Act Two

by Denise Grover Swank

  Grinning, I shook my head. “He didn’t pay me to come over. We do know each other.”

  “So tell me this,” Owen said with a teasing glint. “Brady seems to think he has a chance with you, but I’d like to throw my hat into the ring if you’re single. Do I stand a chance?”

  “That depends,” I said, reminding myself that this charming guy might not be as nice as he seemed. I, of all people, knew how easy it was to play a role. But I was playing one too, and if he wasn’t what he seemed, I couldn’t give him any reason to be suspicious of me. “You work for the Franklin police, don’t you?”

  His grin turned hopeful. “Why? You got a thing for cops?”

  “The opposite,” I said, taking the seat next to him and leaving Brady with nowhere to sit. Then I said in a teasing tone, “I don’t date cops.”

  I didn’t turn around to see Brady’s reaction, but everyone at the table was laughing.

  “Are you a professional singer?” Stacy asked.

  “Nah,” I said. “I just came to help Colt out tonight.” I took a sip of my beer, then glanced around the table and forced a friendly smile. “Y’all been here long?”

  “We caught the act before yours,” Mary said. “But they weren’t as good as you and Colt.” She glanced up at Brady, who had dragged over a chair and sat next to me. “Have you and Colt been singing together long?”

  I could smell a thinly veiled question from a mile away, but this one seemed safe. I hadn’t answered Owen’s question, and she wanted to know if Colt and I were together. Brady’s friends might be giving him a hard time, but they had his back and wanted to make sure I didn’t hurt him. I could respect that. “No, we haven’t,” I said. “Believe it or not, this is only the third time we’ve sang together, if you count our rehearsal earlier.”

  “You said that one song was from the musical Fireflies at Dawn,” Mary continued. “Isn’t that the play where the actress—”

  Brady took a sip of his beer and leaned back in his seat. “Would you believe that I was one of the few people lucky enough to see their first performance? She and Colt sang in a hole-in-the-wall bar, and she sounded amazing.”

  “Is that how you met her?” Stacy asked Brady.

  I glanced back at him. “Yeah, Brady. Tell them how we met.”

  He laughed and glanced at his friends, then turned to me with a grin. “It was at the deli downtown. She has the most beautiful eyes in the world, and when I grabbed her bag by mistake, I knew I had to get to know her better.”

  His eyes held mine, and his smile was huge. He was overselling it, as though purposely embellishing his story for entertainment. But I had to wonder how much of what he said was true. He’d made no secret of his interest in me.

  I broke his gaze and turned to his group, grinning like it was the funniest thing I’d heard in ages.

  Steve groaned. “Dude, that is the cheesiest line ever.”

  “You stole her sandwich?” Mary asked.

  Brady laughed. “What can I say? She had me flustered.”

  “You, flustered?” Drew asked.

  “So you were taken with her eyes and stole her sandwich,” Stacy teased. “But have you been out?”

  Brady sipped his beer, then grinned and said, “The timing hasn’t been right.” His grin spread and he snuck a glance at me. “But I’m hopeful.”

  “No pressure.” Mary laughed, then winked at me. “Hold your ground, Maggie. Brady gets just about everything he wants. Make him work for it.”

  I smiled playfully as I lifted my bottle. “I’m not looking for a relationship right now, but if I change my mind, I’ll keep my options open.”

  The group broke out into uproarious laughter, and even though it was at Brady’s expense, he was still grinning and having a good time. I’d dated plenty of guys who couldn’t handle it when people took pot shots at their egos. Brady obviously had the confidence to take a few hits, which only made him more intriguing.

  But Brady Bennett was off limits, and I needed to remember that.

  I stayed with them longer than I’d intended, especially since I didn’t get the chance to ask Owen anything pertaining to the case, but his friends were fun. They teased Brady mercilessly, and he gave as good as he got. The unspoken rule seemed to be that I was off limits. I suspected they knew how much he liked me and didn’t want to scare me off.

