Center Stage: Magnolia Steele Mystery #1 (22 page)

“You’re saying you don’t want to?” I lifted my chin, my defiance returning.

“I most definitely want to sleep with you.”

A flush washed over me at the thought of getting Brady Bennett naked, but it was followed fast by disappointment. He was just like every other guy after all.

Without shifting his gaze from me, he leaned over the table toward me. “Because I want more than a one-night stand, Maggie. I want the chance to see where this might lead.”

“How do I know that’s not some line you tell all the girls?”

“Because it’s the truth.” His mouth tipped up a little at the corner. “That’s a fault of mine. Sometimes I’m honest when I should keep my mouth shut. Now your turn.”

“My turn to what?”

“Tell me one of your faults.”

I laughed, a derisive sound, and broke his gaze. “Where do I begin?”

“I can’t believe there are that many.”

I lifted my face with a jerk. “I’m a selfish, inconsiderate, self-centered bitch. Ask anyone who used to know me here. They’ll tell you the ugly truths about Magnol—” I stopped, but I wasn’t sure if I’d stopped in time. If one of Brady’s faults was a predilection for honesty, another was being observant. Which meant he hadn’t missed my slip. He just wasn’t acknowledging it.

He smiled. “I don’t believe you. Try again.”

Should I just tell him the truth? He was going to find out anyway. But it would be better to guide him to it than to just blurt it out. It would help him see things from my perspective. “When you’re investigating a crime, do you look at all the evidence?”

He studied me for a few seconds, probably trying to decide where I was going with this. “Yeah, of course. That’s my job.”

“A job you do out of love, right? You told me you love investigating.”

“Maggie . . . I’m not sure what you’re reading into this, but I swear I’m just trying to get to know you.”

“Would you say you’re thorough?”

Surprisingly, he didn’t seem offended. “I’d like to think so, but I’m human, so that makes me fallible. Still, I try my best to be objective and get all the facts.”

“But there are other detectives who are sloppy and don’t do their jobs, right?”

“There are people like that in every job.” Then he added, “And yes, some are more bullheaded and stubborn than others.”

I hesitated. “I’m terrible about returning things,” I said quietly, lifting a shoulder. “Library books. Netflix discs before they had streaming. Casserole dishes. My friends’ clothes.”

“So you’re saying if I’m ever at your place and leave a shirt or something behind, you probably won’t return it?” His eyes changed, a sexy look that twisted something deep inside me, making parts of me throb.

“Leave your shirt at your own risk,” I said with a saucy grin, my pulse picking up.

“Good.” His voice lowered into a seductive tone that brought my body to life. “Then I’ll have a good reason to come back to see you. And I’m really looking forward to coming back for my shirt.”

My face flushed. Actually flushed. Magnolia Steele was blushing. Jody would never believe it. I laughed.

“You have a pretty laugh, Maggie. I want to hear it more often.”

No one had ever told me that. Ever.

His phone rang—a utilitarian ringtone—and his smile fell as he dug it out of his pocket.

“Bennett.” It was his commanding voice, the one that had captured my attention the first time we met. His expression switched from turned-on to drop-dead serious in an instant, and he mumbled “shit” under his breath. Giving me an apologetic glance, he said, “I’ll be right there.”

“You have to go.
To work
,” I said as he hung up the call and set his phone on the table. He’d just gotten an official call. Which meant he really
was
on the clock. Did that mean he’d been using me for information after all? Had it all been some elaborate trick?

“I’m sorry, Maggie. I wish I didn’t have to go.”

“You lied to me,” I said, my defenses returning. I got out of my seat and grabbed my sweater, my hands shaking so much it took me three attempts to swipe it. “You’re still on duty.” My voice shook with tears, and I was pissed at myself for letting him upset me.

He got to his feet, but his eyes never left mine. “I’m on call, Maggie. I didn’t lie.”

Before I knew it, he was on my side of the table, grabbing my upper arms. When I winced, he looked down at my arm and gasped.

“Who did this to you?” His voice was low and ominous.

I looked over my shoulder, gasping myself when I saw the giant dark purple three-inch welt on my arm. No wonder it hurt so much.

“Maggie. That’s
two
bruises. I want to know who did this.”

What was I going to do? Tell him my brother had done it? It was the truth, but I couldn’t have him arrested for pinching me, regardless of how I felt about him right now. My mother and Belinda would never forgive me. “I ran into a door.”

“That is the oldest fucking line in the book. Try again.” He was speaking in his commanding voice, the one that made me want to get naked and spill my guts as pillow talk.

