Page 11 of Call Back

She turned back to look at me. “You want to move into an apartment with a bloodstained floor?”

I shuddered. “No, but I don’t know how long I’ll be where I’m currently staying.”

“You don’t want to stay with your boyfriend?” she asked with narrowed eyes. Her tone made it clear she didn’t approve of me staying with him. I hadn’t told her where I was staying, but I wasn’t surprised she knew.

“He’s not my boyfriend. He’s just a friend. But he’s interested in more, and I’m not ready to go there yet.” Why was I telling her this? She was the biggest busybody in town—the last person I wanted to let in on my personal tribulations.

“Well, you can’t move back in before the door’s replaced,” she said. “And the soonest that can happen is tomorrow.”

“How about after that?”

She watched me for a moment, then motioned for me to walk back outside. I had to admit that looking at the bloodstain was giving me the creeps. How was I going to live here? The memories were bad enough without the physical evidence of what had happened here. Maybe I could find a throw rug big enough to cover it.

But she’d made no mention of charging me for the floor or the door, so maybe I’d get out of it.

When we reached the bottom of the stairs, she turned to face me. “I still expect you to clean my house tomorrow morning.”

“I hadn’t forgotten. I’ll be here, Miss Ava.”

Her face softened, and she studied me for several seconds. Just when I thought she was about to say something comforting, her eyes hardened again. “Eight thirty sharp. Don’t be late, or I’ll tack a late fee on to the cost of the repairs.”

And there it was.

“Miss Ava, I have no idea how much it will cost to repair those things, but I barely have a penny to my name.”

“Then you’ll do extra work for me. I have plenty of projects to keep you busy. Are you working at the boutique or for your mother tomorrow?”

“Not at the boutique,” I said reluctantly. “But I work for the catering business at four.”

“Then plan on showing up at eight thirty and staying until you need to leave for your second job.”

Part of me thought about telling her no, but right now she had me between a rock and a hard place. “Yes, ma’am.”

I saw Colt walking up the drive out of the corner of my eye. He grinned as he approached. “If it isn’t my two favorite ladies.” He stopped next to us and turned his dazzling smile on my landlord. “Good afternoon, Miss Ava.”

She shot him a dark look. “Don’t you go trying to flatter me, Colton.”

“Flatter you?” he asked in a teasing tone. “I only speak the truth.”

Their eyes locked for a brief moment, and her mouth pursed before she turned and headed for her back door. “Eight thirty sharp, Magnolia.”

“I’ll be here.”

Colt and I watched her walk inside, and I wondered once again how they were tied together. According to Colt, he’d done some work for Ava two years ago, but he refused to even hint at what he’d done, and my landlord would only say he was a loyal resource. Momma’s best friend Tilly had insinuated there’d been plenty of late-night meetings, but I refused to believe they’d had a sexual affair. The more I learned about Ava Milton, the more I believed she’d consulted him for something seedy.

Colt waited for the door to close before he turned to me, his smile falling. “What did Frasier say?”

How much did I want to tell Colt? Though I was reluctant to trust anyone, I was beginning to feel way out of my league. I needed an ally, and Colt had proven that he was there for me. His dark past had made him streetwise enough to be helpful. He’d moved Daddy’s plaster dog into my apartment for me, and we’d discovered the gold together—only, I’d kept my father’s note to myself. Colt had connections and he’d written down the serial numbers stamped into the gold bars and brought the list to one of his friends along with one of the bars. If not for Colt, I wouldn’t know about the three bars that had been made after Daddy’s disappearance. How much more helpful would he be if I told him everything?

I offered him a tight smile. “Let’s go upstairs.”

He nodded and we headed up to my apartment. He pushed in the partially open door and walked in, then stood in the middle and did a slow scan of the room.

I stood in the doorway, still not able to make myself walk all the way in. This did not bode well for my prospects of successfully moving back in. “Owen said—”

His back was to me, but he swung around and said, sounding angry, “I don’t want to hear about your afternoon with another man, Magnolia. You know how jealous I get, and it’s bad enough you’re shacking up with the other cop.”

My mouth dropped open. What was he talking about?

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