Call Back: Magnolia Steel Mystery #3 (Magnolia Steele Mystery)
Page 10
I grabbed one out of the bathroom drawer and slid it over my wrist. Before leaving, I did up another button on my shirt. Colt was standing in the middle of the living room when I walked back out, and he snagged my arm.
“You still sleepin’ at Detective Bennett’s place tonight?”
I wasn’t sure staying with Brady was the best idea after Emily’s murder, but I had nowhere else to go. “Yeah.”
“Why the hesitation? Having second thoughts?”
What was he doing? “I’m not discussing my love life with you.”
“Come on, Magnolia,” he said playfully. “You love it when I talk dirty to you in bed.”
His mouth lowered to my neck again, sending shivers down my back. The haughty comeback died on my lips.
I pressed my palms to his chest, meaning to push him away. Some distant part of my brain screamed at me to step away, but the rest of me needed this, needed Colt. I’d always figured there would be explosive chemistry between us, but this was a terrible idea. Yet, I stayed in place, tilting back my head to give him better access while releasing a low moan.
“So tell me yes,” he murmured, moving to my ear and sucking my earlobe between his lips. “Tell me you’ll go with me.”
“Colt . . .” I had no idea what he was talking about. What was the right response?
“It’s just a masquerade ball,” he said a little louder this time. “Borrow a dress from Belinda. Plus, she’ll be there too, so you’ll have someone to talk to while I’m networking it up.”
I leaned back to search his face. “You want me to go to the Middle Tennessee Children’s Charity Masquerade Ball on Saturday night?”
A sexy grin spread across his face. “Do you know of any other masquerade balls?”
“No, but it doesn’t seem like your kind of thing.”
“Because I don’t have money?” he asked dryly. “We both know that’s about to change. I need to socialize. Network.”
I froze. That was exactly what my father had done years ago. What if . . .
“Belinda says this is big. Everyone will be there. Momma’s gonna want us to work.”
“I already have the night off, and you know she doesn’t really need you.” His lips skimmed my cheek, inching closer to my lips. “It’s time for you to plan your future, Magnolia, and we both know Southern Belles Catering is not it.”
“Then what is my future?” I asked, momentarily forgetting we were being watched. “A recording contract with you?”
“You’re not thinking big enough, Maggie Mae,” he said with a chuckle. “One million in gold will get us a hell of a lot more than that.”
I looked away. “Yeah.”
“So you’ll come?”
If most of Franklin society would be there, I could ask questions disguised as small talk. “Yeah,” I said, looking up into his crystal blue eyes. “I’ll go.”
Why did I feel like I’d just made a deal with the devil?
Chapter 9
As soon as we got into Colt’s truck, he shot me an apologetic look. “Sorry to play dirty in there—literally—but we need whoever’s watching to think we’re lovers, and that you’re playing Brady.”
“Why? You already pulled that stunt yesterday,” I said. “And trust me, Brady didn’t act like he was suspicious of anything.” Should I pretend like I didn’t hear him on the phone or confront him? Who was I kidding? “So what was that phone call about?”
He paused and turned to face me. His expression was carefully guarded. “How much did you hear?”
“Enough to know you’re supposedly meeting someone.”
“It’s a false lead. I had to make whoever put the cameras in your apartment think it was real.”
“I thought you said you were planning something tomorrow.”
“It came to me on the fly . . . so we can get those cameras out sooner.”
His call seemed premeditated, so I wasn’t sure that was true. “And how do you plan to catch them?”
“I have my ways.” He gave me a long look. “You changed clothes in your bedroom. Even though you know the cameras are in there.”
I shrugged, not wanting to admit how violated I felt. “I flashed my boobs to millions of people on the internet. What’s a bra and panties to some pervert? He’s probably pissed that he couldn’t watch us do it.”
