Act Two

by Denise Grover Swank

  Brady had polished off the muffin and half the croissant by the time I walked out.

  “I have to be at work in a half hour.”

  “Then I guess you better start talking,” he said, spinning in his seat to face me.

  I pulled the second stool several inches from the counter—and from him—and sat down. Brady Bennett was pretty damn sure about himself, and I needed to proceed with caution. “You said you thought someone was dirty in your department, but you don’t know who.”

  “That’s right.”

  I already knew he didn’t want to tell me why, but what if I asked in a roundabout way? “When did you first suspect?”

  He hesitated. “A few weeks.”

  I’d arrived in town a few weeks ago. “Does Owen know?”

  The corners of his mouth lifted into a half-smile. “Yes and no. Not about the current situation, but when I mentioned my suspicions a few weeks ago, we’d both had a few beers too many. He called me a crazy conspiracy theorist and then blew it off as me being shit-faced. I let him.”

  “Why would he call you that?”

  He ran a hand through his hair. “People in our department have been accused of a cover-up before.”

  My eyes widened.

  He pushed out a sigh. “I’m going to be honest with you, Magnolia.”

  “Finally.”

  He scowled but otherwise ignored my statement. “My boss didn’t know I was looking into your father’s case this week.”

  That caught me off guard. “Why not?”

  “Because the disappearance of your father and Shannon Morrissey is the case that sparked the original conspiracy theories.” He paused. “Shannon Morrissey’s sister was very vocal in her insistence that there was more to it.”

  “You knew this?”

  He grimaced. “I didn’t put it together until I took your report. Your father’s disappearance triggered a vague memory, so I did some digging and realized the connection.”

  “But Sydney’s statement wasn’t in the report.”

  His brow furrowed. “I know.”

  “And that doesn’t bother you?”

  “It bothers the shit out of me. It was in the original report, and now it’s gone.”

  “Brady. I know who the lead detective was in my father’s case. I searched for it in the report. Gordon Frasier is Owen’s uncle.”

  It was his turn to look surprised that I’d figured it out.

  “How well do you know Owen?”

  “You’re barking up the wrong tree, Maggie.”

  “I’ll be the judge of that. How long have you known him?”

  He gave me an obstinate glare, then sat back in his seat. For now, he was humoring me. “We met in the police academy eight years ago, and we just synced. We’ve been best friends ever since. We lived together for a while, until he moved in with his girlfriend a few years ago.”

  “His girlfriend wasn’t there last night,” I said, thinking about Owen’s joke about making a play for me.

  “They broke up several months ago.”

  “Is he living with you again?”

  “No. We both value our friendship too much.” He flashed me a grin, but it faded quickly. “I can trust him.”

  “I understand, but I’m not sure I can trust him. I’ve talked to two men about my father in the past four days. One is dead and the other is missing. Not to mention that your best friend’s uncle was in charge of a case that has a missing report. I’m not going to trust anyone.”

  “Someone pulled Sydney’s statement after it was filed.”

  “How can you be certain?”

  He glanced around until his eyes landed on the envelope sticking out of my purse on the coffee table. When I nodded, giving him permission, he grabbed it and brought it back to the counter. “There are pages missing. You can see that from the sequence.” He pulled out the pages and flipped through until he stopped in a particular spot. “Sydney Crowley’s statement should have been next, but there are four pages missing, which means it was originally filed with the report.” He slid the papers toward me and pointed to the numbering on top.

  He was right. There were pages missing.

  He leaned closer. “Sydney’s testimony rattled some cages. Nothing came of it, but it didn’t stop some people of accusing Owen’s uncle of a cover-up. He was cleared of wrongdoing, but he was bitter and he left the force. These pages were included in the original report, and at some point after Gordon was cleared, someone removed them.”

  Did Brady think I was stupid? I turned to him in disbelief. “So you think this is all a coincidence?”

