Center Stage: Magnolia Steele Mystery #1

by Denise Grover Swank

  Instead I told myself I was playing the part of a young woman who had been deeply wronged, and had returned to her hometown only to be ostracized. Sure, it was remarkably similar to what was actually happening, but I’d learned it was easier to pretend to fill the role of someone else, even it was an imitation of my own life.

  I handed my plate to Belinda and excused myself to the powder room, pausing first to finish off my drink and pour myself a new one. The door was locked, giving me time to study the photos in the hall. Maddie with Blake. Maddie holding a baby.

  The photos of Blake made my nausea increase. Especially the ones where he was touching her in some way. I’d let Maddie marry a cheater at best . . . and at worst? What had happened that night ten years ago? What secrets had her husband kept?

  But I knew her enough to recognize her fake smile, and there was evidence of it in half the photos. It looked just like her smile in the homecoming photos the year her mother made her go to the dance with Mike Pringle from down the street.

  A lump filled my throat. If I’d been able to convince her that Blake was a cheater, would she have still married him? Would she be happier without him?

  The bathroom door opened, and Maddie stepped out, dabbing her cheek with a tissue. Her eyes went wide when she saw me, and her mouth formed an O.

  “You have a baby,” I said, pointing to the photo.

  She put a hand on her stomach, looking self-conscious. “Blake, Junior.”

  I tried not to think about her poor baby being saddled with his asshole father’s name. “How old is he?”

  “Six months.” She shook her head and her voice broke. “Why are you here, Magnolia?”

  I wanted to give her a laundry list of reasons for leaving, along with a string of apologies, but she didn’t want to hear any of them, and I didn’t blame her. “I wish you would have answered at least one of my calls or texts.”

  She sucked in her bottom lip, her chin quivering.

  “I’ve missed you,” I whispered.

  That brought a fire to her eyes. “Don’t,” she spat out. “Just don’t. You don’t have a right to say that.”

  “Okay. You’re right,” I said, trying not to cry. “Are you happy?”

  She released a bitter laugh. “You don’t have the right to ask that either.”

  I expected her to storm off, but she remained rooted in place, while the voices of the other guests roared behind us. For a brief moment it was Maddie and me, caught in this four-foot-long hallway time warp.

  “You’re in my house, Magnolia. My home.”

  “I know, and I’m so sorry. I really had no idea it was your house, or I never would have shown up.”

  She wrapped her arms around herself. “You keep saying you’re sorry, yet it doesn’t change a thing.”

  “I’m sorry for that too.” This was ridiculous. We were having a conversation that should have taken place somewhere private, not several feet away from some of Williamson County’s most notorious busybodies. “Would you like me to leave?”

  “You can’t leave now!” she whispered in horror. “If you leave now, they’ll think I couldn’t handle it. And I most certainly can.”

  I had serious misgivings about that. She looked like she was about to fall to pieces, and it killed me to think I was hurting her all over again. “Tell me what to do, Maddie. Just tell me what to do to make it right.”

  She released a bitter laugh. “We’re not kids anymore, Magnolia. Some things you just can’t make right.”

  I’d already resigned myself to that, but her words still shot straight into my heart like an arrow. I nodded and swallowed. “I know. I’ll try my best to lie low and keep to myself, and as soon as this thing is done, I’ll leave.”

  She nodded and her gaze narrowed. “And then I never want to see you again.” She pushed past me, her shoulder brushing mine.

  I ducked into the powder room, fighting the urge to cry. I had no right to tears. Maddie was the wronged party here.

  I got myself together by getting into my character, whom I’d revised to have a stoicism that kept her from getting hurt by barbs from her former best friend and a posse of snotty bitches who had no right to hate her.

  Belinda looked relieved when I found her with a small group of her friends. They eyed me with some wariness, but it was easy to see they loved her. Two of the women had moved to Franklin a few years ago, so they had no knowledge of my sudden disappearance ten years ago, but they did know about my Broadway debut. They soon forgot about me and started talking about Lisa’s husband, who managed the careers of two prominent Christian artists.

