by Stacy Green
Built in 1820 by a French general, Magnolia House was damned near as old as Evaline and almost as grand. Like so many from its era, the house was pristine white, the front dominated by Corinthian columns and granite steps leading up to a large front porch. Jaymee had turned the porch light on for him.
He wasn’t exactly excited to see her, but he didn’t want to bother his parents. Dani would have more privacy at Magnolia than in his parents’ small house, especially with him crashing there. Jaymee had been working on turning the place into a B&B, and she had a couple of rooms in decent shape.
Cage turned into the brick-lined driveway and parked near the detached garage. Dani followed suit, springing out of her car with an expression Cage recognized.
“It’s beautiful!” Dani hefted her bag onto her shoulder. Cage grabbed the other one as she admired the house. “Your friend has done a wonderful job taking care of this place.”
“She actually just inherited it a couple of months ago.” Cage led Dani past the columns and up the stairs.
“Was it a family home? I mean, is Jaymee related to the original family?”
Cage chewed the inside of his cheek. “Yes. Recently discovered.” He paused on the brick path. “Listen, don’t bring that up, okay? A lot’s happened around here in the past few months, and Jaymee was at the center of it. She’s still pretty sensitive about it.”
“I see.” Dani’s expression tightened. “I’ll make sure not to mention it.”
“Thanks.” He headed up the steps.
The door swung open before he could knock, and his traitorous heart stalled. He’d spent so many years waiting for Jaymee that the hope she’d finally see him the same way sprang up out of habit. But he knew better. And he was trying to move on. She already had.
But it was damned hard when he was standing two feet away from her. Jaymee was fresh-faced, her tan skin healthy as always. Her dark, wavy hair was pulled up in a messy knot, and she smelled like a fresh shower, the faint scent of vanilla surrounding her.
“About time.” She smiled, started to reach for a hug, and then pulled back. “Since you woke me up at the ass-crack of dawn.”
“Yeah, sorry. Had to wait for Gina to give me the okay to leave.”
Jaymee scowled. “You’re not really a suspect?”
“It’s just routine.” An ugly but lovable dog squeezed around Jaymee and nuzzled Cage’s hand. Jaymee had started feeding him when she lived in the mobile home court, and he’d made the move to easy street with her. “Hey, Mutt.”
“Well, the bodies have got to be more than a year old, right? You would have known if some scumbag was messing around in the big house’s basement.”
“Don’t know, Jay. Maybe I missed it.”
“Not a chance. You’re too good of a cop, and you know it.”
An awkward beat of silence passed before she spoke again. “I haven’t seen you in a while. Your hair’s getting long.”
“I’ve been busy getting Ironwood ready.” He shuffled his feet. “And it’s just easier, you know?”
A voice cleared behind him. He’d forgotten about Dani. He turned to see her coming up the steps and quickly offered his hand. She shook it off.
Dani stepped in front of Cage. “I’m Dani. Thanks so much for taking me in.”
Jaymee took a second to respond, and Cage knew she was probably running over Dani’s words to make sure she’d understood her. Dani talked even faster when she was excited. Mutt, however, wasted no time in introducing himself to the new woman. He wagged his tail, promptly sticking his chubby head under Dani’s hand. She scratched his thick fur, and the dog chuffed happily.
“It’s no problem,” Jaymee finally said. “I’m glad to help out.”
Dani followed Jaymee into the house. “Look at that.” She gazed up at the enormous crystal chandelier hanging in the center of the entryway. “I’d have to get up on the ladder for a better look, but that looks like pre-Civil War. Probably original.”
Like Ironwood, Magnolia House’s foyer had marble floors, but they were in good shape, their colors still vibrant. Dani knelt down, tracing her fingers over the marble. “Not original, but a good replacement. Probably put it sometime in the fifties. American made, not French. Too bad.”
Jaymee raised her eyebrows.
Cage shrugged. “She’s a restoration specialist. I don’t think she can help it.”
