Call Back: Magnolia Steel Mystery #3 (Magnolia Steele Mystery)

by Denise Grover Swank

  “I just don’t see why you’re doing this.”

  “Doing what? Staying with Brady? I already explained it to you. He makes me feel safe.”

  “It’s more than that, and you know it, Mags. You’re playing a dangerous game. Owen’s dirty. How can you be sure his best friend isn’t part of it? What if Owen’s warnings are just to throw you off so you’ll trust Brady?”

  “It doesn’t matter if I trust Brady or not, because, for the millionth time, I’m. Not. Telling. Him. Anything.”

  “You say that now . . .”

  “What am I supposed to do? There’s a camera in my apartment, and I can’t go to Momma’s. I’d leave if I could, but I’m stuck.” But even as I said the words, I didn’t altogether believe them. I’d liked staying with Brady a little too much. I’d let myself pretend I could have a quiet, domestic Franklin life, even though I knew it wasn’t true.

  “I know you are.” He sounded resigned. “Start the car. Let’s go.”

  I convinced him to pick up a sandwich from the deli instead, and we drove to Pinkerton Park and sat on top of a picnic table while we watched several preschoolers on the playground. I told him about my conversation with Owen, then waited.

  “So what do you want to do?” he asked as he licked mayonnaise from his finger.

  “Keep digging.”

  “Why?”

  I was silent for a moment. “I don’t know.”

  “You need a better reason than ‘I don’t know.’ Frasier’s right. This whole situation seems pretty damn dangerous.”

  “I want the truth, Colt . . . I need it.”

  “You know the truth, Mags. Lopez killed your father.”

  Except I wasn’t so sure I believed that anymore—there was so much it didn’t explain. I narrowed my eyes. “Why are you doing this? What’s in it for you?”

  He turned to look at me. “Honestly? I want a cut of the gold.”

  “With the exception of the bar you have, the gold is gone. All of it. Even the last bag. Someone took it from my purse in the catering van on Saturday night.”

  His eyes flew wide open. “They stole your purse?”

  “No, they stole the gold and my father’s gun. They left my wallet.”

  “Shit.” He ran his hand over his head. “Which means they knew what they were looking for. You’re sure Lopez didn’t take it?”

  “No. He was looking for it when I found him in my apartment. And if he’d stolen it out of my purse after I purposely sent him there to get it, I doubt he would have come back to beat the real location out of me.”

  “You told him where it was?”

  “He was going to kill me. Plus, Steve Morrissey’s body had just been found and the place was crawling with cops. I was hoping they’d see him breaking into the catering vans and arrest him.”

  His brow lowered and he grudgingly said, “Good thinking.”

  “Thank you,” I said in a snotty tone. “Give me a little credit.”

  “How about Morrissey?” he asked, losing his attitude. “Maybe he found the gold before Lopez shot him.”

  “I don’t know. Maybe—although I don’t know how he’d know my purse was in the van. And if Morrissey found it, wouldn’t Lopez find it on him when he killed him? But I’m positive Lopez stole the rest of the gold from my apartment. The timing was right. He staged his disappearance around lunchtime on Friday, and the break-in happened that afternoon.”

  “So we find the gold Lopez stole; then we sell it and split the profits. You just leave the rest of it alone.”

  “Colt, there’s something I need to tell you about the gold.”

  “You know where it is?” he asked in a mocking hopeful tone.

  “No, I wish.” I leaned over my legs and took a moment, worried Colt would be pissed that I hadn’t told him this right away. Or that it might be a mistake to tell him at all. “When you broke the dog statue, I found a note mixed in with all the filler paper.”

  “What?” His eyes pierced into me. “What did it say?”

  “It was addressed to me,” I said slowly. “It was from my father.”

  “Your father left you a million dollars in a plaster dog?” Anger washed over his face. “Did you know that when you found the damn statue in your mother’s garage? You just used that sob story about how it looked like the statue you gave your father, might be the same one, so I’d haul it to your apartment?”

  “No, Colt! I swear!” I protested. “I had no idea the gold was in there until it broke.”

