Center Stage: Magnolia Steele Mystery #1 (6 page)

I got up and moved to the windows, needing to think about something else. Anything else. I scanned the signs in the windows of the storefronts across the street, trying to figure out what was new and what had been here before. Then my phone vibrated in my pocket, and I pulled it out, figuring my mother was probably texting to make sure I hadn’t bitten Emily’s head off.

I wasn’t prepared for what I found.

Welcome home, Magnolia. I’ve been waiting
.

W
hen Emily came back
into the room, I was still staring at the phone in my shaking hand.

She seemed surprised to see I’d moved from the sofa, and some of her harshness returned. “I need to talk to you about what happened tonight. Would you rather do it at my desk or the sofa?”

I was already on edge from the text. The number was blocked, so I had no idea who’d sent it. I told myself it was nothing, that some old acquaintance from Franklin had somehow gotten my number, but a cold sweat broke out on the back of my neck.

What if it was Blake? He was the last person I remembered seeing before my memories of graduation night cut off. Every time I tried to regain those two missing hours, I became nearly paralyzed with terror—which was why I’d finally stopped trying to remember years ago. But those images I’d seen while staring at Max’s dead body . . . something told me they were from that night. I’d always suspected Blake was hiding what he knew. Was he responsible? What if I was in danger now?

I felt like a rat trapped in a maze.

Oh, God. Why had I come back?

“Magnolia, get your shit together.”

Emily’s earlier gentleness had caught me off guard, wearing down my protective wall. But this was the real Emily, the one I remembered, and I was back in self-preservation mode. “Your desk.”

I slipped the phone back into my pocket and took a seat in one of the client chairs.

“Texting one of your Broadway friends?” she asked, handing me a bottle of water. “Sending a
you’ll never guess what happened to me
message?”

“Something like that.” I sat down and took a long drink of water. “How long will this take?”

“Got a hot date?” she asked in a derisive tone. “You sure didn’t waste any time.”

I shook my head in disgust. “Why did you take my case if you hate me so much?”

“I did it for your mother.” She paused. “But if you’re worried about it affecting your defense, keep in mind that I’ve successfully defended sleazier people than you, as difficult as that is to believe.”

“That you were successful?” I asked in a mock sweet tone.

She sat back in her desk chair and pushed out a heavy sigh. “My reputation is on the line. I don’t like to lose.”

I’d learned that firsthand after Tanner asked me—and not Emily—to homecoming junior year. “Look. This all started back in high school, and neither of us ended up with the guy. Can we just let the past go?”

She lifted her eyebrows. “You’re the one talking about it. My focus has been on your case.”

I rolled my eyes. “Whatever.” I took another gulp of water. “What do you want to know?”

“Start from the beginning. Tell me about your encounter with the victim. Who was he?”

“Max Goodwin.” She took notes on her laptop as I told her about the encounter. I went on to tell her about finding the body, but once again skipped the part about checking out my handiwork on his manhood. “I didn’t tell the police about the argument. And I didn’t tell them about meeting Max in New York two years ago.”

“Tell
me
what happened in New York,” she said, her fingers taking a break from their rapid clicking on her laptop keys. I hesitated long enough for her to look up at me. “I take it this isn’t something that will work in your favor.”

“No, I suspect the police frown on disfiguring penises.”

“
What
?”

I recounted the sordid tale, telling her every last detail. She stopped typing at some point and stared at me in shock and a bit of horror.

When I finished, she gave herself a little shake. “And I take it he didn’t press charges?”

“No. My friend Jody figured he didn’t want women to think his pecker didn’t work.”

The corners of Emily’s mouth twitched. “And did you see him again after that . . . encounter?”

“No. Not until tonight.”

She typed for a few seconds and then stopped and gave me a long look. “Tell me why you’re back in town.”

The hair on my arms stood on end. “Why?”

“I suspect it will be part of your defense—should it come to that.”

I didn’t want to tell her anything, but I suspected she was right. “I had an incident.”

“On stage, I hear.”

I scowled. “If you already know, then why are you asking?”

“What I’ve heard is hearsay. I want the truth from the ass’s mouth.” She flashed a toothy grin. “I mean horse’s mouth.”

