Signed, Sealed and Dead

by Carolyn Ridder Aspenson

  “No one puts Lily in a corner.”

  I couldn’t help but laugh. “I’m serious. I’ve got to go. I need to formulate my plan.”

  “You’re not going to do anything crazy are you?”

  “Of course not.”

  She coughed.

  “I promise.”

  “Good, because I sent that paperwork in and we’re going to get that cabin, I can feel it.”

  “That’s great, Belle. Now, I have to run. I’ll see you tomorrow at the office.”

  “You okay?”

  “I’m okay.” I clicked the red button on my iPhone and disconnected the call.

  I needed time to set my plan in action, but first, I needed to figure out what that plan was.

  * * *

  The next morning I met Dylan at Millie’s Café for coffee and a scone, insisted I buy because he always did, and it was definitely my turn, and because I wanted to drill him with questions about the autopsy.

  We sat outside, but he said he only had a few minutes to talk. “I did more online research about potassium chloride. Bobby Yancy has no connections to the medical field at all, Dylan. Did you do anything to retrace his steps the last few days before Carter’s murder? Find out where he was? Anything like that?”

  “We have.”

  “And?”

  “And so far, we haven’t got anything that shows he’s been at any medical facility, or anything that leads to him having access to the medicine.”

  “Because he didn’t do it.”

  “I know you think that, but the rest of our evidence is strong. His fingerprints are all over that syringe, Lily. All over it.”

  “Of course they are. He’s the janitor. His fingerprints are all over the school. Probably more than anyone else. What you have is circumstantial. What’re you looking at? Sign in sheets or videos or something?”

  He nodded.

  “Then look again. You’ll find your killer. And it’s someone associated with Ginnie Slappey. Trust me. I know what I’m talking about.”

  He checked his watch.

  “You have to go.”

  “I’m sorry. The district attorney’s called a meeting, and I need to be there.”

  “I’m sorry. I know you don’t think he did it, but the facts say something different.”

  I stood too, and Bo popped up next to my side. “Well, your facts are wrong, Dylan Roberts.”

  He kissed my forehead. “The facts are never wrong, Lily.”

  * * *

  Belle wasn’t happy when I told her I wouldn’t make it in that morning. “What time will you be in? I have news.”

  “They accepted our offer?”

  “Party pooper. I wanted to tell you in person.”

  “I’m sorry, but it’s not like I don’t know you well enough to figure that out. I’ll be there as soon as I can. I have something to do, and hopefully it won’t take too long, okay?”

  “You could at least be excited.

  “I am excited. I’m just distracted. I’m sorry. When this murder investigation is over, we’ll have a big girls night and celebrate. I promise, okay?”

  “I’m holding you to that promise.”

  I wanted to be excited, both for her, and for us, but it wasn’t easy to be excited when Carter was dead, and his murderer wasn’t behind bars yet. I would be excited, but only then. It just didn’t feel right celebrating something without finding closure for Carter’s death.

  I’d barely known Carter Trammell, but he was new in town, and he needed someone to fight for him, someone to be his warrior, like Millie had said, and that was me. Someone needed to fight for Carter.

  I’d found myself in the school parking lot, and I finished my conversation with Belle before signing in at the front office. The sign in clerk and I gabbed a bit, and since she was a teenager, thankfully replacing the regular front desk clerk for the period, she knew enough about what was going on to know who I was.

  “Are you here to help with the presentation?”

  “Um, presentation?”

  “The one Ms. Slappey and Coach Longley are putting together for the athletic association. They’re in the teacher’s conference room working on it right now.”

  “Oh, yes.” I shook my head and shrugged as if I’d just misunderstood. “I’m sorry. I just hadn’t considered it a presentation.”

  She handed me my pass, and I stuck it on my shirt. “Well, I hope it works. I know the guys are just wrecked that they can’t play. They really want their scholarship chances to get into the bigger schools to play. Especially Justin Mooney. He thought he’d get a shot at Duke, if for no other reason than to take a spot we all thought would go to Yancy, but if he can’t play this year, that’s a no go for sure.”