  “No. Not at all. I’m convinced Walter Frey’s murder and Geraldo Lopez’s disappearance have something to do with your father and Christopher Merritt.”

  I shook my head in confusion. “But you just said there wasn’t a cover-up.”

  “Owen has always believed his uncle was railroaded. If we take this to him, he’ll help us. He’ll want to prove his uncle’s innocence.”

  “What?” I asked in disbelief. “That makes no sense whatsoever. Something happened to all four men, which pretty much proves something’s rotten, starting with the investigation that began fourteen years ago. If Owen wants to fix his uncle’s reputation, he’s going to shove this under the rug so fast we won’t have time to find a broom.” I stood and moved to the other side of the island. “No. We definitely can’t tell him now.”

  Brady groaned. “Maggie, I need help in this. I can’t do it alone. Not outside the department.”

  “I know.” That filled me with more guilt. But my mind flashed back to Brady’s behavior when he’d first arrived. He’d seemed so confident, so full of energy. “What else aren’t you telling me?”

  “What makes you think there’s something else?”

  I rolled my eyes. “Please. What is it?”

  “I pulled Christopher Merritt’s Missing Persons Report.”

  “And?”

  “His car was found at the Nashville airport, just like your father’s and Shannon Morrissey’s.”

  “Anything else?”

  “A hundred thousand dollars was pulled from a client’s account, then sent to an off-shore bank account.”

  I sucked in a breath. “Steve Morrissey’s?”

  “No. Walter Frey’s.”

  Chapter 25

  I placed both hands on the counter. “What?”

  “Merritt was Walter Frey’s accountant and had access to several of his accounts. The conclusion was that Merritt ran off with Frey’s money.”

  I stared at him in shock. “You’re kidding.” No wonder Brady had been so damned smug, carrying around a bombshell like that.

  “Maggie, we can use this to open this case from a different angle.”

  “So you don’t need my information.”

  “I’m not saying that at all. I’m saying you can feel safe to provide it.”

  I walked over to the cabinet and grabbed a glass. “You really believe that?”

  He hesitated and his voice sounded flat. “You obviously don’t.”

  “Have they found Dr. Lopez yet?” I filled the glass with ice from the refrigerator door.

  “You know they haven’t.”

  I turned around to face him, my glass still in my hand. “No.” I didn’t trust Owen as far as I could throw him. But did I dare tell Brady about Walter Frey’s note? Sure, I’d mentioned it in passing, but I’d played it down . . .

  No, there was another way to put doubt in his head. I spun back around and filled my glass with water. “There’s something that hasn’t been answered to my satisfaction.”

  “What?”

  “What happened to Walter Frey’s cell phone?” While I was willing to bring up the missing phone, I planned to keep the note to myself.

  He blinked. “I told you. It was stolen.”

  I slowly shook my head. “No. I saw it in his hand.”

  “You were confused and—”

  “No. I saw a cell phone in his ha
nd, and if you’re honest with yourself, you’ll admit that you believe me.”

  His cop face was back. “What do you think happened to it, Magnolia?”

  I held his gaze. “I don’t know, Brady. Why don’t you tell me?” He didn’t answer, but he didn’t look away either. “I saw his cell phone in his hand right before you pulled up, so if we’re following a chain of custody, I passed it off to you. Did you take it?”

  “I can’t believe you asked me that!” he shouted, getting to his feet. “Do you really believe that?”

  I set my glass of water on the counter with a thud, sloshing water over the side. “If I thought you took his phone, you sure as hell wouldn’t be in my apartment right now.”

  “Then who do you think took it?”

  “You’re the big shot detective who notices all the freaking details!” I shouted back. “Why don’t you tell me?”

  To my surprise, his face darkened and he turned around and stomped out of my apartment, slamming the door behind him.

  Well, crap.