  Strangely enough, that seemed to appease him. “Okay.”

  “Let me get this straight,” I said, getting irritated. “You were pissed when you thought I knew about the gold, but you don’t care that I kept the note from you?”

  “Yeah, because in the first instance, you would have been using me. But in the second, you were just withholding information you weren’t ready to share. It’s all about intent.” His eyes lacked their usual glint of humor. “You have your secrets and I have mine. We’ve respected that about each other. I see no reason to change it now.”

  I didn’t know much about his past beyond that he wasn’t proud of it. That it had cost him the only real relationship he’d ever had. Belinda had told me that he’d been arrested for grand larceny, but the charges had been dropped and the records were sealed. That had given me a moment of pause. Ultimately, though, I’d come to the conclusion that even if I didn’t always trust my own instincts, I trusted my mother’s. Trust didn’t come easily to her, and she trusted Colt implicitly.

  “The note told me to trust no one, which is part of the reason I didn’t show it to you.” I paused. “Colt, the note I found with the gold was left by my father, but you said some of the serial numbers were issued four years after his disappearance.”

  He watched me for several seconds. “You think Lopez lied about killing him? That he’s alive?”

  “Lopez never specifically said he killed him, but he did admit to killing Morrissey and others.”

  “You’re reaching, Mags. Don’t you think Lopez would have asked you where your father was?”

  “No, he was more interested in the gold. Besides, I’d already gone to him looking for information about my father’s disappearance. He knew I had no idea where he was.” I put my hand on Colt’s knee. “Even if my dad’s . . . gone, I don’t think he died the year he disappeared. I think he was still around four years later to put the gold in that dog.”

  “The gold was minted four years after your father’s disappearance. It could have been put in that dog a month ago, for all we know. Roy put the statue in the garage. Maybe he hid it in there for safekeeping.”

  “With a note from my dad? Roy would have destroyed it on principle alone. He hates me because he thinks our father loved me more, not to mention I can’t see Roy leaving a million in gold in a plaster dog in my mother’s garage. But how did Roy even get ahold of the statue? Last I knew, it was in my daddy’s office when the police confiscated everything. Belinda said the furniture in Momma’s garage belongs to Roy’s old friend who moved abroad, but if that’s true, why did we find Christopher Merritt’s notepad in there?”

  Colt shook his head and leaned over his legs and stared out onto the playground for several seconds. Finally, he sighed and sat up. He grabbed my shoulders and turned both of our bodies so that we were facing each other. “Maggie, as much as it pains me to admit that Owen Frasier and I agree on something, we do agree on this—if you continue looking into this, it could get you killed.”

  I tilted my head in suspicion. “How do you know Owen?”

  Surprise flickered in his eyes, but he quickly covered it with annoyance. “He’s a Franklin police detective. With my past, I made sure to keep tabs on the detectives in this town.”

  I didn’t quite buy it, but I’d accept it for now.

  “But you’re evading my point. Look, I think we should just find the gold, hold on to it until your mother . . .” He grimaced. “Um . . . is no longer working at the
Belles . . . and then take off for some non-extraditing tropical country. Like Vietnam.”

  “Vietnam?”

  He shrugged. “I hear the beaches in central Vietnam are gorgeous, and it’s cheap to live there.”

  My eyebrows rose. “Together?”

  A sly grin spread across his face. “I’m not proposing marriage or anything like that, but we get along well. We could go as friends . . . or more.” He winked.

  Colt was a good-looking man, and Lord knew he could pour on the charm. The thought of lying on a tropical beach with him made me hot in places that had no business reacting to him. My head told me that Colt Austin was trouble with a capital T—good for a fling and nothing more. Still, something about him tugged at me. My ex-boyfriend had stolen all my money, ruined my career, and made me homeless, but I suspected Colt would do him one better. He was capable of stealing my heart.

  I laughed, playing off his suggestion. “Let’s just find the gold; then we’ll figure out what to do with it. And yes, I’m going to keep digging into what happened to my father, and Geraldo Lopez knew more than he told me.”

