Lily Sprayberry Realtor Box Set

by Carolyn Ridder Aspenson

“Can’t we let bygones be bygones?”

  I broke off a piece of the creamy warm yumminess and handed it to my best friend. “My old maid-ness is forever over.”

  Her eyes widened. “Do tell.”

  “I had a man over last night.”

  “Honey, you are a southern girl. We do not misbehave like that.” She pulled her chair to my desk. “Now, give me every single detail, and then go straight to church and beg for forgiveness.”

  “A southern girl doesn’t kiss and tell.”

  She dropped her head and shook it. “Well, that’s a big downer. Thanks for that.”

  “Sorry, but I did have a man spend the night.”

  “Did one of your brothers come in town or something?”

  “Nice. No, it was our sheriff, actually.”

  She raised a finger to her partially opened mouth. “Oh yeah, now I’m dying to know.”

  “I’d gone to the pet store to buy a fish, and when I got home he was there waiting.” I stopped just to torture her.

  “A fish?”

  “Long story.”

  “Okay. Tell me that part later.”

  “Apparently, the sale of Myrtle’s property is officially on hold now. The judge is pushing to excavate the land and tear the house down. He’s determined to put a stop to everything related to the money rumor, and he needs the paperwork from the Georgia Historical Society, so Dylan came to get it.”

  “What? That’s ridiculous, and expensive. Why isn’t he just using a utility locating service to search for it?”

  “That’s exactly what I said. Anyway, so, I went inside to grab the paperwork from my bag, but my bag was gone. Dylan came in and we heard someone running out the front door and—”

  “Wait, someone was in your house?”

  “Yes, and Dylan raced after them, and he’s really fast, but he didn’t catch them. They dropped my bag, but my computer and the file with the paperwork were gone, and he didn’t want me to stay home, so he told me I had to go to your house, but I didn’t want him staying at my house alone, so—"

  “Oh goodness, I hope you did not sleep with him. You’ll be the talk of the town if that gets out.”

  I smacked her arm. “No, he slept on the couch, and I slept in my room. With the door locked.”

  “Good. You definitely do not want to give him the milk for free. You most certainly want him to purchase the cow first.”

  “Did you just call me a cow?”

  “Theoretically speaking, yes.”

  “So, let me get this straight. When you thought I would never date again, I was at risk of becoming an old maid, and just now, when you thought I might have slept with my former true love, you implied that I was easy and also that I was a cow?”

  She cringed. “It sounds so tacky when you say it like that.”

  “It’s actually horrible.”

  “But, really, I’m just concerned about your reputation.” She brushed a hair from the side of her face. “And the reputation of our agency, of course, but only a little.”

  “Em hmm.”

  She laughed. “So, anyway, what happened after that?”

  “Oh, I got up early and had my way with him on the couch, what did you think?”

  She choked on a bite of her scone, and it took her almost a full minute to gather her composure.

  I tried with all my might to keep a straight face, but I couldn’t do it. “I’m kidding. He made a pot of coffee, and I came to work.”

  “So, now what?”

  “Now I find new real estate clients, and we do our jobs.”

  “That’s not what I mean, and you know it.”

  “I know, but I don’t really have an answer, at least not about the personal stuff. The other stuff, I’m not sure. He’s taken my statement, and he’s filing a report, but really, what else can he do? I forwarded him the email from the Historical Society from my phone so he can give it to the judge, and I ordered a replacement laptop, which I can pick up at the office supply store today by the way, and he’s got extra eyes—his term—on my place for now, so we’ll see what happens.”

  “Aren’t you worried? Someone broke into your house. Again.”

  I plucked a pencil from the holder and tapped it on the corner of my desk. “That’s the thing. They didn’t exactly break in. Or at least it doesn’t look that way.”

  “Then how are they getting in?”

  “I guess I’m leaving my door unlocked.”

  She shook her head. “Nope. No way. You’re the last person that would do that. You still double check the door here when either one of us locks it. They’re getting in somehow. You and Dylan just haven’t figured out how yet.”

  “I’m not that obsessive, am I?”

  “You used to mom all the girls in the sorority house, remember? Making sure everyone’s straighteners were turned off before they left their rooms? You’re totally obsessive.”

  “You’re right. Someone is getting into my place somehow.”

  “Why don’t you get an electronic doorbell? We’re always telling our clients to get them. Maybe you should? I bet Dylan would install it, too.”

  The last thing I needed was him coming over to help me with anything. “I can do it myself.”

  “Whatever, I just think it’s a good idea.”

  “Actually, I think you’re right.”

  “Now if you’d only agree to the puppy.” She put her hands together in a praying position. “Please? He’s so cute.”

  “He’s also so no longer at the shelter.”

  She gasped. “What? How do you know?”

  “Because in a moment of weakness my car drove itself there and checked, and the nasty woman there said they’d let someone else adopt him.”

  A slow, knowing smile spread across Belle’s face. “I knew it. I totally called it.”

  “You know nothing, and you called nothing, so hush.”

  “You wanted that dog. I can’t believe you went to get him and he was gone. That really stinks.”

