Call Back: Magnolia Steel Mystery #3 (Magnolia Steele Mystery)

by Denise Grover Swank

  Something I’d already suspected.

  I glanced at the clock and saw I had ten minutes before I had to head back over. I started to grab my phone to search for the latest information on Emily’s murder when the box from Ava’s attic caught my attention. Ava had chided me for not finishing my homework. Was there something else in the box she wanted me to see?

  I took off the lid, sat on one of the barstools, and began to flip through the articles, searching for any information I might have missed. Five minutes later, I was only halfway through the clippings when a name listed in a write-up about a literacy fundraiser grabbed my attention.

  “Charles Rogers, president of Grobbel and Rogers Financial, was in attendance with his wife Rowena. The Rogerses, who have been long-time supporters of literacy, generously gave the charity a ten-thousand-dollar donation.”

  The clipping had photos, but I didn’t recognize anyone in them, and there wasn’t a picture of the Rogerses. Grobbel and Rogers Financial? Had Daddy convinced another financial planning firm to join his project?

  I set the clipping aside and kept looking through the pile. Several items later, I found a program for a ladies’ garden luncheon that listed Rowena Rogers as the treasurer of the garden club.

  I glanced at the clock—I only had five more minutes, but I was determined to find out more before I left, especially if Ava was going to let me ask questions. I picked through several more clippings and was about to wake up Colt and assign him the task when I picked up a clipping and froze. There was a photo of a woman I’d seen before.

  Once with Walter Frey at Mellow Mushroom, and the second time at his funeral.

  Her chin was lifted and her mouth held the barest hint of a smile. She looked like she didn’t take shit from anyone and was more than happy to hand out lots of it in return. She was younger than the woman I’d seen in person—her hair was darker and she had fewer wrinkles—but there was no doubt it was her.

  The title read, “Franklin Woman Honored for Her Work in Children’s Literacy,” and underneath the photo, the caption read, “Rowena Rogers.”

  Chapter 18

  My mouth dropped open. Ava had said she was hiding in plain sight. Then why did my mother think she’d disappeared? Then again, Momma had said that Rowena’s disappearance never made the news. Obviously she’d gone into hiding.

  My phone started to vibrate on the counter, and I was relieved to see Belinda’s name on the screen. A quick glance toward Colt confirmed he was out like a light, so I took my keys and walked out to the landing, shutting the door behind me as I answered the call.

  “Belinda, are you okay?” I asked in a rush as I locked the door. Colt was inside, but he didn’t need some bad guy walking in on him.

  “I’m fine. Just checking on you.”

  She sounded worried, and I had to wonder what had incited her anxiety. The timing with last night’s adventure seemed suspect, but then I realized she was probably paranoid about my safety after Emily’s murder.

  “I’m okay,” I said, doing my best to sound breezy. “Say, before I forget, remember that masquerade ball you mentioned? It just so happens I got invited to go too.”

  “With Brady?” she asked, and I was surprised she didn’t sound more excited.

  “Actually, no . . .” This wasn’t going to go well. “With Colt.”

  “How did Colt get tickets?” She sounded incredulous.

  “I don’t know. He asked me to go because he didn’t want to go alone.”

  “Which means he has two. Magnolia, those tickets start at $250 and go up to $10,000 per table. What kind of tickets did he get?”

  “I don’t know,” I murmured as I glanced back up at my apartment door. Where had Colt gotten that much money, and why would he spend it on masquerade ball tickets? I wasn’t entirely buying the networking story. But I wasn’t going to say any of that to Belinda, who’d already tried to steer me away from a friendship with him. Maybe it was stupid and naïve of me, but I needed Colt right now. I also definitely needed to go to that stupid ball, which meant I had to ignore the warning signs waving in my face. “But I do know I need a dress and a mask, which means I have to ask a pretty huge favor.”

  “You want me to help you find something to wear?”

  I’d left a few gorgeous dresses at my ex-boyfriend’s apartment in New York. With only two suitcases to pack my clothes, I’d brought only the essentials. But now I needed a dress, and the ones I’d previously owned were probably hanging in the Salvation Army on 46th Street.

