Center Stage: Magnolia Steele Mystery #1

by Denise Grover Swank

  I was relieved that I didn’t have to recite the lecture I’d been preparing in my head. She’d walked away from the situation a happy woman. Who was I to judge?

  “Thanks for the warning,” Tina said, glancing at a customer by the towels. “Duty calls.”

  “No problem.”

  Belinda had been standing to the side, pretending to shop. She fell in next to me as we left the store. “Learn anything helpful?”

  “Other than that Lee Jackson is kinky as shit, no.”

  Belinda looked startled.

  “That’s Tina’s alibi. She was doin’ Lee Jackson.”

  “And you believe her?”

  “She had the look of a very satisfied woman.” A look I hadn’t worn in ages myself. Griff had always been too selfish to make sure I would walk away satisfied, and I’d been so wrapped up in the excitement of Fireflies at Dawn that I hadn’t dared complain. Asshole. “I believe her.”

  “So that leaves Paul,” Belinda said, then cringed. “Your momma called while you were talking to Tina. One of her staff members called out of work, and she needs you to fill in.”

  I sure as hell hoped I’d be in the kitchen and not serving food.

  “But you still have an hour, and I saw on Twitter that Paul Locke is at the Cool Springs Galleria Mall signing autographs. We have time to drop by and get his signature.”

  “I never would have expected such deviousness out of you, Belinda Steele.”

  She lifted her shoulder into a shrug. “It’s not the least bit devious. We’re just talking to people.”

  While she drove us to the other mall, I called Emily and put her on speaker phone. “Have you talked to Henry McNamara yet?”

  “About an hour ago. According to him, he showed up late, but Luke wasn’t mingling with the guests, so he and a group of guys left at nine to grab a late dinner.”

  “And he can prove it?”

  “Yeah, I just talked to two of his friends, who independently confirmed his story and said they were there until after midnight. I might still stop by the restaurant to confirm the guys aren’t just covering for him. How’d it go with Amy?”

  I cast a glance at Belinda, then said, “Amy wasn’t very forthcoming. In fact, she was trying to protect Luke.”

  “Luke? Luke Powell?”

  When Belinda didn’t jump in, I continued. “Yeah. She said he was pissed at Max. He’d expressly forbidden him from coming to the party, although she didn’t tell us what motive he would have other than not wanting him to be there, so obviously we’re missing part of the story.”

  “Anything else?”

  “She told us about a country singer Max had tricked into sleeping with him. Apparently she threatened him in a bar about a month ago, but I just talked to her. She says she has an alibi, and I believe her.”

  “So that leaves Paul Locke.”

  “Belinda found out that he’s signing autographs right now at the Galleria Mall. We’re headed over there. I’ll let you know what I find out.”

  “Sounds good.”

  Spring had sprung in Tennessee, and the mall parking lot was packed with people eager to spruce up their spring wardrobes.

  Still, it wasn’t hard to find him. All we had to do was follow the sound of squealing teen and tween girls to the food court. A thirty-foot line of girls separated us from a man in his early twenties. His light brown hair was styled, and there was light stubble on his cheeks. A dark T-shirt stretched across his well-defined chest as he bent over the table in front of him and signed glossy eight-by-ten photos of himself. Besides the gaggle of fans, there were two people standing behind him who obviously worked for him—a man tapping on his smart phone and a young woman dressed in jeans, a white blouse, and a pastel pink blazer. Her dark hair was pulled back in a ponytail.

  “Oh, my God,” I groaned. “Do we have to wait in that line? I’m not sure my reputation will survive it, not to mention I doubt he’s going to share much with a bunch of thirteen-year-olds listening.”

  Belinda studied the circus in front of us. “I might have a way to bypass it.”

  “You do realize that we risk getting jumped if we try that, don’t you? Thirteen-year-old girls can be vicious.”

  “I think I know the woman next to him.”

  I turned to her in surprise. “Really?”

  “You wait here.”