  Bingo. “Justin Mooney needs a scholarship?”

  “Oh heck no. His family’s got more money than all of Bramblett County together.” She leaned over the counter and sort of whispered. “He’s also got the biggest ego in town, too. He’s been telling everyone he’s going to Duke to play lax, but we all thought that was a big ol’ lie, you know? Now it’s lookin’ like it is, for sure. Looks like his parents can’t buy him that spot on the team after all, and he ain’t good enough to get on it himself, ‘specially if he’s not playing. ‘Least he doesn’t have to worry about little Bobby Yancy showing him up anymore.”

  Hmm. That really caught my attention. “Is Bobby Yancy a better lacrosse player?” I wanted to appear as if I didn’t know what I actually did know to see what added information she’d give me.

  She flicked her hand. “Oh heck yeah, he is. So is Tanner Slappey. They both play the X attack, only Yancy can play both left and right, so he’s the player all the colleges want, and dude was set for all kinds of scholarship offers, until Trammell said he was gonna suspend him. That probably would have shut the doors, but no one knows for sure. What most likely screwed it for him was his daddy killing the coach. Nobody’s gonna give a scholarship to a kid who’s daddy gone and killed someone, you know?” She took a bunch of papers and shuffled them into a neat pile and stacked them together in a folder. “Anyway, I feel bad for Bobby Yancy, but Justin Mooney, for all I care, he can go to the community college and fix cars the rest of his life like regular people. His money don’t mean a thing to me.”

  That girl would get far in life, for sure. “How long until class ends?”

  “Oh, class just started, so not for another forty-five minutes.”

  I thanked her, though not for the information but for the hall pass, and headed on my way.

  Ginnie Slappey and Michael Longley were in the teacher’s conference room when I arrived, but the door was closed. Before I knocked, I snuck a peek in the small rectangle window on the door to see what they were doing. Okay, so I spied on them, but I didn’t care. Since class had just started, the halls were quiet, and I could hear them talking, so my snooping was well worth it, I mean, if I could figure out who and what they were talking about.

  “She’s just an awful person. I hate her,” Ginnie said.

  “I know, and we’ll deal with her. I promise. Just give me some time to figure out how.” Michael Longley brushed a hair from Ginnie’s shoulder.

  Oh my gosh. Are they? I wanted to stop staring, but I couldn’t. My eyes wouldn’t, couldn’t break away from them.

  Michael Longley leaned in toward Ginnie and brushed a quick kiss onto her lips.

  I could never, would never unsee that.

  She pushed him away. “We can’t do this Michael, not here. People will see.”

  They both glanced at the door, and I ducked to the side faster than I’d ever moved in my life. Did they see me? Dear God, if they saw me, I was deader than a doornail, I just knew it.

  What had I done to make Ginnie Slappey hate me so much? And did Michael Longley mean me when he said they’d deal with her?

  I knew I needed to find out, but I also knew I’d put myself in dangerous situations before, whether intentionally or not, and I wasn’t about to do that
again.

  I headed straight out of the school and back to the office, only to find Belle not there, a note on my desk that she’d gone to show homes to a walk-in client—we’d get those every now and then—and a pile of paperwork I’d been avoiding sitting on my chair.

  So, I got to work.

  Chapter 11

  Why is it when there’s work to be done, the brain can’t focus on the work at hand but instead focuses on something else entirely? My brain wouldn’t focus on my realtor business, or the fact that Ginnie Slappey and Michael Longely had somehow conspired to kill Carter Trammell, and that I’d gotten in the way of their plan and needed to be dealt with. Nope, not my brain. My brain focused on food.

  Tuna salad with balsamic drizzle to be exact. At least it was healthy food, which was a surprise, actually. And I couldn’t get it out of my head. I stared blankly at the paperwork sprawled out on our conference table. Closing papers, partially signed contracts, open house listing sheets, and other random documents blurred in my line of site, but none of them mattered. All that mattered was the image of Millie’s lunch board I’d caught a glimpse of earlier that morning.

