I studied him for a moment. “Is there more that you’re not telling me?”
He jerked his eyes to mine. “No. You know everything I know.”
“If I find out you’re lying to me . . .”
“I’ve told you everything. I swear.” We were quiet for about a half minute before he asked, “So what do you want to do now? Maybe you should call Detective Martinez and find out if she’s gotten anywhere.”
I shook my head. “She wouldn’t tell me anything. Brady would be more likely to share, but I don’t want to call him. After what Roy told me, I know he was lying about his conversation with my brother. Belinda’s story matches Roy’s.”
“Unless Roy and Belinda are trying to make you not trust Brady.”
“You think they agreed to purposely lie to me?” I asked in surprise. “Why? To what end?”
“I don’t know, Maggie. I don’t know anything.” His hands tightened on the steering wheel. “I still think we should leave town. Everything seems to be coming to a head. It’s not safe for you here.”
“No,” I said firmly. “I’m not going anywhere. I need to see this through.” I softened my voice. “But if you want to leave—”
His jaw tensed. “No. If you stay, I stay.”
“Colt. If anything happens to you . . .”
His eyebrows shot up. “Do you really think I could leave you? I’m staying with you to the end, no matter what that means.”
It was the no matter what that bothered me.
“So what next?” he asked.
I ran through my mental list. “We need to find the camera. Why don’t you drop me off at Momma’s house? I can try to find it while you help Tilly.”
“No fucking way am I leaving you alone, even with the alarm system. You can come with me and help work the lunch. Then we’ll smash the fireplace.”
I didn’t really want to be alone either, so I saw no reason to fight him on it. “Crap. I should have asked Roy about the Duncans. He might have told me something we could use.”
“Do you really think there’s a connection between Duncan and the serial killer?”
“I’m not ruling anything out, and apparently neither is Owen since he’s checking on Clint Duncan today. There are too many things that tie the serial killer murders to Daddy to be a coincidence. It makes sense that it would be someone who holds a grudge against him. Seems to me that Brian Duncan has a lot of reasons to hate him.”
“Or the serial killer could be working to help your dad. Amy’s faked suicide covered up your father’s murders.”
“Yeah . . . but I’m not so sure. Daddy claimed he didn’t even know about the killer.”
“Asking Roy wouldn’t have done you any good, so don’t beat yourself up about it. I doubt he would have answered any more questions. He was already worked up past the point of reason. And what are the chances he was looking that far back into your father’s past? Wouldn’t he have focused on the Jackson Project to help Belinda get her revenge?”
“Not necessarily. Roy thinks our father wronged him, and I’m sure he thinks he’s owed compensation. After Brady questioned him and Bill James at the office, Roy told me I was ruining everything. Sure, he might be interested in revenge like Belinda, but I’d bet Momma’s house that he’s more interested in that money.”
“You could ask Belinda about Eric Duncan,” Colt said.
“She was there when Tilly told us about him. If she knew anything else . . . anything she was willing to share, she would have told us on Monday night.” We had another possible source of information, but she might not be so receptive this time. “I’m sure Ava knows more about the murders. Maybe she even knows how they’re linked.”
“She definitely knows about Tiffany Kessler, but I don’t think she knows about the others.”
Ava had mentioned a murder three years ago, but there hadn’t been a file in Brady’s packet of files. “What do you know about a murder three years ago?”
“Nothing. That would have been before I worked for her, and while I knew she was concerned about something that had happened in that timeframe, I didn’t know any details.”
I narrowed my eyes.
He lifted a hand in self-defense. “I don’t know anything, Maggie, I swear. My number one priority is protecting you, and if any information I have from anyone could help you find the killer, I’d share it.”
“What time is it?”
“Ten thirty. Why?”
“Because I’m not going to the catering kitchen with you.”
He sat up straighter in his seat. “Where the hell do you think you’re going?”
I smiled, but I didn’t put any warmth into it. “I’m going to a Bible study.”
Chapter 24
As I walked through the door into Ava Milton’s kitchen, I knew I was jumping from the frying pan into the fire. After the way I’d handled our conversation the day before, I suspected she’d make a fool out of me, but the unlocked back door also seemed like an open invitation—or a dare. Probably both.
The kitchen looked messier than usual with unwashed pots and pans in the sink, but the table was covered with the usual display of food. I heard voices in the living room, and I walked toward it, the clicking of my shoes ensuring there would be no sneaking up on anyone.
Miss Ava was standing in the front of several rows of chairs, as usual, and she stopped talking as I approached the group and sat in a chair in the back. Her mouth sagged open with what appeared to be shock, a new sensation for her, I was sure.
A shudder rippled through her body before she said, “Magnolia Steele, what do you think you’re doing?”
I crossed my legs and tried to look prim and proper. “I’m here for the Bible study, Miss Ava.”
“You were not invited. You are not a member.”
I lifted an eyebrow. “Do you want me to take notes to justify my presence like you had me do last week?” I looked around the room. “Is anyone else on the chopping block?” I focused my attention on a woman in the second row and pointed my finger at her. “Georgine, have you been stirring up shit again? I bet you’re next.” She was Miss Ava’s nemesis and had challenged her at every opportunity at both meetings I’d attended. Miss Ava must have some reason for keeping her around.