  “I don’t have a lot of money,” I said, feeling embarrassed that I was reduced to groveling. “I was wondering if I could borrow one.”

  She was silent for a moment. “On one condition.”

  “What?” I cringed, bracing myself.

  “I get to pick it out. You can veto it, but I get to choose.”

  Last week, we’d played a game—she’d guessed which of her new wedding dresses would fit my personality, and she’d been shockingly correct, even down to the fact that I was keeping a deep, dark secret. But I reasoned a formal dress would be safe, and Belinda had excellent taste. “I thought you were going to ask for something hard. Sure.”

  “How about you come by my shop after you get off work at Alvin’s? I’ll show you what I’ve picked out. I was going to see if you could have dinner with me anyway, so two birds with one stone.”

  I hesitated. “Brady has something he wants me to do.”

  “Surely you could stop by on your way,” she cajoled. “We can reschedule the dinner.”

  “He’s picking me up from Alvin’s when I get off at six.”

  She was silent for a long moment. Then she said, “I have an ulterior motive for wanting you to come by the shop. I really need to talk to you, and I know you’re working Ava Milton’s Bible study before you go to Alvin’s.”

  If this had been a dinner date, I would have canceled in a heartbeat. But I’d promised to take Brady to that house, and while I wanted to see Belinda, I wasn’t sure that was a good enough excuse to cancel.

  When I didn’t answer, she said, “It’s about Roy. It’s important.”

  I gasped. Was she finally going to share what was going on with him? “I’ll try, but I don’t have a date with him,” I said. “It’s official business.”

  “About Emily’s murder? Are you a suspect?”

  I forced humor into my voice. “One of the benefits of sleeping with a cop is you have an ironclad alibi when a murder’s been committed in the middle of the night.” Then I realized how bad that sounded. “I didn’t mean to sound glib.”

  “No, I understand. It’s like the Grim Reaper is following you around. If you had no outlet to ease the stress, you’d go mad.”

  “Yeah,” I said, shuddering at the thought of a guy with a hood and a sickle following me around. A hooded serial killer with a hunting knife was enough.

  “Magnolia?” Belinda asked, and I realized I’d missed something she’d said.

  “I’m sorry. I think I had a bad connection there for a moment.”

  “I said I hope you can get out of your plans tonight.” The desperation in her voice caught my breath.

  “I’ll talk to Brady . . .” I said, feeling anxious at the thought of canceling, but truth be told, I wasn’t eager to go back to that house, and for some reason, I was unnerved at the thought of going back with Brady. “Belinda, I have to go, or Ava’s gonna kill me. I’ll text you when I find out if I can come by tonight. But be careful, okay?” I pleaded. “There’s obviously some homicidal maniac out there.”

  “You too,” she said quietly. “Promise me you won’t take any chances today.”

  Something had her spooked, and I suspected it had more to do with Roy than the killer. All the more reason to try to see her. “I promise,” I said as I started to open Ava’s back door. “You too.”

  The clock on Ava’s wall read 9:14, one minute before the time she’d told me to return, which I figured would win me some brownie points, bu
t she wasn’t in the kitchen, or anywhere downstairs for that matter. I decided to send Brady a text after the Bible study to see if we could postpone our hike into the woods. I needed to figure out where I was going to stay tonight, not to mention what excuse I was going to come up with for leaving.

  I shook my head. Time to stop obsessing about my love life and get to work.

  I’d only helped set up one of her Bible studies before, but I remembered how we’d prepared for the last one. I started carting the dining room chairs out to the living room, then covered the table with one of the tablecloths and used the other to create tiers for the food. It helped that I’d worked in the kitchen and knew what we were serving. At nine twenty-five—five minutes or so before the guests would start arriving—Ava finally descended the staircase. After her gaze swept over the living room, she made her way into the dining room and surveyed the food table.

