“No, ma’am.”
She picked up her spoon and continued to stir. “Many people were upset with your father after that land deal went south, but two country music artists lost everything. One sued your father and various others and won. The second remained angry but silent. He held quite a grudge.”
“Tripp Tucker sued Daddy. I found that in the box. Who was the other?”
A smug grin lit up her face. “Someone didn’t do her homework.”
“Most of the people who were involved in Daddy’s business deals are dead. Walter Frey, Steve Morrissey, Max Goodwin, and Neil Fulton. Christopher Merritt disappeared like Shannon Morrissey and Daddy.”
“And Geraldo Lopez,” Miss Ava added. “He’s dead.”
“Owen Frasier killed him.”
“And that’s an interesting coincidence, don’t you think?” she asked.
“Because his uncle was the detective who investigated my father’s disappearance?”
“Very good, Magnolia.” She sounded pleased. “But before we move to Gordon Frasier, you’re missing two people from your father’s group.”
“Bill James and Rowena Rogers.”
She glanced over her shoulder at me, her eyebrows raised.
“But I hear Rowena Rogers disappeared.”
“Did she?”
I stopped scooping the croissants. “You know everything about everyone. How could you not know?”
She turned at the waist to look at me. “I don’t know everything, Magnolia Steele. I don’t know why you left town a decade ago.”
My face flushed and I glanced down at the baking tray. “I’m not sure that’s entirely true, Miss Ava. I suspect you have your suspicions.”
She chuckled. “I’ve heard the usual. You ran away after a fight with your mother. You were pregnant and ran off to have the baby.”
My head jerked up. I hadn’t heard that one.
“You were deluded into thinking starring as Maria in West Side Story onstage at Franklin High School qualified you to act on Broadway.”
My mouth twitched. “I made it to Broadway.”
“My personal favorite was that you ran off with an older rich man and he dumped you in New York, and you were too embarrassed to come home.”
If only. “And which one do you believe?”
“None of them.” She had a knowing look in her eyes that chilled my blood.
She couldn’t know, but my heart kicked into a gallop all the same.
“Something bad happened to you that night, Magnolia Steele. You ran away to save your life.”
Chapter 17
I forced a laugh. “That’s pretty fanciful for you, Miss Ava. You strike me as being much more grounded.”
“Nothing about me is fanciful, Magnolia Steele.”
Cold sweat broke on my forehead. Ava Milton might think she knew something, but if she expected me to verify it, she had another think coming.
To my surprise, she simply let out a loud sigh and set down the bowl of icing she was working on. “Rowena Rogers may not be in the public view,” she said, returning to the pot on the stove, “but she’s still around.”
“Do you know where she is?”
“Sometimes the things we search for are hidden in plain sight.”
“Does that mean you’re Rowena Rogers?”
She laughed. “No. I have far more class and tact than that tart . . . but mention her to our guests before the Bible study and find out for yourself.”
“You want me to have a conversation with your guests?”
“If you so choose. I’m considering nominating you to be a trial member.”
I wasn’t sure which was more shocking—that she was considering making me a member or that I might take her up on it.
Ava got back to work, but she refused to discuss anything related to my father. Instead, she had me make a batch of scones, which made me more nervous than I cared to admit. Under her watchful eye, they turned out perfectly. Part of me wanted to tell my mother about my baking victory, but I suspected she wouldn’t appreciate that I’d achieved it under her nemesis’s tutelage.
Forty-five minutes before the guests were due to arrive, Ava sent me to my apartment to shower and change. I almost told her about the cameras in my apartment and begged to shower in her house instead, but decided not to press my luck. Now that Colt was certain he’d figured out who’d hidden the cameras—Owen—there was no point in leaving them there. I’d find the camera in the bathroom and rip it out myself.
But when I walked out the back door, Colt was waiting on the steps to my apartment again, and I released a surprised squeak.
“What are you doing here so early?” I asked, rushing up to him. He was still wearing the shirt he’d had on last night, and his hair was smooshed on one side. “You look like shit.” That was probably the only time I’d be able to honestly tell him that, so I decided to not waste the opportunity. Even so, the memory of our kiss flooded my head, making me warm in places that had no business being warm on a cool April morning.
Colt seemed oblivious. He made a face and groaned. “Rub it in, Maggie.” He’d used my nickname, so I decided he couldn’t be as pissed as he sounded.
I really needed to get ahold of myself, but my reaction to him only drove home the fact that I was right to pack up my things and leave Brady’s. It wasn’t fair to him when I was lusting after somebody else. And Colt Austin to boot. That pissed me off since I’d vowed from the moment I first laid eyes on Colt to not fall for him. “What are you doing here?” I asked in a clipped tone.
Surprise filled his eyes. “Checking on you. And bringing you this.” He pulled my purse out from behind his back.
That knocked my irritation down several pegs. “You stopped by my car?”
“I wanted to make sure it was still there, undisturbed. And it was.”
“Then how did you get my purse? I’m pretty sure I locked the car.”
“I have my ways. Do you want me to take you to get your car when you’re done here?”
“Yeah. Thanks.” One problem solved. Three hundred and thirty-six more or so to go.