I was already humiliated. How much worse could it get? The truth was undignified, but it was all I had to offer. “You’ll love this story, Emily. It’s a classic. Girl meets director. Director tells girl she’s his muse and casts her in a starring role in a new musical. Director tricks girl into giving him thousands of dollars to help finance said musical. Girl finds director screwing her understudy shortly before the musical starts. Said understudy mocks the girl on stage, and girl loses it. She goes home to find the director has tossed all her clothes into the hallway. She is penniless because she gave the director all her money. So now she is broke, homeless, and jobless. She charges a plane ticket, maxing out her credit card, and goes home to her mother.” I gave her a hateful smile. “That about cover it for you?”

“Why haven’t you come home before now?”

“Because I didn’t feel like it.”

“You left the day after we graduated. You had a scholarship to Southern University in Hillsdale, Tennessee. You and Tanner were supposed to go on a camping trip the week after graduation, although your mother thought you were going with Maddie. Then you disappeared in the middle of your own graduation party and showed up hours later, covered in mud and looking like a drowned rat. The very next afternoon you flew to New York City—which you had never,
ever
mentioned doing—and you never returned after that, not even for holidays, until you hit rock bottom.” She gave me a long, cold stare. “What were you running from, Magnolia?”

If that wasn’t the million-dollar question.

I felt like I was going to throw up on her wool rug. I was a fucking mess on the inside, but I had been trained to play any role on the drop of a dime. At the moment I was starring in the role of cold, heartless bitch. Fortunately for me, I’d played this role so many times I had it perfected to a T.

I crossed my legs and rested my hands on my knees. “I had no idea you were so fanciful, Emily. Back in high school you always seemed so dull and unimaginative.”

A slow smile spread across her face, but her eyes were cold. “No,” she said slowly, “I think you’re confusing me with you.”

“Don’t try to tell me that you wanted the lead role in
Thoroughly Modern Millie
too. I didn’t think you could carry a tune.”

“Cut the shit, Magnolia. No one
ever
heard you say you wanted to act on Broadway. Not even your best friend Maddie.”

“What did you do, Emily? Go around and interview everyone who knew me after I left?”

She rested her hand on her desk. “As a matter of fact, yes.”

All my blood seemed to drain to the tips of my toes, leaving me lightheaded. What the actual fuck? “You always wanted everything I had, and it looks like you’ve done your damnedest to get it. You’re like my mother’s long-lost daughter. Let me guess—you’re best friends with Maddie now, aren’t you?”

The smug smile on her face told me all I needed to know.

I got to my feet. “I’m finding another lawyer.”

“You just admitted that you don’t have a penny to your name. You can’t afford another lawyer. Why won’t you tell me what happened that night?”

“I just told you everything that happened tonight. Do you have dementia in addition to your psychopathic tendencies?”

“Not tonight, Magnolia. The night of our graduation.” She was as sneaky and stealthy as a cobra, but ten times as deadly. I was so, so stupid to have underestimated her.

“Stay out of my life, Emily Johnson. Leave the past where it belongs.” I spun around, close to losing control, and made a straight shot for the door.

“Magnolia, come back,” Emily called after me.

I unbolted the door and flung it open hard enough for it to bang into the wall. I didn’t bother closing it behind me before I dashed down the stairs.

“Magnolia. Where the hell do you think you’re going?” she called from the doorway. “Your mother’s house is three miles from here.”

It didn’t surprise me that she knew the distance. In fact it wouldn’t even surprise me if she had it figured to a tenth of a mile. The sensible part of me knew I should let her take me home. Someone had killed Max Goodwin, and he or she was still roaming loose. But I was too pissed and upset to care. I’d rather take my chances with the boogeyman than deal with Emily.

I unlocked the door at the bottom of the stairs and ran out into the parking lot, unsure where to go. The only thing I knew for certain was that I didn’t want to go anywhere with
her
.

This was one time I was thankful for sensible shoes. I didn’t even think about where I was going until I realized I was walking over the pedestrian bridge to Pinkerton Park, away from downtown, glancing over my shoulder every couple of minutes to see if Emily were following me.

What in the hell was I supposed to do? Emily was right. I couldn’t afford to hire anyone else, but Emily obviously had my mother wrapped around her little finger, which I found hard to believe. My mother wasn’t the wrappable type.