  “Geraldo Lopez is dead, Maggie. He’s not going to tell us anything. Dead men don’t talk.”

  “Not necessarily true.”

  He snorted. “You planning a séance?”

  “No, but he surely left clues. Christopher Merritt was an accountant, Walter Frey was a real estate attorney, and it wasn’t a secret they’d worked on Steve Morrissey’s finances with my dad. If you think about it, Geraldo Lopez was the odd man out. He was a dentist. How did he get involved?” I held his gaze. “There’s at least one more person who might know something.”

  I told him about the note I’d seen in Frey’s hand and that last, maddeningly incomplete name. Another potential source—“—ogers.”

  A strange look came over Colt’s face, and I was sure I wasn’t convincing him. “You don’t have to help me with this,” I said. “I can do it on my own. I already have been.”

  Determination covered his face. “No. Lopez almost killed you. You need a partner. I’m going to help.”

  “Why?”

  “The gold, of course,” he answered, a little too quickly.

  “So help me find the gold and be done with the rest.”

  He slowly shook his head.

  “You and I are two peas in a pod, Colt. We put ourselves above everything and everyone. If I’m going to trust you, you have to have a reason for helping, and I need to know what it is.”

  He lifted his hand to my cheek, tracing my cheekbone with his index finger. “I just want to make sure you’re safe. Let’s leave it at that, okay?”

  My breath caught at the tenderness in his touch and his eyes, and alarms went off in my head. I could not get involved with Colt Austin. He was more dangerous than Brady. Besides, I wanted to be with Brady, right? He could offer me the normal, safe life I craved. But I found myself nodding.

  He smiled, but there was something sad in it as he leaned in to kiss my forehead and then hopped off the picnic table. “Let’s go. You still need to change into your apron and pearls so you can greet your man when he walks through the front door.”

  Chapter 4

  We drove back to my apartment, and I was so freaked out about the cameras I convinced Colt to go back in with me while I picked up a change of clothes for the next day. When I parked in the driveway, I rested my hand on the steering wheel for a moment. “We didn’t come up with a plan to set up whoever’s watching me. Hell, we didn’t plan anything at all.”

  “What’s your schedule tomorrow?”

  “I’m cleaning Miss Ava’s house in the morning and then working for the Belles in the afternoon at four.”

  “First course of action should be getting the gold back. I’ll do some digging to see what I can find out about Geraldo Lopez. Then we’ll come up with a plan tomorrow when you’re done with Miss Ava.”

  I scowled. “Miss Ava plans to keep me busy all day, working off the expenses for the damages to the apartment.”

  “Then I’ll come by Ava’s and we’ll wing it. In the meantime, I’ll do a little digging of my own.”

  I shot him a glare. “Don’t go finding the gold without me.”

  “Now, Maggie . . .”

  “I’m serious. If you find something we need to tackle tonight or tomorrow morning, text me, and I’ll get away.”

  The amused look on his face suggested he didn’t believe it, and I didn’t feel like arguing the point.

  “One more thing . . .” My stomach clenched. “I understand the rationale for keeping the cameras, but it freaks me out. While we’re in there, can you try to figure out where all of them are?”

  His hand covered mine, warm and comforting. “Yeah. And we’ll come up with a plan to set them up tomorrow, okay? This is just temporary.”

  I nodded.

  We headed up the stairs, and this time I actually made it past the doorway. I tried not to look down as I skirted the bloodstained section of the floor and slipped into my bedroom. Colt went into the kitchen and started opening cabinets.

  “You got anything to eat in this place?” he asked.

  “You just ate!” I protested, even though he was using it as an excuse to search.

  “I’m a growin’ boy.” More cabinets banged shut.

  I grabbed a small bag off the shelf in my closet and tossed it onto my disheveled bed. Before returning to attack me, Lopez had searched my apartment for the gold and left a mess behind. I hadn’t found time to clean it up afterward, and the reminder of what had happened sickened me. Nothing much was broken, though, just tossed around.

