Bidding War Break-In

by Carolyn Ridder Aspenson

  As I drove by, Dominic Scratachelli pulled his Mercedes convertible out of the garage and parked it on the driveway. He hopped out and headed toward the mailbox. I quickly sped up and passed him while keeping my head slightly turned to the side. The last thing I needed was that man on my case.

  Even though I’d promised Dylan I’d go home, I drove over to the mixed development and parked near the townhomes. I decided to see for myself what kind of path the burglars could have taken from the house to the retail stores. Maybe it was the other way around, I wasn’t sure, but common sense said they’d park where they had less chance of being seen. Unless they knew otherwise, the retail section of the development would have more cameras than the private homes area. I got out and walked along the sidewalk, checking the alternative options, but not really finding any.

  The development wasn’t large, and because of the layout of Myrtle Redbecker’s land, it was narrow, unlike most other developments. The company that bought the land tried desperately to purchase the properties next to it, but neither of the owners budged. Odell Luna, one of them, had hinted at rethinking that, but from the looks of it, it was too late.

  It wasn’t the best set up, but still, the stores were anxious for a spot in the high rent location. I eyed two prime storefronts for lease, one clearly designed to be a restaurant, the other, perfect for a women’s clothing store.

  I loved the development. I knew in my heart it was what Myrtle had wanted for her land. She saw it as a means of bringing the town back to life, and sure, maybe a part of her wanted to stick it to the community because she was a cantankerous old biddy, but she’d never behaved that way with me. Bramblett was still small town. Her selling her land to a development didn’t change that. Small town wasn’t just about size, it was about the people and the traditions, and Bramblett still had both.

  The twinkling lights on the newly planted crepe myrtles, the dog friendly stores with their bowls out front and the little random benches and tables gave it a comfortable, homey feel like the rest of the town. The developers stayed true to their promise to Myrtle, too. No neon signs, no loud advertising. Instead, a commonality between the stores and their colors. The brand stores couldn’t use their typical signs on the fronts of their stores. They all had to be the same dim white color and in the same font.

  I kept wandering around the community, window shopping, and staring into the new fitness studio to watch a class until Magnolia Cleveland literally bumped right into me. Dressed in a pair of slacks, a pale pink cardigan, her hair tied back from her face with a matching ribbon.

  “Oh, sorry.” Surprised to make contact with something, and clearly not paying attention, her voice lacked the condescending tone she often had when speaking to me–until she heard my voice.

  “No problem, Mags.”

  Her eyes locked with mine, and I noticed a slight bit of uncomfortableness in her expression, a pushed back chin, furrowed brow, but it only lasted for a moment, and the snarkiness oozed out. “Oh, it’s you.”

  I glanced down at her hands and noted the legal pad with a small hand drawn map of the retail section of the development drawn on the opened page. I couldn’t make out the notes she’d written though. I pointed to the paper. “Oh, I didn’t know you were an artist. That’s a good drawing. Are you planning to sell it?”

  She flipped the legal pad over. “Did you follow me again? I told you I’d report you for harassing and stalking me, and I meant it.”

  “Get over yourself, Magnolia. If you’ll recall, I have a property listed here, and sometimes I come to check out the rest of the development to keep my sales pitch solid.”

  She blinked. “The property is listed again?”

  I hadn’t intended to blab that, but she’d caught me off guard. “Technically speaking, yes, the property is still on the market.”

  She glared at me, her eyes as cold as her husband’s had been when he saw me outside his front door. “The damage should take months to fix. Why on earth would you have it still listed?”

  “How would you know how bad the damage is? No one’s been allowed inside but the contractors, the police, and me and Belle.”

  She stumbled over her words. “Well, I’m just assuming.”

  “It’s pretty easy to get from the townhomes to the retail section, isn’t it? I mean, someone could just walk behind the left side and cut through halfway down, and no one would notice, don’t you think?”

  She fussed with her manicured nails and wouldn’t look me in the eyes. “I hadn’t really thought about that.”