  Lisa lowered her voice and looked around. “Did you hear about the sleazy talent agent who was murdered at Luke Powell’s party last night?”

  The piece of shrimp cocktail in my mouth suddenly tasted like chalk.

  “I heard someone shot him in the head,” the other woman said.

  “Oh, my goodness!” Belinda gasped, nearly dropping her plate of appetizers. “I set Lila’s catering company up with that party.” She shot me a look of alarm before she turned back to her friend. “Do they know who did it?”

  Lisa shook her head, but from the way she leaned in closer, it was clear that a lack of knowledge wouldn’t stop her from speculating. “No, but there were plenty of people there who had motive. There was a country singer there who’d been hoodwinked by him, so you can imagine he was pissed. And then the vice president of Highway 24 Music was there . . . Max had screwed him over by chasing a big star away from the label. And then there were all the women he’d convinced to sleep with him in exchange for career help that never materialized. Narrowing the list down should take some time.”

  I felt a presence behind me, and I looked back and up at Emily, whose eyes were fixed on Lisa. She glanced down at me with knowing eyes, then walked away.

  Belinda had said that some months they never got around to playing Bunco. I was hoping tonight would be one of those nights, but I should have known better. A few minutes later, Maddie rang a bell and announced it was time to play.

  I had all of the bad luck in Franklin. Well . . . maybe slightly better luck than Max Goodwin.

  I soon found myself in the most complicated game of musical chairs I’d ever played. Of course the five glasses of white wine sangria I’d downed weren’t exactly helping me figure out the intricacies of the game. One thing I did register was that my partner and I would either switch tables or stay depending on how many points we’d gained in a round. Thank God Belinda was my partner. She was true to her word; she had my back.

  Most of the woman were nice, but a few gave me dirty looks and made snide remarks about my photos online.

  “Since your career on Broadway crashed and burned,” one woman said with a smirk, “perhaps you can continue in the entertainment world at the gentleman’s club in downtown Nashville. Just tell them your resume’s on YouTube.”

  But as sweet as my new sister-in-law seemed to be, she was perfectly capable of turning into a momma lion. Keeping her attention on the dice in her hand, she said in the sweetest of tones, “I’m not so sure that’s such a good idea, Sydney. Considering how often Lionel goes there, he’d be liable to get a lot of up close and personal time with Magnolia. He very well might want to leave you for her.” She rolled the dice on the table and looked into the shocked woman’s face. “Bless your heart.”

  “She did not just bless her heart,” a woman behind me murmured.

  “I think she did,” someone else whispered in disbelief.

  Sydney kept any other comments to herself, but judging from the deep shade of red tinting her cheeks, she was choking on them.

  I breathed out a sigh of relief when another bell rang from the head table announcing that the game was over and the winners would be awarded their prizes in five to ten minutes. I couldn’t stand one more minute of hostile scrutiny, let alone five to ten. I refilled my wine glass, grateful that Belinda was the designated driver, and slipped out of the kitchen and into
the backyard.

  The night had cooled off, but the alcohol had warmed my blood and dulled my senses. I leaned my head back and took in the stars in the night sky. A spectacular view I couldn’t get in the city.

  “Magnolia Steele. You are the very last person I expected to see in my backyard,” a man’s voice said.

  For a moment I was certain I was hallucinating, but why was I so surprised? It was his house, after all.

  I turned around to see Blake sitting in a lawn chair, his hands gripping the ends of the arms. He stood and took a couple of steps toward me. “I heard you were back, but I sure as hell never thought you’d have the nerve to show up here.”

  Fear coursed through my blood as I took a step backward. The memory of him shouting my name on that rainy night made me start to shake. “How’d you know I was back?”

  “I have my ways.”

  But there was a logical explanation. One that wasn’t too surprising. “Tanner called you.”

