Page 92 of Call Back

I swallowed. “No, ma’am. I’m just surprised.”

“Well, pull your jaw off the floor and resume your buffet attendant job until I say it’s time.”

I’d have to stay late to clean if I sat in on the meeting, which would leave me with a very short window of time to get my car, but Colt and I could work that out later.

“Yes, ma’am. I wouldn’t miss it.”

“Good. Don’t disappoint me, Magnolia Steele.”

I wasn’t sure how she thought I might disappoint her, let alone why I even cared about pleasing her, but I did. Maybe that was how she kept all her cronies in line. Score another one for her powers of manipulation.

I resumed my task of refilling the quiche plate, then hurried back out to the dining room. Several guests had noticed my lengthy absence and shot me looks of pity—which was likely because they expected me to be fired.

I ignored their stares, and my churning gut, for another ten minutes before Ava called the meeting to order.

While everyone made their way out to the living room, I carried a few plates into the kitchen and grabbed the stenographer notebook and pen. By the time I returned, all the women had taken their seats.

Ava stood at the front of the room, her back stiff and her hands laced in front of her. She glanced up at me and then tilted her head toward an empty chair in the back. “Magnolia will be joining us today and taking the minutes.”

A murmur went through the room, and several women glanced over their shoulders at me.

I took my seat and pinned my gaze on the notebook. Ava was definitely up to no good, but who was her intended victim? I was terrified I was going to end up like Carrie on prom night. Except Ava Milton wouldn’t use pig’s blood. No, I suspected her weapon of choice would be far worse.

“What on earth is this girl doing here?” Georgine asked. I remembered her from the last meeting. She had given Ava plenty of trouble then, and her tone implied she planned on a repeat offense.

Ava looked unruffled. “She’s here because I want her here. Do you have a problem with that, Georgine?”

Georgine jumped to her feet, shooting me a look that suggested I was lower than pond’s scum. “She’s Brian Steele’s daughter. It’s bad enough that she’s serving us food.”

The room became so quiet the ticktock of Ava’s grandfather clock was deafening.

Ava’s eyes became small pinpricks, the only sign that Georgine had gotten under her skin. “I will repeat myself,” she said in an icy tone. “And, for the record, I loathe repeating myself. Magnolia Steele is here because I asked her to sit in the back and take notes. If you have a problem with this, Georgine, feel free to find the door.”

Georgine stood in place, her face turning red as she clenched her hands at her sides and engaged in a staring match with Ava. Obviously Georgine was a fool—and despite her desire to make her wishes known, she didn’t have what it took to best my landlord. Sure enough, five seconds later Georgine sat down in her chair with a grunt, her back ramrod stiff.

I wrote down: Miss Ava used her badass skills to shut down Georgine.

“Now, does anyone else have any objections?” Ava asked, surveying the room.

No one dared to answer.

“Very good,” she said with a tiny smile, pleased that she had won her battle. “We shall begin with old business. We raised $5,000 to donate to the Boys and Girls Club in the name of Walter Frey.” She gave a small nod.

I wrote down: $5,000 to B&G Club in Walter Frey’s name.

“Thank you for your generous giving. Edie, how are we doing with the meals we are providing to the Frey family?”

Edie talked about who had signed up and criticized one of the women for delivering a subpar meal of leathery pork chops with an overly tart lemon basil cream sauce and slightly wilted kale. The woman who’d dared to serve such a disaster hung her head in shame while the other women shot her mixed looks of pity and disgust. Edie reminded several women of their upcoming deliveries and the standards they had to maintain. The last thing I wanted to do was log each and every casserole, so I put down: Two weeks of meals to Ruby Frey.

Then Ava launched into a discussion of various odds and ends I found extremely boring. Though I doubted anyone needed a detailed record about the garden club or Sophia Regis’s bout of pneumonia, I took diligent notes while trying to stay awake. Too many late nights and early mornings at Brady’s had caught up with me, and my eyelids were heavy with exhaustion.

I began to wonder if it was safe to move back to my apartment. Colt had removed all the cameras, and the person who’d planted them wasn’t likely to bother us before Saturday night. While I was hesitant to move back there alone, especially in light of everything I’d learned about the serial killer, I wasn’t sure where else to stay.

“Continuing new business,” Ava said in her stick-up-her-butt tone. “I move that we remove Janine Cumberland from the group.”

I gasped and nearly dropped my pen on the floor.

“What?” Janine asked, barely above a whisper. “Why?” But she shot a guilty look back at me.

“You know full well, Janine,” Ava said in an icy tone. “Would you like me to spell it out in front of everyone?”

My skin turned cold and my hair stood on end. Ava was getting rid of her because I’d gotten her to talk—the very thing Ava had encouraged me to do. I was the reason this woman was being kicked out.

Janine’s face paled and she shook her head. “No.”

“Feel free to leave,” Ava said. “We’ll wait.”

The woman leaned over and reached for her purse under her chair, but dropped it. The contents spilled out, and she dropped to the floor, her hands shaking as she scooped up her lipstick and car keys.

When Ava’s eyes met mine, she had the satisfied look of a cat full of cream.

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