Closer To You (Tales of the Sweet Magnolia Book 1) (21 page)

He was a new patron of the Magnolia and sure it was that his wife would fall over dead if she knew he was carousing around. Many men came to the Magnolia to relieve the stress of their marriages. Angel straightened and offered the man a gentle smile. “It surely is, Mr. Brisbee, it surely is.”

***

With the benevolent, and anonymous financial aid of Mr. Brisbee, and the agreement to keep his visits quiet from his provincial wife, Angel got her wish and soon the new music man in town, Burt Smith, was making frequent visits to the Magnolia to give piano lessons. She felt an immediate kinship to him. His kind, blue eyes seemed to sparkle with wisdom and kindness. He wore his silver gray mane to his shoulders, brushed back from his face. Though short in stature, he dressed dapper in his polished attire of a brown vest and baggy black pants.

“You play as though you have carried this music inside you,” he remarked one day as they sat side-by-side at the piano.

Angel smiled. Her greatest joy was sitting at the keyboard. She played through the scales he'd taught her—first one hand, and then two—

“Lillian told me that I had an ear for music. She taught me a few chords of some songs, but I would love to play with the heart of Lillian one day.” Her fingertips stroked the worn ivory keys.

“Miss Lillian was right,” the piano instructor told her. “But the music that beats inside each of us is different, Angel. You must allow your own music to come through. Close your eyes, feel the music. Let it carry you to the deepest part of your heart, to the thing you are most passionate about.”

Angel watched her hands move with ease over the piano keys and though she played only simple scales, when she closed her eyes, she imagined herself in a great concert hall, wearing a beautiful ivory gown with thousands in the audience waiting to hear her play.

“Listen carefully to the music in you, my dear. Set it free, dare to risk what you know—for what can be.”

His voice tapped into her daydream and she smiled, allowing herself to fall more deeply into the trance of the song's melody. Angel could see the darkened stage; she sensed the anticipation around her. Her fingers tingled as though the very energy from her greatest desire was coursing through her fingertips, transporting her to her dream.

“Find your heart, Angel. Find your Billy.” Burt's voice whispered softly, drifting further into the music.

In her mind, darkness gave way to a single beam of light poised over a person dressed in white, seated at a black piano. The scales she'd been playing gave way to thunderous applause.

***

As though hung over from a round of whiskey shots, Angel forced her eyes open and squinted into the semi-darkness.

“Sing us the song—”

She shifted in her seat becoming aware of the others around her. Where had Burt gone? Where was she? Angel blinked, peering through the darkness, her attention drawn to a stream of light shining down on a man playing the piano. The room was bigger than anything she’d ever seen and it was filled with people.

“The man's a legend.”

Angel jolted, startled when a young woman beside her leapt to her feet and began singing with the man. She glanced down and motioned to Angel.

“Come on, you can see much better if you stand. Cool outfit by the way. You get that over at Madonna's Vintage?”

Angel glanced down at her flimsy, cotton dress. She wore the same floral one when she went for her piano lesson with Burt. Even her boots were still dusty with desert clay. She felt woozy. As if she’d been riding in the desert all day.

“Where am I?” She tapped the woman on the shoulder.

“Hey, that's gutsy. How'd you get past security if you're that far gone?” The young woman smiled. “You’re at one of the best concerts of the season, girl! Don’t you remember? Listen! It’s solid Billy Joel—every one of his hits made into a musical!”

Light flooded Angel's brain. Burt had told her to follow her heart…but how? The familiar melody caught her attention and she opened her mouth and began to sing the words along with her new friend. The last note permeated the air, sizzling with a magic energy that Angel had never known. The audience chanted wildly, “Billy, Billy.” Frightened and thrilled at once, she lifted her hands and clapped.

“Come on, follow me. There's a faster way out and if we're lucky, we might get to see him.”

The girl grabbed her hand and tugged her through the crowd. A myriad of smells assaulted Angel's nose as the girl dragged her through the human sea.

