Center Stage: Magnolia Steele Mystery #1

by Denise Grover Swank

  “Tell me how you and Roy met,” I said, both out of curiosity and to change the subject. Besides, if we were going to be friends, I needed to know this stuff.

  She gave me a shy smile. “It’s a boring story, really. I met him at a wedding.”

  “That doesn’t sound boring to me. It sounds romantic.”

  She released a soft laugh. “He was a DJ at the reception I was working at. He asked me out, and the rest is history.”

  “How long ago was that?”

  “Four years ago.”

  “And you’ve been married one year?” Getting information out of her was harder than I’d expected. “You had a small wedding?”

  “Yeah.” Her voice seemed strangely muted.

  “What made you decide to be a wedding planner?”

  She shrugged. “I just kind of fell into it. I wanted to be a country singer. That’s why I originally came to town. I’m from Mississippi.”

  I nodded. “You said you were a backup singer, which I never would have guessed in a million years.”

  She was quiet for several minutes before turning to look at me. “I envy you, Magnolia—living your dream.”

  “News flash, Belinda. I’m not living my dream. I’m currently stuck in a nightmare.”

  She waved off my statement. “You’ll be back in New York in no time. You should take your own advice and turn your negative publicity into something positive.”

  “I wouldn’t even know where to start.”

  “Let’s worry about restoring your reputation first, and then we’ll worry about the rest.”

  She turned onto Main Street and pulled into a parking place behind the building. “I’d come inside, but Roy’s probably fit to be tied. I need to get home.”

  “That’s okay. Thanks again, Belinda.”

  * * *

  The kitchen was bustling with activity when I walked in, which surprised me since the dinner was only for twenty people. I grabbed a hairband out of my purse and pulled my hair into a ponytail.

  My mother looked up from the canapé she was filling and frowned. “About damn time, Magnolia.”

  Tilly was at the stove stirring a big pot with a long wooden spoon. “Give it a rest, Lila.” She cast a quick glance in my direction. “Grab an apron to cover that pretty dress and get in here in the thick of things.”

  A couple of minutes later, Tilly had me pulling pans of food out of the oven alongside a woman no one bothered to introduce to me.

  “What time is this dinner?” I asked Tilly as she lifted a pot off the stove.

  “Seven.”

  “That’s about two hours from now, and everything’s almost ready. Why are you all freaking out?”

  “Because Tilly got the address wrong,” Momma grumped. “And the dinner’s not in Brentwood like we thought.”

  “Where is it?”

  Momma sent Tilly a glare.

  “Hendersonville,” Tilly admitted with a sheepish look.

  Well, crap. Hendersonville was a good hour north of Franklin. Now I saw the problem. “Will the food stay hot that long?”

  “That’s not the problem, Maggie Mae,” Colt said, walking through the door. “Lila and Tilly have warmers in the back of the van. The problem is they’re doing construction on 65, and we’re going to have to drive around it.”

  Momma handed Colt a tray. “This one’s ready to load.” Then she slid another pan across the stainless steel work surface toward me. “You take this one out.”

  I grabbed the pan and followed Colt out the back door to one of the vans. I waited for him to mention the text, but he didn’t say a word. The back doors were open and Colt effortlessly slid his pan into a warmer and then grabbed the pan I was struggling to lift. He grinned as he put that one into the warmer too, then he hopped down beside me.

  His gaze wandered up and down my body, ending at my face. “You look good in an apron, Maggie Mae. Nice legs.”

  “Are you one of those I like my women in the kitchen kind of men?”

  His grin spread. “Hell, no. I prefer my women in my bed.”

  I shook my head in disgust and spun around to head back inside.

  I fumed for the next ten minutes as we continued to load the van. Momma and Tilly were only catering a meal for twenty, but they must have prepared seven courses based on all the food we stuffed into the warmer and then onto the other racks.

  Why was I letting Colt set me on edge? I attributed it to my nerves, but I had more immediate concerns. I couldn’t let him get to me.

