“They don’t have Bunco in New York?” She sounded dismayed. “Imagine that.” Then a grin brightened her face. “Not to worry. We’ll have you up to speed in no time.” Then she leaned closer. There was a conspiratorial gleam in her eyes as she said, “But some months we never even get around to playing.”
“Like how they never read the book in some people’s book clubs?” I asked.
Her eyes widened. “Oh, no. We always read the book at book club.”
My mother rolled her eyes behind poor Belinda’s back. “I think Momma might have something planned for me tonight.” I looked at her, plastering on a huge fake smile that said please, please, please. “Weren’t we going to scrapbook?”
My mother cringed milliseconds before Belinda squealed. “I love scrapbooking. Promise me you won’t scrapbook until I can do it with you.” Then she gave me the biggest exaggerated pout I’d ever seen, and I’d seen plenty to authoritatively judge.
“Uh . . .” I said. Hell, I didn’t even know if Momma still scrapbooked. That had been my last-ditch effort for an out.
“But if you wait for me, that means you’re free to come with me tonight after all.” She wrapped her arm around my bicep and squeezed, pulling me tight. “I am so excited. I’ve always wanted a sister, and now I have one for real.”
If she was so excited to be my new sister, I had to wonder why she hadn’t reached out to me sooner herself. “Uh, thanks.”
My mother must have taken pity after throwing me into the Bunco lion’s den. “Magnolia. I really need you to take care of that file on my office chair.” Her eyes widened as she nodded to get her point across.
“Okay.”
Belinda gave me another pout. “Oh! I was hoping you’d be here for our meeting with the Morrisons.”
Belinda was going to be there? Was she part of Momma’s catering business? I couldn’t imagine my mother dealing with my new sister-in-law for more than hourly chunks. She had never been a fan of perkiness.
“Magnolia smells of dust and mold,” Momma said. “She should probably be more presentable before meeting one of your clients.” When I lifted an eyebrow, Momma volunteered, “Belinda is a wedding planner. Her clients are using our catering services for their reception. In fact, she helped us get the party last night. Amy is Belinda’s friend.”
That made more sense, and Belinda seemed perfect for that profession. But from the way Belinda was currently behaving, it was obvious she hadn’t heard about the disastrous end to the party.
I expected Belinda to ask how the evening went, but she moved past it, her mouth twisting. “You’re probably right about Magnolia skipping the meeting, but now that she’s here, I’m just so excited to show her off.” She grabbed my shoulders and looked me up and down. “You are even prettier than you look in those pictures online.”
I sucked in a breath, the blood rushing all the way down to my toes, before my mother said, “Your photos on that Broadway website. Belinda checks it regularly for updates.”
“Oh,” I murmured, trying to catch my breath. How many shocks could a person suffer without experiencing permanent heart damage?
I was starting for the stairs when I felt my phone ring in my pocket. I pulled it out and frowned when I saw the number. I didn’t recognize it, but the 615 area code marked it as a local call. “Hello.”
“Magnolia Steele?” a man asked in a brisk tone.
“Yes.”
“This is Detective Holden with the Franklin Police Department. We met last night. We’d like you to come down to the station for questioning at your earliest convenience.”
I suspected that last part was a flat-out lie, because no time would ever be convenient, yet I knew I had no choice. I took a breath to steady my nerves, but I still sounded shaky when I spoke. “I need to contact my attorney, Emily Johnson.”
“I’ll expect to see you soon.” Then he hung up. So much for my earliest convenience.
The look on my face must have worried my mother, because she excused herself from Belinda and came over.
“Was that the police?” she whispered.
I nodded, the phone shaking in my hand. “They want me to come in for questioning.”
She looked me over and then pulled out her phone and called Emily. The conversation was short and concise—my mother’s usual way of handling things—and when she hung up, she put her hand on my arm. “Start walking. Emily will meet you outside her office.”
“Is everything okay?” Belinda called out. “Are you and Emily going out to coffee? I would totally invite myself along if I weren’t meeting my clients.”
Based on her hyperactivity, I suspected Belinda had already mainlined several shots of espresso before showing up. Coffee was the last thing she needed . . . except for going to the police station with her sister-in-law.
“Maybe next time,” I heard myself say.
My mother looked into my eyes. I could tell she was weighing the possibility of blowing off her appointment to go to the police station with me, but that was the very last place she needed to be.
I gave her a soft smile. “I’m fine. Really. I’m going to run up to grab my purse in case I need it. I’ll call you as soon as I’m done.” Then I added, “One way or the other.”
If I was arrested, Momma was the only person I knew who would come bail me out.
A few minutes later, I was pacing the sidewalk in front of Emily’s office. I kept glancing around to see if Brady was lurking somewhere, but the most threatening presence in the vicinity was an older man who looked like he needed some major dental work.
“You ready?” Emily asked from behind me.
I let out a little screech as I turned around to face her. “Don’t sneak up on me like that!”
“I wasn’t sneaking,” she said, raising her palms toward me. “You’re just extra jumpy.”
“How calm would you be if you were going to the police station to give a statement to cops who assumed you were guilty?”
