Center Stage: Magnolia Steele Mystery #1

by Denise Grover Swank

  She cast a glance at Brady, then at me. “No, I can’t say I have.”

  “I assure you that it’s a very stressful situation.”

  “Only if you have something to hide,” she said as her gaze narrowed on my face.

  “One only has to watch the news to realize that it’s not all that uncommon for people to be arrested for crimes they didn’t commit.”

  She cocked her head to the side. “Are you saying we’re incompetent?”

  I sat up straighter, resting my hands on my knees, and delivered my lines cold as an arctic wind. “I’m saying there are several detectives in this station who have yet to convince me they are looking for the true perpetrator of the crime and are not out to pin this on me.”

  “You have quite the imagination,” she said.

  I held her gaze.

  “Where were you last night around nine o’clock?”

  I’d known they would ask this question, and I’d considered how to answer it on the drive over. “I was at my mother’s catering business.”

  “Doing what?”

  “Napping.”

  Her expression told me she didn’t buy it for a minute. “Why would you be napping at your mother’s catering business? Does she have beds there?”

  “Frankly, Detective Martinez,” I said in a tight, controlled voice, “I don’t like your tone. As far as I can tell, the layout of my mother’s business has nothing to do with your investigation.”

  Her cheeks reddened with anger. “I can assure you it does, Ms. Steele, when I’m trying to determine the validity of your statement.” She rested her forearm on the table and leaned closer. “Why would you take a nap at your mother’s business on a Saturday night when you could have gone home?”

  Something told me not to feel so smug that I was getting to her, but I couldn’t help it. She was already aboard the let’s arrest Magnolia for a crime she didn’t commit train. I might have to enlist Colt’s friend’s help after all. “I was with my mother all morning. Then I spent the entire afternoon with my sister-in-law. She dropped me off at my mother’s catering business, where I helped my mother, her business partner, and an employee load their van for a catering job in Hendersonville. The employee and I rode to the job together, and after the food was unloaded, he and I took my mother’s business partner’s car to Hillsboro Village, where we had dinner at a bar. My brother and his wife showed up. Afterward, I wasn’t feeling well, so the employee dropped me off at my mother’s business to wait for her to return.”

  “Why not just go to your mother’s house?”

  I lifted my chin. “Because I don’t have a key.”

  She lifted her eyebrows. “You don’t have a key to your own mother’s house?”

  “I moved away ten years ago. I left my key behind.”

  “So you took a nap at your mother’s business? What? Did you lay on one of the prep tables?” she asked in a snotty tone.

  For the first time, I cast a glance at Brady, but his gaze was glued to the table.

  Fucking coward.

  I met her cold stare with one of my own. “My mother and her partner have a sofa in their office. I slept there.”

  “What made you search out Detective Holden?”

  “I already told you.”

  “Why would someone like you be taking a nap at nine on a Saturday night?” She held her hands out from her sides. “Why were you so upset?”

  I took a breath, pushing myself to stay in control. “I haven’t been home for ten years, Detective Martinez. Some people would rather I had stayed gone.”

  “Like Max Goodwin?” she asked.

  “I have no idea what Mr. Goodwin’s thoughts were on my return to Franklin.”

  “Then who?”

  I shook my head slightly and made a show of rolling my eyes. “My brother. He made no secret of the fact that he was not happy to see me. I was upset after our reunion, so I asked Colt to bring me back to the catering business so I could be alone.”

  “Detective Bennett said you had a bruise on your right forearm and one on your left tricep.”

  I ignored the sharp stab of pain that penetrated the shield over my heart. “That would be correct.”

  “And where did you acquire those bruises?”

  I wanted to reach across the table and slap Brady Bennett—who still couldn’t look at me—but I suspected that wouldn’t work in my favor. Instead I stayed in character. “That seems like a personal question.”

  “Ms. Steele, I’m sure you’re aware there was another murder on the Powell estate last night.”

  “So I heard.”