  But a quick glance at the clock made me realize I was on the verge of being late, so I gulped down my water along with a couple of ibuprofen, then locked up my apartment—which I still hadn’t completely straightened up after the break-in. But I’d noticed that there was a new inside chain lock, along with an impressive-looking deadbolt and new doorknob lock. I’d have plenty of time to clean up after the Belles’ big catering job tonight and my day off tomorrow.

  I barely made it to work on time, but Alvin didn’t seem to notice. The morning went by in a blur, and the only thing that shook me out of my funk was when Colt walked in through the back door at around noon.

  I gaped at him in shock, but Alvin broke my stupor as he called out, “Magnolia, are you going to introduce us?”

  How did he even know Colt was here for me? Probably the way Colt was staring at me. Also, I doubted this was the kind of place someone like him would be caught dead under normal circumstances. “Alvin, this is Colt. Colt, Alvin. Colt works with me at Southern Belles Catering, and Alvin is my boss.”

  A customer walked in through the front door, and as soon as Alvin left to talk to her, Colt’s smile fell. “What happened last night?”

  There was no way he could know about Geraldo Lopez, and I wasn’t about to clue him in. “Nothing.”

  “Nothing? I thought you were going to question Brady”—he said his name like a curse— “about what he knows about the case.”

  The less Colt knew, the better, although I hated lying to him. Other than Belinda, he was the only real friend I had here. “He took me to Momma’s house, and that was it.”

  He lifted an eyebrow, his skepticism apparent. “Oh, really?”

  “He didn’t give me any answers, and I decided not to push. I’ll just steer clear of him from now on.” After the way he’d stormed out of my apartment, I had a feeling that it wouldn’t be that difficult.

  “Then why did Lila find him slinking out of her house this morning?”

  Oh shit. I couldn’t believe she’d told him. “It wasn’t like that.”

  His eyes narrowed. “Like what, Magnolia?”

  I knew I was in trouble when he used my full name. “He was protecting me, Colt. Momma too.”

  He slowly nodded his head, but the look in his eyes told me I had his vote for the biggest idiot in Franklin. He pushed out a breath of frustration, then looked around the store before saying, “I actually have another purpose for dropping in. You weren’t answering your phone, and I thought I should let you know that my friend got back to me.” When my eyes widened, he said, “The piece I showed him hadn’t been stolen, and it’s worth several thousand dollars.”

  I gasped. “But there were enough pieces that—”

  “Yeah, someone stole nearly a million dollars’ worth of gold from your apartment.”

  I felt lightheaded and placed my hand on a display table to stay upright, the significance hitting me square in the face. What if Steve Morrissey wasn’t missing a million dollars? What if he was missing a million in gold?

  Had my father really stolen it?

  “I’ve been thinking. What if we take that list of serial numbers and report that the gold was stolen? They’ll be reported the moment someone tries to sell them. We can find out who took it.”

  “Yeah,” I grumbled. “While that sounds like a great idea, we’d have to report it to the police.”

  “Then tell your new boyfriend. I’m sure he’ll protect you and your remaining gold.”

  I clenched my fists, seething. “He’s not my boyfriend.”

  His scowl deepened and he leaned closer. “Then there’s another way. I can have my friend take care of it.”

  “Are you serious? How?”

  “Since it was a local job, they might try to take it to him. If we give him the serial numbers, he’ll keep watch and let me know if someone shows up. But he’ll put a flag on the numbers, so if the gold is taken somewhere else, it’ll say it was taken from him.”

  “What’s his cut?” I asked sarcastically. There was no way Colt’s friend was going to go to this much trouble out of the kindness of his heart.

  “Five percent.”

  I groaned, but five percent seemed worth it if we could find out who’d stolen the gold. My life might depend on it. “Fine. Do it.”

  “And just because that one piece wasn’t stolen doesn’t mean the rest wasn’t. It’s a good idea to check.”

  “I already said yes,” I grumbled. “No need to sell me on the idea.” I went behind the counter and grabbed the list out of my purse, then hurried back over. “It’s my only copy, Colt, so make a copy or two and hide them before you take it to him.”