“I am going to the police station, and I’m a nervous wreck.”
“That is not helping,” I snapped. “You’re supposed to be the professional. You’re supposed to know what you’re doing.”
“Sorry,” she said in a snotty tone. “I’ve never defended someone accused of murder before.”
I stopped in my tracks. “What?”
“It’s not like we have a ton of murders around here.”
She kept walking, and I hurried to follow her. “Have you ever defended anyone for anything before?”
“Of course I have. Don’t be daft.”
“Well . . . ?”
“Well what?”
“What have you defended?”
She blushed. “A drunk and disorderly and a trespassing case.”
I stopped again. “Are you kidding me?”
Emily spun around to face me. “I can do this, Magnolia.”
I felt so lightheaded my vision started to fade and turn to black.
Emily dragged me toward a bench and forced me to sit.
“Oh, God. Oh, God,” I chanted over and over, rocking back and forth. “I’m going to jail.”
“You’re not going to jail. Just take a deep breath, and we’ll go answer Holden’s questions. This mess will be over before you know it.”
I stopped rocking and looked up at her. “Do you really think so?”
She sat down next to me and lowered her voice. “You didn’t touch the letter opener, right?”
“Right.”
“Based on what you’ve told me, it has to be the murder weapon. And if you didn’t touch it, your fingerprints won’t be on it.”
I nodded. “Yeah.”
“We can get Luke Powell to say he asked you to meet him in his office. We can get the bartender to state that you were talking to him at 9:40 and he saw Luke go down that hall minutes later.”
I held my breath. “How do you know that Colt saw him? I never told you that. In fact, I have no idea if he saw him or not.”
> Her shoulders tensed. “It only makes sense, Magnolia. Do you want out of this or not?”
“Of course I do.”
“Then let’s go and tell your side of the story.”
“But shouldn’t we corroborate this with Colt first?”
“I don’t see the point, but if it makes you feel better.” But she didn’t wait for me, and the clack of her heels grew fainter as she hustled down the sidewalk.
I started to send Colt a text, then changed my mind. I’d see what the police had to say first. Besides, his alibi would put me in that room minutes after the murder, not hours. It might not even help.
By the time we checked in with the police receptionist, I was already wondering if I’d made the right decision.
They led us to a room arranged with a table and four chairs, two on either side. My nerves were getting the better of me as I sat down.
“Calm down, Magnolia,” Emily snarled. “You look guilty as hell.”
“How am I supposed to calm down when they think I did it? I’ve seen all those TV shows. If they think I did it, they can make sure I go away for life.”
“I’m sure the Franklin Police Department wants the real murderer put behind bars, don’t you?”
“While I sure as hell hope so, I’m not counting on it.”
She pursed her lips. “You always were a glass-half-empty person back in school.”
“I was not!” I protested. “And now does not seem like the time to—” I cut myself off as the door creaked open and Detective Holden entered the room.
“Is there a problem, Ms. Steele?”
“No,” I choked out. “My attorney and I were having a disagreement.”
He looked back and forth between us, then sat down across from me with a pad of paper and a pen. Then he took a breath so deep I was sure he was about to suck all the air out of the room. “Now, Ms. Steele. All we want is the facts. You already gave us a statement about finding Mr. Goodwin, but I have a few more questions.”
I couldn’t help wondering where his partner was. Probably on the other side of the mirrored wall taking notes.
“Okay,” I said, clutching my hands in my lap.
“You said that you found Mr. Goodwin splayed out on the floor when you entered the room—is that correct?”
I nodded. “Yes.”
“You said you then knelt by the body to check for his pulse, correct?”
“Yes.”
“And then Mr. Powell walked in and found you with your hand on the victim’s neck.”
“Yes.”
“And after that, Mr. Powell shut the door and left you in the room until his security guard showed up.”
“Yes.”
“Then how did your fingerprints end up on Mr. Powell’s desk?”
I took a breath to steady my nerves. “When Luke locked me in the room, I freaked out. I’d never been next to a dead person before, let alone locked in a room with one by myself. I got lightheaded, so I sat on the edge of the desk.”
“And how did you sit?”
I looked at Emily, wondering what difference it made, half-expecting her to protest. Instead she nodded.
“I backed up to the desk and sat with my butt against the edge. I think I grabbed the sides.”
Detective Holden stood and reenacted my description. “Were your hands like this?” His fingers curled around the edges of the table.
“I think so.”
“You think so?” His tone was challenging. “Wouldn’t you know so?”
“I was freaked out. I don’t remember all the details.”
“Were you scared because you had just stabbed a man in the heart?”
“No!” I shouted. “I didn’t do it.”
“A young impressionable woman, already taken advantage of by Goodwin two years ago. And then you were embarrassed and humiliated on stage—you made national news, and your ‘wardrobe malfunction—’” he used air quotes, “—is all over the Internet. Maybe you just snapped.”
I pressed my mouth shut, glaring at my attorney. What the hell, Emily?
“Luke asked you to meet him for a romantic rendezvous, but you were shocked and horrified to find Max Goodwin waiting in his study instead. He told you that he would salvage your career if you cooperated, but you changed your mind the moment he dropped his pants to consummate the deal.”
