Curtain Call: Magnolia Steele Mystery #4 Page 6

  “The cell phone . . .” When I’d discovered Walter Frey’s body behind the bar where we’d arranged to meet to discuss the night of my father’s disappearance, I’d seen a cell phone and a list of names clutched in his hand. But Owen had never mentioned a cell phone in his report, and the phone hadn’t been listed as evidence.

  “Yeah.” He paused, then said, “You’ll likely be interviewed by someone in the department about that too.”

  I was going to be interviewed for two separate investigations? “Why?”

  “To make sure your story lines up with his.”

  “He must be crapping his pants right now.”

  “To put it mildly.”

  I took a breath, only then realizing I’d been holding my hands so tightly my fingernails were digging into my palms. “Are you here to coerce me to stick to a script?”

  “No. You need to tell the truth.”

  “But Owen—”

  His eyes hardened. “Tell the truth, Maggie.”

  “Are you two at odds?” I wasn’t sure why that bothered me so much, especially since as recently as last week I’d believed Owen was trying to kill me. The thing was, Rowena Rogers had admitted that Owen’s uncle had been caught in the middle of my father’s investigation and had been innocent of wrongdoing. For some reason, I felt like I owed it to him to make sure he didn’t suffer because of my father too.

  “That’s neither here nor there. You need to tell the truth.”

  I pressed my lips together, purposely not committing one way or the other. “When will they contact me?”

  “They know your mother just died. Unlike Maria, they might wait until the end of the week.”

  “What do they think happened?”

  “Just tell your side of the story. That’s all you need to worry about.”

  I was more confused than ever. “But you told Owen I just stumbled upon Walter Frey’s body, not that I’d arranged to meet him at the bar. What do you want me to do about that?”

  “Keep up that story, but tell them the truth about everything else.”

  “But—”

  “Just trust me on this, Maggie.”

  I really wanted to trust him, but he was making it difficult. It was like he was hanging his best friend out to dry. Why?

  He looked out the windshield and grinned slightly. “Alvin’s watching us right now. You’re going to get a buttload of questions about what we’ve been up to.”

  Brady was right. Alvin was a notorious gossip. “I need to go inside.”

  He opened his door and was out in a flash, intercepting me as I got out of the passenger side of the car. “I’m going to walk you to the door. Don’t leave until I pick you up at three.”

  I shook my head. “Brady . . .”

  “Maggie. Please. Don’t fight me on this. I’m trying to protect you.”

  I found myself saying, “Okay.”

  He smiled as we started walking toward the back door. “If you get off sooner, let me know.”

  “Okay.”

  His smile spread, and for some reason I found it unnerving. He stopped at the back door and turned to face me. “If anyone comes in that worries or frightens you, call me. Even if you think it’s nothing.”

  “That seems extreme.”

  “A serial killer is sending you personal messages. Anything short of putting you under witness protection doesn’t even broach extreme.” He bent over and kissed my cheek. “Stay safe.” He opened the door, waited until I was inside to shut it, and then walked away.

  Chapter 6

  “What were you and the delicious-looking detective talking about in his car?” Alvin said the moment Brady started to walk away.

  I gave him a sly look. “I’m surprised your lip-reading skills failed you.”

  His grin turned lopsided. “You were too far away.”

  My eyes widened. I’d been joking. “He was offering me his condolences.”

  “He couldn’t do that in the parking lot?”

  I lifted my shoulder into a coquettish shrug. “A girl doesn’t share all of her secrets.” I suddenly hoped Colt didn’t drop by to see me today. How would I explain that?

  Alvin turned serious. “I was sorry to hear about Lila. She will be dearly missed.”

  I swallowed the lump in my throat. “Thanks, Alvin.”

  The bell on the front door rang, announcing a customer, and another one soon walked in. I spent the next few hours keeping busy—which was exactly what I needed, but around noon I got a call from Belinda that brought me back to my troubles.