Colt didn’t say anything, but after he steered out of the driveway, he reached out and took my hand. He drove a block before he finally said, “This is probably going to get harder, Mags. I still think you should change your mind about digging deeper.”
“Here’s a little thing you don’t seem to know about me, Colt Austin,” I said, jerking my hand free. “I’m pretty damn stubborn.”
He broke out into a genuine laugh. “You think I haven’t figured that out? I’m not that stupid.” Something in his tone jolted me.
“I never said you were stupid, Colt.”
He didn’t respond.
I turned in my seat. “Why are you doing this?” I asked.
He kept his eyes on the road, but his hand was squeezing the steering wheel with more force than necessary. “We’ve already had this conversation. More than once. It’s becoming tedious.”
“But you didn’t answer me. Not really.”
He pulled to the side of the road, across the street from the restaurant where I was supposed to meet my mother. His grip tightened and he stared out the windshield. “You really haven’t figured it out?”
“I wouldn’t be asking if I had.”
He shook his head and turned to face me. “I told you. I’m a greedy son of a bitch, and I want half the gold.”
Four weeks ago, I would have bought that answer, but not now. I’d just have to accept that he was helping and figure out the why of it later. Colt Austin—the man who wrote country songs about pickup trucks and beer—wasn’t used to feelings.
“Colt.”
“Your mother’s waiting, and there’s something I need to do before I show up at the Belles.”
“What?”
He tilted his head to look at me. “Now, I didn’t go asking what you did with Detective Hot Stuff last night, did I?”
I flushed.
His eyebrows rose slightly. “On the other hand, based on the way you’re blushing, maybe I should reconsider. You know I like a sordid tale.” His clenched jaw was at odds with his glib tone.
I opened my mouth, about to apologize, but for what? Sleeping with Brady? That was ridiculous. Sure, Colt and I flirted, but he flirted with everyone—men included. He’d never once given me any indication that he wanted something more. In fact, he’d done exactly the opposite.
His jaw loosened and defeat filled his eyes. “Seriously, Mags. What did you hear on the call?”
The sudden change in his demeanor worried me. Did this mean he really planned to double-cross me but was now having regrets? “Only that you’re meeting someone,” I said, playing dumb. “No other details, which is why I’m asking now. Tell me what’s going on.”
“I already did.”
I wanted to press him on it, but I needed to get inside. “I’ll let this go. For now.”
“Oh ye of little faith. I’ll tell you when I know something.”
But that wasn’t true. Was he protecting me or playing me? “I’ll see you later.”
He turned back to look out the windshield, acting slightly troubled. “Yeah.”
I got out of the truck, my heart feeling heavy. I’d been unhappy and lonely in New York, but I’d experienced more emotional turmoil in the last four weeks here than in the entire ten years I’d lived there.
When I walked into the restaurant, I didn’t see my mother anywhere. My heart slammed into my chest and my head grew fuzzy. Had my stalker done something to her? But then I realized I was several minutes early—a rarity for me. The hostess led me to a table, and I followed her on rubbery legs, unsure how many more frights I could take. The waitress came over and took my drink order, then walked away.
It was Momma.
How could she have changed so much in only a few days?
I stood as she headed my direction, willing my eyes to dry up. Momma abhorred pity even more than she abhorred weakness.
“Hi, Momma,” I said before I leaned in to hug her. She felt like she would break.
“You act like you haven’t seen me in ten years.”
I stiffened at the dig, but she chuckled and mischief lit up her eyes. “Bad joke.”
I grimaced and my heart felt even heavier than it had after walking away from Colt. “I’m sorry, Momma. So sorry for wasting so much time.”
She shook her head and wagged her finger at me. “Nope. Let’s have none of that. We’ve made our peace, haven’t we?”
She’d apologized for treating me so coldly after my father left, and I’d apologized for running away, but we’d both left a lot unsaid. Still, sometimes a person just needed to know when to let something go. “Yeah. Fresh start.”