  “No, it just proves it wasn’t meant to be. Besides, I decided I’m more of a fish girl instead, so that’s what I’m getting. I just don’t know what kind yet. I had no idea there were so many fish breeds to choose from. It’s a big decision to make, and I don’t want to rush my decision.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Whatever.”

  “Anyway, back to things that make money for us. Were you able to get anything together for the community garage sale and finish up the stuff for the decluttering class?”

  She nodded. “What do you think I do while you’re out and about with your ex-boyfriend?”

  “Nice.”

  She giggled. “Everything’s set for the class. I’ve even got Heather Barrington and Caroline Abernathy signed up. It should be entertaining to say the least.”

  “Dear Lord. You did not.”

  Belle struggled to maintain a straight face. “What? We finished college years ago. They can’t still hate Savannah.”

  “Savannah stole and then married Heather’s college boyfriend, the one she thought she was going to marry.”

  “Yeah, but she’s divorcing him now, so maybe they’ll make up.”

  “Right. Like that will ever happen.” I rubbed the base of my neck. “And what about Caroline? Savannah slept with her boyfriend in college too.”

  Belle pointed at me. “That was never actually verified.”

  “God bless. You’re going to send me to an early grave.”

  “Maybe, but the trip there will be a ton of fun!”

  With a best friend like Belle, there was no doubt about that at all.

  * * *

  I couldn’t understand how the world functioned before technology. Just a few hours laptopless and I’d just about lost my mind. My patience gone and my frustration level at a record high, I decided I needed a spin class and possibly even a yoga class just in case. Actually, the yoga class was Belle’s idea, though she thought it was a long shot in the helping me regain my sanity department. I s
ort of leaned that direction too, but I at least wanted to attempt to remain open minded.

  The next spin class wasn’t for another thirty minutes, but I didn’t care. I got my favorite bike set up, put my headphones on and played my personal spin playlist and did a quick twenty-minute workout before the room filled up for the next class. I finished out the hour long class too, but instead of following along to the instructors recommended intensity levels, I kicked mine up higher hoping to relieve the anxiety rushing through my veins.

  By the time I completed a full eighty minutes of bike riding I was too exhausted to feel anything but the sweat pouring from my body. It would have been gross if I had any energy left to care.

  I showered off at the gym, tossed on the clothes I’d arrived in and headed through town to the Dollar Plus store. I still needed the shower squeegee, which I’d been reminded of by the thin layer of soapy scum on the gym’s shower walls. Aside from that, I had a mild curiosity about whatever might be happening between Junior Goodson and Grace Jeffers. I suspected it wasn’t much more than a mild flirtation and really, it wasn’t my business, but my curiosity got the best of me. I guess I needed something to distract myself from the events of the past few days. Besides, it was sort of on the way to get my new laptop anyway.

  Sheila Jeffers was stocking a shelf full of deodorant as I walked into the store. “Well hiya, how are you?” Her smile consumed the entire bottom half of her face.

  “Hi, Ms. Jeffers. I’m good. How are you?”

  “I’m just peachy, you here to shop today or to see Grace again?”

  I tinkered with the spray perfume bottles down the aisle from her. They smelled like cheap imitations of the expensive designer perfumes all the sorority girls wore at UGA. I preferred a simple body lotion scent over the heavy aroma of perfume any day. “Actually, a little of both. I’m looking for a window squeegee. Do you have those?”

  She pushed herself up from the floor, moaning a bit in the process. “Sure do.” She crooked her finger for me to follow. “Come this way. They’re in the auto section.”

  I hadn’t realized Dollar Plus had an auto section.

  I followed her to the back of the store, near the laundry detergent aisle. Next to the car wash soap hung an assortment of clothes, sponges and squeegees. I picked the medium sized one. “Thank you. I need it for my shower at home. It’s the easiest way to keep it clean.” I hated making small talk. “How’s Grace doing? Is she feeling better about Mrs. Redbecker?”

  She nodded. “Seems to be fine. That girl’s barely around much these days. You know how it is with teenagers. Comes and goes as she pleases. I can barely catch a glimpse of her these days.”

  “Maybe she’s got a boyfriend keeping her busy?” I would never make it as a detective. I stunk at dropping hints to get someone to talk.

  She laughed. “My Gracie? Not a chance. I raised her not to make the same mistakes as me. She’s going places with that voice of hers. She’s got one of them YouTube channels with videos of her singing on them and is trying to get herself discovered.” She tipped back on her heels. “I used to have a voice like that, but all those years of smoking did me in. Now I sound like I got me a frog stuck in my throat.”

  I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to say to that. “I think that’s great that she’s trying to make a career of her singing. Is she back with the Meals Made for You program?”

  We walked back to the cash register where Sheila checked me out.

  “Nope. She decided to stop. Said it hurts too much when the people die.”

  “I understand. It can be hard when you have relationships with them.”

  “She’s a kind-hearted soul. She don’t take death lightly.” She put my squeegee in a bag and handed it to me.

  “I don’t think anyone does. Thank you for the squeegee. Tell Grace I said hi and tell her good luck with her singing for me.”

  “Thanks, I’ll do that.”