He climbed to his feet, although it looked like it took more effort than it should have.
“Owen was there when I showed up at Brady’s doorstep last night.”
Colt did a double take. “What? How did that go?”
“Surprisingly okay, although he mentioned my wet, dirty clothes. Since I couldn’t confess I’d been hiding under a semi, I told him it was because my car had broken down. Thanks to your minor sabotage, it wasn’t a total lie.”
He had the good grace to grimace with guilt. “Good thinking. Do you know why he was there?”
I hesitated, realizing I’d compartmentalized what the people around me knew. While Colt knew the most about my father, he knew nothing about the night I’d been held captive. Brady only knew some things about my father, but he knew everything about that night. I wanted to tell Colt the whole story—I’d wanted to for a while—but he was keeping important information from me. “You still have your secrets, and I still have mine, remember?”
Anger flashed in his eyes.
“He wasn’t there about the industrial park incident,” I said, feeling slightly guilty. “He was dropping off a packet of information that Brady had requested.”
That piqued his interest. “Do you know what was in it?”
“How would I know?” I hedged. “It was police business.”
He shot me a look that let me know he didn’t buy it. “I’m surprised you haven’t asked about my text from last night. Don’t you want to know about the lead I found?”
I hadn’t forgotten, but he’d caught me by surprise. He hadn’t given me a chance to ask. But his prompting reminded me that I’d texted Belinda back—twice—and still had no response. I was starting to get worried. I was also tired and cranky, so I snapped out a response, “Are you going to hold your information hostage? You don’t tell me unless I tell you?”
He
studied me for a moment as though trying to decide whether to answer before he said, “Get into a lover’s spat with your boyfriend?”
My guilt for kissing Colt—and enjoying it far too much—had ruined everything with Brady, but I wasn’t about to admit it to him. “Shut up, Colt. Tell me or don’t, it’s up to you.”
“Jesus,” he spat out. “What is your problem today? You want to hear the information about the gold or not?”
God. I really was a giant bitch. “Yeah. Sorry. I didn’t get much sleep last night.”
“Yeah, me either.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I got some information on the history of when the pieces were made and who they were sold to.”
“They can track that?”
“Not all of it, but some. Most of them were minted in the U.S., but some came from Switzerland. I’m trying to find out who your father took it from.”
Out of habit, I nearly protested his accusation against my father. Accepting that Daddy was a criminal would take some time. “But I thought we’d proven that he’d taken it from Steve Morrissey.”
“Sure looks that way, but I think we should find things out for ourselves instead of taking a lying murderer’s word for it.”
He had a point.
“I’ve also discovered that Lopez often stayed at a friend’s house down in Chattanooga. I’m going to check it out. There’s a chance he could have left the gold there.”
“You think he had time to go down there and back?”
“He stole it from you on Friday afternoon. It’s a two-and-a-half-hour drive, and since few people knew he made a habit of staying there, it would have been a safe place to hole up.”
“Why wouldn’t he have just kept it in his car?”
“Would you carry around one million in gold in your car?” Colt asked.
“You’re asking the wrong person,” I said. “I had it stuffed around my apartment.” I pursed my lips. “Keeping it in a safety deposit box would have been smarter.”
“In your case, yes. But in Lopez’s situation, the police thought he’d been kidnapped and possibly murdered.” He put an arm around my shoulder and squeezed. “We’ll get it back.”
“I hope so. Our lives depend on it.”
“So you didn’t tell Bennett?”
“I said I wouldn’t,” I said in a snotty tone. Besides, since other issues had seemed bigger, I’d put it farther down on the priority list. It was a sad day when all your other problems were bigger than an ultimatum to deliver a million dollars’ worth of gold or die. “We’re on our own with this. If we manage to actually find the gold, we have to hand it over.”
“Hell no, we’re not giving that asshole our gold. We’re keeping it. And if you don’t want your share, I’ll keep all of it. But at the moment, I want food. Is your apartment still as bare as a grocery store two years into a zombie apocalypse?”
I shot him a glare. “When would I have gotten food? Never mind, don’t answer that. Look, I can get your food if you promise to come up and rip out all of those cameras.”
His forehead furrowed. “I don’t know, Mags . . . We’re still not sure who it was since we’re pretty certain it wasn’t Frasier.”
“Then I guess we’ll get our big reveal on Saturday night when we hand it over.”
“So does that mean you’re still going to the masquerade ball with me?” he asked.
There was no way Colt was going to do this drop-off without me, even if he didn’t have anything to turn over. “Yeah.”
He grinned. “We’ll be the sexiest couple there. People won’t be able to keep their eyes off us.”
That was what I was afraid of. “I’m going to ask Belinda for a dress. Do you have a tux?”
“Do I have a tux?” he asked, sounding incredulous.
“Do you or don’t you? If not, I’ll see if we can get one from Belinda.”
He snorted. “She’ll never give me a tux.”
“What happened between you two?” I asked. “Why don’t you get along?”
Surprise washed over his face. “Who said we don’t get along?”
I realized I’d never witnessed anything overtly hostile between them, but little things—more so on Belinda’s end than on Colt’s—had implied they shared a mutual disregard. “My mistake.”