  “That’s all of it,” Tilly said on our final trip.

  Momma put her hands on her hips. “Colt, you head on up to the address Tilly texted you, and Tilly and I will be along shortly. Magnolia, you go with Colt.”

  “What?” I asked. “Why? Why can’t I just stay here or go home? I’ll see if Belinda can swing back and take me.”

  “Because you’ve pestered poor Belinda enough, and Tilly and I have some things to discuss.” She shot Tilly a look that made me very glad I was not Tilly. My mother’s friend just sighed and checked her cuticles.

  I pushed out a long breath. “Then why don’t I stay here and finish the filing in the basement?”

  “No. You’ll go with Colt.”

  She put so much emphasis into the statement that I couldn’t help but narrow my eyes. “Why are you so insistent I go with Colt?”

  Good Lord. I hoped she wasn’t trying to match-make us. But that couldn’t be it. She’d already told me he didn’t have any money, and financial stability had always been important to her. One of the many reasons she’d bemoaned my career choice.

  My mother let out a groan of frustration. “Because we’ve all agreed you shouldn’t be alone.”

  That was even worse. “What do you mean we’ve all agreed? Did you have a meeting or something?”

  She remained silent. They had! “Why?”

  “You’re in this predicament because you don’t have an alibi. If you’re with someone twenty-four/seven, you’ll be covered.”

  I put my hands on my hips and shook my head in disbelief. “Just how many people do you think are going to be murdered around me?”

  She gave me an exasperated look and flung out her hands. “I have no idea, Magnolia, but there’s no sense in taking chances.”

  I gaped at her for a full three seconds before I walked over to her and kissed her cheek. “I love you too, Momma. Thank you.”

  Surprise filled her eyes and she stammered, “I didn’t say a word.”

  “You didn’t have to.” This was my mother’s way of saying I love you. I’m worried about you. My mother was a woman of action, and her message was coming through loud and clear.

  I took off my apron and hung it up on a hook before heading to the parking lot. Colt checked the back of the van to make sure everything was secure, then climbed out and gave me a wink. “Just you and me, Maggie Mae.”

  “And dinner for twenty. Momma will tan your hide if it doesn’t get there on time.”

  “There’s always after . . .” His voice trailed off as he walked around to the driver’s door.

  I’d met plenty of men like Colt—full of a lot of talk and mostly harmless. The more he knew he didn’t stand a chance, the more likely he’d go full-court press. I just needed to use that to my advantage without upsetting the apple cart.

  Who was I kidding? I’d spent my entire life upsetting the apple cart.

  “So you and me in this van for an hour,” I mused, taking my hair down and letting it fall around my shoulders. “Plenty of time to chat.”

  His gaze stayed on me while he turned over the ignition and brought the engine to life. “I’m not much of a talker.” Then he grinned, as if implying there were plenty of other things he did do, and pulled out of the parking lot.

  “I guess you’re not much of a texter either.”

  “Yeah, about that.”

  I waited for him to continue, and lifted my eyebrows after several seconds when he didn’t.

 
; He shrugged. “Tilly kept me busy.”

  I shrugged this time. I had at least fifty-five more minutes to get what I wanted out of him. I could be patient when I needed to be.

  He turned on the radio. A Keith Urban song came on and he began to whistle, casting glances at me every few seconds.

  “I bet you don’t listen to much country music up in the Big Apple.”

  I gave him a condescending look. “Fireflies at Dawn was written by a country songwriter.”

  “What the hell is Fireflies at Dawn?”

  I rolled my eyes and leaned back in my seat, resting my arm next to the window. “It’s the hottest new musical in five years, thank you very much. And I had the lead role.”

  “That’s the play that made you an Internet sensation.”

  “Well, there’s that . . .”

  “You do know that’s impossible, right?” he asked.

  “They did hire me to play the part. I think the proof is on Twitter and YouTube,” I said, a little too defensively.

  “No, the title. Fireflies come out at dusk. Not dawn.”

