“And today was the second time I talked to him,” Brady said. “Remember? I visited him on Wednesday when I was digging into your father’s disappearance.”
Crap. I’d forgotten about that. “I’m in deep shit.”
“Then go with me to talk to Owen.”
“No.” He had to see for himself that he couldn’t trust Owen. He was never going to take my word over his best friend’s.
“Magnolia. Please.”
“I have to get to work.” I got up and threw my trash away. Glancing back, I saw Brady fumbling with his bag, so I took advantage of his distraction and headed out the door, jaywalking across the street and down the parking lot behind the buildings toward the catering shop.
I wasn’t surprised when Brady fell into step beside me. “I can’t help you if you don’t let me.”
“I never asked you to.”
“Don’t be so stubborn. Someone has possibly killed five people. You need protection.”
I was scared shitless, but I wasn’t convinced the police weren’t as much of a threat as whoever had done this. I stopped outside the back door to the catering shop. “Then follow Steve Morrissey around and make sure he doesn’t hurt me or anyone else.”
“You know I can’t do that.”
“Then what good are you, Brady?” I closed my eyes as soon as I uttered the words. “I didn’t mean that.”
“I’ll arrest you,” he said, his jaw clenched.
“What? On what grounds?” I shouted in disbelief.
“Obstruction of justice. You have information that could help a missing man, and you won’t go to the authorities.”
“I did go to the authorities!” I shouted. “I went to you!”
“And you made me swear not to tell!”
“Then tell them, Brady!” I flung out my hand, pointing in the direction of the police station. “Go tell them right now!”
“You know I can’t do that.” He sounded defeated.
Because I had made him give his word. And now I was destroying him.
The door jerked open and Colt filled the doorway, his jaw set. “Is there a problem here, Maggie?” he asked, but he kept his eyes on Brady.
“No,” I said, then swallowed the lump in my throat. “Detective Bennett was just leaving.”
“Maggie,” Brady pleaded, his tone softening. “Let me help you.”
Colt stepped closer. “You heard the lady. You need to go.”
I slipped past Colt. Brady squared his shoulders and looked like he was about to follow, but Colt blocked his path. “Do you have a warrant to enter this property, Officer?”
“Goddammit, Maggie!” Brady shouted as I took the coward’s way out and walked into the kitchen.
In the bustling workspace, everyone’s eyes lingered on me, and I had to wonder how much they’d heard. My mother gave me a dark look—obviously they’d heard enough to get me into trouble. Enough to make Colt come investigate.
Even though I was early, there was plenty to keep me busy. The event was an Arts Council fundraiser. Belinda had helped secure the contract, so Momma and Tilly were under plenty of pressure to make sure everything went okay. Momma had to be desperate because she set me to work on salad prep, stating that surely I couldn’t mess up some simple chopping.
A few hours later, we had the vans loaded and I found myself sitting in one of them with Colt. He’d ignored me since his interception of Brady, and it hadn’t seemed like a good idea to bring up the subject before now.
As soon as he pulled the van out of the parking lot, he asked, “Did you tell him about the gold?”
“No. Of course not.”
“Then what does he want you to go to the police about?”
I sighed. “The less you know, the better.”
“He knows your secret?”
“No.” I released a bitter laugh. “I’m a complicated woman with plenty of secrets to go ’round.”
Colt reached over and grabbed my hand. “That’s what makes you such an interesting woman, Maggie Mae. You’re cloaked in a shroud of mystery.”
I couldn’t help smiling at the grin in his voice. “I’m going to take that as a compliment.”
He pulled up to the back of the Factory, an old factory that had manufactured ovens back in the early twentieth century. It had been repurposed as a shopping and dining venue, and there were several event spaces. The Arts Council event was being held in the room aptly named Art Gallery, an open loft space on the second floor, overlooking the open commons area below. A few of the staff set up the food staging in a room next door while Colt and I set up high-top tables with tablecloths. I was putting a tablecloth on a rectangular table, where we planned to put warming dishes, when Belinda walked into the room and stopped dead in her tracks. Her eyes locked with mine; then she jerked her gaze away and went to talk to a woman who was examining an art display.
I tried to ignore the sick feeling in my gut, but I couldn’t pretend that being estranged from Belinda didn’t rip me apart.
The party started off slow, but was in full swing within an hour. Colt was playing bartender, Momma and I were in the back, and Tilly kept running in and out of the other room, checking on the wait staff and the food. But at some point in the second hour, she burst into the staging room, her face red and her shirt soaked with sweat.
“Tilly!” Momma exclaimed. “What on earth?”
She practically tossed the pan she was carrying on the table. “Hot flash!” she shouted as she tugged at the buttons on her white dress shirt.
“Tilly!” Momma shouted. “What on earth are you doin’?”
“I can’t stay in this thing for another minute!”
“You can’t take off your shirt!”
“Watch me!” Tilly’s fingers shook as she fumbled with the buttons, until she released a loud cry of frustration. She ripped the shirt open to reveal a sparkly gold bra. I watched with my mouth gaping open as Tilly shrugged off the offending piece of clothing and tossed it to the floor. “I’m on fire!”