  “How are you doing?” she asked as soon as I answered.

  “Fine. Keeping busy.”

  “Have you gotten anything else strange?”

  I knew she was thinking about the magnolia blossom. “No. Nothing.”

  “Would you tell me if you had?”

  I almost said no, but I needed to stop acting like I was in this alone. The problem was too big for me to solve without help. “Yeah. I would.”

  “Thank you.” I heard the smile in her voice. “That means a lot to me, but that’s not the only reason I called.”

  “I take it you’ve talked to your attorney.”

  “Yeah, but apparently Detective Martinez postponed our meeting.”

  Brady had come through, but how had he arranged it? “That’s good news, I guess.”

  “Yeah. She’ll let us know when it’s rescheduled.”

  “Okay. Thanks for taking care of that, Belinda.”

  “It was no problem. You’ll be home at your momma’s for dinner?” she asked.

  Tilly had a catering job tonight. I knew I should help, but I couldn’t bring myself to walk into the kitchen and face the staff. “Yeah. I’ll be there.”

  “See you tonight,” she said.

  Alvin gave me a questioning glance after I ended the call. We’d never discussed personal phone calls while working, and for the most part, I didn’t take them, usually resorting to texting on the sly.

  “Just Belinda checking on me,” I said as I stuffed my phone into my pocket.

  He nodded and gave me a sympathetic glance. “You know you didn’t have to come in today, Magnolia. I could have gotten someone else to cover.”

  “No. I want to be here. Really. I need to work, Alvin.”

  “Let me know if it gets to be too much, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  Another customer walked in, and I soon lost myself in my work again. Another hour passed, and when the back doorbell rang, Alvin looked toward it with an appreciative glance. “It seems to be the day for Franklin’s finest to drop by.”

  I’d been helping a woman choose the right finger for an antique ring she was looking at, but I glanced over my shoulder and saw Owen walk inside.

  “Is there anything I can help you with, Detective Frasier?” Alvin asked.

  “I’m just looking,” he said. “Thanks, Alvin.”

  I kept track of Owen out of the corner of my eye while I finished helping the woman and rang her up. As soon as she headed for the door, Owen made a beeline straight for me.

  I walked around the counter and led him to the back of the shop. “I was going to call you,” I said in nearly a whisper. His brows lifted, and I added, “For multiple reasons.”

  He pretended to study a silver candlestick as he said in a low voice, “You’ve talked to Brady?”

  “This morning.”

  He glanced out to the parking lot. “We shouldn’t talk here.”

  I opened my mouth to ask why, then closed it. He was right. “I get off at three, but Brady’s picking me up.”

  Surprise filled his eyes. “I thought you were with the musician now.”

  “Who told you that?”

  “Brady.”

  “He’s not picking me up for anything romantic.” But it was personal, and I wasn’t sure I should tell him the reason.

  He studied me for a moment. “Tell him you can’t make it. You and I really need to talk.”

  “He
’s going to want to know why, and I’m tired of lying. What if I can get off at two? That’s only forty minutes from now.” When he hesitated, I said, “I don’t owe you a damn thing, Owen. Take it or leave it. You’re lucky I’m meeting you at all.”

  His eyes darkened. “You’re right, but we can’t be seen together. I took a chance coming here as it is.”

  “Why did you?”

  “I wasn’t sure you’d take my call.”

  He had a point. We’d never considered each other friends. More like adversaries. “And the call would show up on both of our bills, providing proof that you’d called me,” I added as the thought hit me. “Where do you want to meet?”

  “My apartment. No one will think twice about both of our cars being parked there.”

  “Okay. What’s the address?”

  He frowned. “You can’t plug this into your GPS, Magnolia. No trace. Turn off your phone. Turn off your OnStar if you have it.”

  “My car’s way too old for that. Just tell me the address, and I’ll keep it in my head.” I gave him a sly look. “All that script memorization pays off.”