  He didn’t respond.

  Should I confront him with my fragmented memories? But he beat me to it.

  “Are you here to tell Maddie?” He looked out at his impeccably landscaped backyard, then turned back to face me. “We were kids back then, Magnolia. We both did stupid things that night.”

  “Maddie has a right to know.”

  He closed the distance between us in milliseconds. Grabbing my upper arm hard enough to hurt, he tugged me closer. The liquid in my wine glass sloshed out onto my hand. “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll keep your mouth shut.”

  I steeled my jaw. I’d be damned if I’d let him know his intimidation was working. “I think Maddie would love to know about Ashley Pincher blowing you behind my house the night of our graduation.”

  He leaned even closer, his face inches from mine, and I could smell beer on his breath. “Don’t mess with me, Magnolia. Things are different now. You don’t belong here, so do yourself a favor and get the hell out of town before something happens that you’ll regret.”

  “Are you threatening me, Blake?”

  The hinges on the back door squeaked, and Blake immediately dropped his hold and took a step back.

  “There you are, Magnolia,” Belinda said, sounding relieved. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere.” She started to walk toward us, but stopped in her tracks when she caught sight of Blake. “I’m sorry. I hope I didn’t interrupt anything.”

  “No,” Blake said good-naturedly. “Magnolia and I were just catching up.” Sliding up to me, he wrapped an arm around my back and cupped my upper arm. “Me, Maddie, and Magnolia were all good friends in high school. I was one of the people who searched the woods for her the night she disappeared.”

  The light from the kitchen window cast dark shadows on Belinda’s face, but the way her eyes widened with surprise made me wonder if she knew anything about that night.

  Blake dropped his arm. “You ladies go on and wrap things up so I can go inside. Too much estrogen flowing in there right now.”

  I was torn between telling him off and running away—but my fear won out. I bolted for my sister-in-law, trying to ignore the shame burning in my gut for taking the chicken’s way out.

  I walked past Belinda, eager to get as far away from Blake as possible. She cast a glance over her shoulder back at him, then followed me inside.

  Sydney was in the middle of announcing the winners when we walked in. “. . . and now the award for the most losses. Who had two?” Half of the ladies in the room lifted a hand. “Three? Four? Six?” She continued calling out numbers until she finally found a winner.

  I drained the last of the sangria pitcher and gulped it down, ignoring the scrutiny of my sister-in-law. I flashed her a forced smile. “Who knew Bunco could make you so thirsty?”

  I tried to drown out Sydney’s voice as she went through several more categories, handing out candles and gift cards for the most wins, the fewest Buncos, then finally the most Buncos. The conversation swelled up again, but Sydney raised her voice over the murmurs.

  “We have one more award to give out.”

  Several of the guests looked confused, but Sydney pressed on. “And the prize for the person with the most nerve goes to Magnolia Steele for daring to show her face here tonight.”

  The murmuring stopped and all eyes turned to me.

  I’d spent a couple of hours with these women, and while everyone knew about my bad luck on stage, most had no idea I’d skipped town a decade ago.

  Maddie’s mouth dropped open and her face went pale. It was obvious she had nothing to do with her friend’s announcement.

  “That’s right,” Sydney said, taking a step forward and wobbling to the side. “Magnolia Steele.” She spat out my name like it was a mouthful of rotten fish. “Who destroyed so many lives, yet blows back into town like a spring wind.” Her gaze landed on me, her gaze slightly unfocused. “Like a fucking tornado that rips lives apart.”

  Several of the women gasped.

  Maddie’s eyes glistened with tears as I looked on in horror. I should never have come—to Bunco, to Momma’s, to Franklin.

  Belinda bustled up to me and wrapped an arm around my shoulders. “I don’t know about y’all, but I think Maddie’s delicious white wine sangria must have snuck up on Sydney.” Then she turned to Maddie. “Thank you for a wonderful evening, but Magnolia and I need to be leaving.”