  He nodded as he took it from me. “We’ll get this figured out.”

  “Thanks.” But the cynical me wondered why he was so invested. Maybe the reason Colt was so certain Brady had ulterior motives was because he did too.

  Brady walked in through the back door of the shop right at two, wearing a scowl. Alvin looked like he was about to say hello until he noticed the detective’s dark expression. He turned to help a customer instead.

  Smart man.

  I wasn’t so sure I wanted to talk to Brady either, but despite the fact that Rhoda was asking him about some serving dish he’d bought for his cousin’s wedding, I knew I was the reason he was here.

  I grabbed my purse, relieved to have it on my person again, where it wouldn’t be as easy for someone to steal the gold or gun inside it. Maybe I should look into getting a safety deposit box.

  I didn’t say a word to Brady as I walked past him onto the sidewalk, but he trailed me out of the store. Right before the door closed behind him, I heard Rhoda stage-whisper to Alvin, besmirching my character for sleeping with two men at once. Probably wishful thinking on her part.

  “I take it you’re here for a reason?” I asked dryly. “Is it official since you’re on duty?”

  “Have you eaten?”

  I put a hand on my hip. “Funny, I would think a crack detective like you might know the answer to that question.”

  “It’s been a long fucking day already, Magnolia. Do you want to hear what I have to tell you or not?”

  Some of my bluster faded. “I do.” I only had a half hour before I needed to be at the catering kitchen, but surely that was enough time for him to fill me in.

  “Good. I’m starving and I’m getting something to eat, so either come with me or don’t—I don’t care. But I’m not talking about it out here.”

  As we walked toward the deli, I couldn’t help wondering if he was mad at me or himself. Probably both.

  We both ordered and Brady insisted on paying the bill. Neither of us said a word to each other until we sat down with our food. I kept resisting the urge to apologize, although I wasn’t entirely sure what words I could use to express myself. I’m sorry I accused your best friend of stealing evidence didn’t seem the best course, especially since I still believed Owen was guilty.


  Which was why I was so pissed when he broke the silence with, “I went and talked to Owen.”

  “And when you say you talked to Owen, I take it you weren’t chatting about your plans for tonight.”

  “Maggie, hear me out.”

  “You betrayed me.”

  “No. I didn’t. I asked him if there had been any new developments in the Frey case. I wanted to know if he’d done anything about the tip that had been called in.”

  “Had he?”

  “No. He said it seemed too out there, that he was working on another lead, but I convinced him to at least check it out. I suggested he look for connections between the three separate cases.”

  “Did he bite?”

  “No. He said he had something better.”

  That didn’t surprise me. If Owen had seen the paper—and I suspected he had—then Geraldo Lopez’s name was at the top of the list. He sure wasn’t going to agree there was a connection.

  “Didn’t he think it was weird that you’d interfere?” I asked.

  “No. I told him you were worried because we hadn’t caught the perpetrator—that you feared for your safety and I had promised you I’d check on things.”

  I’d mentioned the note to Owen just last night, and now Brady was telling him I wanted answers.

  I was in big trouble.

  “So that was that?”

  “No. I went to see Steve Morrissey myself.”

  I blinked, sure I’d heard him wrong. “You what?”

  “I figured I had nothing to lose.”

  “What happened?”

  “When I asked him about Lopez, he said he was his dentist when he was married to Shannon, but he found a new one after she disappeared. As for Merritt, he said they had some work connections in common, but as a banker, he’s worked with many local professionals.”

  “So that’s it?” I asked in disbelief.

  “Until the department digs deeper, there’s nothing I can do. I couldn’t take him downtown.” He paused. “But he was nervous.”

  “Yeah,” I said sarcastically. “Because the police were finally taking him as a serious threat. I’m in just as much danger as I was last night. Maybe more, after you showed up at Morrissey’s door.”