He dragged his hand down his gray beard and tugged on its end. “’Cause I’m an idiot, that’s why.”
“I’m going to need something a little better than that.”
“I heard some yelling over there, and I knew nobody was supposed to be there, so I went over to check things out.”
He stopped talking. “And?”
“And that’s when I found Jesse on the floor. The shovel was lying there next to him, and I don’t know why, but I moved it out of the way when I checked to see if he was breathing. When I saw that he wasn’t, I panicked, and I figured I better put it somewhere so they didn’t think I did it, so that’s what I did.”
“The shovel had blood on it, Sonny.”
“I wasn’t really thinking clearly.”
If he was telling the truth, that was obvious. “So, let me get this straight. You’re saying you heard yelling at Myrtle’s house, so you went over there and you found Jesse on the floor, dead, but you weren’t sure he was dead, so when you went to check you unknowingly moved the murder weapon. When you realized you’d done that, you picked it up, laid it against the front porch window, and then went home?”
He nodded.
“Were you planning to call the sheriff?”
He stared at me, his jaw loose.
I raised an eyebrow. “Is that a no?”
“I don’t really know what I was gonna do. Next thing I know, sheriff’s at my house, and I’m here charged with murder.”
His story was so unbelievable, I almost believed him. “Who would have killed him, Sonny? The only other person invested in the property is you.”
He shrugged. “I’m being framed. I didn’t do it.”
“Have you called your kids?”
He nodded. “My son is on his way now. Won’t be here till tomorrow.”
“Okay.”
“Do you believe me?”
I gathered up the papers and put them in my bag. “I don’t know Sonny. I just don’t know.”
As I left the Sheriff’s Office, Dylan caught me in the parking lot. “Can we talk?”
“I have a lot to do. The property lines changed and that means the valuation on the property is different now, so I’ve got to do a new one, and that means a whole new sales price and listing, and I don’t even know if the bidders are still in, and I’ve got to contact the attorney and the trust and find out what’s going on.” I rambled on without even making eye contact. “Maybe tomorrow. If I’m caught up, I guess.”
He grabbed my arm, “Lily.”
“Not now Dylan.”
He didn’t let go. “The judge is asking for the trust to indefinitely postpone the sale of the property. He wants to demolish the house and have the land excavated.”
I stopped walking and finally turned around and made eye contact. “What? Why?”
“He’s done. Said this old wives’ tale needs to be put to an end.”
“But he doesn’t have that right.”
“Actually, he does. I told him you have paperwork proving the original plot lines, and he wants to see them so the land belonging to the Waddell’s isn’t disturbed, but he’s determined to make this happen.”
“What does he think this is, the 1700s or something? He doesn’t have to have the land excavated. Why wouldn’t he use a radar survey company? They use those to find utility pipelines all the time.” I recalled what Myrtle had said about the boxes in the attic and realized destroying the house meant I needed those boxes. “When is he planning to do this?”
“I’m not sure. He asked me to get a copy of the paperwork from you, so probably soon.”
“Can I at least talk to him about it first?”
“You can, but I’m not sure he’s going to change his mind.”
“Digging is expensive. Who’s paying for this? The county?”
“I think he’s planning to hit the trust with the bill.”
“What? He can’t do that. That’s not right. I’m calling the attorney. They’ll file some kind of injunction or something. I don’t know what, but they’ll find a way to stop him. He can’t do this.”
“He all but owns this town, Lily. You know how it goes. Small town and a judge with a big ego. Do what you need to, but I’ve got to get that paperwork to him.”
That big-ego could get a copy of the paperwork himself for all I cared. I glanced at my bag. “I don’t have any with me at the moment. I’ll have to get it to you later, but I really have to go.”
“I’ll need it by the end of the day,” he said as I climbed into my car.
“I’ll do my best.” I had to get to Myrtle’s and grab those few boxes in her attic before the judge did anything to the house. I didn’t know what was in them, but I’d promised my client I’d do what she asked, and I intended to at least follow through with one of my promises.
* * *
Myrtle’s place was completely trashed. I didn’t know if Jesse had done the damage or whether others had come through and destroyed it, but a tornado wouldn’t ruin a home to the level Myrtle’s place had been. I sat on the only chair left standing in the kitchen and cried. “Who does this?”
The walls were smashed in all through the kitchen and family room. Hole after hole after hole filled them, leaving only tiny bits of wall visible. Upholstered furniture slashed through so much the stuffing lay on the floor next to it. I followed the path of destruction to the old woman’s bedroom and found the same vandalism. Her bed, torn and shattered to pieces, her dresser drawers split apart and crushed. Clothes torn and shredded, lying all over.
Whoever did this wasn’t searching for money. They intended to demolish, and from the looks of it, their intent was laced with anger.
But why?
Myrtle wasn’t the nicest woman in town. Everyone knew that, but who hated her enough to mutilate everything the dead woman owned?
The person that killed her. Her great-nephew.