“I don't know where I'm going.” Angel's words were lost in the din of voices raised in demand for more. She strained against the girl's hand searching for Burt. This dream seemed too real.

The girl looked over her shoulder and pointed to a letters spelling “Exit” that glowed red like a candle. At that moment, the crowd swelled, and pressed by a wall of humanity, her connection to the strange woman became severed. Swept with the force of a turbulent river through the throng, Angel kept her eye on the letters and when she was close enough, she grabbed the wide door handle and shoved with all her might.

“Hey” -- a voice sounded from behind her-- “that goes to the alley.”

She turned to catch a young man's questioning expression. “It's okay, I'm meeting Billy.”

His eyebrows shot into his disheveled bangs. He shrugged and lifted his arm over her shoulder, pressing on the horizontal bar. The door magically opened.

“Thanks.” She glanced back, but he was gone.

Angel pushed forward, stumbling into a dark canyon-like passage. She grabbed a railing in front of her, fighting for her balance. A blast of cold air rushed up her dress and she hugged her arms, realizing she wasn’t dressed for the sudden bitter wind.

“Your coat get stolen?” A tall dark man stepped from an odd-looking sleek carriage. Angel's heart thumped erratically as he approached her. She'd only ever seen men like him working in the mines back home.

“Here, put this on.” He opened the back of the carriage and pulled out a white furry bundle.

“I…no, really....” Angel fought the sudden chatter of her teeth between fear and cold. She stood frozen as he gently placed the short coat around her shoulders.

Angel slipped her arms inside, welcoming the warmth, if only a moment.

“You look a bit lost, you okay? Are you on some kind of medication or something?”

He studied her face with concern. He wore shiny silver hoops in both ears and along the side of his neck, was a picture inked upon on his flesh, and it was clear he was well-educated, more so than she.

“I—I need to get back to the Sweet Magnolia,” she stammered.

His brows pressed together. “You mean the Imperial? That used to be called the Sweet Magnolia, but that was a long time ago. You sure that’s where you need to go?”

Angel chewed her lip with worry. What choice did she have? “Can you direct me to it, please?”

“Hey, you ready out there?” Another man appeared at the top of the short flight of steps.

He nodded, turning his gaze back to Angel. “Go right down here to the streetlight, take a right, and it’s about a block, maybe two. There's a Christmas tree lot right across the street.”

She began to remove the coat.

“Keep it, she’ll never miss it.” He smiled warmly.

“Thank you,” Angel replied, backing out of the dark canyon.

“Good luck.” He waved as he returned to the carriage. Angel's boots scuffed along the strange hard ground more solid than the hard clay of mud roads. She followed the path he'd given her and wound up on a virtually deserted street with the faint noise of the crowd leaving the building far behind her.

The wind blew crisp, whipping her hair in her eyes. Nothing looked remotely familiar. Great buildings made of stone and brick towered over each side of the hard-surface street that seemed to stretch for miles in either direction. Angel glanced at a large brown, odd-shaped carriage parked near the curb. She paused to study its wheels made of shiny metal and something hard and black that formed the wheel instead of wooden spokes.

“Can I help you?”

The brusque voice startled her and she stepped back distancing herself from

the stranger. He had a close-fitting cap that framed his face. His clothes resembled farmer's overalls, but heavier, and he wore boots, but they were like nothing she'd ever seen. His gaze was piercing, the color of his eyes ice-blue as a mountain lake.

“I'm looking for the Magnolia.” She straightened as tall as her five-foot-six frame would allow. He was still a good head taller.

“The Mag—oh, you must be new in town?” He rubbed his gloves together as if to stay warm.