  I shook my head in confusion. “They come out at night.” I patted the back of my right hand with my open left palm. “And it’s night until the sun comes up at dawn.”

  He shook his head, looking very much like a belligerent five-year-old. “I’ve never seen one.”

  “When have you ever been up at dawn?”

  He gave me a mock gasp. “I’m offended by that question. I’ve seen plenty of dawns.”

  “Yeah, because you hadn’t gone to bed yet.”

  A lazy grin spread across his face. “Guilty as charged. And I’ve never seen a lightning bug.”

  “Yeah, because you were too drunk or hungover to notice.”

  He shrugged. “Tell me, what was this Fireflies at Dawn about? Did you catch lightning bugs on stage?”

  “No,” I said in a huff, crossing my arms. “Fireflies at Dawn is a metaphor.”

  “So it’s about extraterrestrials?”

  “Not a meteorite. A metaphor.” His grin was as big as a meteorite though, and I shook my head, not wanting to give him another reason to tease me. “Never mind . . .”

  “Oh, come on.” He gave my arm a shove. “Tell me what it’s about.”

  “It’s about a woman named Scarlett who falls in love with—”

  He lifted his hand straight up. “Stop right there. Romance is all I need to know.”

  “You’re a songwriter. Songwriters write about love.”

  “I don’t write about love. I write about one-night stands, driving fast trucks, and drinking beer.”

  “Quality lyrics, I’m sure,” I murmured sarcastically.

  “You had your chance to listen to them last night.”

  “I had to go to Bunco night. I think I would have rather watched you.” I swiveled in my seat to look at him. “And have you ever thought that maybe your cynicism is what’s holding you back?”

  A smirk. “Nope. Not once.”

  “So you’ve never been in love?”

  “Nope. No way. You?”

  What Tanner and I had once shared seemed like puppy love now, though at the time it had felt big and real and important. “I thought so once, but now I’m not so sure.” I rolled my bottom lip between my teeth. “No. I guess not.”

  “How old are you? Twenty-five?”

  I hesitated. “Yeah . . . about that. How old are you?”

  He grinned. “Same as you.” He was lying. “But we’re both young. We’ve got plenty of time to fall for the big L. In the meantime, we’ll just settle for the little L.”

  “Which is?”

  “Lust.”

  I had to turn this conversation around to get the information I needed. “You sure had a lot of women lusting after you at Luke’s party. How much money did you make from your tip jar?”

  “A couple hundred.”

  “I bet you saw a lot of people coming and going up there.”

  His body tensed, not enough that most people would notice, but I was studying him, trying to read his cues. He was grinning again, but there was a new brittleness there. “Yeah, but most of the time I was focusing on the ladies.”

  “You saw me.”

  His grin widened. “In case you hadn’t noticed, you’re one of the ladies.”

  “Can you answer my question? Did you see anyone other than Max go down the hallway toward Luke’s office before I did?”

  He quirked his mouth to the side as he kept his eyes on the road. “Nope.”

  “Are you sure?”

  He gave me an aggravated look. “Yeah.”

  I groaned in frustration. “Come on, Colt. You didn’t see anything?”

  His grin returned. “I told you I only had eyes for the ladies.”

  But I still sensed he was holding something back.

  “So what is Bunco anyway?” he asked, resting his wrist on the steering wheel.

  Yep. Definitely hiding something. But I knew better than to press him and scare him off. The better option was to wait and try again later. “I could tell you,” I quipped, “but then I’d have to kill you.”

  “Ah, so it’s a secret society?”

  “Yeah. Just like the Illuminati.”

  He talked steadily for the rest of drive, telling me about coming to Nashville right out of high school and working more jobs than he could count—several of them unsavory, like the gig at the bar he’d told me about. But he’d started working for my mother and Tilly about three years ago.

  “What about you?” he asked. “Did you land in New York and end up on stage right away?”

  “Hardly,” I snorted. “I worked two waitressing jobs for two years until my new roommate dragged me to a commercial audition and I got it.”