  “Magnolia, listen, I don’t know what’s going on, but maybe if you’re honest with me, we can come to a mutual understanding. I can even talk to Dylan and defend you. Maybe that will help with your sentencing.”

  She laughed. “Honey, I’d rather be locked up in a room full of spiders than tell you anything.”

  Well, that was harsh. “Okay then. I’ll just let Dylan know I saw you here drawing a map of the development. I’m sure that will be cause enough to bring you in for questioning.”

  “I’m taking an online drawing class. I’m not drawing a map.” She held the pad close to her chest. “And you should learn to mind your own business, Lily Sprayberry.”

  I released a long, slow breath. “I don’t know how you’re involved in all of this, but you are, and one way or another, I’m going to figure it out.”

  “I’m not involved.”

  “I don’t believe you. First, you pitch a fit about the bidding war and the progress in town—”

  “I don’t care about that place.”

  I raised my eyebrows. “Of course you do. That’s what this whole thing’s about. You don’t want the county to grow, and you’re trying to stop it.”

  “I…I have to go. But Lily, trust me, if you know what’s good for you, you’ll just leave things be. Don’t sell that townhome. Not yet anyway.” She walked away leaving me standing there.

  What did she mean, if I know what’s good for me? And if she didn’t want the county to grow, why would she tell me to wait to sell Carter’s place? Wouldn’t she have said not to sell it at all? I didn’t understand. Something more was going on with Magnolia Cleveland, more than what I could see, and I intended to find out exactly what it was.

  Chapter 6

  Emma Crimmins hollered from inside her house. “I’m coming, I’m coming.” She swung the old wood door open and the wind from the force of it blew a clump of stray hairs away from her face. “Oh, it’s you.”

  “Nice to see you too, Emma.”

  “Why are you here?”

  “To talk, why do you think?”

  She tried to push the door shut, but I blocked it with my foot, a trick I’d seen countless times on the crime shows I watched. I just have a few questions. It won’t take long.”

  “I’m not talking to you, you traitor.”

  I kept my foot in place so Emma couldn’t close the door. “Magnolia doesn’t really care if I sell the townhome or not, does she?”

  She sighed, and as she did, she checked outside, swinging her head from side to side as to see if someone was watching. “Fine, come in, but just for a minute. I don’t want them to know I’m talking to you.”

  I stepped inside, and she closed the door. “You’ve got five minutes, so say what you need to say.” She stood straight as a stick, and completely still except for her left foot tapping on the floor.

  I laid my cards on the table, realizing it would probably be a mistake, but I was more interested in getting out of her what I could than protecting what she’d find out I knew soon enough. “I saw Magnolia with a sketch of the retail section of the development. When I asked her about it, she gave me some story about a drawing class. And then she told me not to sell the townhome, but she said not yet. What does that mean?”

  She didn’t respond, just tapped her foot on the floor.

  “If she doesn’t care about the townhome, why target me? Am I the fall guy for something else?”

  She c
rossed her arms over her chest, rubbed the sides of her biceps, and shook her head. “Oh heavens, Lily, this isn’t about you at all.”

  “Then what is it about?”

  She leaned toward her front door and peeked out the side window. “I don’t really know, okay? All I know is Magnolia is pretending to care, that’s all. And she asked for my help, and when a sister of the Women of Society asks for help, we help.” She brushed a fallen strand from her shivering chin and then crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m not privy to the details.” She walked the few steps to her front door again, opened it slowly a touch, took a look outside, and then opened it all the way. “Now, I really need you to leave before she finds out I talked to you. Please, just go.” She grabbed my arm and yanked me toward the door.

  I stepped through, but not far enough for her to close it behind me. Before leaving, I turned around and asked, “Emma, why me?”

  Her shoulders slumped as she let out a breath. “Luck of the draw, Lily. That’s all.”