  “Okay.” I had no idea why she wanted me to wait, but I had no desire to get close to the mayhem. One of Paul’s fans walked around the table and squatted down next to him while her friend took a photo of the two of them with her phone. Paul turned at the last moment and kissed the girl on the cheek, which elicited another round of ear-piercing squeals. The man definitely knew his audience.

  I pulled out my phone to check for more messages, and was shocked to see one from Griff. I debated whether to listen to it, then closed out my voice mail screen. Nothing good would come of any communication with him.

  I looked up to see Belinda talking to the woman with the ponytail. The woman beamed at her and pulled her into a hug. They broke apart, chatting up a storm before Belinda motioned in my direction. The woman glanced at me before turning back to my sister-in-law and nodding.

  Belinda was grinning as she walked back toward me.

  “Unless you hug and chat with strangers, I take it you do know her,” I said when she reached me. Actually, I wouldn’t put it past her to do that very thing. We hadn’t known each other long, but she had to be the nicest person I’d ever met.

  But Belinda laughed. “That’s Tandy. We knew each other when I first got to town. We were backup singers together on a short road tour for a band I’m sure you’ve never heard of.”

  “You were a backup singer?”

  She laughed again, her pinks turning pink. “About six years ago. When I first moved to Nashville.”

  “You sing?” I wasn’t sure why I was so surprised. I guess because she looked so prim and proper now.

  “Ages ago, but that’s beside the point. Tandy’s going to let us walk Paul to his car when he’s done. We can ask questions until he gets in the car.”

  “Wow. You’re amazing.”

  She grinned. “But we have to go get coffee for him and Tandy and meet them back here in ten minutes. That’s when this thing is over.”

  “Not a problem,” I said a little too eagerly. “I could use some coffee myself.” I suspected I might need a caffeine boost to get me through whatever Momma had planned for me. I’d hit the mid-afternoon slump, and my lack of sleep wasn’t helping.

  We were en route to Starbucks, across the food court from the signing, thank God, when Belinda’s phone rang. She dug it out of her purse, and the smile fell off her face. “Magnolia, I have to get this. Could you get the coffees?”

  Her reaction to the call worried me. “Of course. No problem.”

  “Tandy wants a venti caramel macchiato, and Paul wants a grande Americano.”

  “Okay,” I said. “Anything for you?” I got it out as quickly as I could—I could tell she was getting more stressed the longer the phone kept ringing.

  “A white mocha.” Then she answered the call and hurried away with the phone pressed to her ear.

  I couldn’t help but watch Belinda as I stood in line. She was talking on her cell about thirty feet away, leaning against a post. Based on her body language, the person on the other line was being a jerk. Her shoulders were hunched, and she looked like she was folding in on herself, trying to make herself disappear.

  “Can I take your order?” the woman behind the Starbucks counter asked.

  “Yeah,” I said, shaking myself out of my stupor to give her my order, adding my own drink as well. I spied on Belinda as I waited, getting angrier and angrier by the moment. Who in the hell was she talking to, and how dare he or she make her feel that way?

  After a couple of minutes, Belinda returned her phone to her purse and joined me at the coffee counter just as the barista was handing me the first of the drinks. Belinda had a smi
le plastered on her face by the time she reached me. “I’m sorry about that. Clients . . .”

  “What was it about?” I asked before I could stop myself. I valued privacy and rarely butted into other people’s business, but I was genuinely worried and upset on her behalf.

  Belinda gave me a reassuring smile. “It was nothing. Just a bridezilla who was upset because the cake decorator didn’t have the type of icing she wanted. All fixed now.”

  We both grabbed a drink in each hand and headed back to the Paul Locke mob scene. “I couldn’t do it,” I said. “I couldn’t deal with all those spoiled, demanding women.”

  “Oh . . .” she drawled, her accent deepening. “It’s not so bad. Most of them just want the wedding of their dreams, and I do my best to make it happen. Sure, some go off the deep end during the planning process, but in the end, the beautiful wedding makes all the stress worth it.”

  It sounded like a nightmare job to me, but if anyone was patient enough to deal with the crazies, it was surely Belinda.

  When Tandy saw us approaching, she whispered to several of the mall security guards and then announced, “Thank you all for coming, but Paul has another obligation he needs to get to.”