  He told me his address and gave me directions. “I think it goes without saying that no one can know about this. Not even Brady.”

  “Yeah. I know.”

  He walked out the back door without another word.

  “What did Franklin’s second hottest detective want?” Alvin asked.

  “Brady told him to check on me.” I needed to ask Alvin to let me off early, but I couldn’t ask yet. It would look too suspicious.

  “That Brady Bennett is quite the catch, Magnolia.”

  “Yeah . . .” I knew I should tell him I wasn’t with Brady, but I didn’t feel like getting into it. I had enough to deal with.

  Another customer came in and I moved to the back of the store, casting a glance out at the parking lot. I didn’t see Owen’s car anywhere—I figured he must have left—but I didn’t see any other ominous signs either.

  Alvin started chatting with the customer about the unusually mild April weather we’d been having, and I refolded some napkins that had been tossed onto the folded pile. Twenty minutes later, my boss was at the cash register straightening the paper bags as a customer walked out the door with her purchase.

  “Alvin, would you mind if I leave early?” I asked. “I’m so exhausted. I’m not sure if I’ll make it until three.” Not a lie. There were dark circles under my eyes that all the concealer in the world couldn’t cover up.

  “Of course, Magnolia. You go home and rest.”

  “I hate leaving you like this.”

  “Things have slowed down. I’ll be fine.”

  “Thanks, Alvin.” I grabbed my purse and headed out the back door with my pepper spray in hand, glancing around first to make sure there wasn’t anyone lurking behind any of the cars.

  Owen’s apartment was north of the Galleria Mall, so it took me about fifteen minutes to get there from downtown. It was a newer complex, and it looked like it must cost a near fortune in rent. After parking in the lot in front of the building next to Owen’s, I took the elevator to the fourth floor—the top floor—and found Owen’s apartment halfway down the hall. I rapped on the door, and it opened within seconds.

  “Magnolia. You came,” he said in surprise.

  “Like I said, I wanted to talk to you too.”

  He stepped out of the way and let me in.

  The apartment had an open floor plan with the kitchen by the door, the living area straight ahead, and a small balcony that overlooked the pool. Owen gestured to his sofa, and I sat down while he sat on the perpendicular loveseat.

  I decided to take the offensive. “Brady told me that your superiors are looking into how you handled the Walter Frey murder case. They figured out the connection to your uncle’s case.”

  He sat back, resting his hand on the arm of the loveseat. “Honestly, I’m surprised he told you.”

  “He warned me that someone from the department would contact me with questions about what happened.” I paused. “Brady knows I saw the cell phone and paper. And we both know that you said you didn’t find them.”

  He remained silent, his expressionless face giving nothing away.

  “I asked Brady what I should say when they question me, and he told me to tell them the truth.”

  If Owen was surprised, he didn’t let on. “And is that what you plan to do?”

  I decided to take a chance, probably a stupid one, but a chance all the same. “I met Rowena Rogers last weekend.”

  His eyes widened. “Are you confessing that you know something about her murder?”

  “No. I’m confessing that I met with her last Saturday afternoon. I wanted answers, and I knew she had them.”

  “Have you told Brady this?”

  “No. Only one other person knows about it, and not everything.”

  Suspicion filled his eyes. “So why are you telling me?”

  “Because you and I are more alike than you realize, Owen. We both want the same thing.”

  “To clear your father?” He released a bitter laugh. “You’re wrong there.”

  “I’ve given up on clearing my father’s name. The deeper I dig, the worse he looks.”

  “Then what do you want, Magnolia?” he asked in a snide tone.

  I couldn’t blame him. I had the power to destroy his career. I understood his suspicions. “I want the truth, Owen. I want the dirty, nasty, smelly, rotten truth.”

  “Even if your father comes out smelling the worst of them all?”

  “I already know he will.”

  That surprised him, not that I could blame him. He knew I’d been looking to clear Daddy’s name just last week. “What made you come to that conclusion?”

