The Magnolia Affair (14 page)

I stared at my mug. “This is a nightmare.”

“It is. I don’t have anything to sugar coat it.”

“What’s going on with the investigation?” I asked.

“The good news is that you’re not a suspect or a person of interest. Not even a witness as far as I can tell.”

“But won’t I have to testify about Paxton? I mean about us? About his motive? Do the police want another statement from me?”

She shook her head. “They released him this morning.”

“Released him?” I wondered how much money it took to post bond. His family’s pockets were limitless.

“The charges didn’t hold up in his hearing this morning. He’s a free man.”

I sipped my coffee.

“You don’t look as surprised as I thought you’d be,” Stella commented.

“He has money.”

“That he does, but it also seems he wasn’t behind this. No weapon has been found. You were his alibi for that night. There’s nothing pointing to him killing Spencer. He’s offered to put up a reward for any information about the shooting.”

“He did?”

Stella glanced over the flower arrangements I had gathered near the trash can. “He started the base at $50,000. If the man is guilty, he has a weird way of showing it.”

There it was again, reason poking through the fog, making me think. Forcing me to face information. “I-I guess in all the confusion and panic I misjudged him. God, what a horrible thing to do.” I had accused a man of murder.

“Don’t beat yourself up. These haven’t been the most normal of circumstances. There has been a lot of emotion involved.” She stood to leave. “You don’t need representation, but if something comes up, you can call me, Audrey. You can call any of us. We all liked Spencer. He was a good man. I’m going to miss seeing him at the office.” She said it as if he had only transferred to another firm.

“Thank you. Let me know what I owe you.”

She shook her head. “Oh no. This was on the house. The least I could do. I’m serious. Call me for anything.”

“I will.” I hugged her.

I heard the reporters yell questions at Stella as she made her way to her car. They must be bored sitting outside. I hadn’t surfaced since Avery left and Paxton’s house was dark.

I dumped my coffee in the sink and poured a glass of wine. Who in the hell cared if it was 10 a.m.?

I fell asleep on the couch watching a documentary on Civil War history. It was the only channel I could guarantee wouldn’t break in with an update on Spence’s case.

My phone rang. I should have stopped to see who was calling.

“Hello?”

“Audrey, don’t hang up.”

My stomach curdled, the wine the only thing sloshing inside. “What do you want, Paxton? I don’t want to talk to you.”

“I know. I know. Look, I think I have some information about Spencer.”

I sat up, grabbing my head. “What are you talking about?”

“I don’t think we should talk on the phone. Can I come over?”

“There are twenty reporters outside. I don’t think so. I don’t want to see you.” We had never met at my house. It was selfish, but it always kept my worlds separate, helped me sustain the two worlds I lived in.

“You come here. You can leave whenever you want. But you need to see this. I’ll have one of the guys out front create a diversion and you can come through the back.”

It was wrong. I could feel it. Sense it. But if he had information on my husband, I wanted it.

“Ok. Give me fifteen minutes.” I hung up in search of ibuprofen and water.

Spence was gone. I shouldn’t feel guilty sneaking past the magnolia, but it wasn’t a feeling I could mask or soothe. I was learning that nausea and disgust in myself were a part of who I was now.

I tapped on Paxton’s kitchen door.

It flew open. He ushered me inside.

“Why didn’t you use the key?”

I shrugged. “I threw it away.” I hoped my voice sounded as cold as I felt.

“You didn’t have to do that.” He reached for my arm and I backed up, hitting my elbow against the door. “Audrey.” He shook his head. “I don’t want you to be scared of me.”

“I’m not scared of you.”

“At least there’s that.” He smirked. “Follow me. I have something to show you.”

The wooden shutters were closed. A small lamp cast a spotlight on his desk.

“Did you know Spencer was working with Anderson & Lee?” He handed me a copy of an email.

“Yes. That was the firm in Columbia he was closing on when…”

“Read the email,” he urged.

“How did you get this?” It was a copy of an email from Senator Hughes to Lewis Anderson, head partner at Anderson & Lee.

“I have people, I told you that. Just read it.” He sighed.

Lewis,

I have a way to stall. Tonight.

Harry

I looked at Paxton. “Ok? What is so important about this email?”

“Look at the date.”

I scanned the print out again. “So? It was the same day Spencer drove to Columbia.”

“You don’t get it, do you?” He sounded irritated, like I had failed his trivia challenge.

“No, I don’t.” I threw the paper on the desk. “You’re coming up with any excuse you can to get me over here.”

“Audrey, Hughes and Lewis Anderson are behind Spencer’s death.”

“What? That doesn’t make any sense.”

He sat behind the desk. “Hughes warned me he would destroy me.” He looked toward the dark windows. “I should have listened.”

“I’m not following.”

“I knew he was planning something. I just couldn’t get ahead of him. He was spying on us. He knew about us. There are pictures.”

“Pictures? But we were careful.”

He shook his head. “Not always. I thought the blinds were drawn at the back of the house, but they weren’t.”

Horrified, I covered my mouth. “No. When? Which room?”

“This is upsetting you. Those details don’t matter.”

“Don’t tell me what matters!” I seethed. “What is in the pictures?”

“The night on the kitchen table.” He spoke quietly. “The night against the wall. The couch, the floor.”

Nights I had felt liberated, using my body like I never had, and someone else had seen it. I had to stop the retching in the back of my throat.

Paxton waited a few seconds. “Are you ok? I should have told you after the reporter brought it up in the interview.”

“Why didn’t you? I had a right to know there are pictures of me doing what I did.” I felt unbalanced again. I grabbed at the desk.