  “We never discussed how you wanted the food arranged today,” I said, feeling more nervous than I’d expected. Ava may have been more amicable this morning while we were preparing the food, but she had a reputation to maintain, and I knew she’d micromanage every last detail.

  I pointed toward the tiers. “I spread the baked goods around the quiches, and I used your blue set of china to switch things up from last week. The coffee’s almost finished brewing, and I squeezed fresh orange juice for the special drinks.” Special drinks were what Ava and her guests called the alcoholic beverages that quite a few women had requested last time. I’d been shocked to discover that guests at a Bible study imbibed at nine thirty on a Thursday morning, but who was I to judge a few old women for wanting to feel good while they gossiped under the guise of studying scripture?

  Her face looked pinched. She opened her mouth to say something and then folded her hands neatly in front of her. “This is acceptable.”

  From anyone else, I would have considered this an insult. I suspected that was high praise from Ava Milton.

  Her gaze dropped to my neckline, and for a moment, I thought she was going to chastise me for my lower—yet still decent—neckline. “I see you removed the necklace.”

  I reached for it, and panic rushed through me when I realized it was gone. I didn’t remember taking it off. Where was it?

  I didn’t have time to go over my past day’s activities to figure out where I’d lost it because the doorbell rang—an old-fashioned tone that lasted several moments.

  Ava turned to me looking irritated. “Are you planning to just stand there gawking?”

  I hadn’t answered the door last time. She’d instructed me to stay behind the table and remain silent unless I was helping her guests.

  “Did I stutter?” she asked after I still hadn’t moved.

  “No, ma’am. I’m going,” I said as I hurried for the front door. I plastered on a warm smile. Magnolia Steele will be filling the role of the “good hostess” for this morning’s performance. I opened the front door, already in character. “Good morning!”

  I recognized the older woman in an ivory silk blouse and ivory linen pants from the previous week. Her eyes widened when she saw me. “Magnolia. Does Ava know you’re answering the door?”

  So I wasn’t the only one who found the arrangement unusual. Was Ava setting me up? “Yes, Miss Blanche,” I said. “Miss Ava sent me over to greet you. Please, come in.”

  She brushed past me, then gave me a questioning look before heading straight to Ava, probably trying to figure out what was going on. Eavesdropping on that conversation seemed like a good idea, but the doorbell rang again.

  I spent the next five minutes greeting the women, but it occurred to me that I’d never get answers managing the door. Bombarding the guests as they walked in with “What can you tell me about Rowena Rogers?” obviously wasn’t the way to go. Better to butter them up with Ava’s delicious food and maybe go a little heavier on the special drinks.

  I approached Ava and discreetly suggested that perhaps I should be attending to the guests at the refreshment table. The gleam in her eyes told me she knew exactly what I was up to. She gave me a curt nod.

  I took over my serving duties, much more comfortable behind the scenes than in Ava Milton’s spotlight. I suspected there’d be a price to pay for the attention she was giving me, but I couldn’t bring myself to care. This was my chance to glean more information, although I had yet to figure out how to broach the subject of Rowena Rogers.

  The opportunity came ten minutes later when two of the women were loading their plates with quiches. They were alternating between convincing themselves the quiches were practically calorie-free since they were so small and discussing an upcoming bond election for the library. Though I could have settled their argument about the quiches by telling them Ava had used heavy cream, that didn’t seem like a good ice breaker. The library, on the other hand, was an ideal lead-in to questions about Rowena.

  “Williamson County has one of the best library systems in the state, don’t you think?” I asked in a super-sweet voice.

  One of the women turned up her nose. “One of the best? It is the best. This bond will ensure its first-place ranking.”

  Crap. I’d already offended her. “We don’t want to lord it over the more unfortunate library systems now, do we?” I said in an affable tone.

  Her companion—Janine—grinned. “She does have a point, Marie.”

  Marie didn’t look as convinced, but I only needed one of them to talk to me.

  “Now that I’m back in town,” I said, pouring Janine a cup of coffee, “I would love to participate in some volunteer organizations. I heard there was a literacy charity. Do either of you know about it?”