Multiple gasps filled the room.
“Magnolia, will you kindly leave?” Miss Ava said in a tight voice. Her eyes were slightly bugged out, and her cheeks were pinker than usual.
“No . . .” I said, tilting my head to the side. “I have some old business to discuss . . . or is it new business?” I sat up straighter and held her gaze. “Maybe I should just bring it up between the two discussions. That way we can cover both.”
Miss Ava’s face started turning red.
“By all means,” I said with a slight hand wave. “Go on with your meeting. I’ll wait.” When no one said anything for a few seconds, I said, “Oh. Did you just finish with old business?”
The woman next to me, an elderly woman named Ruth, turned to me with a downturned mouth and patted my arm. “Magnolia, are you feeling all right? Your mother died less than a week ago. It must still be quite a shock.”
I gave her a sweet smile. She was one of the kinder members of the group. “Thank you, Miss Ruth. And thank you for the flowers you sent to the funeral. That was so sweet of you. I’ll be sure to send you a thank you card once I have this whole serial killer situation under control.”
Her mouth dropped open as if I’d tripped a lever, and the room filled with louder gasps than before.
“Serial killer?” Georgine burst out. “What serial killer?”
I shifted in my seat so I could see Georgine. “The one who killed Emily Johnson last week. And Amy Danvers a few weeks ago. And Melanie Seaborn ten years ago, Margarie Turnwell fourteen years ago, and Tiffany Kessler seventeen years ago. Twenty years ago, poor Stella Hargrove was the first victim . . . as far as I can tell.” I cocked my head as I turned my attention on Miss Ava. “There was also a murder th
ree years ago, but you forgot to give me details on that one.” I glanced around with a sheepish look. “Sorry. Please let me know when it’s my time to talk.”
Thirty-two sets of eyes stared at me.
Good thing I thrived on attention.
“So does that mean it’s my turn after all?” I asked sweetly.
Miss Ava seemed to get control of herself. “You’ve already hijacked the meeting, so by all means, carry on, Magnolia.”
I stood and gave her a good-natured grin. “You know you want to hear what I have to say.”
“You’re wrong about Amy Danvers,” Georgine said with a smug tone. “She committed suicide and wrote a note confessing to the murder of those two men.”
“And that’s exactly what the serial killer wanted you to think,” I said, walking toward the front of the group where Miss Ava stood. “Only, I know for a fact that Amy Danvers didn’t kill Max Goodwin and Neil Fulton.”
“And how do you know that?” Miss Ava demanded.
I swung around to face her. “Because my father killed them.”
The gasps were even louder this time.
“What do you mean your father killed them?” Miss Ava asked. “How do you know that?”
“Because he and I had this lovely chat last night—a real tête-à-tête.” I glanced over my shoulder. “Georgine, in case you’re wondering, that means face-to-face and private.” She undoubtedly knew what it meant, but I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to screw with Miss Ava’s nemesis.
“And what was discussed in this supposed meeting?” Miss Ava asked, clearly flustered.
“Well . . .” I said with a hint of a drawl. “I can’t tell you everything. Father-daughter stuff, you know, but I can tell you he told me that he killed a number of people. When I asked how many, he would only say they all deserved it. I think there might be more murders, but none of you have anything to worry about unless you think your name might be on my father’s naughty list . . .”
Miss Ava’s face paled.
“I knew you made a huge mistake by hiring her!” Georgine shrieked as the room broke out into chaos.
From the hysteria behind me, I suspected more than a few were worried they might be next on Daddy’s list. The fact that over half of them ran out of the house confirmed it.
Miss Ava composed herself once more, placing her hand on her stomach as she inhaled deeply. Georgine was shouting at her, telling her she’d pay dearly for putting them all in danger.
Poor Ruth approached me, her hand shaking as she reached for me. “I hope you tell your father I sent the flowers for your mother.”
Struggling to keep a straight face, I said, “I’ll be sure to let him know.” With that, she scurried out with the others.
What in God’s name had these women done?
Only a handful of them had the gumption to stay, Georgine included. She seemed worried, so I suspected she’d be the most likely to cave.
I pivoted to face her. “There was a murder three years ago, around the same time Christopher Merritt disappeared. Who was killed?”
Her face paled. “She was Walter Frey’s niece.”
I resisted the shiver creeping along my spine. “His niece? What happened to her?”
“She was murdered in Florida.”
“Florida?”
“She was going to college there. They never found the killer.”
“Why did you think it had something to do with my father?” I asked, whipping around to look at Miss Ava.
“Because,” Miss Ava said in a dull voice, “Walter received an anonymous text from someone who said he hoped his warning had been understood.”
“What did the police say?”
“He never told them.”
I shook my head in disbelief. “How did you find out?”
“A year later, Ruby told us. She was distraught because Walter was in trouble over some land deal and their daughter was getting married, and after all the trouble from the past . . . she was considering leaving him.”
“And that’s when you hired Colt. For protection. Did he know why?”