Shado kept his focus on her face instead of the flimsy dress swirling around her legs. She wore interesting attire, he'd give her that, but what can you expect from coastal babes? “So, where are you from?” He glanced over his shoulder toward the van, hoping the guys had the tape rolling. Maybe he should turn so she'd face the camera. She was pretty, a little plain perhaps, but that could be part of Espinoza’s plan. She had a fresh-scrubbed innocence and her hair the color of harvest wheat blew haphazardly around her face. Shado assessed her from head to toe. She was a curious creature. She wore a rabbit fur coat that covered only to her waist, a thin dress that in the streetlight offered ample view of the curves beneath and a pair of old-fashioned Victorian boots probably from a pricey little boutique. Strange getup, but a turn-on in a weird way that surprised him. He stepped easily around her keeping his gaze locked to hers.

“Listen Mr., I just need directions to the Magnolia or the Imperial, either one.” She perched her fist to her hip and offered him a no-nonsense look. “It's a house of ill-repute.”

Shado regarded her with muted surprise. Well, at least she wasn’t hiding anything. Okay, he’d play along. He pointed to the building rising high on the hill behind her. “That’s the Imperial, the oldest bordello west of the Mississippi. You…uh, meeting someone?” Shado raised his voice, looking over at the van, hoping to capture the conversation on tape. Her silence drew him to her puzzled expression.

“I'm lost, not deaf. And I don’t feel I owe you any explanation of what I’m looking for.”

“Don’t piss off the dove, Jackson,” the voice in his ear stated bluntly. Her gaze narrowed on him. “Thank you very much for your time. Excuse me.” “Tail her,” his earpiece urged.

Shado stepped aside, but his eyes were glued to the gentle sway of her hips and the sassy way her dress flounced when she walked. He hadn’t had fantasies like that for a long time. “Uh, Merry Christmas, I hope you find what you’re looking for.” He followed her a few steps, stopping at the curb as she crossed the street— without looking he noted.

He heard the roar of the car before it emerged like a demon, racing down the street at breakneck speed. He rushed at the woman, grabbing her around the waist, and rolled across the frigid asphalt as he fought to hang on to the squirming female. His head slammed against the curb, and he squeezed her close as the car whizzed past. The heat from its tires blew like a dragon’s breath against his face.

“Jackson!” Gleason screamed in Shado's ear.

“I'm all right,” he bellowed in response.

“That’s just wonderful, but what about my dress?” The disgruntled woman pushed away from him, sitting up to check the flounce of her hemline.

“Are you hurt?” Hell, he'd saved her life, thank you very much. He pulled her upright, brushing her off as he waited for some kind of appreciation.

“I'm fine, now if you'll kindly remove your hands, sir.”

He backed off, dropping his hands back to his sides. “Maybe I should go in with you just to make sure you're all right.”

The woman gave him a stern look. “I believe I’m fine. What was that demon from hell, anyway?” She dusted off her white rabbit jacket.

He frowned at her peculiar question. “Mustang—'68 vintage,” he replied.

She paid little mind to him as she studied the building before them. Her blue eyes widened with admiration, perhaps awe, but confusion colored her expression. Shado found her to be an odd mix of spitfire and innocence. “Are you sure this is the right place you’re looking for?” he prodded.

“Are you going to let me by?”

He raised his hands in defense. “Yes, ma’am.” He stepped aside. A strange pull tugged at his gut, the kind that should have served as a warning.

She climbed the set of steps leading to the circular drive. “Thank you,” she called over her shoulder. The doorman greeted her tipping his hat as he opened the door.

He had to get in there. She had to be the target Espinoza was using—out of

town, fearless, gorgeous right down to those sexy boots. She probably had no idea of what she was getting into and that set off alarm bells in Shado’s head. “Watch my back, I'm going in.” He walked down the sidewalk, out of the doorman's sight, cut through the darkness of a hedgerow, and found what appeared to be an old cellar door.

Unsure of what he'd find, he pulled open the door slowly trying not to make a sound. Below, a set of steps descended into black nothingness.

