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

by Denise Grover Swank

  He shook his head, his grin wavering. “I know you’re scared of the idea of us. You do what you need to do to be ready.”

  Then he turned around and headed for the front doors.

  “Brady,” I called after him.

  But he was already out the door.

  My brother came back midmorning, and I got the impression he was performing a perfunctory visit until I heard him at the nurse’s desk.

  I’d insisted on staying in Momma’s room while he was there, but I’d quietly followed him out after his five-minute stay. He’d stopped at the nurse’s desk, demanding to see the head nurse. I stayed in the hall, hiding behind a volunteer cart loaded with magazines and books, not wanting to be connected to his brewing tirade.

  She arrived seconds later, although I could only see a snippet of her blue scrubs peeking around the corner. “Can I help you, Mr. Steele?”

  “I want to know who I need to talk to, to override this idiotic decision my sister has made.”

  “Mr. Steele,” she said in a softer tone. “Your sister had nothing to do with your mother’s decision. The staff heard her and your mother’s friend trying to get her to change her mind. Your mother’s mind was made up before she even came into the hospital.”

  “Then tell me what I need to do to overrule it. Get an attorney?”

  The nurse’s voice was full of compassion. “Mr. Steele, you’d be wasting the precious time you have with her if you resort to that. Do you really want to be at odds with her at the end?”

  “I can’t lose her.” My brother’s voice broke. “She’s all I have. I can’t . . .”

  “Losing a parent is hard,” she said. “I can arrange for you to speak to one of the chaplains.”

  “I’m not religious,” my brother snapped.

  “You don’t have to be. You can—”

  “No.” My brother’s asshole attitude was back. “If you can’t help me with this, I’ll find someone who can.”

  As he stomped off, it occurred to me that I didn’t know my brother at all.

  Colt came by to see us around noon. He poked his head in the door and glanced at my mother, then at me in the recliner.

  I pushed off my blanket and got to my feet.

  “How’s she doing?” he asked as he approached me.

  “The same,” I whispered. “She’s been sleeping since last night. She rouses when the nurses poke her too much, but other than that she sleeps.”

  “She’s a fighter.”

  Even when she said she wasn’t.

  “Want to get some lunch?”

  “I’m not really hungry, but I could use some fresh air.”

  We headed to the ground floor and took a walk outside. When I wrapped my arms around my body to hold off the slight chill, Colt wrapped an arm around my back and pulled me closer.

  “Do you want to skip tonight?” he asked quietly. “I can handle . . . things.”

  I looked up at him. “Do you have a plan to get out of handing over the gold?”

  Something shifted in his eyes. “Whatever it takes to keep you safe.”

  For the first time since yesterday, I had reservations about trusting Colt. I stopped walking. “So you are handing over the gold?”

  He didn’t answer.

  “I need to know what you’re planning.”

  “It’s not set in stone, Maggie. It’s a fluid plan.”

  “Which is bullshit speak for either you don’t know or you’re not going to tell me.”

  “There are a lot of factors to consider.”

  How could I be so stupid? “You’re giving it to them.” I stated it as fact.

  “Who?”

  “Whoever you answer to.” When he didn’t say anything, I took a step backward. “You are so full of shit. You’re not coming up with a plan. You’re following orders.” God, how could I have been so stupid? “I’m your orders. Get Magnolia to trust you so she’ll go along with anything you say. Good job, Colt. The harder-to-get the girl, the bigger the feather in your cap.”

  He stared at me in disbelief. “You think my intentions toward you are disingenuous? After yesterday?”

  I wrapped my arms around myself. “I think you like me, sure, but I think you like yourself more than everyone put together.”

  Pain flashed in his eyes before a sneer chased it away. “You said you liked that about us, Magnolia. That we were so alike.”

  “I was like that when I came back to Franklin, but I’m changing. I thought you were changing too. My mistake.”

  He put his hands on his hips and gave me a look of disgust. “Just like a woman to want to change a man.”