  I’d sat with them for about a half hour when Brady said he had to go to the restroom. After he left, Owen said he was going to make a drinks run.

  Sensing an opportunity, I said, “I’ll go with you. I need to check in with Colt.”

  “Is he your brother?” Stacy asked, taking advantage of the fact that Brady wasn’t there to head off anyone’s questions.

  I grinned. “No. He’s definitely not my brother.”

  Owen gathered everyone’s orders, and the two of us headed to the bar. The band after Colt and me had ended their set and the new one hadn’t started yet, so I decided to take advantage of the lower decibel level as we walked.

  “So you and Brady are friends?” I asked. “But not partners.”

  He gave me a meaningful look. “I know his partner Martinez came across as a total hardass when you met her, but she’s usually not that intense.”

  I had to wonder what he’d heard about my “performance” during her interrogation. Brady’s partner had asked a lot of questions based on the information I’d given him the night before, and I’d played a cold, calculating bitch. “And why would I care about Brady’s partner?”

  “Because if you’re part of Brady’s world, you’ll have to get used to having her around.”

  My mouth lifted into a smug grin. “And who says I want to be part of Brady’s world?”

  He shrugged, but his eyes sparkled with mischief. “Fair enough.”

  We stopped at the counter and Owen placed his orders, then turned to me.

  “Water.”

  He seemed surprised, but he didn’t question me. While we waited for the bartender, I cast a glance at Colt, who had narrowed down his group to two women.

  “You’re not really dating that guy,” Owen said, lifting his finger and pointing to Colt.

  I could lie, but I didn’t see the point. “Colt and I are . . . complicated.”

  “But you’re letting Brady think you are?”

  “That’s complicated too.”

  He nodded. “Fair enough.”

  “How long have you and Brady been friends?”

  “About eight years,” he said with a grin. “We went through police academy together.”

  “So that’s why he called you the other night,” I said. “Because he can trust you.”

  His smile faded. “He wanted to make sure you were treated fairly this time. What you went through with the Goodwin murder . . . it bothered him. A lot.”

  I’d already suspected as much, but the confirmation was nice. “So if you had shown up first and I didn’t know Brady, would I be under suspicion?”

  Confusion washed over his face. “Why would you be? I know it’s odd that you stumbled upon two bodies in such a short period of time, but there was nothing to tie you to this one.”

  I stared at him for a few seconds before it clicked. Brady hadn’t told him that I had arranged to meet Mr. Frey that night. But why not? Was he trying to make up for what happened with Martinez? What if word got out that he’d covered it up? But I kept my face perfectly emotionless while all of that flitted through my head.

  “And you think it was a robbery?” I asked.

  “Yeah. Wrong time, wrong place. His wife said he said he was going out, but she had no idea where or why. After talking with her, I could see why the guy would go someplace like that to drink. Why would you think you’d be a suspect?”

  I shrugged, trying to play it off. “I didn’t have a very solid alibi, and then there’s the fact I found the body.”

  “What are you talking about?” He pointed his thumb over his shoulder. “Colt over there is your alibi. Both he a
nd Brady confirmed that you were there to sing. When you went to the restroom before you sang, you heard a noise out back, and you found Walter Frey when you went to investigate.”

  Why hadn’t Brady told me about the lie? What about Chuck the bartender? He knew I’d gone to the bar to meet Mr. Frey. And what about that note?

  I suddenly felt sick.

  “Maggie,” Owen said. “Is there something I don’t know?”

  “What?” I blinked up at him, looking confused. “Of course not.” I shook my head. “Sorry. Talking about this makes me relive the whole thing all over again.”

  Colt glanced over, and after taking one look at my face, he whispered something to his companions and hopped off his stool.

  “I still need to talk to Colt,” I said to Owen. “If you’ll wait, I’ll help you carry the drinks back.”

  “Sounds good,” he said, but he kept his attention on digging out his wallet.

  Colt met me halfway. Putting his hand on my shoulder, he leaned into my ear. “What happened?”