“No,” Ava said, taking a seat in a now-empty chair in the front row. “I told him I’d had an intruder and observed how he handled it. I needed to know he’d protect me if the need arose.”
“And you rented the apartment to me to find out what I knew about my father.”
She nodded.
“I told you it was stupid!” Georgine shouted, agitated again. “You’ve only riled him up again!”
“How did his niece die?” I asked.
“Her throat was slit.”
I expected as much, but it was shocking nonetheless. One more innocent woman brutalized for what? So many lives had been lost.
“My father didn’t kill Walter Frey’s niece,” I said, hoping I was right. He’d seemed confused by the idea of a serial killer, and he’d flat-out denied any involvement in Amy’s death.
“Then who did?” Georgine asked in a snippy tone.
“Look,” I said, turning to face her again, “I just admitted that my father killed people. I have no reason to lie about this, and I’m trying to find out myself.”
“Why aren’t the police handling it?” another woman asked as she twisted the fabric of her shirt at the base of her throat. It took me a second to remember her name was Jackie.
“Because the police don’t seem to be taking this seriously. I need to stop the man before he kills someone else.” I leveled my gaze at Miss Ava. “I need you to tell me everything you know. No more games.”
She glared at me, and Georgine shouted, “Oh, for God’s sake, Ava! Let go of your stubborn pride!”
Miss Ava took a breath, then pursed her lips into a thin line. “Magnolia, take a seat. I’m straining my neck looking up at you.”
I grabbed a chair from the other side of the aisle, plopped it in front of Miss Ava, and then sat facing her. “I’m tired of playing twenty questions. Just save us all a lot of trouble and spit it out.”
Miss Ava tried to look offended, but it didn’t take. She seemed too worried to pull it off effectively. “We all invested in your father’s project,” she said, her voice sounding deflated. “Some of us lost a lot of money. We wanted our money back.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Yeah, I’m not buying that. Sure, you wanted your money back, but you’re pretty vindictive. I suspect you wanted your money back, but only as a side dish to your revenge entree.”
She pursed her lips and nodded her head slightly.
“How’d this group work?” I asked. “Christopher Merritt’s and Walter Frey’s wives were part of your group, not to mention Rowena Rogers herself. Didn’t you see them as enemies?”
Miss Ava gave me a condescending smile. “You know the saying, my dear. Keep your friends close and your enemies closer.”
Jackie sat down next to Miss Ava, and the older woman gave her a distasteful look, not that Jackie seemed to notice. “That’s not who they wanted revenge on,” she said.
“My father.”
“We knew he was still alive,” Miss Ava said, her attitude returning.
“So we laid a trap,” Jackie said.
“You did no such thing,” Miss Ava snipped. “You were no part of it.”
A pouty look washed over Jackie’s face. “I voted for it.”
“And that’s not the same thing at all,” Miss Ava said.
“Look,” I said. “I don’t give a flip who voted for what. I want to know what you did.”
Miss Ava’s sense of indignation resurfaced. “I will not stand to be spoken to in such an insolent manner, Magnolia Steele.”
“Perhaps I should call my daddy,” I said in a syrupy sweet tone. “And ask him who else is on his list.”
She scowled and I was pretty sure I’d made an enemy for life.
“So,” I prodded, “you all decided to plot against my father. I take it the partners’ wives and Rowena were part of the plot.”
“We knew he’d stolen that m
oney, and we wanted it back. And sure enough, he took off with millions.”
I gave her a look of disgust. “Why in the hell didn’t you tell me that at the start?”
Her thin silver eyebrows rose. “Would you have believed it? Everyone knew you maintained his innocence when you were a child. I was determined to find out if you still believed it.”
“Which was why you decided to keep an eye on me.”
“And once you found out that I believed he was murdered . . .”
“I decided I could gently guide you toward the truth. Colt was supposed to help me, but he dragged his heels. That’s why I needed the cameras.”
“Gently guide me toward the truth,” I mocked, but even as I said the words, I realized she was absolutely right. The evidence she’d presented me with—those old newspaper clippings, the small teases of information—had been the best way to hook me in and challenge my beliefs.
“Good job.” I brought my hands together with one clap, startling the three of them. The only women still left. “Mission accomplished. We’re all on the same page that my father is a thieving murderer. What’s next?”
Ava’s mouth opened, then closed.
“We were hoping to get you on our side,” Jackie said. “So you’d help us.”
“Only, we planned to be more conniving than that,” Georgine said.
“Well, of course,” I said. “That’s a given since Miss Ava’s involved.”
Miss Ava scowled.
I held my arms out. “Phase one complete. I’m on your side. What’s the plan?”
Georgine leaned closer. “We want you to find out where he’s hidden the money.”
“So you can get it back?” I asked.
“Of course.”
I narrowed my eyes at Miss Ava. “What’s the real plan? Not the one you fooled your friends with.”
When she refused to look me in the eye, it hit me. “Oh . . . I was part of the plan.”
Georgine looked confused. “Of course you were. You were supposed to find out how we can get the money back.”
“Georgine,” I said as though I was talking to a toddler. “Really? You believe that? Does that sound like Ava Milton to you?”
Curtain Call: Magnolia Steele Mystery #4 Page 23