  Belinda—ever prepared—had already grabbed her purse and jacket. Since I hadn’t brought anything, she flashed her sweet smile at everyone and dragged me out the door and all the way to her car. But she didn’t stop until she opened the passenger door and proceeded to push me in.

  I took a step back. “Belinda, I’m perfectly capable of getting into a car by myself.”

  “You had more than a few glasses of sangria yourself, and since at least a dozen pairs of eyes are on you at the moment, I thought it best that you not fall on your keister.”

  “Keister?”

  She ignored my comment. “You getting in?”

  “Remind me not to get on your bad side.”

  She flashed an innocent smile that suddenly didn’t look so innocent.

  We were silent all the way home, until Belinda pulled into Momma’s driveway. She put the car in park and turned to face me. “You don’t have anything to be ashamed of, Magnolia.”

  I released a short laugh. “There are so many people who would disagree with that statement, my own mother included.” I tipped my head toward the house.

  “Just hang in there. Before you know it, people will stop talking and move on to something else. They always do.”

  Without another word, I climbed out and headed for the front door, grumbling to myself that I didn’t have a house key. When I pulled out my phone to text my mother to let me in, I found a text waiting for me.

  Secrets don’t make friends.

  A blocked number again. My head grew faint, and I almost fell over my knees, but I had to hold it together or Belinda would charge out of the car and pepper me with questions. The text could have been from half a handful of women at that party. Or Blake.

  That one gave me pause. He’d admitted he knew I was back. He could have easily sent the first text.

  Belinda was watching me like a mother hen, so I gave her a wave and blindly reached for the door handle, surprised and frightened to find the door unlocked. Had Momma left it that way, or had something more nefarious occurred? My heart pounding in my chest, I pushed the door open, but a folded piece of paper on the entryway table caught my eye before I could shout for Momma. It was a note from her, telling me she’d gone to bed early and left the door open for me.

  Confusion followed my initial feeling of relief. Gone to bed early? It was barely past ten o’clock. Momma had always been a night owl.

  Tossing the note down, I latched the deadbolt and pressed my hand against the steel, letting myself savor the solid feeling of it. This door gave me a false sense of security that would undoubtedly bite me in the ass.

&n
bsp; I had so much bigger things to worry about besides women gossiping about my troubles. Or even the pain and betrayal in Maddie’s eyes.

  What did Blake know about ten years ago? Did I dare ask him?

  There was no doubt that coming back to Franklin was a mistake, but I wasn’t sure what to do about that now. I was good and stuck until my name was cleared.

  When I reached my room, I opened the nightstand drawer and touched Daddy’s gun. Once my name was cleared, I was leaving again.

  And I was never coming back.

  Chapter 12

  My sleep was fitful, my dreams a jumbled mess. Blake shouting my name. Running away from him in the rain. And the blood. But there was something new this time. A house in the woods, with peeling paint and broken windows, the inside empty and littered with trash. A basement, dark and dank. Fear so sharp it burned my entire body as it shot through my veins. A dripping sound.

  Drop. Drop. Drop.

  A puddle of blood.

  I bolted upright in bed, my heart beating so fast I wondered if I was having a heart attack. I reached over and turned on the lamp to illuminate the pitch-black room.

  While I’d returned home that night years ago with a splitting headache and a giant goose egg on the side of my head, the only injury that could have bled was the cut on my thigh, and there was no way it could have bled that much. So whose blood had it been?

  It took me hours to get back to sleep, so I was none too thrilled when Momma flung my door open and strode into the room. Within minutes she was throwing open the curtains and letting sunlight flood into the room.

  “Rise and shine, Magnolia. Time to get to work.”

  “What time is it?”

  “Eight o’clock.”

  Releasing a groan, I rolled over and buried my face into my pillow. Mainlining sangria had seemed like a wonderful solution to my problems last night. This morning, not so much.