  Paul stood and waved to the crowd with both hands. “Thank you all for coming! Love you, Franklin!”

  The girls started screaming, and security guards pushed them back as Tandy and Paul made a beeline for us, followed closely by the guy who had stood behind Paul.

  They snatched their drinks from us and marched toward the very close exit.

  Shit, we didn’t have much time.

  Belinda shot a look at me, as if to say, I’ve got this, then turned her attention to Paul. “Mr. Locke, I heard that you were at Luke Powell’s party on Thursday night.”

  He took such a long drag of his piping-hot Americano that I feared for his vocal cords. Then again, I’d heard his latest single. Maybe this was the secret to his scratchy voice.

  “I was there,” he said, sounding short. Paul Locke obviously had two personas—the one he showed the public and the one he forced on everyone else. “What of it?”

  “Did you see Max Goodwin?”

  Paul stopped in his tracks and turned to face Belinda. “You with the police?” he asked, looking her up and down. “I don’t remember this being part of the uniform.” He gestured to her dress.

  Belinda wasn’t about to be dissuaded. “Please, Mr. Locke, if you . . .”

  He snorted. “Cut the Mr. Locke crap. And I ain’t answering shit, Barbie. Now get the hell away from me.”

  And that was the limit for me. I’d already watched Belinda be berated over the phone. I wasn’t about to let this dipstick wannabe treat her like crap in front of me.

  I stepped in front of Belinda, getting in the pissant’s face. “I am so sick of upstarts like you thinkin’ you’re all that, but guess what? Your shit isn’t gold-plated. It stinks just like everyone else’s.”

  “Excuse me?” He shook his head and blinked. “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “You, you asshole,” I said, poking his chest with my finger. “You think you can be an asshole to anyone you want, but you’re wrong. Now apologize to my sister-in-law.”

  Surprise flickered in his eyes. “What?”

  “You were rude to my sister-in-law, so apologize.”

  Belinda leaned toward me, putting her hand on my shoulder. “Magnolia, you really don’t have to—”

  Judging from the disdain that had washed over Paul’s face, he’d recovered from the shock of not being fawned over. “What the hell do you want?”

  “We want to hear about Luke Powell’s party,” I said. “We know you were there.”

  He laughed, but it didn’t sound good-natured. “You’re Luke Powell groupies.”

  I groaned. I’d heard just about enough crap for one day. “We most certainly are not. I was at the party, asshole. I just want to know if you talked to Max Goodwin that night.”

  “What’s it to you?” he demanded.

  “In case you hadn’t heard, he was murdered.”

  He curled his upper lip. “Couldn’t have happened to a nicer person. There’s a certain sense of justice to him getting stabbed through the heart, don’t you think?” Then he turned and stomped toward the glass exit doors and the black SUV parked at the curb.

  Tandy watched her boss stomp off and then turned to glance at Belinda. “Sorry.”

  “That’s okay,” Belinda said. “Do you know if he talked to Max that night?”

  “No,” she said, looking at the tile floor. “I wasn’t there.”

  “Did he mention anything about the party?”

  She let out a heavy breath and bit her bottom lip. “I really shouldn’t talk about it.”

  “Maybe later?” Belinda asked.

  Tandy looked torn, but she nodded a quick yes before she bolted out the door.

  As we watched them go, Belinda wrapped a hand around my shoulders and said, “We really need to work on your interviewing skills.”

  I snorted. “Yeah, that went south pretty quick.”

  “Tandy warned me to start off slow.”

  “Well, that wasn’t workin’ out so great either.”

  “You didn’t have to defend me,” she said quietly.

  “You defended me last night,” I said, feeling awkward as I watched Paul Locke’s SUV pull away from the curb. I wasn’t used to letting people get close to me so quickly. It had taken Jody and me three months to get to this point. But Jody hadn’t been helping me clear my name in a murder investigation.

  “We better get you to your momma.” Belinda looped her arm through mine. I would have shaken loose from almost any other person, but I decided to let myself revel in the feeling of letting someone else take care of me.