Dani shot him an icy glare over her shoulder before standing up. “He’s right, I can’t. I don’t mean to be rude. I’ve just waited a long time to explore the old Southern homes. They’re just amazing, and this one is in such good condition.”
“It really is,” Jaymee said. “And I understand. I love the old houses, too. Living in one is something I never thought I’d do.”
“Well, congratulations,” Dani said. “Looks like your family tried to do right by this place.”
Jaymee stiffened and then forced a tight smile. “Thank you. Cage, are you staying here, too?”
“No. I’m heading to Mom and Dad’s in a bit.”
Mutt trotted into the dining room, and Jaymee motioned for them to follow. “Well, your dad will be pissed if you show up before six a.m. Might as well have some coffee first.”
* * *
Beautiful. The word played on repeat in Dani’s head as she followed Jaymee through Magnolia House. Although the house wasn’t up to par with a showplace like Evaline on the hill, it was in much better repair than Ironwood and several of the pieces were likely family heirlooms.
But the house wasn’t the only thing that was beautiful. Dani felt like a faded, crumpled weed next to Jaymee. Not that she didn’t clean up nicely–as long as she wasn’t wearing a gallon of sweat–but Jaymee had the kind of tanned skin Dani envied. Her hair was thick and full, not fine and limp. She walked with the confidence all pretty girls had, although Dani had a suspicion Jaymee’s life had been tougher than the average debutante’s.
And Cage couldn’t take his damned eyes off the girl.
Not that Dani cared, but what had happened to his manners? He’d left her standing at the bottom of the steps feeling like a fool when Jaymee answered the door. She was pretty sure Cage had forgotten she existed.
Not that it mattered.
With the sweet dog at her side, Jaymee led them past a music room and a parlor and then into a small, modern kitchen. Dani pointed to the closed door at the far end of the room. “Original kitchen?
“Yes.” A flicker of tension passed Jaymee’s face. “But it’s not in great shape. I don’t use it.” She pulled out a chair. “Please, sit down.”
Dani sank into the chair. Jaymee followed suit, sitting directly across from her. Cage sat in between them, tapping his fingers on the table. Mutt lay down at his feet and closed his eyes.
“I brought the blueprints of the house with me.” Dani broke the silence. “Not the originals, but the most recent ones the church had drawn up for the sale.”
“Why?” Jaymee asked.
“Because I’ve got to do something.” Dani’s shoulders sagged. “I’m a terrible person, but all I can think of is how much damage the police will do during their investigation.”
“Lee usually gets to work at the historical foundation around eight. Call him, see if you can get him to step in,” Cage reminded her.
“How much damage can the police cause to Ironwood?” Jaymee asked.
“They’ve declared it a crime scene,” Dani said. “If they see fit, they could tear off moldings, the flooring. Not to mention all the trampling feet and equipment.” She knew she sounded callous, maybe even childish. But damned if she could help it.
“But the police are searching for a killer who used Ironwood to dump two innocent people,” Jaymee said. “Who could still be out there, killing.”
Dani shuddered. She hadn’t thought of that. “Of course I want them to find the bastard who did this. But I’ve sunk my life savings into this house, and they could do some serious, irreparable damage. I just don’t want the hou
se to become the third victim in all of this.”
“I understand,” Jaymee said. “But the cops aren’t going to care about that. They’re going to have one focus. But you do have rights as the homeowner, like Cage said. If the historical foundation gets involved, maybe you can reach a happy medium.”
“But that will take time,” Dani said. “Who’s Gina’s boss?”
“No way,” Cage shook his head. “You can’t pull a stunt like that.”
“What?”
“Honey,” Jaymee said. “That might go over where you’re from, but you try to go over Gina Barnes’s head, and massive amounts of shit will fly. It’s a sign of disrespect, and your being an outsider will make it even worse.”
“Things are done differently down here,” Cage said. “You have to have some patience. Call Lee, get him to talk to Gina. He can play nice with her.”