  I dropped my arms. “I didn’t try to change you, Colt, and you know it. You were changing all on your own.”

  “I’ve been getting soft,” he said, losing his anger. “And soft is dangerous.”

  I was handling this so badly, letting my stupid feelings and pride get in the way. Someone from Colt’s past had a hold on him, and instead of helping him, I was ripping him apart. I moved closer and put my hands on his chest. “We can do this together.”

  “We have been doing it together.”

  “No, not really. We’ve been working side by side, but not together. You’re hiding things from me.”

  “You’re hiding things from me!” It was our same old tune—a sad song we’d written together.

  He tried to pull away, but I held tight and refused to let him go. “Then let’s stop hiding things.”

  The hard lines around his eyes faded, and he lifted his hand to my face. “Maybe you took it as a joke, Maggie, but I meant what I said. We should take that gold and run. We can leave right now.”

  My mouth dropped open. “You can’t be serious.”

  “I’m deadly serious.” Excitement filled his eyes as he grabbed my upper arms. “We’re good together. We could be happy.”

  I could imagine it now. The two of us on a beach somewhere, sucking down tropical drinks and holding hands. Life happy and undemanding and simple. The old me would have jumped on the chance to run away, and that’s how I knew I’d changed. “Not this way, Colt. I can’t leave Momma.”

  “She’s already left you.”

  His words were like a slap in the face.

  He pulled me into a hug and cupped my head, holding me close. “I didn’t mean it like that. I’m sorry.”

  But it was true, and it hurt like hell.

  I still clung to him, refusing to cry. “I can’t leave.”

  “I know, Mags. I know.” He lifted my face and kissed me with a tenderness that caught me off guard. When he lifted his head, he searched my eyes. “I have to go.”

  “Can I trust you, Colt?”

  He didn’t respond. Then he grinned, but it looked forced. “There’s only one person you can truly trust, Magnolia, and that’s you.”

  “That doesn’t answer my question.” Then again, maybe it did.

  He kissed me again before he took a step back and dug in his pocket. “Your car’s in the parking garage. I got a friend to help me.” He pulled out my keys and handed them to me. “If you decide to come tonight, let me know as soon as possible.”

  “So you can factor it into your plans?” I asked quietly.

  “Yeah.” He watched me for a moment and then shoved his hand back into his pocket. “I got you something else.”

  He handed me a folded slip of paper. When I opened it, I saw Rowena Rogers’s name along with a Brentwood address and a phone number.

  I glanced up at him. “How?”

  “One of the perks of who I know.”

  Why did I have a feeling that these mystery contacts of his would be more of a threat than I’d expected?

  Chapter 26

  I looked at the paper in my hand, mulling it over. Momma had been asleep since last night, and the nurses had said she was holding her own. I could spare an hour, couldn’t I?

  As I headed to the parking garage, I made a quick call to Tilly.

  “How’s your momma do
in’, sweet girl?” she asked when she answered.

  “The same. She’s been asleep since last night.”

  “She could pull out of this.”

  “Yeah,” I said, even though we both knew it wasn’t true. “I was calling to check on you. I wasn’t scheduled to work at the big fundraiser, but since Momma’s not there . . . Well, I was just calling to see if you need me.”

  “Your momma got that culinary school to help, and at this point there’s too many cooks in the kitchen, pun intended.” She chuckled, but it sounded forced. “Colt said you were going as his guest.”

  “He invited me,” I conceded.

  “And Belinda said she picked out a dress for you.”

  I wasn’t so sure about that now. Another thing to worry about if I decided to go. “Sounds like you’re getting all kinds of second-hand information about me.”

  “Maybe if you told me yourself . . .” Her voice trailed off, but it sounded good-natured and not pouty. “Maggie, when your mother . . . when she’s gone, I don’t want to lose you again. I’m not sure I can handle losing her, let alone you.”