One of the servers walked through the door. “Tilly, we’re out of pita chips for the—oh, my God!”
Tilly had picked up a dishtowel and was flapping it around as if trying to fan herself. “I’m not going anywhere near those warming trays!”
Momma glanced from the server to me, and I groaned. “I’ll take Tilly’s place.”
“You can’t go out there,” Momma said. “Look what happened last time.”
“Last time was a fluke,” I said. “How many men get killed at parties around here?” I glared at her over my shoulder as I picked up a pan. “Don’t answer that.”
She looked like she was about to protest, but Tilly was now digging in the ice container, about to pour it over her head.
“Tilly!” Momma shouted, rushing toward her. “Why can’t you just go on hormone replacement like everyone else?”
I carried the pan of pita chips out to the warming pan and refilled it, and I was about to go get more spinach and artichoke dip when I heard someone call out my name.
“Magnolia Steele.”
I didn’t recognize the male voice, but it didn’t sound friendly, so I prepared myself as I spun around.
And looked into the face of Steve Morrissey.
“Mr. Morrissey,” I said in surprise, although I wasn’t sure why. He was a banker and part of the local community. It seemed like the sort of event he’d attend.
“You and I need to have a chat.” He stopped in front of me, and the look on his face told me it wouldn’t be a friendly one.
I took a step backward, holding the empty metal pan between us. “Now’s not a good time. As you can see, I’m busy.”
He glanced around the room, then back at me. “It’s a good time for me.”
I tried to step around him, but he blocked my path. “I’m not sure what you could possibly want to discuss with me. But I’ll be sure to tell Roy I saw you.”
“There’s plenty to discuss. Let’s start with the policeman wh
o showed up at my front door today.”
The blood drained from my face, but I faked a condescending smile. “I guess you should have paid those parking tickets, huh?” Then I bolted around him and slipped into the prep room, hoping Momma or Tilly’s stripper show would scare him off.
The prep kitchen was empty, but the door to the hall was open, and I heard Momma calling after Tilly as they ran down the hall. “Where do you think you’re going?”
Mr. Morrissey followed me into the makeshift kitchen and grabbed my arm. “Why do the police think I had something to do with Walter Frey’s murder?”
“I’m not sure what Roy’s told you, but I haven’t joined the police force. I’m working as a shopkeeper and for my momma as a caterer.” I tried to jerk free, but his fingers dug deeper.
“Don’t get smart with me, young lady,” he said, his face turning red. “That policeman said—”
The door burst open and Belinda came barreling through it. “Magnolia! There you are! We have a catering emergency, and I need you immediately.” Looping her arm through mine, she pulled me free from Mr. Morrissey’s hold. Without so much as glancing back at him, she dragged me through the door and back into the event area. Belinda didn’t stop until we were on the other side of the room. Then she searched me up and down and asked, “Are you okay?”
“Yeah.”
“You look pretty shaken.”
I felt shaken. I was next on Steve Morrissey’s list.
But Belinda was still worried about me, and I refused to drag her into this. “I’m fine,” I forced out. “I just didn’t expect to be verbally attacked so soon. That has to be a new record—I was verbally accosted within five seconds of entering the main room.”
“What did he want?”
“He thinks I accused him of murder.”
“Did you?”
“That’s beside the point . . .”
She sighed. “Where were your mother and Tilly?”
“Tilly got a hot flash that seemed to be melting her from the inside out, so maybe Momma was looking for a fire extinguisher.”
“I want you to stick with me until they get back. We’re not going to let you out of our sight.”
“But yesterday afternoon . . .” I said, feeling terrible. “I said the most awful things—”
“Magnolia,” she said with a smile. “We’re family. Families fight, but they have to make up.”
I was pretty sure Roy didn’t feel the same way. Neither did I, when it came to him. “I’m so sorry.”
“Already forgotten. Now you can make the rounds with me.”
Belinda seemed to know everyone in town, so I took mental notes as she talked to just about everyone in the room. Thankfully, Steve Morrissey seemed to have disappeared. I imagined he was lying in wait for me. As soon as I could get away from my new guardian angel, I planned to call Brady and fill him in.
Another half hour had passed and I was ready to head back to the kitchen to do my job—Momma was going to be furious I’d been gone so long—when a woman burst into the room, sobbing hysterically.
“Help!” she shouted. “He’s dead! My husband is dead.”
My words to my mother raced through my head: How many men get killed at parties around here? Then it hit me that I’d seen this woman three weeks earlier—with her husband, whom I knew all too well.
Steve Morrissey.
Chapter 26
I wasn’t too shocked when Brady showed up fifteen minutes later, but the nervous look in his eyes did catch me by surprise. He looked like he wanted to talk to me straightaway, but instead he started with Steve Morrissey’s now-grieving widow.
I wasn’t entirely sure what had happened, but Morrissey’s wife said he’d been upset and on edge all afternoon. She’d insisted they go to the event despite his wish to stay home. He’d been distracted all evening, and then he’d disappeared. She’d made several calls, all unanswered, before heading out to the parking lot to see if he’d actually left, and that’s when she found him—dead in his car.