  Lunch Specials

  Tuna Salad on Romaine with Raspberry Balsamic Drizzle, Cherry Tomatoes and Fruit Side

  Sweet Tea

  $6.99

  My stomach growled. I considered that a spoken need, dropped the unrecognized papers in my hand, grabbed my wallet from my purse, and headed straight to Millie’s. Thankfully it was just a few steps away because my stomach hollered as if I hadn’t fed it in months the entire way there.

  “Hush. We’re almost there,” I whispered to it like a crazy person.

  A woman walking by glanced at me as I talked to my belly and rubbed it at the same time.

  I blushed, and instantly stopped the belly rubbing. “Oh, I’m not—I’m just hungry.” Great. I just started a Lily Sprayberry is pregnant rumor for sure.

  Millie smiled when I walked in. “Here for the special, right?”

  “How’d you know?”

  “Lily Sprayberry, you get that every time I make it. You think I don’t know your favorites? Surprised you didn’t order it at breakfast like last month.”

  I handed her a ten dollar bill. “Did I really do that?”

  “Did the deer eat all my flowers last week?”

  “You were complaining about it, so I’m going with yes.”

  “Well, there ya go.”

  I laughed.

  She nodded toward the entrance. I turned around and watched Clarissa Mooney walk in, and I sighed. When I flipped around to face Millie again, she rolled her eyes. “Ms. Persnickety’s here to eat,” I whispered.

  “I can serve whoever I want. Maybe I don’t want to serve her.”

  “Don’t be like that. Trust me. She’s not worth the hassle.”

  She shrugged.

  Clarissa Mooney pulled her sunglasses down to the tip of her nose and gazed at me over their rims. “Well look at you.” She eyed my plain white button down shirt, lavender cardigan and Silver brand jeans. “Don’t you just march to your own drummer, sweetheart.” She placed the sunglasses on top of her head, or more like on top of the bun of hair on top of her head.

  Millie coughed.

  “Heard you were at the school today,” Clarissa said.

  That was interesting. How would she hear that? “I was.”

  “And what brought you there?”

  “Realtor business.”

  “Oh, with Coach Longley?”

  How would she know who I went to see? The computer system logs in the visitors, I didn’t sign a sheet. Oh, unless she got there after me, or talked to the girl in the front office and she told her. Great. “Well, if you must know, I used him as an excuse.” I smiled and touched my forefinger to my lips. “But shh, let my little marketing trick be our secret, okay? I don’t want the principal knowing I manipulate the system by pretending to have meetings I don’t have to drop off marketing materials for teachers I hear might be looking to move, mm-kay?” I nearly made myself sick with my own sticky-sweetness.

  I watched as she clutched her purse straps tightly. Clarissa Mooney despised me. “Oh sweetie, bless your heart. I didn’t know your business was struggling.”

  I dug my boot heel into the floor and swallowed back the negativity I felt rising from my tummy. I knew my momma would want me to be the better person, and dagnabit, I wanted to be, too. I wished Belle was there to play bad cop at that moment. It would have been nice to have her come back with a bit of best friend snark. “It’s not. It’s called marketing, which is what I went to college for, Clarissa.”

  “What can I getcha, Miss Moody?” Millie asked.

  “It’s Mooney, Millie.”

  “Yeah, I know. What do you want?” She put my plastic container in a bag and handed it to me.

  “I’ll have what she’s having.”

  “You sure? It’s got a lot of calories. A woman your age should watch what she eats. Maybe you should just have the lettuce instead?”

  I wrapped the top of the bag around my fingers and smiled. “Thanks, Millie. You’re the best. Keep the change, by the way.”

  “You’re welcome, Lilybit.” She smiled as I flipped to head out the door. I wanted to give her a thumbs up so badly, but it wasn’t in good taste, and I thought I should at least give the impression I was well-mannered, even though I laughed like crazy inside.

