Page 81 of Call Back

I froze. What did Ava Milton know? And more importantly, why hadn’t she told anyone? “What do you know about my father?”

“More than we have time to discuss before my meeting.”

I shook my head and pointed my spatula at her. “Do you really think you can drop a statement like that and expect me to stand around with my tail between my legs, waiting for you to decide when to give me another nugget of information?”

She dropped her utensil into her bowl and slowly turned to face me, her face expressionless.

Ava was going to fire me, and I probably deserved it. Even so, I sure as hell wasn’t going to apologize. I held her gaze, accepting her challenge.

Our stare-off lasted several more seconds before her head dipped slightly, a gleam of approval filling her eyes. “She has a spine.”

“I have a hell of a lot more than that. What do you know about my father?”

Her head tilted to the side, and she studied me as though seeing me for the first time. “Contrary to what you might think, Magnolia, I do have a career. Do you know what it is?”

My gaze landed to the multiple baked goods in various stages of completion on the counters, but as well-known as she was for her culinary endeavors, I suspected that wasn’t what she meant. “No, Miss Ava. I have no idea.”

“Come now, Magnolia. I pegged you as being brighter than that. What do I have in my attic?”

She had boxes and boxes of information. Ava Milton wasn’t a mere gossip. She used the information she collected. “Are you a blackmailer?”

To my surprise, she burst out laughing. When she finally settled down, she was still smiling. “On occasion, if I’m being entirely honest, but only when it was for the greater good.”

“So what do you do with the information you gather?”

“I save it. I dole it out when needed. I correct wrongs and reward rights.”

“That’s not really a career, is it?” I asked. “You don’t get paid for that kind of thing.”

“It depends on your definition of being paid.” She waved her hand toward my baking sheet, which still held several croissants. “Get back to work. Are you incapable of working and talking at the same time?”

“No, ma’am.”

She picked up her spoon and continued to stir. “Many people were upset with your father after that land deal went south, but two country music artists lost everything. One sued your father and various others and won. The second remained angry but silent. He held quite a grudge.”

“Tripp Tucker sued Daddy. I found that in the box. Who was the other?”

A smug grin lit up her face. “Someone didn’t do her homework.”

“Most of the people who were involved in Daddy’s business deals are dead. Walter Frey, Steve Morrissey, Max Goodwin, and Neil Fulton. Christopher Merritt disappeared like Shannon Morrissey and Daddy.”

“And Geraldo Lopez,” Miss Ava added. “He’s dead.”

“Owen Frasier killed him.”

“And that’s an interesting coincidence, don’t you think?” she asked.

“Because his uncle was the detective who investigated my father’s disappearance?”

“Very good, Magnolia.” She sounded pleased. “But before we move to Gordon Frasier, you’re missing two people from your father’s group.”

“Bill James and Rowena Rogers.”

She glanced over her shoulder at me, her eyebrows raised.

“But I hear Rowena Rogers disappeared.”

“Did she?”

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