She gave me a curt nod. “Good. Now tell me more about this police detective.”
I laughed. “You mean Brady?”
“Have you been shacking up with any other Franklin police detectives?”
“No.” But her mention of Brady reminded me of Emily. Somehow I’d forgotten about her over the last hour. I’d wanted to forget. Momma and Emily had gotten close enough for Momma to have her on speed dial. I was pretty sure she didn’t know about the murder. How did I tell her?
“Momma, have you seen the news today?” But even as I asked, I wondered if that was the right approach. I hadn’t seen—or read—the news since arriving at Miss Ava’s house this morning, so I wasn’t sure anything had been made public.
“No.” She paused. “Was there anything about you in it?”
“No. Not me this time. Emily.”
“Emily?” she asked in wonder. “Did she have some big case that made the news?”
I was going about this all wrong, but I didn’t know how to do better. Folding my hands in my lap, I forced out past the lump in my throat, “No.”
“She was on vacation last week. Her first in years. She was supposed to come home yesterday. What could she have made the news about?”
“Momma,” I whispered. “Emily’s dead.”
Her eyes grew wide. “No. That’s not right. How could she be dead? She has her whole life ahead of her.”
I reached across the table for her hand—a gamble. “She was murdered.”
She didn’t pull her hand away as I’d expected. Instead, her face paled and she slumped forward a few inches, looking even smaller, even sicker. “How?”
“I don’t know all the details, and I don’t even know if it made the news yet. Brady came to tell me at Miss Ava’s. He knew that Emily had been my attorney, so he wanted to tell me in person.” No need for her to know that he also thought I was in danger.
“What happened?” she choked out.
“I don’t know.”
Her gaze jerked up to mine. “He told you at Ava Milton’s house? Surely she knew some details, and lorded them over you.”
“You don’t want to know.”
Her eyes blazed with anger. “I’m a grown woman, Magnolia Mae Steele. You do not tell me what I do or don’t want.”
Her words were harsh, and I was relieved she’d regained some of her strength. “Emily’s neighbor found her dog in the hallway in the middle of the night. When she went to return the dog, she found the door unlocked and Emily in the kitchen. She was already dead.”
My mother’s trembling hand rested on the table. “How was she murdered?”
“I don’t know. And that’s the truth. Brady refused to tell me anything, and Miss Ava didn’t know.” I paused, feeling nauseous. “But she said there was a lot of blood.”
Momma’s face took on a greenish-white cast, making me worried. The waitress showed up with my water, and I grabbed it from her and thrust it toward my mother. “Drink this.”
Momma took the glass, but immediately set it on the table. “A glass of water isn’t gonna solve anything, Magnolia.” A soft smile lifted her lips. “But I love you for trying to make me feel better.”
The waitress took a step away from the table. “I can come back and check on you in a minute.”
“I know what I want,” Momma said, not looking at the waitress. She ordered a burger and fries, then shot me a look. “What? I’m already dying. Might as well eat whatever I want.”
The waitress now looked horrified.
“I’ll take the strawberry salad,” I said, shoving the menus at her. “And another glass of water.”
She nodded, turned on her heels, and left.
My mother looked better, but not by much.
“I’m so sorry about Emily,” I said again.
“You didn’t kill her,” she said dismissively. Then her eyes jerked up to mine. “Oh, Lord. Do you have an alibi?”
I couldn’t hide my small smile. “Yeah. I have a very strong alibi. I was with Brady from around six last night until he was called in on the case at four this morning.”
“Every minute accounted for?”
I lifted an eyebrow. “You think I’m a likely suspect?”
“Well, you did have a motive.”
“I forgave Emily a long time ago for all her backstabbing in high school.” Okay, so “long ago” was only four weeks ago. I’d done a lot of growing in a month. “And it sure wasn’t worth killing over.”
“I know you didn’t do it,” Momma said with an aggravated wave of dismissal, but it was barely a movement, as though she couldn’t find the energy to complete the physical task. “But that doesn’t mean the police will believe it.”