  Maybe Grace did have something going on with Junior Goodson, and she just didn’t want her mother to know about it.

  Chapter 8

  “Thank God, and thank you for letting me know.”

  “Who was that?” Belle asked.

  “The attorney. He said the judge agreed to drop the excavation idea entirely.”

  “So he’s going with the utility locating company instead?”

  “Nope. He’s dropping the whole idea completely.”

  “Really? That’s incredible. Why?”

  “Because this attorney rocks, that’s why. He said doing so could potentially open up the idea that every old wives’ tale could wind up a lawsuit and tie up the judge’s schedule for years. I guess he had his paralegal do a little quick research and found a few cases to support his argument, and the judge agreed that could open a Pandora’s Box, so he nixed it completely.”

  “We are so using this attorney for everything.”

  “He’s not exactly a closing attorney.”

  “Well, he should be.”

  “So, is the land back on the market?”

  “Almost. He’s preparing the paperwork to refile the corrected property lines now. Since it’s been considered the Pickett property for so long, legally it can be argued to be theirs, but since it was illegally acquired, the judge said he’ll sign off on reinstating it back to the Waddell family. Once the forms are filled out and refiled, we’re good to go. Should be a few days if not sooner.”

  “Is this guy single?”

  “The attorney?”

  She nodded.

  “I don’t know, but he’s probably at least fifty, so…”

  “Hey, I’m asking for you, not me.”

  “I’m getting a fish. I don’t need a boyfriend.”

  “Yeah, because those two are even remotely similar.”

  Because he had perfect timing, Dylan coughed then, startling both of us.

  “When did you walk in?” I asked.

  “Just before you compared owning a fish to having a relationship.” The side of his mouth twitched.

  “That’s not exactly what I said.”

  “Pretty close,” Belle interjected.

  I glared at her.

  She blanched.

  “Anyway,” I tried to sound professional. “what can we do for you, Sheriff?”

  He removed his hat as he walked closer to our desks. “Thought I’d let you know Sonny’s bail hearing is tomorrow morning.”

  “I’ll bring the popcorn,” Belle said.

  Dylan laughed. “Sounds about right for this town.”

  “What are the odds he’ll even get it?”

  “My guess is pretty low,” Dylan said.

  “I figured.”

  Belle agreed. “He seems pretty volatile. If it was up to me, I wouldn’t let him out either.”

  “Which is why you’re in real estate and not law,” I said.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “It’s innocent before proven guilty, not the other way around, remember?”

  “Not according to the social media.”

  Dylan and I exchanged a familiar glance—the one we used to share all the time when Belle said something we both thought was ridiculous. It tugged at my heart strings, and I caught the moment he realized what we’d done too, because he looked away and down. That didn’t tug at my heart strings. It yanked those things right out.

  I forced myself to refocus by shuffling papers on my desk and talk about the case. “So, what do you think?”

  He raised his right brow.

  “Do you think he killed Myrtle Redbecker or do you still think Jesse did that?”

  He placed his hat on his head and maneuvered it gently from side to sit until it fit just right. There was a certain science to a man placing his head into a well-fitted suede or leather hat. Dylan had mastered it and watching him was sheer pleasure.

  “Sonny Waddell is charged with killing Jesse Pickett, not Myrtle Redbecker.”

  “So, you still think Jesse killed his great aunt?
”

  He just gave me a blank-faced expression as a response.

  “Did you check the note against any writing samples like I suggested?”

  He exhaled. “The District Attorney and I are still evaluating the two murders. We’re still interviewing Waddell. His attorney isn’t allowing him to answer any questions about Myrtle Redbecker.”

  “That means his attorney knows he did it,” I said.

  He straightened his stance, pushing his shoulders back just a touch. “No, that means his attorney doesn’t want him saying anything that might make us think one way or the other. They don’t want us to know anything to lead us in any direction. They want us off balance.”

  “Sounds like he’s got a good attorney,” Belle said.

  He nodded. “His son hired someone from an Atlanta firm. One of the best in the Southeast apparently.”

  She laughed. “Judge is going to love that.”

  “Judge is going to rip him apart,” I mumbled.

  Dylan chuckled. “Poor guy won’t know what hit him.”

  “Exactly.” I asked if he knew about the excavating decision, but he didn’t.

  “Glad to hear it worked out that way.”

  “Why won’t you tell me who you think killed Myrtle?” I asked.

  “Because what I think doesn’t matter, Lily. It’s what the evidence shows that’s important, and the evidence still shows Jesse Pickett killed his aunt.”

  “Then you’re not looking at the right evidence.”

  “I can only look at the evidence I have.”

  “I guess.”

  We finished up with small talk, but I couldn’t let go of the thought that something wasn’t right. I just wasn’t sure what it was.

  * * *

  That night I went home with a brand new electronic video doorbell and new door locks. I purchased metal rods cut to the size of my windows—when closed—to brace between the top of the frame and the top of the closed window itself to stop anyone from opening them. I switched out every door lock, secured every window, and installed the new video doorbell system in two hours and then decided to celebrate my success by relaxing outside with a freshly made glass of sweet iced tea and the newest release by my favorite thriller author.