  I backed out of the door frame, my mind swimming in confusion. I didn’t even say anything, because I didn’t know what to say. I just got in my car and drove straight to Caroline’s house. So much for going home, I thought.

  Caroline opened her front door with a defeated sigh, and her hair a hot mess, but she smiled when she saw me. “Oh Lily, Thank God. I thought for sure you’d be someone that mattered.”

  “Uh.”

  She laughed. “You know what I mean, silly. Someone that would judge me for looking worse like what comes out of the backend of a cow.”

  “You don’t look worse than that. Close, but not quite.”

  “Get your little pre-baby fanny in here and visit with me. William’s out with the baby, so I’ve been relishing in the peace and quiet, but I can definitely use some girl time.” She moved for me to step inside, but before I did, I gave her a big, tight hug.

  We walked into what was once the great room, but had been taken over by baby stuff.

  “I’ve been stressing about the mess here.” She collapsed onto a pile of towels thrown on top of her gray sectional couch. “But I’m just too exhausted to do a thing about it.”

  I understood why she was stressed. Her house, the focal point of the entrance into the Abernathy Farm corn maze property, had seen better days. Scattered clothing, toys, and discarded other items lay everywhere. Caroline had always been a stickler for cleanliness, and that was putting it lightly. When we lived in the sorority house she’d had two cleaning services fired because they hadn’t scrubbed the shower tile to her liking. She was nineteen. Her anal retentive cleaning psychosis, as she’d once labeled it, had eased since the baby was born.

  “Oh my.” I moved a pile of baby clothes and sat on the couch next to her. I checked her forehead for a temperature like my momma did when I was a kid. “You don’t have a fever.”

  “No, I have a child. It’s worse.”

  I couldn’t help but laugh.

  She laughed and then sighed. “You have no idea. I’m a hot mess, and I’m exhausted, and I don’t even care what I look like. Me.”

  “You have a baby. It’s a lot of work. I’ve heard sometimes a mom can’t shower for days.”

  She pointed at herself. “I’m on day three.”

  I leaned a little back so I couldn’t smell her, which I knew would happen since she’d planted that thought in my head.

  “William doesn’t help a bit, and the only time I get to shower is after midnight, but I’m just plum give out by then.” She leaned her head back, stared at her ceiling, and sighed. “I’m going to die, I just know it.” She swiveled her head my direction, smiled, and said, “So, what’s up?”

  “Um, I just had a few questions, but if it’s not a good time…” I let my words trail off into the air, which, I’d just noticed, kind of smelled like dirty socks. I wondered if it came from Caroline.

  She smiled again, a genuine, exhausted smile that came from her eyes more than her lips. “No, no. I’m fine. Go ahead, ask away. I’m just going to sit and relax why you do it though, is that okay?”

  I stood and began picking up the scattered clothing in the room. “It’s totally fine, sweetie.” I made a small pile of baby clothing on the corner and placed it on the rocking chair and then bent down, picked up Caroline’s legs and rested them gently on the coffee table. “Take a moment to chill out, and I’ll clean up a bit.”

  “You’re the best,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

  I tidied up the room, making piles of clothing to be washed and folded the clean ones. I put all of the toys into the two baskets on each side of the fireplace and organized the magazines on the coffee table. Caroline had fallen asleep, so I took a load of laundry, one I realized had the offensive sock stink, and walked through the kitchen to the laundry room.

  A tornado must have blasted through Caroline’s recently redesigned kitchen, because that was the only thing that could explain such a mess. Dishes piled at least a foot high sat in the sink and the counter. Random cabinet doors were open, and half eaten plates of food sat on the kitchen table.

  “Dear Lord, is this what having a baby is like?” I shuddered at the thought. I liked things clean, and I’d been called anal retentive about it too, but Caroline topped the charts in that category, sticking me in the amateur category. I stuffed the dirty clothes into the washer and walked back into the great room to Caroline snoring.