He tested one foot on the top step, proceeding cautiously as he immersed himself into the darkness. Tugging a penlight from his pocket, he snapped on the potent beam, making his way through the catacomb-like maze. He crouched lower hearing the scurrying sound of mice in the floor joists above his head.

Angry voices in the hallway above stopped him in his tracks. Listening carefully, he rounded a stack of discarded crates and found the steps leading up to the hallway. Gun drawn, he kept his back to the wall, checking behind him, while straining to hear what was going on upstairs. Two men began to shout, making threats to one another. The hairs on his neck raised, his instinct warning that all hell was about to break loose. 

Two gunshots rang out in rapid succession followed instantly by a woman's scream. He pushed open the door with his shoulder and rolled into the open hall on his belly. Shado held a steady aim poised on the man holding the strange woman's neck in the crook of his beefy arm. His eyes widened as he watched her mouth clamp down over the man's forearm.

“Son of a bitch,” the hulk of a man growled shoving the gun against her head.

“Come on. She's no one, let's go!” his accomplice yelled from down an adjacent hallway.

“Police! Freeze!” He rose on his haunches, keeping his barrel pointed between the man's eyebrows. He swerved firing and Shado ducked hesitating to return fire with the woman between them. The man's hateful glare held his just before he brought his gun down hard, clipping her across the temple. He let her go and she crumpled like a rag doll to the floor. The man took off down the adjacent corridor.

She crumpled like a rag doll to the floor.

“We have a civilian down. Suspects are heading out the west door.” He hoped

the microphone worked inside the building.

The raw wound on the woman’s temple oozed a scarlet rivulet down her pale cheek.

“Call an ambulance.” He tucked his gun away, as he crept toward her body. Staying low, he glanced into the room and saw the feet of a man lying prone on the lush blue carpet. Cautiously, he peeked around the corner of the doorway. Satisfied that none of the gunmen remained, he turned his attention back to the young woman, still out cold in the dimly lit hallway.

“What is going on here?”

He knew Madam Lee's distinctive oriental accent. “We've got a little trouble, Madam Lee. Afraid you're going to have to answer some questions.” He brushed a strand of hair from the unconscious women's brow. Her interrogation would follow when she was well. He checked her pulse at the base of her neck. It was strong.
Hang in there, baby
.

Madam Lee peered over his shoulder. “Is that Mr. Winegardner?” Her hand flew to her mouth in shock.

“You didn't hear anything about a buy going down tonight?” She shook her head, surprise registering in her dark eyes.

“Where the heck are those guys?” Shado blew out a frustrated sigh. He scooped the woman into his arms as he strode toward the entrance. “You stay right there.

The ambulance is on its way. Are you okay?” he yelled over his shoulder to Madam Lee.

“Yes, but who is that?” she called back in response.

Fifteen minutes later, he held the woman in his lap, ignoring the concerned gaze of his partner. She was out cold.

“You know her name?” Gleason asked as he punched a set of numbers into his cell phone.

“Find Billy,” she muttered softly.

Shado gently turned her face to his. “What? Tell me again who to find?” But she'd already slipped back into unconsciousness. Her face was soft, pale, and almost doll-like in delicate features. Not the type of woman that Madam Lee usually hired.

“We're going to need a forensics crew at the Imperial. We're taking one of the suspects to County. Yes sir, hurt in the altercation.” Gleason nodded.

“Captain’s meeting us at the hospital.”

Though he knew it was standard procedure, something about all of this bugged him, but he couldn’t place his finger on what it was. Then it hit him. “She’s seen the murderer.”

“So did you, so what?”

“I can’t be sure. There was another man, down the hall.”

“Maybe she was in on it.”

Shado frowned. “No, I think she was in the wrong place at the wrong time.” Her head bumped gently against the window and he shifted her body so her head rested against his shoulder.

“You think we should lay her in the back seat?”

“Nah, just step on it, Frederickson.” Hestared down at her peaceful expression and something strange breezed by his heart
.