“Well, in any case, I have a tux. A black one.”
I didn’t like the way my mind wandered to what Colt would look like dressed to the nines. It made me breathless. “Back to the cameras,” I said, trying to stay on task. “They are coming out. Today.” When he didn’t answer, I said, “You wouldn’t believe the spread Ava made for her Bible study. There are some little mini quiches in the warming drawer, and she also has lemon poppy seed muffins and blueberry scones. And those are just the starters.”
“Ava’s pissed at me. She’ll never let me have anything.”
I was still curious about that, but there was no time to ask. In a matter of minutes, I had to be in Ava’s dining room looking like I was attending a debutante tea. I’d pry it out of him later. “I know for a fact that she’s upstairs getting ready, but I suspect she won’t take long. I’ll even let you take a plate of food on the honor system.”
He licked his bottom lip. “Deal.”
“Follow me.” I led him through Ava’s back door and into the kitchen. His eyes lit up at the literal smorgasbord of brunch pastries.
“You’re sure Ava’s upstairs?” he asked, glancing around with a guilty look.
“Yep.” I opened the pantry and pulled out a container of freshly ground coffee. “Quick. Grab something and bring it with you. I’ll make coffee in my apartment.”
He picked up a blueberry scone and held it in front of his face, taking a big whiff. A smile that suggested he’d discovered the secret to life spread across his face. I couldn’t help inflating with pride since they had been my first successful baking endeavor.
Grabbing a plate, he took the scone, two mini quiches, and a couple of muffins. After he poured himself a glass of orange juice, I opened the back door. “Come on. You’ve taken half the food and I’m going to have to rearrange it all, but I’ll gladly do it as long as you earn it. Time to debug my apartment.”
Once we got inside, Colt quickly dispatched two cameras from the bookcase and one from the kitchen while I started a pot of coffee.
“The bathroom next,” I said. “I need a quick shower.”
I followed him in as he pulled out a small disc and wire from behind the light fixture over the sink. A dark look crossed his face as he stuffed it into his jeans pocket. “The fucker could see into your shower.”
I shuddered involuntarily. I was pretty sure the creepy feeling of being watched would last long after the cameras were gone.
He circled the room, taking a framed print of a seascape off the wall and looking it over before he hung it back up.
“I thought you said there was only one in here.”
“Can’t be too thorough,” he muttered as he stood on the side of the tub looking around the shower head.
“Well . . . thanks.”
“No prob.” He headed for the door. “You’re good.”
I shut the door behind him and turned on the water, worried he hadn’t gotten them all. The shower was probably the shortest of my life, and I quickly wrapped a towel around myself and cracked open the door.
“All clear?” I asked.
Colt was sitting at the island with a cup of coffee and half his food gone. His gaze strayed to my legs, and I became instantly aware of the fact that I was wrapped up in a towel that only barely covered my butt. “Your bedroom is clear,” he finally said, returning his attention to his plate.
“Where did you put the cameras?” I asked. “Can they still hear us?”
“They’re down in my car.”
“Not the trash? Why didn’t you flush them?”
He shook his head. “So wasteful, Magnolia Steele. I can sell them or use them myself.”
“What would you use them
for?”
He looked up at me, his eyes serious. “I think we both know I have several side jobs to pay the bills.”
He’d admitted to installing the cameras outside the loading dock, but the way he’d said it suggested the deal had been brokered under the table. What exactly did he do when he wasn’t working for the Belles and singing in bars? Belinda had mentioned his arrest, and he’d been open enough about his seedy past, but I hadn’t thought he was still involved in anything devious. Then again, after last night, I wasn’t sure about anything. I needed more answers, and I needed them soon.
“For God’s sakes, Magnolia,” he groaned. “Put some fucking clothes on.”
I cringed, having somehow forgotten I was still standing in the skimpy towel. “Sorry.”
Darting into my bedroom, I found my last clean dress and quickly put it on, then went into the bathroom to put on a little makeup, making sure I used plenty of concealer to cover the dark circles under my eyes and some still-fading bruises. After I rolled my hair up into a French twist, I returned to the living area and found Colt lying on my sofa with his eyes closed.
“You’re already done?” he asked, squinting one eye open.
“Yeah, what of it?”
“I just expected you to be more high maintenance.”
“Does that statement apply to my appearance or to me in general?”
“Both.” His eyes sank closed again. “I’m going to hang out here and take a nap while you’re doing the Bible study thing.”
I walked into the kitchen and poured a cup of coffee. “Why is Ava mad at you?”
“That’s none of your—”
“Come on. You know ten times more information about me than I know about you.” On second thought, that was probably a low estimation.
He lifted his head and glanced back at me. “Here’s the thing you need to know about Ava—what happens between you two needs to stay between you two. So if you want to know why she’s ticked at me, ask her.”
“She’s told me all kinds of things this morning,” I said. “She just might tell me.”
“No skin off my back,” he said, settling down on the sofa again. “But be wary: her information always comes at a price.”
Call Back: Magnolia Steel Mystery #3 (Magnolia Steele Mystery) Page 19