His phone rang again, and he groaned in frustration as he pulled it from his pocket. “I said I’m coming,” he barked into the phone.

This was a side of him I hadn’t seen yet, the angry Brady Bennett, and although his carefully controlled rage should have scared me, in truth it only turned me on more. Brady was a nice guy who was all alpha. The rarest of the breed.

“Get the damn crime scene tape up and keep the reporters out.” He paused. “And call Holden if he’s not on duty. Two murders in one house within days of each other? That can’t be a coincidence.”

My breath stuck in my chest. Two murders in one house? How many murders happened in Franklin? And how many murders had Detective Holden handled in the last few days? I suspected it was a very small number.

Brady shoved the phone into his pocket, and his rage faded as if it had never been. “You’re as pale as a ghost.” He took my hand and lowered his voice. “You can trust me, Maggie. I swear I don’t want to hurt you. I only want to help.”

“No one can help me,” I whispered before my mind could catch up to my mouth. He had single-handedly trampled my protective coating of steel. I was so tired of running. So tired of hiding. I wanted to be freed of this burden, especially now that I understood it, and Brady was the first person who made me think it might be possible. If I saw him again, if I let him get close to me, I had no doubt I’d eventually tell him everything. Every nitty-gritty detail of what had happened ten years ago. And if I did, what if he couldn’t save me? Or Momma or Roy? I barely knew him, but I suspected he couldn’t handle the guilt.

But Brady was waging a war of his own. He didn’t want to leave me without getting the answers he wanted and needed, and yet he knew he had to go.

Do not cry, Magnolia Steele. Do. Not. Cry
.

Deciding to make it easier for him, I grabbed my sweater and walked out the side door onto the sidewalk. Brady followed me and pulled me to a halt.

“Maggie. Wait a minute.”

“Go, Brady. You have more important things to deal with.”

He held my gaze. “
This
is important to me, Maggie. I don’t want you to think it’s not.”

I smiled up at him, trying not sound so sad. “I don’t.”

“I want to see you again.”

I laughed. “You’ve made that very clear.”

“I don’t play games, Maggie. I don’t beat around the bush. I know what I want, and I’m very upfront about it.” The corners of his mouth tipped up. “Some people would call that another fault.”

If those were his faults, he definitely didn’t want to be with me. “Sometimes I leave empty cereal boxes in the cabinet.
Definitely
a fault.” I grinned even though I felt close to tears. There was no way I could see him again. I was surprised how much that hurt.

I took a step toward him and rested my hands on his chest. Just touching him made my heart race. “So we’re officially calling this a date?”

“The shittiest date in all of history, but yeah.”

I gave him a coy smile. “So do we get a first date kiss?”

“As skittish as you are, slow and steady seems to be the right course. I can wait for the second.”

I lifted my hand to his cheek, fully aware that we were standing on the sidewalk, even if it was dark. I wasn’t usually someone who instigated public displays of affection, but I didn’t care. This was probably going to be my only chance to kiss him. I’d deal with any embarrassment later. My thumb brushed his lower lip, and then I lifted up on my tiptoes, slowly closing the distance to cover his lips, pulling his bottom lip between mine, and then brushing it with my tongue.

He groaned and his arms tightened around me as he took over the kiss, showing me how much he really did want me.

He lifted his head and looked at me with eyes full of raw hunger. “You are a very difficult woman to walk away from.”

I gave him a sad smile. “Good, then maybe you’ll remember me.” Although I wasn’t sure that was a good idea.

“I can pretty much guarantee I won’t forget you.” He kissed me again, and when he stopped, I was breathless and unsure of whether my legs would hold me up.

His phone rang again, and he closed his eyes for a second. “Dammit.”

I gave him a little push, and he dropped his hold and glanced down at his phone screen.

“You need to get to the Powell estate,” I said. “It sounds like things are getting crazy. So go.” As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I realized my mistake.

Oh, shit.

He frowned as if he knew something was off, but he answered the phone before he could say anything to me.

I took several steps backward as he gave his attention to whoever was on the other line, growling something about reporters and someone doing his job. I saw the moment when he registered my slip, watched as realization washed over his face, but I was already at the corner.

He covered his phone with his hand and called after me, “I never told you it was the Powell estate.”

I grimaced and then turned and hurried across the street until I was in the middle of the crowd emerging from the Franklin Theater. I ran under the overhang at the theater entrance and pushed my back against a shadowed wall, hoping I was hidden enough.

I watched as Brady jogged past me on the other side of the street, my sweater in his hand.

Shit. I must have dropped it when I kissed him.