Fresh heat bloomed on Dani’s neck. “I’m not sure patience is on my list of virtues.”
“You’re in the South now,” Jaymee said. “Best get used to it.”
Dani rested her head in her hands. Her scalp was sticky with dried sweat. “I wonder who they are. The bodies, I mean.”
“Hard to say,” Cage said. “And depending on how bad of shape they’re in, it could be a while before the medical examiner I.D.s them.”
“Their families must be going through hell,” Jaymee whispered almost to herself.
Dani’s curiosity must have showed on her face.
“Lana was Jaymee’s best friend,” Cage said.
Jaymee sagged in her chair. “You told her about Lana?”
“She saw my tattoo.”
They stared at each other, and then Jaymee stood, her fingers curled and digging into the table. “Can I speak with you in private?”
Cage hung his head, jumping to his feet like a well-trained puppy. Dani clamped her mouth shut and focused on the blueprints as Cage and Jaymee’s footsteps faded into the hallway.
Dani tried to ignore their hushed voices. Ironwood’s house plans were typical of the plantation era, although the house wasn’t as opulent as many others. Six bedrooms upstairs, the balcony overlooking the grand ballroom, small servants’ quarters tucked away at the southern end of the house, with most of the slaves living in the cabins.
She traced her fingers over the schematic of the staircase, seeing herself gliding down it in her mind’s eye. Downstairs was the ballroom where Dani had set up camp, the parlor, a large library adjacent to the music room, private screened in porches. Ironwood had a large family dining room for entertaining guests and a separate breakfasting area just off the kitchen for the family to take its meals. The strategically placed butler’s pantry had access to all three rooms.
The butler’s pantry. The locked butler’s pantry. With a stairway leading to the winter kitchen.
Adrenaline rushed through Dani’s veins. She burst to her feet, clutching the already wrinkled prints in her trembling hands, and hurried to the hallway. Mutt looked up lazily and then went back to sleep.
“You can’t hide Roselea’s scandal of the century, Jay.”
Dani knew she should sit back down. Eavesdropping was rude. She didn’t move.
“Don’t be so sure about that. Your bodies are going to squash the residual whispering about my drama. And by the way, I think the Yankee likes you, so be nice.”
“Whatever.”
“I’m just passing it along. And why wouldn’t she? You’re easy on the eyes. And a catch.”
“Apparently not for everyone.” Cage’s words sounded caught in his throat.
“Cage, please,” Jaymee said. “We’ve been through this. I never meant–”
“I know. I’m happy for you. And I’m over it. Just thought I should point that out.”
Dani’s ribs tightened. She pulled in a breath, jaw clenched so tightly it ached. Cage didn’t sound over it at all. Feet shuffled in the hallway, and Dani ran on tiptoes back to the table.
Cage had been–or still was–in love with Jaymee, who didn’t return the feelings. Dani’s stomach grew sour at the thought. Ridiculous.
She glared at the blueprints and tried to remember what had been so exciting a few minutes ago. But her brain had already derailed.
You don’t know the guy. His love life isn’t your concern. So what if she hurt him? We’ve all been hurt.
And what was this about Jaymee’s scandal of the century? None of Dani’s business, but she was betting it had something to do with her inheriting this house.
“Sorry about that.” Cage came back into the kitchen, walking with the same rigid stride he’d had leaving the carriage house. He stopped next to her and rested his hand on the back of her chair. “I’m getting ready to head to my parents. Jaymee will get you settled in a guest room. Do you need anything before I go?”
Dani stared up him, the heat from his body muddling her thoughts.
“Yes,” she finally remembered what she’d been excited to tell him. “I need to show you something.”
* * *
“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Cage couldn’t believe he hadn’t thought of it himself. The room had been locked the entire time he’d worked at Ironwood, but of course it was connected to the basement. The killer had the ideal set up, and right under the church’s pious nose.
“The butler’s pantry?” Jaymee asked.
