma tell you that?”

  I hadn’t told Belinda I was meeting Mr. Frey. In fact, I hadn’t told anyone.

  Something sparked in her eyes. Oh. She’d been fishing, and I’d just given her confirmation.

  “I didn’t kill him.”

  She rolled her eyes. “I know that. But you were meeting him, weren’t you? Did he tell you anything?”

  “No. He showed up before I did and took off for the back. The bartender told me where he’d gone, so I went to check on him. I found him out back, all right. Dead.”

  She reached over and rubbed my arm. “How awful. Are you okay?”

  “Yeah. I’m over the shock now.” It was mostly true, which bothered me. Was I getting used to seeing murder victims?

  “What are the police saying?”

  “They think it’s a robbery. That it had nothing to do with Daddy.”

  She stiffened slightly. “Why would it have something to do with your father?”

  “Belinda, don’t you think it’s odd that I set up a meeting with the man and he was killed right before he could meet with me?”

  “Well, of course, but you do have terrible luck. Look at Max.”

  “True, but—”

  Her eyes widened with fear. “Have you felt threatened since?”

  I couldn’t very well tell her yes, your husband tried to beat me up, even if I had warned her that I’d pissed him off. But despite our combined efforts to track down Max Goodwin’s killer, I wasn’t going to tell her about my extracurricular sleuthing either, not when Roy was already so riled up. Besides, it was too dangerous for me to involve anyone else. “No, of course not. Say, do you know anything about the stuff Roy has stored in Momma’s garage?”

  She looked taken aback by the quick change in topic. “Why do you ask?”

  “Colt helped me get my car running, and we had to move some things to get it out. It looks like the contents of a one-bedroom apartment. A nice one. I realize Roy has his shit together more than most people, but it seems even out of his league, especially if it’s from a place he got after college.”

  “It belongs to his friend. He was transferred to Hong Kong for a few years, so Roy said he’d keep his things.”

  “Was it the guy Roy lived with before he moved in with you?”

  She was still smiling, but there was a hint of fear in her eyes. “Why so many questions?”

  “It just seems odd. First of all, I can’t believe Momma agreed to it. And second, why didn’t he get a temperature-controlled storage unit? I can’t imagine the Tennessee summers are good for the furniture.”

  “His friend left in a hurry, and they couldn’t find a place. It was supposed to be temporary, but then Roy forgot about it, I guess.”

  “Did Roy have any of his own things mixed in with his friend’s stuff?”

  “What are you getting at, Magnolia?”

  Why did
she look so nervous? Did Belinda know something about the stuff in the garage, or did she just know it was important to Roy for some reason?

  “Roy’s going to have a fit if he finds out you moved any of Todd’s things around,” she went on.

  “I won’t tell him, Belinda. Besides, you had nothing to do with it.” I took a breath, then plunged on. “Did you tell him about our discussion at Mellow Mushroom?”

  “Roy’s been very busy this week. He’s been getting home late, and he’s been . . . stressed.”

  I understood. She couldn’t outright say that she kept secrets from him. And I was sure he kept plenty of secrets from her too. Like his housewarming visit the other night. “So that’s a no?”

  “No.” She took a breath. “Did you disturb the things in the garage?”

  Why was she so worried? “It’s Momma’s garage, and she was also storing my car. She gave me permission, Belinda.”

  “How much did you move?”

  I sure wasn’t going to tell her I’d been snooping through the boxes. “Hardly anything. Just enough to get my car onto the driveway.”

  She was silent for a moment. “Okay.”

  “Where do you want to go to lunch?” I asked. “I don’t care as long as it’s not Taco Bell.”

  She gave me a strange look, then asked, “Do you have anything you need to be back for?”

  “No, but . . .” I paused, wondering if I should tell her my plan for the afternoon, then decided if anyone would understand, it would be Belinda. “I want to go to Walter Frey’s funeral.”

  “Oh.” She seemed to think about it before she asked, “Do you think that’s a good idea?”

  “I don’t see why not. He was a business associate of my father’s.” I took a breath. “I feel like it’s the right thing to do.”

  “But it just seems so . . .”

  “I’m going,” I said in a firm voice.

  She took my hand. “I’m sorry. I just worry about you is all.” The earnest look in her eyes told me she meant it.

  “Nothing’s going to happen,” I said, squeezing her hand.

  She studied my face, then nodded. “Of course. You’re right. I was planning to go to the funeral too. I planned their daughter’s wedding, and I grew very attached to Shelby. I’m sure she’s devastated. We can go together if you’d like.”

  The thought of facing Walter Frey’s distraught family almost made me change my mind. But Belinda’s sympathetic face gave me the strength to believe I could handle it. I had no idea how I’d become so attached to her in such a short period of time, but now I didn’t know how I’d get along without her. I squeezed her hand tight. “I’d like.”

  A soft smile spread across her face. “We’ll go to lunch first and then head to the funeral together. I can drive.”

  “Thanks.” I paused, hesitating to say, “I’ve missed you.” My kinship with Belinda had caught me by surprise. We’d taken to meeting for lunch several days a week, and I’d even helped her with a wedding the previous week—although I suspected Roy didn’t know. But I hadn’t seen her since lunch on Tuesday, which was the longest we’d gone without seeing each other since I’d returned to Franklin.

  She gave me a tight squeeze. “I’ve missed you too.” Dropping my hand, she took a step back. “Now show me around.”

  I chuckled. “There’s not much to see. It’s a one-bedroom, but it’s all I need. Besides, Ava has some very strict rules about entertaining gentleman callers.”

  She laughed. “Gentleman callers?”