He stopped and looked around, his free hand running through his hair.

My heart raced. What would he do if he found me? Was he too personally involved in the situation to arrest me?

He dropped his hand and swung it in a gesture of frustration before continuing toward the police station.

Nausea roiled through my gut when I thought about where he was going. Someone else had been murdered at the Powell estate. Who was it? Luke? Oh, God. What if it was Amy?

Bolting from the theater, I found a flowerpot around the corner and threw up into the purple and yellow pansies. Several people walked past me, making snide comments about me being drunk in public.

The good news was that I had a solid alibi from the time my mother woke me up in the morning until now, with the exception of about an hour this evening. Maybe it would be enough to clear my name.

The thought made me want to throw up again. If that was true, someone had paid the price of my freedom with their life tonight. I wasn’t sure I could live with that.

I
’d missed
six calls from my mother and one from Jody since I’d left for the police station. Jody wouldn’t care if I took a while to call her back, but I knew my mother would be terrified. I had only thought to check my phone after getting back to the kitchen, and when I saw the notification, I called her back immediately.

“Magnolia Mae Steele!” she shouted in my ear. “You’ve aged me ten years!”

“I’m sorry, Momma. I fell asleep.”

“You’re not in bed with Colt Austin, are you? He’s not answering his phone either.”

“What? No! God, no. He dropped me off at the catering business and then left.”

“I told that boy to stay with you.”

“It’s not his fault. I got a migraine, and the only thing that ever makes me feel better when I have a headache is a nap. So I made him drop me off here since I didn’t have a house key. That’s why I missed your calls.” I hated myself for lying, but there was no way I was going to tell her about my trip to the police station. And I sure wasn’t telling her about Brady either.

“Are you feeling better?” she asked, catching me by surprise. She wasn’t usually known for offering sympathy.

“A little. I think a good night’s sleep will help.” Although that was unlikely to happen in the foreseeable future. I was too anxious to sleep.

“I was calling earlier to tell you we got tied up. But we’re about five minutes out. See you soon.”

I hurried to put Tilly’s key back on her ring and then looked around the kitchen to make sure nothing looked amiss from my earlier meltdown.

But I mustn’t have done a very good job. Tilly took one look at me when she walked in the door and shook her head. “Lila, get this girl home. I’ll haul in all the pans.”

“Do you know where Colt went?” my mother grumbled to me. “He was supposed to help us unload.”

“No. He just told me to call if I needed him.” I wanted to tell her about the new murder, but I didn’t know how to do that without tipping her off to my unsanctioned outing with a policeman. I forced a smile. “I can help.”

“You look like a cat that’s been left out in the rain, then tossed under a hand dryer in a Quickie Mart restroom.”

“Thanks.” I sighed. “You always did know how to give a compliment.”

“I’m just saying you look like you don’t have any business working.”

I grabbed my apron off the hook. “I need to work every chance I can get if I’m going to pay my rent.”

“Rent?” Tilly asked. “You moving out of your momma’s house?”

“No,” I said, tying the apron strings. “Momma’s rent. For staying in her house.”

Tilly crossed her arms and tapped her foot. “Lila Steele, don’t you dare tell me that you are charging that girl rent to stay in that house where you live all by yourself.”

Momma flung up her hands. “Oh, for heaven’s sake, I’m not really charging her.”

“What?” I gasped.

Tilly didn’t look one bit appeased. “Then why on earth does she think you are?”

A guilty look crossed over my mother’s face. If only I’d had my phone out to take a photo. I could count on one hand how many times I’d seen that look before.

“I only told her that to see how serious she was about staying.”

My mouth dropped open. “You made me work Luke Powell’s party. You said I had to work to pay off my rent.”

She flung out her hands in frustration. “I needed help, and I knew that was the only way you’d agree to go.”

I wasn’t so sure about that. While I hadn’t wanted to do it, I liked to think I would have done it when push came to shove. But if I hadn’t gone that night, I never would have been accused of Max’s murder.

I pushed out a groan of frustration and shook my head. “It’s water under the bridge now, but for the record, I’m going to help you cart those stupid pans inside whether you want me to or not. Only they better be a lot less heavy coming in than they were going out.”

My mother looked suspicious. “Why are you helping us?”

“You want me to give you a list of reasons?” I asked, incredulous. “How about you’re my mother, Tilly’s damn near close to being a second one, and you both need my help?”

“Huh,” Momma mumbled.

“Oh, my God. Do you really think I’m that much of a bitch?”

“Well, no . . .” She shrugged. “I don’t know. You always complained about helping before you left.”