Was that what he was doing when Sonny heard the yelling? In a fit of rage, had Jesse come to his family home and destroyed what belonged to his aunt, the things he couldn’t have? Had Sonny caught him and killed him? Was it an accident? If so, why didn’t Sonny say so?
Because after the scene at Millie’s, no one would believe him.
Even I hadn’t.
I rushed up to the attic and grabbed the two small boxes poor Myrtle Redbecker had asked me to take care of if something happened to her, and I put them in my trunk for safe keeping and then headed home to finish up my work for the day.
I contacted the attorney handling the trust to discuss what Dylan told me. He wasn’t sure of a specific precedent for a case like ours but said there had been many cases where a judge had postponed a sale over land disputes or inheritance issues. “He could in some way attach his ruling to one of these precedents and demand the property be excavated to stop any potential future lawsuits.”
I groaned. “But what about charging the trust, and can’t we do anything about the excavation? He can use a utility line locating company. This is what they do. Can’t you suggest it? It’s a lot less expensive. Maybe if we go to him with that option he’ll consider it?”
“I’ll approach the judge about it. In the meantime, though, we’ll need to officially take the property off the market.”
“Thank you. Do you want to contact the bidders then, or should I?”
“Since I get paid from the trust and you’re commissioned, I can do it.”
“I’d appreciate it. I’ll swing by and grab the key box and the sign, oh, and I’ll take it offline also.”
“Sounds good,” he said.
That’s because you’re still getting paid, I thought, but I didn’t say anything.
“By the way, Mrs. Redbecker asked that you be paid a fee if the deal didn’t close. Would you like me to send you the check, or should I have it deposited to your account?”
After I picked my jaw up off the floor, I gave him the business account information. Maybe old cantankerous Myrtle Redbecker wasn’t such
a crank after all.
Chapter 7
My adorable little bungalow felt less adorable without Sparky, even though I’d never even met the dog, and he’d never once stepped foot into the place. If Belle were there at that moment I would have punched her in the shoulder for putting the idea of a puppy into my head. Not that I would rather think about the death toll rising in my small town, or the fact that my ex-boyfriend had moved back and seemed to want me back, too, but I would have preferred to think about something less heart wrenching.
Maybe I’d get a fish?
Yes. A fish. That would definitely do the trick. A fish wasn’t high maintenance. A fish didn’t require too much time or effort, they didn’t need to be walked, or trained. I didn’t have to take a fish to the vet. They couldn’t get hit by cars or require kenneling if I went on vacation—which I never did, but whatever. Fish were easy. Fish fit into my lifestyle.
I was totally getting a fish. STAT.
I threw on a pair of yoga pants and a sweatshirt and headed back to the next town over and the big box pet store next to the office supply store. Instead of heading straight to the fish aisle, my heart aimed right at the dog section, and I found myself wandering around the puppy items. I draped my hand across a leather leash, a soft dog bed made out of some plush plaid material and an assortment of cushioned, squeaky toys with Sparky’s name written in invisible ink all over them.
I hated Belle for planting the puppy seed in my brain.
I dragged myself kicking and screaming over to the fish section but nothing spoke to my heart the way the puppy supplies did, and I had to believe a fish wasn’t in my future. Not that a puppy was either but a fish definitely wasn’t.
I left the store empty handed and even more broken hearted. I hoped whoever adopted that sweet Sparky treated him like the king I knew he’d grow up to be.
I took the scenic route home, driving past Myrtle’s place to check on it just to make myself feel better. I didn’t go inside, but from the outer appearance, nothing had changed. I hadn’t said anything to Dylan about going there earlier, figuring he’d be upset and that he’d already known the house had been trashed anyway. Mostly I didn’t have the strength to talk to him and figured if I didn’t, he couldn’t press me about the paperwork. I hoped the attorney for the trust had already spoken to the judge, and I didn’t need to worry about getting him the paperwork. If he still wanted it bad enough he could serve me with papers or get them from the Historical Society himself. Only when I finally pulled into my driveway, Dylan’s sheriff’s car was parked there waiting for me. I gave up and decided to just give Dylan the papers and let the attorney fight it out with the judge. As much as I wanted to do right by my client, the legal component wasn’t my area of expertise, and the rumors of the buried money wasn’t my battle to fight.
I locked my car and walked toward my side door. “I have the papers inside. I’ll grab them for you.”
He opened his car door and stepped out of the car.
“You’re not coming in, so don’t bother getting out.” I didn’t need to check his facial expression. I felt the shock of my words vibrate through the air.
“Okay.”
I unlocked the door and went to grab the papers from my bag on the table, only my bag wasn’t on my table. I checked the floor, but it wasn’t there either. I made a quick search through my standard bag drops throughout my small bungalow, but my bag wasn’t there. I knew I brought it home. I’d had it with me all day, and I’d definitely had it with me when I saw Sonny and spoke to Dylan last because I specifically avoided giving him the paperwork then, and I’d come straight home and done some work, tossed everything back into it for the morning and put it back on the table.
So where was it?
Dylan knocked on my side door. “Can I come in?” he asked as he opened the door. He must have noticed the frown on my face. “I just need the papers and I’ll go. I promise.”