  “You won’t, Tilly. I’m sticking around for a while.” Just one of many reasons I couldn’t run off with Colt, as tempting as it was to flee our problems. Tilly needed me and Belinda needed me too, whether she accepted it or not. Besides, I was tired of running. I was tired of hiding.

  I knew what I needed to do.

  “Tilly, I have to run an errand. I’m headed into the parking garage, so I’m going to lose you. If I don’t talk to you before tonight, good luck.”

  “I’ll see you at the party, sweet girl.”

  Time would tell.

  I worried about finding my car, but it was in the same place we’d parked the night before. I unlocked the trunk and lifted the floor cover to reveal the spare tire, the hiding place Colt had used for the gold. Sure enough, it was gone.

  If I was going to confront this woman, I couldn’t do it wearing my dirty jeans and the T-shirt I’d planned to wear to hike in the woods, now smelling like a musty house and hospital antiseptic. Unfortunately, I was officially out of clean clothes.

  I’d reached yet another low point in my life.

  A quick stop by a trendy store at the mall yielded two nice outfits that put a significant dent in what little money I had left in my bank account. I went to my apartment next, intending to move my laundry from the washer to the dryer, but was shocked to discover it had already been moved. Two shirts and a dress, all shrinkable, had been hung to dry in my closet.

  Colt.

  A lump formed in my throat. As stupid as it sounded, this was better than flowers or an expensive dinner . . . if I overlooked the fact he’d probably picked the lock to get into my apartment. And I did because I suspected he had only broken in to make sure I was safe.

  What was I going to do about Colt?

  After a quick shower, I changed into an understated pale-pink blouse with a cream-colored suit and cream heels. If I wanted to meet Rowena Rogers on a level playing field, I had to look the part. I grabbed my cream Coach purse and stuffed it full of makeup along with my wallet. If I was going to the fundraiser, I needed to be able to get ready . . . Though there was the small matter of a dress.

  My makeup was understated to match my outfit, and I dried and lightly curled my long, dark hair. Pleased that I looked the part, I locked up my apartment and headed toward Brentwood. I’d half-expected my domineering landlord to intercept me, so at least something was going my way.

  By the time I got to Rowena Rogers’s house, I still hadn’t figured out what to say or even what to ask. Part of me wasn’t sure what I was looking for. What was the point? My father had been a criminal. My mother was dying. My brother hated me. My sister-in-law thought I’d betrayed her.

  What did it matter who’d done what fourteen years ago?

  I looked at my reflection in the rearview mirror, surprised to see how much I’d changed in the last month. This wasn’t just about me anymore. This was about discovering the truth and possibly the identity of a serial killer.

  After parking the car in Rowena’s driveway, I reached under the passenger seat and pulled out the gun Colt had given me. I hadn’t allowed myself to bring it into the hospital, so I’d stowed it there for safety. I unwrapped it, making sure the clip was loaded, and shoved it into my purse. While I doubted I would need a gun to face a woman whom I suspected to be in her seventies, I wasn’t giving anyone the benefit of the doubt.

  Clutching my purse to my side, I walked up the driveway to the imposing, ten-foot-tall wood door of the opulent two-story brick home. Every click of my heels filled me with confidence as I assumed a role—a young woman determined to find the truth, no matter what the cost.

  I rang the doorbell and waited for a good thirty seconds before Rowena Rogers opened the door.

  “Magnolia. So you found me,” she said as though she’d been waiting.

  “Yes.”

  She lifted her head and literally looked down her nose at me. “I suppose you’re here for some answers.”

  So much for me taking charge. I gave her my own snooty look. “Some things have come to light, and I’d like to ask you about them.”

  She folded her hands neatly in front of her waist. “Some things have come to light,” she mocked. “So mysterious.”

  I held my temper. “I guess you would know since you’re full of mystery yourself.”

  She grinned. “Touché, Magnolia Steele. Score one for you.”

  I needed more than a zinger. I needed her to talk.