  No, not just someone. Belinda. I only hoped I didn’t regret it.

  Chapter 15

  Belinda offered to stop at my mother’s house so I could change before she dropped me off at the kitchen, but my mother called me twice while we were en route, so I told her to take me straight to the kitchen.

  “I can do more digging while you’re working,” Belinda said. I marveled at how her hands hadn’t strayed one bit out of their ten and two alignment on the steering wheel.

  “You don’t have to do that, Belinda,” I said. “It’s Saturday night. Don’t you and Roy have plans?”

  “We do, but not until later. We’re meeting one of his clients for drinks.”

  “Sound engineers have clients?” I asked in surprise.

  “Oh!” She gave me a quick glance before turning back to the road. “He hasn’t been a sound engineer for a couple of years. He’s a financial planner now. Working for your dad’s company.”

  I sucked in a breath. “What?”

  “I can’t believe your mother didn’t tell you.”

  “No. She never said a word.” I had to wonder how my mother felt about his place of employment. I suspected she hadn’t shared the information because she wasn’t happy about it. Funny how she’d bragged about his work as a sound engineer every which way this side of the Mississippi River, but she hadn’t breathed a word about his decision to follow in our father’s footsteps.

  “Your dad’s partner offered him a job.”

  “But Bill hated Dad.”

  She shrugged, not looking too concerned. “I don’t know anything about the past, but Bill and Roy get along great. And Roy is very happy there. Bill has turned over some of your dad’s old accounts to him. In fact, we’re meeting one of your dad’s clients tonight. The Morrisseys.”

  My blood ran cold. “Does Momma know Roy is taking over the Morrissey account?” I’d always felt certain Bill James knew something about Daddy, but the police had assured my mother he was as clueless as everyone else. I hadn’t believed it for a minute.

  “No . . .” She sounded worried as she turned to me. “She knows Roy is working for Bill, but nothing specific.”

  “Then don’t say anything to her. M
r. Morrissey’s wife disappeared the same time Daddy did. I’m not sure what Roy’s told you, but there were a lot of rumors about them having an affair and running off together. Especially since Mrs. Morrissey had pulled nearly a million dollars out of her joint accounts with her husband.”

  “Oh, my.” She pressed her lips together, worry furrowing her brow. “I had no idea.”

  “Belinda, don’t you worry about it,” I said, forcing myself to sound light and breezy even though I felt anything but. “It was all a long time ago, back when we were kids. Roy probably doesn’t remember any of it. But I’d hate to upset Momma.”

  She nodded, still looking worried. “Yes, of course.”

  “Where are y’all going?” I asked.

  “Uh . . .” she said as she tried to move past her shock. “There’s a new place in Hillsboro Village, The Olive. It’s a martini bar. We’re meeting them at eight.” She glanced down at her dress. “I’ll have plenty of time to get ready.”

  “Ready?” I asked in surprise. “You look beautiful, and I don’t hand out compliments that often.”

  She blushed and looked embarrassed. “Magnolia . . . that’s so sweet of you.”

  “Thanks for helping me, Belinda. I mean it. I don’t have a single friend in this town anymore. Hell, I don’t know if Momma even wanted me to come back . . . She sure doesn’t act like it most of the time.”

  “That’s just how she is, Magnolia. You know that.”

  “I know . . .” Still, it would have been nice for her to tell me how she felt.

  “You think of me as your friend?” she asked quietly, her face devoid of expression.

  “Well, yeah.”

  “Because I’m your sister-in-law?”

  God, I was an idiot. She was only helping me because she felt some odd, misplaced loyalty as a member of her new family. I was a hot mess with more enemies than I could count. I wasn’t sure I’d want me for a friend. Especially since I knew how narcissistic I could be. “What you’re doing for me is above and beyond what family does, Belinda. This is what friends do. But I understand if you’d rather keep this a family thing.”

  She shot me a look that said she thought I was crazy. “Are you kidding? I would love to be your friend, Magnolia. I’m honored.” Tears filled her eyes, leaving us in an awkward silence as she pulled out of the parking lot.