  “Were you at the Powell estate last night?”

  “No. After my nap, I walked to the police station and met Detective Bennett. I changed my mind about inquiring about my case and then proceeded to leave. Detective Bennett insisted on walking with me. He then tried to put me at ease by pretending to be my friend, but he was called away on a case. After that, I went back to my mother’s office, and my mother arrived a short time later.”

  I could feel Brady’s eyes on me, but if I looked at him, my persona would crack.

  “Where did you get the bruises, Ms. Steele?”

  We engaged in a staring contest while I wrestled with what to do—plead the fifth or tell them about my brother. I knew he wouldn’t admit to it, but would Colt and Belinda corroborate?

  I pushed out my breath. “My brother.”

  Brady shifted in his chair, sitting upright.

  Detective Martinez ignored him. “I thought you saw your brother last night—which you called a reunion—and in a bar, no less. You’re suggesting he beat you there?”

  I shook my head, my persona cracking. “Why do you care? Contrary to Detective Bennett’s insistence last night, none of you give a damn about my well-being, so don’t try to pretend you’re trying to protect me.” I was proud my voice didn’t crack. I was dangerously close to breaking character.

  “Ms. Steele,” she said, her tone as sharp as a razor’s edge. “We have just cause to believe you killed again on the Powell estate last night. Only this time, there was a scuffle and you were bruised in the process.”

  “And why would I kill Luke’s attorney?”

  Oh. Shit.

  An excited gleam filled her eye. “How do you know who was murdered? The name hasn’t been released to the public yet.”

  I wasn’t going to sell out Amy. “I have my sources.”

  “And how did you know Detective Bennett’s calls last night pertained to a murder at the Powell estate?”

  If she thought she was catching me off guard, she was going to be sorely disappointed. I knew the moment the words left my mouth the night before that they would bite me in the ass.

  Would Brady get in trouble for talking about the case in front of me? I didn’t give a shit. He’d sold me out to his partner. I wasn’t about to protect him. “While on his phone, Detective Bennett mentioned the unlikelihood of two murders on the same estate. He also mentioned Detective Holden. I knew he was the lead detective on the Max Goodwin case.”

  “How did you know Neil Fulton?”

  “I didn’t.”

  “We’ll figure it out, so you might as well save us all a bunch of time and trouble and just confess right now.”

  “If you were the least bit bright, you would be embarrassed with yourself right now, especially since it’s so obvious I’m innocent.”

  Detective Martinez abruptly stood, her chair scooching across the floor. “Insulting a police detective investigating your involvement in two murders doesn’t seem like the smartest move.”

  “Oh,” I said in mock surprise. “You picked up on the insult? Then there might be hope for my case yet.”

  Martinez looked like she was about to lunge across the table for me, but Brady got to his feet and took a half-step in front of her. “Ms. Steele,” he said in a professional voice. “Thank you for taking your time to come to the station. You’re free to go.”

  I picked up my pur
se and headed for the door, which Brady had opened. He was standing beside it, looking down at me with a guilty look in his eyes, but I ignored him as I marched out of the office, not stopping until I was in the parking garage. My hands were shaking as I tried to dig the keys out of the bottom of my purse.

  “Maggie,” Brady called out, and my search became more frantic.

  I found them underneath my laptop and pressed the unlock button, the chirp echoing throughout the garage.

  “Maggie. Wait.”

  I had just opened the door when he reached me, but he gently pushed it closed.

  “Will you please let me explain?”

  You are cold as ice, Magnolia. You are untouchable. I almost believed it.

  I lifted my gaze to meet his darkened brown eyes. “I really don’t need a lesson on the sordid ways the police investigate suspects, Detective Bennett.” My eyes narrowed. “How they prey on a young woman’s distress to trick her into . . . what?” I gave a slight shake. “What were you hoping I’d confess to? Max Goodwin’s murder?”

  His eyes pleaded with me. “No. It wasn’t like that. I swear.”