“I was with Brady. I’m pretty sure I’m safe.”
Momma was silent for a moment and then shook her head. “I can’t believe someone hurt her.”
“Me either.” I paused before adding, “I know you were close to her.”
“After you left . . .” Momma said. “She helped fill the void.”
“I know.” I hesitated, worried that she might pass out. “Maybe you should go home. This is quite a shock.”
Fire blazed in her eyes. “I’m made of sterner stuff than that, Magnolia.”
“Of course you are. But you haven’t been feeling well . . .”
Her back straightened. “I’m feeling just fine. Well enough to have lunch with my daughter.” She rested a hand on the table again, disguising the fact that she was doing it to hold herself up. “Part of the reason I wanted to have lunch with you was to discuss . . . practical matters.”
I tried not to stiffen. “What does that mean?” I asked, even though I knew.
“What happens when I die and after.”
I breathed in slowly, filling my lungs, trying to inflate myself with the courage to deal with this. I didn’t want to have this discussion, but I was practical enough to know it needed to be done. She’d told me some of her plans, but I knew there was a lot more for us to discuss. I straightened my back and lifted my chin, preparing myself. “Okay.”
Surprise flashed in her eyes. “I expected more of a fight.”
“Then how about we bargain for my cooperation?”
“What do you want?” she asked, and I was happy to see some of her color return. Momma had always thrived on confrontation.
“I want to hear stories about when I was a kid.”
She sat back in her seat. “Magnolia, you don’t have to barter for that.”
“Then you win,” I said with a small smile. “So tell me what you want to say.”
She spent the next ten minutes telling me all the details of what she’d planned out.
“There’s a DNR in my medical records,” she said, holding my gaze. “That means no machines. No feeding tubes. If I go into a coma, you have to make sure they follow my orders.”
“You’re askin
g me to just let you die?”
“I’m dyin’ anyway, Magnolia Mae. At least let me have some say in the matter.”
I forced myself to nod. She was right, however much it hurt.
She told me where to find her will and how to contact her attorney. “You know I’m leaving you the house, but it will be easier with probate if I put you on the deed before I die. I have the papers with me, so I want you to come to the bank when we’re done so you can sign and get it notarized.”
“Roy’s gonna have a fit.”
“You told me that last week. Let him. I let him get away with far too much. I should have had a stronger hand with him, and a softer one with you.”
“Water under the bridge, Momma.”
She paused, then said in a soft voice I wasn’t used to hearing, “But it’s still in view, Magnolia. Still in my memories, haunting me.”
Tears stung my eyes and I swiped at my left one. “Let it go. Neither one of us is perfect.”
She grinned. “Tilly thinks you and I are too much alike for our own good.”
I laughed. “I always knew Tilly was smart.”
“I’ve already made arrangements with the funeral home and picked out my casket, along with all the other macabre details,” she said.
The only way I knew how to handle this was to pretend it was happening twenty years in the future, because Momma would get ticked off if I started crying.
“Oh, come on,” I teased. “You’re not going to let me pick any of that out? I bet they have one that’s sparkly.”
Her mouth pressed tight, but then she continued, ignoring my statement. “Roy and Belinda would insist on the top-of-the-line model, wanting to keep up appearances and all that.” She waved her hand. “What do I care if I’m buried in a pine box or a fancy, gold-plated one?”
The waitress showed up with our food just then. She gave my mother a frightened look, as if worried Momma might fast-forward her sickness a few weeks and pass away at the table, and then set our plates in front of us and scurried away.
I leaned forward and lowered my voice. “I’m not letting you be buried in a pine box, Momma.”
“I didn’t pick out a pine box, but I didn’t get the top of the line either.” She grabbed a french fry. “And I want to be buried in my catering uniform. Don’t you let Roy convince anyone otherwise.”