  “Did you and Brady discuss your statement about the night at the Embassy?” I blurted out, looking up at him to gauge his reaction.

  His eyes hardened. “The only discussion I’ve had with your detective was this afternoon when he threatened to kick my ass. Why?”

  “What did you tell them?”

  “That I found you at the bar and invited you to sing with me.”

  “You didn’t say that I specifically came to the bar to sing with you? Or that I found Walter Frey right before our set because I heard something near the restrooms?”

  “No. I told them what I just told you.”

  I was certain he was telling the truth. Which meant Brady had lied on an official report. Did Owen suspect? He’d looked genuinely confused when I’d asked if I could be a suspect.

  But then I realized this was why Brady had told me not to talk to anyone—police included. I was in the middle of a cover-up.

  Why?

  Colt’s jaw set. “What’s going on, Mags?”

  Casting a glance at Colt’s pouting admirers, I said, “I’m going to ask Brady to take me home.”

  His eyes flew wide. “Do you really think that’s a good idea? I can see you’re shaken up about something.”

  “Brady’s friend Owen has no idea that I was there to see Walter Frey. Brady lied in his report.”

  Colt rubbed his jaw, looking back at the women who were still waiting for him. “Why would he do that?”

  “I don’t know, but what worries me is that other people know it’s not true, like the bartender and Belinda. What if it gets out?”

  “Belinda won’t tell anyone.”

  “What about the bartender?”

  Worry filled his eyes.

  “I have to find out why Brady lied.”

  “Isn’t it obvious? He wants in your pants.”

  “By lying on a police report? That could get him fired. I’m definitely not that good in bed.”

  I expected a crass retort—I needed a joke right now. Instead, he studied me for a moment and then nodded. “It’s a good idea to talk to him. Just be careful. Call or text if you need me.”

  I stood on my tiptoes and kissed him on the cheek. “Thanks, Colt. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

  A smile spread across his face. “Of course you don’t. Let me know what you find out.” Then he was off, and the girls squealed—actually squealed—as he walked toward them.

  Good Lord.

  Owen was waiting for me, several glasses in his hands, but he’d left a couple of beer bottles and a glass of water on the counter.

  I picked up the beers and turned my back to the bar.

  “You didn’t get your drink.” He smiled at me, and although it was innocent enough, the hair on my neck stood on end. Something about his mood seemed to have shifted, though I couldn’t put my finger on it.

  I’d completely forgotten about my water. Not that I wanted it anyway—it had been sitting there for a few minutes, within reach of anyone.

  “That’s okay,” I said. “I’ve got my hands full.”

  “You walked all the way over here; you should at least get your own drink.” He put his drinks on the counter, grabbed the two beer bottles and cradled them to his side with his arm, and then picked up the remaining drinks. There were only two left for me to carry—one mixed drink and the water. “What kind of guy would I be if I let you help, but we left your drink behind?”

  “Thanks.” I picked up both glasses, forcing a smile.

  We headed back to the table, and I stayed close to Owen, deciding to press my luck. “I know you’ve determined Mr. Frey was killed in a robbery, but have you figured out who did it?”

  “No. We don’t have any suspects yet. Unfortunately, the building didn’t have any security cameras and absolutely no witnesses have turned up.”

  Brady had already told me that. “What about the note?” I asked, deciding to throw caution to the wind. I wanted to see his reaction since the note hadn’t been listed on the report.

  Owen hesitated for a moment, then gave me a curious look. “What note?”

  I shook my head, feigning confusion. “I’m sure it’s nothing, but I thought I saw a note.”

  He stopped and studied me. “What kind of note?”

  He either hadn’t seen it or was pretending that he hadn’t, so I needed to back away from this as smoothly as possible. “I thought I saw a piece of paper next to him, but I probably imagined it. I was pretty traumatized.” But not enough to have dreamed up the note. The question wasn’t if there had been a note—it was who had taken it.