  “Really? I’m supposed to believe that? Last night you said you’d never lie to me or try to trick me, but look where I just came from—an interrogation in which your partner attacked me with information you gained after you told me you were simple Brady Bennett—” I held my hands out at my sides, “—just a guy wanting to get to know a girl. You pretended you had no idea who I was, but you knew all along.”

  “Maggie. I didn’t know.”

  I poked my finger into his chest. “Don’t you dare call me Maggie,” I spat out through gritted teeth. “Don’t you dare pretend to be my friend.” My voice cracked.

  “I’d been on vacation all week. Yesterday was my first day back—two days early because of the Goodwin murder. I had no idea who you were when I suggested we go for a walk.” He released a groan of frustration. “Believe it or not, I only told Martinez so I could protect you. She’s my partner, and she knows you came into the station and that I left with you. It would have looked worse for you if I didn’t tell her what happened.” He rubbed the back of his neck.

  “So the two of you took what I’d told you and then figured out how to pin this new murder on me.” I tried to open the door, but he stood in the way. My chest tightened. “Oh, my God. Are you arresting me?”

  “No!” he shouted, then lowered his voice and said, “Did your brother really give you those bruises?”

  “I’m giving you three seconds to get the hell away from my car and let me go, or I’m going back inside to file harassment charges against you.”

  “Maggie—”

  I narrowed my eyes. “One.”

  He lifted his hands in the air, looking like someone had just run over his puppy. “Okay. I’ll let you go. But if your brother—”

  “Oh, my God!” I cried out, close to tears. “Don’t even. Just leave me alone.”

  He moved to the front of the car, watching as I backed up and pulled out of the garage.

  Tears filled my eyes, but I was damned if I was going to cry over him or any other man ever again.

  One thing was certain: my fate was in my own hands. I had two—possibly three—detectives who were certain of my guilt. I needed to find out who the real killer was. And fast.

  Chapter 24

  Belinda had texted me while I was gone.

  Paul Locke is shooting pool at O’Malley’s tonight.

  The time on my phone said it was four-thirty. I suspected Paul wouldn’t show up at O’Malley’s for a few hours, and it would be smart to give him another hour or two after that to get some drinks in him before I tried to finesse information from him. I wasn’t sure what the exact protocol was to get someone to confess to murder. Maybe I should have asked Brady to give me some tips.

  Since I had a few hours, I texted Momma to say I was heading home and offered to pick something up for dinner. She sent a short grocery list and said she’d make something for the two of us. I worried that she might be too tired, but I knew better than to argue with her.

  I had just pulled into the grocery store parking lot when my phone rang again. I was shocked to see it was my agent.

  “Magnolia, baby, how are you?”

  I parked the car and turned off the engine. “Jimmy. I distinctly remember you saying you were deleting my number from your phone.”

  “Magnolia . . .” he crooned in his New Jersey accent. “We both said things we regret.”

  “Speak for yourself.”

  He laughed. “Okay, I can eat humble pie. Just throw on a heap of whipped cream and I’ll eat it all damn week.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Magnolia, baby—you are a sought-after commodity. There’s noise that everyone wants you, and I mean everyone, including that asshole Griff.”

  “I thought you called Griff a theatrical genius.”

  “That was before he used my girl.”

  “You said I used him.”

  “That was before I found out that we’re about to get an offer from Fireflies at Dawn. They want you back bad, precious.”

  I rested my hands on the steering wheel. “What role?”

  “Scarlett, of course.”

  “What?”

  “I’m in the process of negotiating with them, so don’t get too comfortable there in Nashville. They’ll need you here by the middle of the week.”

  “But I don’t know if I can leave—”

  He’d already hung up.

  I went into the store, grabbed a cart, and headed toward the produce section, still lost in a daze when I pulled up my mother’s text and scanned the list—a red onion, broccoli, garlic, and romaine lettuce. I was sorting through the onions when I saw Maddie pushing a cart with a baby carrier in the front. I froze as I watched her stop and lean over the baby inside. Touching his nose with her fingertip, she grinned and said, “Who’s Momma’s baby boy?”