  “Rowena was one of the people who helped me see the light.” My expression softened. “She knew about you, Owen, and she knew about your uncle.”

  His eyes widened.

  “She said your uncle had no part in any of it. He was just caught up in the whole thing.” I looked him in the eye. “Your uncle was innocent.”

  “I already know that,” he said in frustration and stood. He walked into the kitchen and grabbed two glasses from the cabinet. “I don’t have much to drink,” he said. “I have a bottle of wine—left over from my old girlfriend—scotch, beer, and water.”

  “Water.” Even if it hadn’t been early in the day, I was too tired to drink anything alcoholic, not to mention I was supposed to meet Brady to shoot the handgun he was giving me. I couldn’t show up with alcohol on my breath.

  He filled one glass with ice and water, then poured himself scotch.

  I knew he needed time to work through this, but I was meeting Brady in forty-five minutes, and it was hard to resist the urge to hurry Owen along. He walked back into the living room and set the glass of water on the coffee table in front of me.

  “Owen, I think we can help each other. I’ve become privy to information about what happened fourteen years ago. You want answers, and so do I. What if we pool our information?”

  He sat on the loveseat and took a long drink of his scotch. “What I have is official information.”

  “And I have information I suspect you don’t have. You’ll never get it out of Rowena Rogers. She’s dead.” I paused. “But I have conditions.”

  He took another drink, then said in a dry tone, “Of course you do.”

  “Anything I tell you stays between you and me. No Brady. And you can’t use anything against me legally.”

  “I can’t agree to that.”

  “Then I guess we’re wasting our time.” I grabbed my purse and stood. “Let me know if you change your mind and want to talk.”

  I started toward the door, and Owen called out, “Magnolia. Wait.” But he didn’t sound happy about caving.

  Wearing a grim expression, I turned around to face him. “This is a big decision. Why don’t you take some time to think about it?”

  He didn’t answer.

  “
As a sign of good faith, I’m going to tell whoever interviews me that I didn’t see a cell phone.”

  He set his glass on the coffee table and stood. “Why would you lie?”

  “What purpose would it serve to tell the truth? We both know who killed Walter Frey, and I know you’re a good cop. But I do want to know one thing.”

  “What?”

  “I want to know why you took it. To get information to help you clear your uncle’s name?”

  He didn’t answer, but I wasn’t surprised. To do so would incriminate himself, and he still hadn’t decided if he could trust me.

  “Believe it or not,” I said, “I might understand your motivations. Think about it and give me a call. But get a burner.” I turned and reached for the doorknob, suddenly wondering why Brady had a burner phone. I spun back around. “Do you already have a burner phone?”

  “No. If I did, I would have used it to call you instead of coming to the store.”

  “Why would Brady have a burner phone?”

  “He doesn’t.” Shock washed over his face. “Wait. He has one?”

  It was my turn to remain silent.

  He shoved his hands into his pockets and moved closer. “Aren’t we a fine pair. Both full of secrets, and neither of us willing to trust the other.”

  I decided to take another risk. “I saw the files you brought Brady last week.”

  His eyes flew wide. “He showed you?”

  “No. I found them myself. He’d hidden them.”

  “Why would you look for them?”

  “Because I saw the photos spread out across his table. He thought I was asleep, so he probably thought it was safe to look at them. I recognized one of the women.”

  “Amy Danvers?”

  “No. I didn’t see her photos until after I found the file. I recognized Melanie Seaborn.”

  He cocked his head and asked skeptically, “How do you know Melanie Seaborn?”

  I took a few steps closer and stared up into his face. “Look at the timelines, Owen.”

  Then I turned around and walked out the door.

  I was halfway to the elevator when Owen stepped into the hall. “Magnolia. Wait.” When I ignored him, he followed, reaching me as I pushed the down button. “You think you can drop a bombshell like that and just walk away?”