  I grabbed the blanket off the back of the section and spread it across her lap. Poor thing deserved the rest, so I decided to leave her a note and head out. I searched the kitchen desk for a pad of paper and found one in the bottom drawer. Searching for a pencil or pen, I accidentally knocked my arm into a dish and sent it flying to the floor. It cracked into several pieces.

  “I’m awake. I’m awake,” Caroline shouted from the other room.

  Well, I thought, no need for the note now. I picked up the bigger pieces of the broken plate and tossed them in the garbage, then I used an old trick my momma taught me to clean up the smaller pieces. I took a paper towel, wet it and swept across the floor. The smaller shards attached to the wet towel along with dirt, dust and something that resembled animal hair. Caroline and William had a farm, but no inside pets. I hoped the hair came in with them and not the animal.

  She walked into the kitchen, yawned, and sat at the table. “Don’t worry about it, I’ll get to it eventually.”

  “It’s okay. It’s my fault. I got it.” I tossed the towel in the trash. “Okay, so, why is there animal hair on the floor?”

  She rubbed the back of her neck and yawned again. “Because Harold likes to come in and check on the baby.”

  Harold was one of goats on the farm. They’d had him since birth, and he was the friendliest of them all. “Interesting.”

  “Blame William. He started it.”

  “Of course he did,” I lied. William wasn’t the one that treated the animals like pets. That was Caroline, and I had a sneaking suspicion she’d been the one to let Harold inside.

  She got up and poured herself a glass of sweet tea. “You want some?”

  “I’m good. Thanks.”

  “So, you didn’t come just to say hey, did you?”

  I gathered some dishes off the table and placed them next to the pile on the sink. “Partially, yes. I wanted to chat some more about Magnolia though. Is that okay?”

  She ran her hand through her hair, got it stuck in a knot, grunted, and twisted it into a bun that she clipped on the top of her head. “Fine, but I need cookies.” She opened the pantry and tossed a few things around before finding the cookies.

  I couldn’t believe it. Caroline had lost all sense of cleanliness.

  She sat back at the table and bit into an Oreo. “Shoot.”

  I washed dishes as I spoke. I figured it was the least I could do. “I saw her at the mixed-use development today in the retail section.”

  “She’s a shopper.”

  “But she wasn’t shopping. She was drawi
ng out a map. Had the stores labeled and everything.”

  “That’s odd.”

  “I know, and when I mentioned it to her, she tried to tell me it was for a drawing class.”

  She laughed. “Right. Magnolia taking a drawing class? As if she’d be capable of taking direction from anyone.”

  I laughed. “Right? I think she’s planning something, like maybe setting up the place for another robbery?” I washed two pots and three pans, and searched the drawers for a clean dishtowel to dry them with.

  “You don’t really think she’s involved, do you?” She pointed to my side. “Second drawer on the left, behind you.”

  I grabbed the towel and dried the dishes. “I don’t know. That’s why I’m here.”

  “As if she’d tell me? Please.”

  “Well no, but she might have said something, and you didn’t realize what it meant.”

  “That wouldn’t be hard, since I’m give slap out most of the time lately.”

  “She told not to sell the townhome, but when she said it, she ended it with, not yet anyway.”

  She took a bite out of another Oreo. “That’s odd.”

  “That’s what I thought. And when I talked to Emma Crimmins, she said

  it has nothing to do with me. That I’m just the scapegoat.” I giggled. “Guess I’m not as lucky as Harold.”

  She smiled. “No goat is as lucky as Harold.”

  “Don’t say anything about me talking to Emma, okay? She seemed really worried and uncomfortable talking to me.”

  “Did she say anything else?”

  “Just that she doesn’t really know what’s going on and that she’s just going along with Magnolia because she asked her to. She said that’s what you do for a Women of Society sister.”

  Caroline grimaced. “That is not what you do if it includes breaking the law.”

  “She led me to believe she wasn’t a part of what happened at the development, and I believe her. Has anything been mentioned about it at your meetings? Have they said anything about starting a campaign or anything?”