  He cooed and giggled, keeping eye contact with her as he kicked his chubby legs and waved his arms.

  “That’s right,” she said, still beaming. “You’re my boy.” She straightened and her eyes locked with mine. Her smile fell.

  I had two options: I could run or I could try again with her. Running would be easier, and since she’d told me she never wanted to see me again, I knew she would have preferred it, but I had to apologize at least one more time.

  Leaving my cart in front of the onions, I walked toward her. My gaze landed on her baby.

  “Oh, Maddie,” I said in awe. His hair was dark brown, and his bright blue eyes latched on to mine. He looked exactly like the cherubs painted by Renaissance artists. “He’s absolutely beautiful.”

  She started to say something, then stopped and gave me a tight grin. “Thank you.”

  “I bet your mother loves every minute with him,” I said as he looked up at me, kicking his feet and grinning from ear to ear.

  When she didn’t answer me, I glanced up at her. The blank look on her face worried me, but then she said, “Mom died last year.”

  Oh, God. My chest was tight. “I had no idea.”

  That explained why I hadn’t seen any photos of her mom with the baby on her Facebook profile.

  Her guard was back up. “Of course you didn’t. You weren’t here.”

  I had no idea how to answer that. There was no denying it. “I’m sorry.”

  She shook her head. I wasn’t sure what she wanted from this conversation, but at least she hadn’t pushed her cart away.

  “So you’re a big Broadway star?” she asked.

  “Not at the moment.” My mouth lifted into a self-deprecating smile. “Although one could argue that I’m an Internet star.” I laughed softly and she laughed with me.

  “I always knew you were destined for greatness,” she said with a soft smile.

  My heart felt a few ounces lighter. I’d made her laugh, even if it was inadvertent. I had a million questions, but I had no right to
ask any of them and no idea where to start.

  “You said it wasn’t my fault,” she murmured, smoothing a wrinkle on her baby’s shirt. “Whose fault was it?”

  I could hardly tell her it was a vicious murderer’s fault. Not when those text messages and the magnolia blossom indicated he might be far from gone. “Not yours.”

  “You broke my heart.” Her eyes were amazingly clear. There were no tears in them, but no hatred either.

  I held her gaze. “You have no idea how much I wish things had turned out differently.”

  “Are you staying?”

  I shook my head. “I don’t know, but I don’t think so.”

  “Came home to lick your wounds, then going back?”

  “Something like that.”

  “That’s too bad,” she said, breaking eye contact and looking down at her baby. “I was kind of hoping you were going to stick around.” She glanced back up at me. “I’d like to hear about some of your adventures.”

  Not only was she talking to me, but she wanted to see me again. This was almost too good to be true. I smiled at her, my heart bursting. “I’d like to hear all about your life too.”

  She released a brittle laugh. “I suspect it would bore you to tears.”

  “I wouldn’t be so sure about that.”

  The baby started to fuss and she released a heavy sigh. “I need to go.”

  “I know.”

  She started to push her cart away, but then she turned back and threw her arms around my shoulders, squeezing me tight. “I’ve missed you.”

  “I’ve missed you too.” More than she probably realized.

  Then, just as abruptly, she dropped her hold and stepped back, giving me a watery smile. “Have a good life, Magnolia.”

  “You too.” My voice quavered.

  She hurried away with her now squalling baby, but I was rooted to the ground next to the oranges, reconsidering everything.

  Chapter 25

  O’Malley’s was a happening place for nine-thirty on a Sunday night. Momma had gone to bed early, so it had been easy to slip out of the house. She’d claimed she was coming down with something, but she seemed to be just plain exhausted, something I’d noticed a few times over the past few days. It was a reminder to think long and hard about the decision I had to make about where to go and what to do next.