  But Owen continued to watch me. “Did you see anything on the note?”

  “No, like I said, it looked like a piece of paper.” I cringed. “But I was pretty shaken up, so I probably read more into it than was there. Forget I said anything.”

  He gave me a patronizing smile. “It was probably a piece of trash that blew away in the wind.”

  “Yeah,” I agreed. “You’re probably right.” Only, Brady had said the exact same thing before blowing off the idea.

  I was starting to rethink my decision to see if he would take me home.

  Brady was standing next to his chair when we got back. He took the drinks from my hands and then leaned close to my ear. “I wasn’t sure you were coming back.”

  I looked up at him, suddenly wary. “I wouldn’t just leave like that.” But I quickly glanced away and sat back in my chair. I needed some time to think.

  “Hey,” Stacy called out. “I know you’re busy making goo-goo eyes at Maggie, but maybe can you hand me my drink?” she said, harassing Brady.

  He handed her the glass, then looked around the table with my water in his hand.

  “That’s Maggie’s,” Owen said, pointing from the glass to me.

  Brady set it down in front of me and took his seat, and I told myself to calm down and consider this situation rationally. Was it as simple as Colt had suggested? Had Brady lied to protect me? It didn’t make sense—after all, we barely knew each other—but he had promised he wouldn’t let me be railroaded into being a suspect again. I couldn’t believe that was the reason, though. So what was going on?

  He and his friends carried on with their conversation, but I tuned them out, trying to put all the pieces together. Was Brady protecting me from someone in the police department?

  “Maggie?” Mary asked, and the way she said it made me realize I’d missed part of the conversation.

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “I’m really tired. It’s been a long day. I’m thinking about calling it a night.” I started to reach for my water glass before remembering that I hadn’t had my eyes on it the whole night. As I pulled my hand away, I noticed Owen watching me from the corner of his eye.

  “Do you think Colt’s ready to leave?” Brady asked, watching me closely. “You rode with him, right?”

  My original plan to ask Brady to take me home no longer seemed wise. And to make matters
even more complicated, I wasn’t sure I even wanted to stay at my place. My mother’s house was looking pretty good.

  I scanned the bar area and, sure enough, Colt was still flirting with his two very attentive companions. “Colt seems a little preoccupied. I can just get an Uber.”

  Brady turned to me. “I can take you home, Maggie.”

  I was torn between wanting answers and protecting myself. But bottom line, I had a hard time believing that this man watching me with so much concern in his eyes was capable of hurting me.

  I really hope I don’t regret this.

  “Are you sure you don’t mind?”

  “You guys can’t leave yet,” Owen shouted loud enough for the entire table and several surrounding ones to hear over the noise. “It’s not even eleven. Maggie just needs to get her second wind.” He shoved my glass toward me. “Down this water, and then you’ll be good as new.”

  He held my gaze and fear slithered down my spine. Could I trust Owen?

  I had no good reason not to drink it, but I wasn’t about to accept his challenge. I stood. “Brady can stay. I can find a ride on my own.”

  But Brady stood when I did. “No, I’m ready to go too.”

  Drew sat up straighter, wearing a huge grin. “You never go home before midnight.”

  Stacy shoved her husband’s arm. “Shut up, Drew!” Then she smiled up at me. “It was great getting to meet you, Maggie. We hope to see you again.”

  “And Brady’s hoping to see even more of her now.”

  Stacy gasped and shoved Drew harder.

  Brady grimaced. “And that’s our cue to leave. Drew’s had so much to drink he’s lost his internal censor.”

  “That’s right,” Drew said. “Shit’s about to get real.”

  Shaking his head, Brady gave a wave to the table. “I’ll see you all later, and Owen, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  Owen didn’t look happy, but he lifted his beer in salute as we left.

  “Do you need to get anything?” Brady asked as we headed to the bar.

  “My purse is in Colt’s truck.”

  Colt was still close to the bar with his new friends, but he looked up and watched us walk toward him. “I need to get my bag.”