“Because I knew I could handle it. And I’m ashamed to say it, but I thought you would stop seeing me if you knew the story was going to the press. I thought I was careless. I’d just close the blinds next time.”

My eyes flared. How could he keep that from me?

He continued. “Anyway, I shelled out enough money. My dad raised all the salaries at the media outlets. We contained it. But Hughes knew we wouldn’t be able to stop breaking news from being reported. He set me up to make it look like I had Spencer killed. In one swoop, he would ruin me. But, he didn’t have proof. He could spread all the rumors and lies he wanted, but there was no proof.”

“I-I don’t know how to even process this.” I retrieved the discarded email. “But Anderson? What did he have to do with it?”

“She.”

“Lewis Anderson is a woman? Spence never mentioned that.” I read the email again, trying to stay on pace with Paxton.

“Turns out she is the key contributor to Hughes’s campaign, and they are exchanging a lot more than just funds, if you know what I mean.”

“They’re sleeping together?”

“Yes.”

“God.” I pressed my eyes with my palm. It didn’t change how out of focus everything was. “And Spence? What’s the connection?”

He opened a drawer and slapped a stack of papers held together by a binder clip in front of me. “It’s all here. She didn’t want the acquisition to go through.”

“Why not? She’s managing partner.” I started flipping through the email chain. It was more than I wanted to digest.

“I read the emails between her and Lee. She fought him at every turn. She canceled meetings. She had a third party read the contracts. The thing is she wasn’t interested in becoming the Charleston firm’s little sister.”

“But killing Spence wouldn’t stop an acquisition. There are other attorneys.”

Paxton pressed against the desk, his chair rolled back and he walked to my side. I moved quickly when he sat on the edge of the desk to face me. He invaded the boundary I was intentionally maintaining.

“It goes deeper than this. Much deeper.” Paxton’s eyes bore into mine. The look was a mixture of concern and determination. He wore it convincingly. I knew he cared.

“I’ll go through every detail with you if you want. Or I can stop now and I can do what I said I’d do at the beginning of the summer—leave you alone. You hate me. I don’t want to cause you any more pain, Audrey. You’ve been through so much.”

“I-I don’t hate you.”

“I’m glad.” He smiled lightly. “This might take some time. Do you want me to continue?”

“Go on. I want to know.”

He moved to touch me, but stopped as if my skin might burn him. “Ok. I’ll start from the beginning.” He returned to the leather chair. “Just like Hughes has been following me. I’ve had a guy following him. I’ve had dirt on him for a while, but I wasn’t planning on using it.”

“Why not just turn this over to the police? Did you tell them everything?”

“I didn’t want to use all this. That idealist you met is still here. I wanted to run on my own. It was only an insurance policy for my protection in case he tried something like that pregnancy stunt. Turns out I was right to have him investigated.” He moaned. “This is one time I wish I had been wrong.”

I sat. I don’t know what compelled me to listen. I nodded and asked questions for the next hour while Paxton laid out the backstory on how closely Lewis Anderson’s firm was tied to the Hughes campaign. There was something about land Hughes owned and a $40 million development deal near the beach that Spencer’s firm was going to kill as soon as the Anderson & Lee acquisition was final. Hughes couldn’t afford to have it happen and that meant neither could Lewis. She was so tied to him financially that his undoing threatened her personal assets. Of course, no one at Anderson & Lee knew about the connection. Hughes was a client, nothing else.

Paxton said he believed Spencer discovered the connection, most likely the affair, and that was why Lewis needed him killed. It was win-win for Hughes. He could set Paxton up, destroying his political career, and at the same time, solve the problem he and Lewis were having with the acquisition.

“We have to take this to the police.” I wobbled when I stood from my chair.

Paxton rushed to help me. “Whoa. Slow down. I’m going to grab a glass of water for you.” He returned holding a cup filled with ice.

“Thank you.” The sips made my stomach rumble.

“When’s the last time you ate something?” he asked.

“I don’t know.” I shook off the question. “The police. We need to go to the police with this.” I was insistent. I wanted Hughes and that vile partner to pay for what they had done.

“I’m going to make dinner for you, and we’ll figure this out together. Maybe you should lie down.”

“I don’t want to lie down and I don’t want your fucking food!” I splattered his face with water, the ice scattered at his feet.

“Hey, hey. Calm down. I’m worried about you.”

“I’m tired of everyone being worried about me. I’m tired of them shoving food in my face and telling me to stop drinking wine. I’m tired of reporters being camped in my yard. I’m tired, Pax. I’m just tired of all of it. I want this nightmare to end and it won’t fucking end.” I wiped at my face. It felt hot.

“I want it to end too. It’s killing me watching you hurt.”

“Then stop watching me.” I glared at him.

His shoulders slouched forward, and he covered his eyes as if he was praying. “I know what you’re going through. I see it like a movie playing in front of me, and there’s nothing I can do to stop it. I remember the stupid comments people made and the nonstop casseroles. Cards. People sent ridiculous cards. God, the flowers were awful. So many flowers.”

I didn’t think I could call it a giggle, but something mirthful cracked in my throat.

He looked up. “Are you laughing at me?”

I covered my mouth. “No. But the flowers…the stinking, nasty flowers.”

His lips split into a smile. “Yeah, those are wretched.”

“Completely.” It felt good to yell. To unleash the thoughts that were piling up, clogging my ability to say anything but thank you and smile like the appropriate grieving widow.

“Ok,” I relented. I was too tired to keep fighting.

“Ok?”

“I’ll eat something,” I told him.

“Good. Anything. I’ll fix anything you want.”

“I don’t care about the food, but I have questions.”