“What?” I screeched in disbelief.
“But Mr. Goodwin wasn’t about to take no for an answer, and when you failed to dissuade him, you got desperate. You grabbed that letter opener off the desk, then stabbed him.”
I was now openly staring at Emily, who was wide-eyed with fright and stammering like she’d suddenly acquired a speech impediment.
Well, fuck it all to hell in a goddamned hand basket.
I took another deep breath and told myself I was playing the part of a young defense attorney who had to face a heartless, misogynistic detective to save my poor defenseless client.
“And how exactly did you come up with this theory?” I asked, sounding cold and aloof.
My question and change of attitude stunned him. He guffawed for a moment, then said, “It wasn’t that hard to figure out.”
“Really? Are you an author, Detective Holden? Are you like that guy on that TV show? What is it?” I snapped my fingers. “Castle! Do you write murder mysteries in your spare time?”
“What in the hell are you talking about?”
“I’m just trying to figure out how you made the leap from me finding his body to that very imaginative recitation you just finished.”
“I already told you—”
“Yes, I heard you. You said it wasn’t hard to figure out. But isn’t the truth a much simpler solution?” I cocked my head. “He was dead when I walked into that room. You can be certain I wasn’t the only person—male or female—Max propositioned or threatened that night. I suspect there were several others at the party. How many were there?”
“Excuse me?”
“Surely you’ve interviewed everyone who talked to him before I found his body. I bet I wasn’t the only person who had a disagreement with him. Mine was only the most vocal.”
His face turned red. “Are you trying to tell me how to do my job, Ms. Steele?”
“If you haven’t interviewed everyone, then yes.”
He banged the table with his fist, the jolt shaking Emily out of her stupor.
“Were my fingerprints on the letter opener?” I asked.
His glare was cold enough to freeze-dry coffee. “I’m not at liberty to say.”
“Well, let’s just save us both some time. You won’t find them there.”
“Because you wiped them off?”
“No, because I didn’t do it.” I shook my head. “We’re dancing in circles.”
“You’ll be dancing all the way to the county jail,” he sneered.
“Wow. That’s original,” I said, feeling extra pissy. “How long did it take you to think that one up?”
Emily sputtered some more.
“Are we done?” I asked. “Because I have an event to get ready for.”
He looked like he was torn between strangling me or arranging for an involuntary psychiatric hold. I was wondering about the second myself.
“You are free to go, but you are still a person of interest.” He pushed his chair back with a loud screech. “Don’t leave town, Ms. Steele.”
Keeping my eyes locked on his, I stood and lifted my chin. “I wouldn’t dream of it, Detective Holden.”
I stomped out, leaving Emily to trail behind me. As I passed the large, open room full of desks on the main floor of the department, a man caught the corner of my eye. He moved out of my line of vision too quickly for me to get a good read on him, but he was tall and dark-haired and dressed in a black wool coat—all things that matched my memory of Brady. But that description would probably fit twenty-five percent of Williamson County males. I was imagining things.
I didn’t stop walking until I’d reached
the sidewalk outside the station. Emily stumbled to a stop behind me.
“Magnolia!”
I stopped and turned around to face her, my hands on my hips. “What the hell happened in there, Emily?”
“I froze up.”
“No shit!”
“Shhh!” She looked around. “You can’t tell your mother.”
I shook my head in disbelief. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“You can’t tell Lila.”
“You can’t be my attorney, Emily! You completely freaked out in there!”
“I know. I know.” She looked dangerously close to tears.
“What am I supposed to do? I need an attorney who knows what she’s doing!”
“I’ll figure it out.” When she met my eyes, I saw something unexpected in her gaze. Respect. “You handled it really well. You threw him off.”
“Why do I hear a but in there?”
“Because just like you, Holden’s a hothead. He’s bound to hold a grudge.”
“Well, that’s just fucking great.” I sighed, resting my butt against a light pole. How was I going to get out of this one?
“In fact, he’ll try harder than ever to pin it on you.”
“Even better,” I groaned. “Got any more good news, Mary Sunshine?”
Chapter 11
This was ridiculous. I was twenty-eight years old and my mother was running my life. But she had insisted that it was her house, her rules. There was no way I was getting out of Bunco night with my new sister-in-law.
“Don’t you think this is a bad idea?” I asked. “I’m under suspicion for murder. What’s it going to look like if I’m out there playing Bunco and drinking cosmos?”
Momma put her hands on her hips and gave me the look, the one that told me I didn’t dare challenge her. “I know that if you stay inside all the time, sulking and hiding, you’re gonna look guilty as hell.” She narrowed her eyes. “Did you kill that man, Magnolia Steele?”
“Of course not.”
She pursed her lips and gave a single bob of her head. “Well, that’s settled then. You’re going.”
In all honesty I was beyond curious about Belinda. No one could be that nice. I had to wonder what she was hiding. But tonight was not the time to delve into her psyche. I had to focus on surviving.
Center Stage: Magnolia Steele Mystery #1 Page 12