“I don’t have them.”
“Don’t be like this Lily, please.”
“No, I’m serious. I don’t have them. My bag, it’s gone.” I did a circle in the room. “It was here before I left, but now it’s gone.” The hair on my arms stood. “I think someone was in my house again.”
Dylan placed his hand on his gun and whispered, “Get in your car and drive down to the end of the street. Now.”
“But—”
He cut me off. “Now.”
He pulled his gun from the holster on his waist. “I’ll come find you.”
Before I had time to argue a loud bang and crash boomed from the front of my house. The front door slammed shut, and the sound of someone running echoed outside. Dylan took off running out my side door. I didn’t know what to do, so I followed him, but bless him, those spin classes were no match to his cardiovascular capabilities, and I couldn’t keep up. He raced past the sidewalk and to the right, and within seconds I’d lost sight of him and the shadow of whomever he chased.
I bent over, hands on my knees and forced myself to breathe. All I could think about was how Sparky would have been able to catch whomever was in my house but a dang fish would have been utterly useless, and I fell to the ground laughing because of it.
Dylan came back and stood over me, watching me as I laughed. “You okay?”
I couldn’t speak, the laughter taking over, probably masking a ton of emotions I just couldn’t deal with at that moment. “I…I…” I nodded since I couldn’t finish my sentence.
He dropped my bag on the ground next to me. “Here. They left this on the side of the road.” He sat next to me, leaned back onto the palms of his hands, his legs spread straight out in front of him. “Whoever that was ought to be in the Olympics.”
I opened my bag, but my laptop and the file with the paperwork were both gone. “Now I definitely don’t have the paperwork for the judge.”
He peeked into my bag. “Anything else missing?”
“My laptop.”
“Crap.”
“Yeah. Luckily I’m smart enough to keep everything backed up at work. I can at least get him a copy of the email in the morning.”
“I’d appreciate that. He can be nasty when he wants. I’d rather not get on his bad side.”
“Like that Vicki Lawrence song?”
“The one your mother used to sing all the time? Yeah.”
“You remember that?”
“I remember a lot of things.”
“Me, too.” Dang. A weak moment.
“What did you have in that bag that someone might want?”
I thought about that for a minute. “I don’t think anything.” I zipped up the large compartment and set the bag to my side. “Do you think this has something to do with the plot lines?”
“Are you involved in any other murder investigations or land disputes or any small town family feuds?”
I couldn’t help but smile. “Not that I’m aware of.”
“Then I think it’s safe to say this has something to do with Myrtle Redbecker’s property.”
“But what? And how? Jesse Pickett is dead, and his killer is in jail.”
“I have a feeling there’s something going on that we’re both missing.”
“So, how do we find out what that is?”
“We don’t. That’s my job. Your job is selling real estate.”
“And I can’t do that because people keep getting killed at my listing. Which, by the way, isn’t even my listing anymore.”
“You have other clients.”
“Not ones that would have made my office close to fifty thousand bucks.”
“Ouch.”
“I know, right?”
“Doesn’t Odell Luna want to sell now?”
“Do you think Odell—”
“Stay out of it Lily, please. You just had someone enter your home again, and this time you were in it. You could have been killed.” He stood and wiped the grass from his pants. “In fact, I’m not comfortable with you staying alone. I’m staying on your couch
tonight.”
I jumped up. “Uh, I don’t think so. I can stay with Belle.”
“Fine. You go to Belle’s, but I’m staying here. Whoever came here is looking for something and if it wasn’t in your bag, they might show up again, and I’m going to be here.” He walked to his car. “In fact, I think it’s a good idea for you to go to Belle’s place.”
“I’m not comfortable with someone staying at my place without me.”
He flipped around and stared at me. “Lily, it’s me,” he stressed me with extra intensity.
“I don’t care if it’s the Pope. It makes me uncomfortable.”
“The Pope I can understand. You’re not even Catholic, but this is me we’re talking about, and I’m the sheriff here. What do you think I’m going to do, snoop through old love letters?”
“No” I mumbled the rest. “The only ones you’d find are the ones from you anyway.”
The side of his mouth twitched, darn it. “You still have my old letters?”
“If I had them, I mean.” Great. Just great. “You’re not staying here without me. That’s just creepy.”
“Fine, you can stay too, but I want you in your room with the door locked in case something happens, and I’ll check your window to make sure it’s secure.”
“As if I’d keep the door unlocked with you’re here anyway.”
His mouth twitched again and my heart melted. I’d all but forgotten about poor Sparky.
He opened his trunk and removed a travel bag. “I keep an extra set of clothes in the car for emergencies.”
I couldn’t help but wonder how many similar emergencies he’d had as a cop, but I knew I really didn’t want to know.
* * *
The next morning Belle showed up at the office with two lavender scones. “Are you going to stay mad at me forever?”
“Maybe.” I’d already forgotten why I was mad at her, and that I had been in the first place, but I wanted that scone, so I pretended otherwise.
Lily Sprayberry Realtor Box Set Page 11