I shot a glance over to Colt, who was still at his bar, offering drinks to nervous partygoers. This was bound to put a damper on Franklin social life.
Brady’s partner, Detective Martinez, took over with the crying widow, and Brady got up and headed straight toward me.
“He looks like he means business,” Belinda whispered nervously. She reached down and squeezed my hand.
After our conversation earlier today, I wasn’t sure what to expect.
“Magnolia, we need to talk.” This was Detective Bennett, all cop.
“All right, but I would prefer for Belinda to stay with me.”
“I’m afraid that’s not possible.”
Belinda had already pieced things together. “Detective Bennett, if you’re thinking Magnolia had anything to do with this, then you’re climbing up the wrong tree. Magnolia’s been by my side for nearly the last hour.”
“Literally every minute?” he asked. “No bathroom breaks? No going to the kitchen?”
“No,” Belinda said, holding her chin high. “Mr. Morrissey confronted her about an hour ago, wanting to know what she’d told the police. He was aggressive and upset, and Magnolia was completely blindsided, so I came to her rescue and have kept her by my side the entire time since. I wanted to make sure she was protected.” Her gaze held his.
He glanced from me to Belinda. “And other witnesses will confirm this?”
A smile ghosted on her face. “Detective Bennett, I had a prearranged list of guests to attend to tonight. I’ll be happy to provide it to you, and then you can question each guest individually if you’d like. Their visits also overlapped.”
Brady’s brow furrowed. “That seems very structured.”
Belinda gave him a look that wouldn’t have been out of place on a momma bear. “I thrive on structure, Detective Bennett.”
He cast a glance to the back corner, where Colt was offering his liquid consolation. “And him?”
“Colt?” she asked in surprise. “He’s been there the entire time too. It’s an open bar, and we can’t afford for him to take a break. The more the attendees drink, the looser their pocketbooks become.”
Brady didn’t say anything before he turned and walked away.
As soon as he was out of earshot, I said low enough so no one could hear me, “Brady’s right. It does seem very premeditated.”
She was scanning the crowd, but she swiveled her head to look at me. “The fact that I have a schedule for visiting with donors, or the fact that I had you at my side every moment after he accosted you?”
I was tired of playing games, so against my better judgment, I said, “Both.”
“You think I had something to do with killing Steve Morrissey?”
My brain hadn’t made that leap, but now I realized it all seemed suspicious. Still, this was Belinda we were talking about. “God, no. I’m just saying you know how the police love to twist things around when it comes to me.”
I was surprised Momma and Tilly hadn’t come looking for me since the police had shown up, but while Belinda had been parading me around the room, I’d seen Tilly through the swinging door to the kitchen, strutting around in her pants and a bra.
Then it occurred to me that Momma and Tilly had left right around the time Steve Morrissey had found me. Would they be suspects?
“I need to find Momma and Tilly,” I said.
Belinda nodded. “Good idea.”
We found them in the kitchen. Tilly was wearing a pink T-shirt that looked two sizes too small, but she’d topped it with an apron.
“Are they trying to tie this to you?” Momma asked.
“Why would they—” I started to say, then stopped. “They might have, but Belinda had me by her side the entire time. I have close to two hundred witnesses to attest to my alibi, thanks to her.”
My mother gave my sister-in-law an appreciative look, which Belinda responded to with a tight smile. What in tarnation was that about?
“Where did you two run off to?”
They shared a meaningful glance, then both looked at me. “We went to the catering van to get Tilly a shirt,” Momma said.
Tilly nodded. “After I stood around a bit in the cool night air.”
“Mr. Morrissey’s wife said she found him in his car. Did you see anything?”
They both shook their heads. “Not a thing.”
About ten minutes later, Brady came and found me, his face softer. “Maggie, can we have that talk now?” When I hesitated, he said, “You’ll want to hear this, but I can’t tell you in here.”
I had to admit I was curious. “Okay.”
I followed him out of the kitchen, down the stairs, and into the now-quiet common area. When he stopped, I stood in front of him, my arms crossed over my chest.
“What I’m about to tell you is official police information that we’re not releasing until we conduct a more thorough investigation, but I want you to feel safe.”
I shook my head in confusion. “Safe? What does that mean?”
He leaned closer. “Steve Morrissey committed suicide.”
“What?” I said with a gasp. “Are you sure?” Despite all of his wife’s wailing, she’d never told us his cause of death.
“Yes. Gunshot wound to the head.”
I closed my eyes and cringed.
“It was dark when Mrs. Morrissey found him, so she didn’t see all the blood in the back of the car.” He hesitated. “He shot himself through the roof of his mouth.”
I felt like I was going to be sick.
“Maggie,” he said, his voice even lower. “There’s something else.”
I opened my eyes and looked up at him.
“There was a note.”
“What?”
“He admitted to killing your father and Shannon fourteen years ago. He also admitted to killing Christopher Merritt, Walter Frey, and even Geraldo Lopez.”
My knees buckled, but Brady put an arm around me and led me to a bench. “I don’t believe it.”
“I know,” he said. “After all these years, you finally get closure.”
Act Two Page 29