  “I don’t have much time,” she said. “But I can spare you a few minutes.” She stepped back, moving out of the way. “Come in.”

  I followed her into the marble entryway, shutting the heavy wood door behind me. She led me into a sunny room with a white marble fireplace, dark hardwood floors, and furniture in tasteful but cold shades of sage green and pale yellow.

  “Have a seat,” she said, gesturing to a sofa. “Would you like some tea?”

  “No, thank you. Just the chat.”

  “Well, I want some tea. I’ll be back.”

  She disappeared through a door on the wall with the fireplace, leaving me to stew over what I wanted to ask her.

  Bill. No matter what alibi he had, it all seemed to connect back to Bill.

  Rowena returned five minutes later with a tray heaped with a teapot, two teacups, and a plate of cookies and scones.

  I watched as she set the tray down on the coffee table in front of me, then perched on an armchair across from me and poured tea into two cups.

  I gestured to the tray. “I’m amazed you put this together so quickly. It’s almost as if you were expecting me.” Even as I said the words in jest, I wondered if they were true. Had she known Colt was giving me her contact information?

  She released a polite laugh. “One has to love a good electric kettle.” She glanced up. “How do you prefer your tea? The English way?”

  So we were ignoring the fact that I’d already declined her offer? Was this a test to see how compliant I would be? Or was it a polite offer?

  “Yes, please,” I said, hedging my bets. Might as well be polite. For now.

  Rowena placed a sugar cube in each cup and then topped each one off with milk. Handing me a cup and saucer with a spoon on the side, she gave me a patronizing smile. “I believe good manners are the basis of a moral society. Don’t you, Magnolia?”

  “And do you believe that Bill James has good manners?” I asked as I delicately stirred my tea, then rested the spoon on the saucer and gave her a polite smile.

  Her eyes lit up, and she picked up her cup and took a sip. “I suppose you know him better than I do.”

  “What makes you say that?”

  “He was your father’s partner. You spent a significant amount of time with him.”

  Except we hadn’t, not really, and now I could see that Momma had kept us from him. “I was a child,” I said, setting my cup and saucer on the table
in front of me.

  “Exactly,” she said, her eyes narrowing. “And you were a child when your father left. Children’s memories are not to be trusted. They are viewed through a skewed lens, Magnolia. You need to let this witch hunt go. You caused damage fourteen years ago, and you are blazing a path of destruction now.”

  “With all due respect, Mrs. Rogers, there is a killer on the loose.”

  “A killer who lay dormant until you returned.”

  “If that’s true, then what happened to Christopher Merritt three years ago? I know you two were meeting, and unlike the gossips here in town, I don’t believe for a minute that you were having an affair.”

  She narrowed her eyes to pinpricks. “You think he wouldn’t have me as a lover?”

  I crossed my legs, trying to look as demure as possible. “No, I think you wouldn’t have him.”

  Rowena laughed and set down her cup. “I’m happy to see you have just as much spunk as you did when you were a child.”

  “We’ve met before?” I asked, then amended, “Before last week?”

  “Of course. I was very close to your father,” she said with an air of naughtiness.

  I wasn’t going to take the bait. I needed to get this back on track. “When did you meet my father?”

  “A very long time ago. You were a toddler, and your mother was huge with your brother in her belly. Your father was quite proud of you. Talked about you ad nauseam.” She grimaced, as though she found the memory distasteful.

  Ignoring her dig, I continued, “Was it a professional meeting?”

  “If you call a fundraiser where investors kiss rich people’s asses a professional meeting, then yes, it was a professional meeting.”

  “So you met at a fundraiser?”

  “You really want to go down this path?” she asked. Her question held an ominous tone.

  Did I? Was it really worth the bloodied price? But I’d come this far. There was no turning back now. “Yes.”

  Rowena sat back in her chair and rested her hands on the wooden arms. “Then proceed at your own risk, but a word of warning—I have plans this afternoon, so I will likely cut you off when I’m out of time.”