There weren’t any people around when I arrived at the park, and it was late enough that there wasn’t much traffic downtown. My feet led me to the playground, and before I knew it, I was sitting in one of the swings. When I was a teenager, I would often come to Pinkerton Park after a fight with my mother. But the roots connecting me to this place ran even deeper. My father used to bring me here when I was a little girl, usually after his own fights with his strong-willed wife. It occurred to me that it was probably a stupid place for me to be. The whole park was essentially deserted—anyone could come up and finish me off without a single witness. But I couldn’t bring myself to give a damn.

My phone buzzed in my pocket, alerting me to an incoming call. It was probably my mother. Maybe Emily had called and tattled on me. Maybe my mother had finally recovered from watching that video and was calling to tell me my belongings would be on the front porch when I got back.

I slowed down and pulled out my phone, my heart stopping when I didn’t recognize the number. Was it my mystery texter? Was it the police telling me to come in for questioning? Or maybe my mother had given my number to Emily . . .

I answered with one hand on the swing’s chain, bracing myself for the worst. “Hello?”

“Maggie Mae,” a familiar male voice said, sounding worried. “Are you okay? Where are you?”

It took me a second to figure out who it was. “Colt?”

“Where’d you run off to?”

I pushed out a sigh, bending my head forward with relief. “I had a meeting with my attorney. And before you ask, it did
not
go well.”

“That sucks.”

“More than you know.” I paused. “You remember how you made that offer to help me if I needed it? Is it too soon to cash that in?”

“What do you need?”

“A ride to my mother’s.”

“Where are you?”

“Pinkerton Park.”

“Okay. I’ll be there in ten minutes.” Then he hung up. No questions about why I was hanging out at the park in the dead of night when the police could arrest me at any moment. Just “okay” and he was on his way. It was refreshing.

And true to his word, he was there in ten minutes. He parked his pickup and walked toward me with a brown bag in his hand. Giving me his wonder-boy smile, he waved to the empty swing next to mine. “Is this swing taken?”

I was in a terrible situation, but I found myself chuckling. Despite the fact that he so clearly knew he was charming, there was something about Colt that brought a grin to my face. “I think you’re safe. All the five-year-olds are at home, tucked into bed.”

“What about you?” he asked, pulling a can of beer out of his bag and handing it to me. “You want to be tucked into bed?”

I laughed as I popped open the top. “Not
your
bed.”

“The ladies tell me it’s a great place to be.”

“And that’s reason number one why
I
will never be there.” I looked at the can and shook my head. “Coors Light? I pegged you as a Budweiser man.”

“The Coors Light is for you.” He pulled out a Budweiser, and I burst into laughter.

“You are so predictable.”

He waggled his eyebrows. “Maybe not as predictable as you think.” He balled up the bag and tossed it into a nearby trashcan. Then he wrapped his arms around the chain and gave a little push with his feet. “So you have an attorney, huh? That was fast.”

“Yeah, well, my mother had her on speed dial. Emily Johnson.”

“Ouch. I can’t believe she called Emily.”

“You know her?”

“Yeah, I know her,” he said with a scowl, then took a drink.

There was obviously a story there, but it was just as obvious Colt wasn’t spilling. As someone who had plenty of secrets that needed to stay that way, I could sympathize. “I need a new attorney, but I don’t have any money.”

“That’s a problem.” He took a sip of his beer.

“I might be stuck here in Franklin for a while. That’s a problem too.”

“How long were you planning on staying?”

“I didn’t have a plan when I came here. That’s
why
I came. But now I’m trapped, and there’s no escape.”

“No escape . . .” he said slowly. “That’s a strange way to put it.”

He was right. Of course, the situation with Max did make me feel trapped, but this went deeper. It had something to do with that well of anxiety I’d rediscovered tonight. Those images . . . I shivered. “I run the very real risk of getting arrested for a murder I didn’t commit, Colt. Wouldn’t you want to escape?”

He studied me for several seconds before asking quietly, “Do you
want
to escape, Maggie Mae?”

“That’s like asking me if I want to win the lottery.”

He dropped his gaze as he pushed off again, moving his swing in a low arc. “Not if you have the means to make it happen. The lottery is a pure gamble.”