  “Don’t ask. I’m already in trouble for three in one night.” Oh shit.

  Her eyebrows rose. “Three men?”

  I shrugged.

  Her face lit up. “Oh, no! You’re not getting off that easy. Who?”

  “It’s not nearly as exciting as it sounds,” I lied. “Especially when she included the pizza delivery man in the count.”

  “She got upset over the pizza delivery man? Are you sure you want to live here?”

  “Things will settle down. I really like this place, and I’ve never lived on my own. It’s like a dream come true.”

  “Did it come furnished?” she asked, wandering into my bedroom.

  “Yeah, and the rent is very affordable.”

  “It almost seems too good to be true.”

  The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end, but I couldn’t deny the same thought had occurred to me. Everything had fallen into place so easily with the apartment. It would have been easier to accept if I believed in fate. “I’m starving. Let’s get going.” But rather than leave right away, I walked to the sink and opened the cabinet door, pulling out the trash can. It was full of pieces of the ceramic dog, and I’d forgotten to take it out before I’d gone to the dentist. “I’m going to take this down to the garbage bin on the way.”

  I pulled the bag out of the container, the pieces clinking together.

  “Did you break some dishes?” Belinda asked as she walked out of my bedroom.

  “No, just a statue.”

  “Isn’t Ava going to have a fit?”

  “It wasn’t hers.” After her freak-out about the garage, I couldn’t tell her I’d taken the dog statue. “Colt gave it to me right after I moved in.” Technically true.

  “Oh, dear,” she said. “Will he be upset?”

  “He’ll get over it.” I grabbed my purse and headed toward the door. When we reached the landing, Belinda took the trash bag from me so I could lock the door.

  “What was it a statue of?” She peered inside the bag. “Is that a dog head? A Dalmatian?”

  I put the keys inside my purse. “Yeah.”

  “There are a lot of pieces.”

  How closely was she acquainted with the things in the garage? “It was a big dog.”

  “It looks like it was smashed.” When I didn’t respond, she gave me a sympathetic smile, then turned and headed down the stairs. “I hope Colt doesn’t find out you broke his gift.”

  “He already knows,” I said. “He was here when I broke it.”

  We were both silent until we got into her car, but I could sense Belinda was struggling to put something into words. “You’re spending a lot of time with Colt,” she finally said, turning to look at me.

  “I’ve already told you half a dozen times that we’re friends.”

  “Just be careful, Magnolia. Okay?”

  I considered arguing with her, but she clearly seemed worried. “I’m fine, Belinda. I promise. Nothing’s going on between us but friendship.”

  She started to say something, stopped, started the car, and then turned back to me. “I probably shouldn’t tell you what I’m about to say, but I care about you, Magnolia.”

  My shoulders tensed. “Okay.”

  Her mouth twisted into a grimace. “I’m not sure you should entirely trust Colt.”

  “I already told you that I—”

  “No. Because of his criminal past.”

  “He has a criminal past?” It didn’t totally surprise me. He’d admitted that he had once been associated with some dangerous people, and there were plenty of indications he wasn’t proud of his past, but this was the first I’d heard about any criminal activities on his part. “Does Momma know?”

  “Yes.” She pressed her lips together. “She says she’s giving him the benefit of the doubt.”

  “What was he arrested for?”

  “Grand larceny, but his charges were dropped.”

  “Well, then he mustn’t have done it.”

  “He made a plea bargain with the D.A.”

  “What did he supposedly steal?”

  “I don’t know. Roy was worried about your mother, so he tried to get the report. But the records were sealed.”

  “Why would the records be sealed?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “How long ago did it happen?”

  “I don’t know that either.”

  Was this Colt’s big secret? I was dying to know, but did I have a right to ask? Becaus
e if I demanded answers from him, he might ask the same of me.

  Chapter 18

  “There’s a lot of people here,” I said as Belinda and I looked for a place to sit in the funeral home. There had to be at least one hundred fifty people packed into the room, and there were more people waiting behind us.

  Belinda leaned over and whispered in my ear, “I’m not surprised. Walter Frey was a respected member of the community.”

  Thankfully, my sister-in-law seemed like her normal self again. She’d exchanged multiple texts with someone at lunch before rushing off to the restroom with her phone. When she’d returned, she could barely look me in the eye.

  “Is everything okay?” I’d asked.

  “Of course.” She’d picked up the menu and looked it over.

  “You don’t look okay.”

  She’d looked up and smiled. “A disgruntled bride. Not to worry. It will blow over. Part of the job territory.”

  But she’d been quiet through the rest of our meal, and I couldn’t help wondering if it had something to do with my brother.

  Funeral home employees were adding folding chairs to the ends of full rows of mourners. One of them motioned for Belinda and me to take two seats a few rows from the front.

  Several people acknowledged Belinda by offering a smile or a nod as we passed. I had suspected she knew a lot of people in town, but this was proof. It was yet another sign that she had a life outside of my brother, so why did she stay with him? I had to make her see that she didn’t need him. That she could live without him.

  After we settled onto our seats, I took a discreet look around the room. I gasped when I recognized Chris Merritt’s wife from the internet photos, sitting in a row in front of us.

  “Magnolia?” Belinda asked in concern. “What’s wrong?”

  “I just saw someone unexpected.”

  “Who?”

  “Christopher Merritt’s wife.”

  She looked surprised. “You know Karen?”

  “Do you?”

  Belinda uncrossed her legs and leaned closer. “I met her at the Arts Council of Williamson County. She’s only attended a few meetings. How do you know her?”

  “Her husband worked with my father.”

  “He worked at JS Investments?”

  “No,” I said. “They shared some clients.”