  Colt appeared in the doorway. “I found a box of raisins in the kitchen but not much else.”

  I hated raisins, so there wasn’t a single raisin in this apartment. That had to be code that he’d found another camera. “What about the books you were looking for?”

  “Only the two.”

  Three cameras in one open living room and kitchen? That seemed like overkill.

  Colt walked into the room and picked up a handful of clothes and tossed them onto the bed. “How about we take fifteen minutes and make a stab at cleaning this mess up?”

  I didn’t want to stay in here fifteen seconds, but I realized what he was doing—he’d just created an excuse to look for cameras in my room. Besides, the mess needed to be cleaned sooner or later.

  “Yeah. Thanks.” I grabbed a pair of yoga pants and a T-shirt off the floor and tossed them into the bag while Colt continued picking up the clothes off the floor.

  He started hanging a few of my dresses in the closet and took the opportunity to snoop around. Snagging a black, lacy bra off my dresser, he let it hang from his index finger. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen you in this.”

  My heart sank. Colt had never seen me in my underwear. But I had a part to play. “How many weeks has it been?”

  “Weeks? Plural?” he scoffed. “More like one.”

  One camera. In my bedroom. “I need to get my toothpaste out of the bathroom.”

  He tossed my bra onto the bed. “I’ll get it for you.”

  I continued folding a stack of T-shirts, trying to hide my shaking hands. Colt was back less than a minute later, a tube of toothpaste in his hand. He dropped it into my bag, then grabbed my arm and pulled me to his chest, tucking my head under his chin. “I only found the one tube of toothpaste.”

  I stiffened, but he held me close, stroking my back. One camera. In my bathroom.

  They were everywhere.

  “I miss you,” he said as he leaned back and looked into my eyes. “Leave Brady and we can move in here together.”

  I stared at him in disbelief.

  “We’re good together,” he continued. “Sex with you is the best I’ve ever had. Tell me you’ll think about it.”

  What was he doing? But he’d obviously come up with a plan on the fly. Those improv classes were coming in handy. “Okay. I’ll think about it.”

  He lowered
his mouth to my cheek, trailing a hot line of kisses down my face and neck as his hand slid behind my back and started to pull down the zipper of my dress.

  I closed my eyes, taken by surprise by the fire racing through my blood, but then I remembered we were being watched, something of which Colt was firmly aware. He was doing this for a reason—how far did he plan to go? But as soon as he started to push my dress over my shoulders, I jerked away and pulled it back up. “No. I can’t.”

  He put his hands on my shoulders and spun me around before he zipped up my dress, slipping his arms around my waist and over my stomach. Butterflies fluttered in my gut as he pressed his chest to my back and whispered in my ear, “I’m here when you need me.” Then he kissed the top of my head and released me. “Let’s go.”

  I nodded and then picked up my bag, trying to disguise how much his demonstration had unsettled me—then again, whatever Colt was trying to do, my reaction would help sell it.

  But who was the audience? Suddenly it struck me. That was the reason for his performance. If Owen and/or Brady had planted the cameras, I’d likely find out right away. And while I approved of his method, I was unsettled by my reaction. I’d had plenty of make-out scenes in plays before, and I’d never once reacted the way I just had with Colt. I dismissed it as the result of being caught off guard.

  Colt took my bag and then ushered me to the door. I saw my laptop on the island and grabbed it before he practically pushed me over the threshold and down the steps. He opened the car door and waited for me to get in before he squatted next to the open door. “Sorry about what happened upstairs. If Frasier’s behind the cameras, he’ll probably confront you sooner rather than later. I would have warned you, but . . . the whole place is bugged. Whoever put the cameras in can see everything. Even in your bathroom.”

  I shook my head, feeling overwhelmed. “I caught on to what you were doing pretty quick.” A new thought hit me, and I felt like I was on the verge of throwing up. “Oh, God. Were they there last week? Did they see me in the shower? Changing?”

  He grabbed my hand and squeezed. “No, Mags. The police would have found them during their investigation. Those cameras were put in after they finished, which makes Frasier all the more likely to be the culprit.”