“I was a teenager! It’s like a requirement to complain!”

Tilly shook her head, still fuming. “I swear to God, Lila, I love you like a sister, but some days I want to wring your neck.”

I was too damn tired and worn out to deal with this nonsense. “Momma, if you need help, just ask me for it. You’re letting me stay with you, and believe it or not, I really do want to help you.”

“Fine,” she grumped. “I’ll ask you. Now both of you get off my back and start carrying in pans.”

It took us ten minutes to get everything unloaded and the truck cleaned out. Momma rinsed all the dishes and started the loads of pots and pans in the commercial-sized dishwashers. Once all of the preliminary cleanup was finished, she turned to me and said, “We’ll clean up the rest tomorrow. Let’s go home.”

We drove home in silence, partly because my headache story was no longer a lie. My pulse pounded in my temples as I stared out the car window.

“You haven’t heard from Emily, have you?” I asked, leaning my head against the seat.

“No. Not since this morning. Why?”

Would Emily even be aware of the other murder? How would I manage to get details without attracting the wrong sort of attention? “Just curious.”

“I never asked how your meeting went with Amy.”

“Great,” I said absently, trying not to worry about her. It was Saturday night. She probably wasn’t even there. “She was really helpful. She gave us a couple of leads to track down. I eliminated one as a suspect, and Emily eliminated the VP. Belinda and I talked to Paul Locke, the country artist, but he wasn’t very forthcoming, so we’ll need to figure out another way to talk to him. Belinda needed to get back so she could get ready to meet Roy for drinks.”

I studied my mother’s face as I mentioned my brother’s name. She had to know what an asshole he’d become. My mother was a lot of things, but she’d never been blind to her children’s idiocy.

It didn’t surprise me one bit when she tensed. “I didn’t know they were going out.”

“I knew Roy didn’t want to talk to me, but why didn’t you tell me that he actually hates me?”

She swung her gaze to me, her eyes wide. “Did Belinda tell you that?”

“No, it was pretty obvious from the way he told me to leave Franklin and never come back.”

Her mouth dropped open in confusion. “When . . . how did . . .”

“I saw them tonight. Colt and I went to a bar after we left Hendersonville, and Roy and Belinda showed up.”

“Oh.”

“You never told me Roy had changed careers. Or that he was working for Bill James.”

“I didn’t see the point.”

“You didn’t see the point in telling me my brother works for the one person who knows what happened to Daddy yet refuses to tell us?”

“Magnolia,” my mother groaned. “We don’t know any such thing.”

This was a pointless discussion. My mother had never taken me seriously as a teenager, and it looked like that hadn’t changed. At least where this was concerned. “Do you think Belinda’s happy?’

My mother gave me a confused look. “Why do you ask that?”

“Roy seemed kind of mean to her.”

“What are you talking about? He’s never been anything but sweet to Belinda.” She paused. “You must have misunderstood what you saw. You’ll see for yourself how he treats her tomorrow.”

“What are you talking about? Why do you assume I’m going to see them tomorrow?”

“We’re goin’ out to lunch with them after church.”

“What?” I shook my head. “I really don’t feel like going to church tomorrow.” I didn’t feel like seeing Roy either, so this would take care of two birds with one stone.

“A little church will be good for your soul. When was the last time you went?”

“Momma. I don’t want to go. I can’t face all those people.”

“We don’t hide from our problems, Magnolia. We take—”

“Take them head on. Yeah. I know,” I said in defeat. “Look how well that turned out at Luke Powell’s party.”

“That was a fluke. This isn’t New York. Murders don’t happen every day in Franklin.”

No. Just every other day or so. But I couldn’t tell her that. “I don’t feel up to it.”

“Are you sick?”

I considered lying, but I couldn’t even count the number of times she’d caught me lying about being sick when I was a kid. If I wanted to convince her I’d grown up, matured, that wasn’t the way. “I still have a killer headache.”

“Then I’ll see you at the front door ready to go at 10:15.”

Oddly enough, it was good to see some things hadn’t changed.

I took a long shower after we got home. Then, against my better judgment, I texted Emily to see if she’d heard anything. I knew it was too late to be texting—it was close to midnight—but I was desperate to know what had happened.

I half expected to receive one of my mysterious texts—especially after my stroll down Main Street with
Detective
Brady Bennett—but it didn’t happen. Emily didn’t reply either.

I drifted off to sleep, thinking about Brady and wondering who had been murdered and how long it would take before he put two and two together. I suspected the next time I saw him would be fraught with a different kind of tension.