  * * *

  Belle made it back to the office just after six, and shortly after I’d returned with Bo. Dylan had called and said he wouldn’t make it to my place until late, if at all, due to meetings about the case. Meetings he said he’d try to fill me in on later, if it wasn’t too late to call. I told him I’d be at work until at least ten o’clock, handling paperwork with Belle and preparing for our investment property purchase details, so he could stop by if he had a chance or needed a break. His office wasn’t far, and he’d often take breaks when he needed a breath of fresh air.

  As much of a modern woman as I liked to think I was, I still had much of the old-fashioned values of the South burned into my soul. Dylan did stay the night at times, but when he did, he either slept on the couch or in the guest bedroom. Sure, sometimes we’d fall asleep on the couch together, and I loved that, but my momma taught me that no man, no matter how much he said he loved you, bought the cow if he got the milk for free, and my milk, well, that stuff wasn’t free, and that was that. So, no late night check in’s unless the matter was urgent.

  Dylan understood.

  Belle and I finished up our paperwork while Bo chewed on two bones and one stuffed dog bed. It took us an hour to realize the one stuffed dog bed had been chewed to bits, and we only did when Belle decided to leave and noticed the stuffing spread across most of the office floor.

  She picked up the last of it under a desk high book case in the far left corner of the main space. “Wow. He’s fast.”

  “You have no idea. I’m still finding stuffing from three dog beds ago around my house. The dog is a monster when it comes to eating his beds.”

  She held the remains of the indestructible bed. “But this is that kind that says it can’t be eaten.”

  “Lies.”

  “Wow.”

  “He’s got the mouth of a—I don’t know what, but something powerful.”

  “The amount of drool should be an indicator of that.”

  “This is why I bought a print duvet cover. The drool stains are nasty.”

  “Next time you should get a fish. I don’t know what made you think a dog was the right choice.” She winked at me.

  I threw my pencil at her, and it boinked her right on the forehead.

  She rubbed the wound. “Ouch. That hurt.”

  “You got me the chewer, remember?”

  “You saw his picture. He was adorable. Who could resist those puppy eyes?”

  “Obviously not you. Well, at least not enough to give him to your weak best friend.”

  “I’m weak, but not stu
pid. I wanted a dog, but only in the favorite dog aunt sense.”

  I flicked my eyes her direction and held up another pencil. “Watch it.”

  She flinched and held her hands over her face. “Don’t. I’m already going to bruise.” She yawned. “I’ve seriously got to go. That client today was the worst ever. We looked at seven properties and not one was acceptable. I’m give slap out.” She finished cleaning up her side of the conference table. “I’ll finish my stuff up tomorrow.”

  “I’m almost done. I’ll finish up right quick and head home.” I twirled the pencil in my hand and smirked. “I don’t want to leave before the job is done.”

  “Well, aren’t you just a peach?”

  “See you tomorrow.”

  “If you’re lucky. You want me to lock up before I leave?”

  “Nope, I got it. I’m heading out in a few anyway.”

  She blew me a kiss. “Ta ta.”

  “Ta ta, Miss I-Haven’t-Left-The-Sorority-And-Think-I’m-All-That.”

  “Yup, that’s me.” She literally let the door bump her bottom on the way out.

  I couldn’t help but giggle.

  Bo laid on the deflated, empty remains of his dog bed and snoozed while I finished up the paperwork for two clients. In no time, I’d found myself mindlessly drawing circles on a piece of notebook paper. In one circle I wrote Ginnie Slappey and in the other, Michael Longely.

  Did he know she’d killed Carter, or was he simply another pawn in her game? I doubted he knew. Sure, he wanted that coaching position, that was obvious, and if it was obvious to me, it was to her, too. Ginnie had a plan, and Coach Longley was simply another pawn in her game to make that plan a success. I almost felt sorry for him.

  I closed my eyes and leaned back in my chair. Bo, still lying on his leftover bed scraps, slept like the dead, snoring as if the world didn’t exist. I envied that and decided I needed to sleep, too. I began to gather my things but stopped. I wasn’t going to use any of them between then and the morning, so I just headed to the back to close everything up, make sure things were locked up back there, and turn off the coffee pot, because Belle never seemed to remember to do that, and head home for the night.