Dani nodded. “Yes. Every house of the era had one–I’m sure Magnolia does, too.”
Cage leaned over Dani’s shoulder. She shivered.
He sat down and pulled the blueprints over for a better look. “But where are the stairs? If they lead to the basement, where are they?”
“In the winter kitchen.” Dani pointed to the marked off area. “You said that side of the basement had plenty of junk in it, right? There probably isn’t a door, but the stairway is likely blocked by something big.”
“The killer probably put it there,” Jaymee said.
“Makes perfect sense to me.” Dani looked at Cage as she spoke. “It’s been locked from the upstairs, and the church board might not have realized the pantry had access to the winter kitchen. But I bet someone did.”
“He could have killed them anywhere upstairs and used the butler’s pantry to drag them into the cellar via the unused staircase,” Cage said. “And if the killer was a renter, when the church board did their inspections, the main door to the pantry would have been locked. No cause for alarm.”
“But the fact remains,” Dani said, “that if the killer wasn’t a tenant, he either had a copy of the house keys or found another way inside that went unnoticed.”
Unease worked its way through Cage. “There have been a few cases of broken windows over the years. Maybe that’s how the killer got inside. Maybe the victims were young, going out to party, and following a charismatic guy,” Cage continued. “He attacks the first victim and manages to cover up her murder, so he goes for a repeat performance.
“You should call Gina,” Jaymee said.
Dani stiffened, finally looking away from Cage. “I’m calling Lee at 8:00 a.m. sharp. Crime scene or not, no one is getting into that room without my supervision.”
* * *
Cage waved off Jaymee’s offer to walk him out. Dani’s bright gaze left his insides feeling shaky and his defensive armor crumbling. She’d already been curious about Jaymee, and now she’d have more questions he didn’t want to answer. He’d left a rushed voicemail for Gina, but he knew it could be hours before she called back. She was probably in the morgue in Jackson watching the preliminary autopsy.
The sun had risen by the time he left Magnolia, and he knew his father would be awake. Driving into his parents’ quiet neighborhood just a few blocks down from the historic homes, he could hardly wait to tell them he was a murder suspect. As if they needed any more drama.
He parked his car at the end of the drive making sure not to block it. Trudging up the path, he wondered what Dani thought of her precious South now. He slapped a mosquito away, wiped h
is damp brow. With all the chaos, had she even been able to appreciate the true beauty of southern Mississippi? Had she noticed how the air was never really quiet? Insects always chirping and the air always moving? Had she even seen the red dirt hills or smelled the sweet magnolias yet?
Or did Dani only see antiques and death?
No sooner had he opened the back door than his father appeared, his enormous gut hanging over the waistband of his boxers, coffee cup in hand. Cage wrinkled his nose. “Jesus, Dad. You don’t need that shotgun in the closet. You’d send any intruder screaming for the hills.”
Oren grunted. A Vietnam vet, his father was gruff and blunt, with a love of fried food that put his weight well into the obese category. He loved his family, and while Cage’s mother had never really been the same after Lana’s death, Oren soldiered on.
“You look like you haven’t slept. Thought you had the night off.”
“I did. But we found something at Ironwood.”
“We?”
“Dani. The new owner.”
“Ah,” Oren shuffled back into the kitchen, topped off his coffee, and then sat down with the tired sigh of a man carrying too much weight. “The Yankee lady you were all nervous about meeting. She nice?”
“Yeah. Intense. But nice.”
“Uh-huh. What’d ya’ll find? More bones?”
Cage poured himself a cup of steaming coffee. “Not exactly.”
His father said nothing as Cage told him how he’d spent his last few hours. Face impassive, he’d sipped his coffee, making the occasional grunt. When Cage finished, his father drained his cup.
“You’re a suspect?” Disapproval stained his tone, and shame pricked at Cage. He hated disappointing his parents. They’d had enough of that in their lives. Since his sister’s murder, he’d done his best to make their lives as easy and drama free as possible. So much for that.