  “So you really are lucky.”

  “I wish. I didn’t get another job for six months, and then it was another commercial.”

  “So when did you make it on Broadway?”

  “Not until three years ago. And even then, it was mostly small parts.”

  “So the first two years were waitressing. The next year you had two commercials, and the last three you spent on Broadway. What happened in those missing four years?”

  I gave him a pointed look.

  He shrugged. “Hey, I can do simple math. What were you doing?”

  “Off-Broadway plays.”

  “Why New York? Why not the movies? I would think it would pay more.”

  “I just like New York.” It was my turn to dodge, but he didn’t seem to notice. Or if he did, he was taking a page from my book. Waiting. Colt gave off the air of a laid-back guy, but I was beginning to wonder just how laid-back he actually was.

  * * *

  We got lost for a few minutes after reaching Hendersonville. Momma called my cell phone, yelling at me to hurry up and get there, but Colt didn’t seem worried. Tilly and Momma were waiting in front of the house when we pulled up, Tilly looking nervous and Momma looking ticked off, although she surely couldn’t be pissed at me. I hadn’t even been driving.

  We helped unload the pans from the van and into the kitchen while the wait staff bustled around inside. As soon as we finished, Tilly gave Colt a set of keys.

  “You kids take my car and head back. You’re off the clock. Lila and I’ve got this.”

  “Really?” Colt asked, surprised.

  “I don’t want her anywhere near the guests,” Momma said as she removed foil from a pan. “But don’t let her out of your sight.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Colt said, shooting me a secret grin.

  “I don’t need a babysitter,” I groaned.

  “Yes, you do,” Momma and Tilly said at the same time.

  I crossed my arms. “Fine.”

  Colt laughed all the way to the car, but I snatched the keys out of his hand. “I’m driving.” I hadn’t driven in ten years, and it was time to jump back on that horse.

  He lifted his hands in surrender. “No argument from me.”

  I sl
id behind the wheel and pulled out my phone to check my messages, surprised to see some texts from Belinda.

  “Do you plan on sitting here all night?” Colt asked.

  “Just a minute,” I said.

  I shook my head in wonder. Belinda truly was a force of nature. She’d contacted another acquaintance who’d attended the party, and apparently he’d seen Paul Locke and Max arguing in the shadows on the pool deck.

  “Sneaky devil,” I said to myself. “You’re definitely hiding something.”

  “Hiding what?” he said, sounding defensive. I gave him a long hard look, but a grin spread over his face. “You caught me, Maggie Mae. I’m trying to figure out the best way to win you over.”

  Doubtful. I suspected his defensiveness came from years of habit.

  Snorting, I turned on the car. “Never mind.”

  I wanted to call Belinda, but I suspected she was getting ready for her night out with my brother. I still couldn’t get over the fact that Roy was working for Bill James, my father’s old partner. Especially since I was sure he knew more about Daddy’s disappearance than he had let on. And Morrissey as his client? I couldn’t believe Mr. Morrissey would want that reminder shoved in his face.

  “So where do you want to go?”

  Where indeed. I didn’t want to just sit around all night, but I had no idea what to do to further my investigation with Belinda. I cast him a glance. I was certain Colt knew more than he was admitting. Maybe all he needed was a catalyst.

  “Magnolia?” Colt asked.

  I shot him a wicked grin as the wheels in my head kicked into gear. “Did I mention I haven’t driven in ten years?”

  His face lost all color. “What?”

  I shrugged, giving him a playful grin. “How hard can it be? Just like a bike, right?” Tilly had backed into the drive, so I purposely shifted into drive and let the car jerk forward.

  His hand shot out to grip the dashboard. “Magnolia.”

  I pressed the pedal to the metal, squealing out of the driveway before slowing down once I hit the road.

  I burst out laughing. “The look on your face right now . . .”

  “Tilly’s gonna kill you,” he said, his voice tight. “This car is her baby.”