  The two women exchanged questioning glances before turning back to me.

  “Yes,” Janine said as she took the cup I handed her. “Ava knows all about it. You should get it from her after the Bible study.”

  “I’ll be sure to do that,” I said. “Are any of the women who attend Ava’s Bible study part of the charity?”

  “No,” Marie said in a stern voice. “Not anymore.”

  “Oh?” I asked, feigning ignorance. “Someone used to be a member?”

  “Rowena Rogers,” Janine said in nearly a whisper. “But she quit the charity and the group.”

  “And everything else,” a woman who had walked up to the table said as she grabbed a plate.

  “Did she move away?” I asked.

  “No. She was involved in a scandal,” Janine volunteered with a look of glee in her eyes. But that glee instantly turned to panic, and her eyes searched the room. It was no surprise when her gaze landed on Ava, who was in the middle of a conversation close to the front door.

  “Janine,” Marie admonished.

  Janine looked guilty, but she lowered her voice and leaned in closer to the other woman. “Please. It’s not like you weren’t discussing it at a meeting two months ago.”

  “We don’t discuss members with non-members,” Marie said with a frown.

  Janine’s back stiffened. “Well, Rowena’s not a member anymore, now is she?”

  Marie snatched a scone off the table. “And you won’t be for long if you keep talking like that.” She walked away, but Janine lingered.

  “Would you like me to fix you a special drink?” I asked her. She seemed like a good target since her lips were already loose without any help from alcohol.

  She wavered.

  “I have a new drink,” I said, offering her a warm smile. “It’s made with raspberry lemonade and is very refreshing. I hear it’s supposed to warm up today.”

  “You wouldn’t mind?” she asked.

  “Of course not! It’s my job. I’ll be right back.”

  I hurried through the door to the kitchen and mixed up her drink, adding a few fresh raspberries to the glass as a garnish.

  Her eyes lit up as I walked back into the dining room. Yes, she was the perfect person for me to question. She was softer than the other woman, more open, and she was also one of the younger members,
probably in her late forties or early fifties. The way her eyes kept darting around the room screamed outsider, as though she worried she’d do or say something wrong and be shown the door.

  She reached for the glass, but I didn’t let go. I’d added enough vodka to get her pretty tipsy. If she was insecure about her place in the group, I’d hate to be responsible for her embarrassing herself.

  “I’m sorry, Miss Janine,” I said in a syrupy sweet voice just this side of sounding fake. “I just realized I was a little heavy on the special ingredient. Perhaps I should make you a new one.”

  She gave me a conspiratorial grin. “We both know the special ingredient is alcohol.”

  “Vodka,” I whispered. “But I’m pretty sure it’s stronger than it tastes, and I wouldn’t want to be responsible for landing you in Ava’s bad graces.”

  Janine chuckled. “I’m already there.” She grabbed the glass out of my hand and took a long drink. “You’re like a breath of fresh air. What’s Ava up to hiring you?”

  I remained silent, unsure of how to answer, especially since she’d spoken my own question out loud.

  She glanced back at the refreshment table and grabbed a half-empty plate of spinach and bacon quiches. “Doesn’t this need to be refilled?”

  I started to get ticked off, then realized what she was up to. I took the plate, headed through the swinging door to the kitchen, and grabbed the pan from the warming oven. Janine came through the door several seconds later.

  “Ava’s up to something,” she said without preamble, her voice practically an octave lower than the sweet simper she’d used in the other room. I was pretty sure this was the real Janine. “She prefers her help to keep quiet unless spoken to, and she never has them answer the door. Why is she treating you so differently?”

  “I’m guessing you know who I am,” I said, dropping the pretense of refilling the plate.

  “Magnolia Steele, which is even more curious. She can’t stand your mother.”

  “Then maybe this is her way of trying to get under my mother’s skin,” I said. “It’s quite a trump card for her to get the daughter of the best caterer in town to work at her event.” I suspected it had more to do with my father, but I wasn’t sharing that information.