Lily Sprayberry Realtor Box Set

by Carolyn Ridder Aspenson

  “Lily, look at me.” He used a finger to angle my chin toward him. “I’m not going anywhere. I promise you.”

  I swallowed. He couldn’t really promise that. He’d already done that years ago, and he did go somewhere. Away from me. “May I have my bag, please?”

  “Really? Is that how you’re going to handle this?”

  I called my dog. “Come on, Bo. Time to head home.” He bounded over to the fence, and I opened the gate to let him out. I glanced up at Dylan. “I’ll meet you at your car.”

  “Unbelievable.” He took off jogging toward the parking lot.

  * * *

  Belle sat on my back patio with my monster-sized puppy on her lap as I filled her in on my situation with Dylan. “Girl, you haven’t got the sense God gave a goose, and a dumb one at that. What were you thinking?”

  “I wasn’t thinking, I guess. I don’t know. The words just came out, and once they did, I couldn’t stop them.”

  “Or something.”

  “So, what do I do?”

  “I’ll tell you what you do. You get all gussied up, and you go over to Dylan’s house, and you tell him you’re sorry.”

  “I can’t do that.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I don’t think I’m sorry. I think I actually meant what I said. I don’t trust that he won’t up and leave me if some better job comes along or if he decides he doesn’t want to be in Bramblett County anymore.”

  Either God planned an intervention, or Dylan had perfect timing, I wasn’t sure which was the case, but nonetheless, he texted me.

  “I need an official statement from you tomorrow, please. You can talk to one of my deputies. And I shouldn’t be telling you this, but I trust you’ll keep it private, the red on the sticky notes wasn’t blood. It was paint.”

  Belle’s phone dinged shortly after mine. “I need to give my statement tomorrow.”

  “So do I. And the red stuff on the sticky notes wasn’t blood.”

  “What was it?”

  “Paint.”

  Chapter 4

  Dylan was at the station when I arrived. I didn’t know what to say, so I just waved like he was some casual acquaintance I’d see at the coffee shop or walked past on my way to work. The deputy at the front desk had another deputy—we had a lot of deputies for a small county, but that wasn’t uncommon in Georgia—escort me to the conference room back by Dylan’s office. That’s where I saw him. The deputy told me to have a seat and said someone would be with me to take my statement soon.

  He kept his sentences short and to the point, and I wondered if he was agitated with me personally, or if that was just the way he was. I couldn’t help but think he knew something had happened between me and his boss.

  My mother’s voice played in my head. “The world doesn’t revolve around you, Lilybit. Get over yourself.”

  Dylan stepped into the room a few minutes later. When I looked up and into his eyes, my heart crashed into my stomach. “Oh, hi.”

  He placed a vanilla file folder, a pen and a mini recording device on the large table and sat across from me. “I’ll make this as quick as possible.”

  “Okay.” That wasn’t what I wanted to say. I wanted to say I was sorry, and that I loved him, but the words stuck in my throat like a lump of bread, and I swallowed them back so I wouldn’t choke on them.

  He asked me a series of questions, all official and without any hint of emotion. I answered them in the same tone, doing my best to pretend he wasn’t himself but some random deputy sheriff I had no history or connection to. When he finished, I asked if I could ask him some questions.

  He leaned back in his chair. “This is an active investigation, and I’m not at liberty to share the details, but sure, you can give it a shot. I’ll answer what I can.”

  Great. He wanted to play it like that. “There wasn’t any blood at the scene. How was Savannah killed?”

  “We’ve got a rush on the autopsy report, but the unofficial cause of death is asphyxiation from strangulation.”

  I cringed. What a horrible way to die. “Oh.”

  “We noted signs of petechiae on her neck, which was our first indication of strangulation. The coroner agrees, but we have to wait for the official report to confirm.”

  “What is petechiae?”

  “They’re like small bruises on the skin. Broken blood vessels really. In cases like this, they’re typically seen on the neck and are caused from the pressure of the choke hold.”

  “So, the person that killed her did it with his bare hands?”

  “Or hers.”

  “You think it was a woman?”

  “I’m not saying it was a woman or a man.”

  “Do you have any suspects?”

  “I’m not at liberty to say.”

  “Seriously?”

  “I don’t want you involved in this Lily.”

  “You don’t really get a say in what I’m involved in.”

  “In this case, I do. I’m the sheriff.”

  Oh, yeah. I’d forgotten that little detail. I straightened in my seat. “It doesn’t matter. I’m sure you’re considering the same people I am.”

  That piqued his interest. “And who would that be?”

  “I’m not at liberty to say.”

  The side of his mouth twitched, but I forced myself to look away because I wasn’t going to let it get to me. No way. Not again. I hoped.

  “Fair enough, but I mean it, stay out of my investigation, Lily.”

  I stood. “Yes, Sheriff Roberts.” I headed toward the door.

  He followed behind me and grabbed my arm. “Lily, wait.”

  I turned around, jerked my arm away and glared at him.

  “Can we talk later? Please?”

  “I’m sorry, Dylan. Not yet.” I opened the door and forced myself to walk out of the building with my head held high.

  * * *

  I didn’t cry the whole drive to class. When I got there, Ellie Jean greeted me with another big hug. I didn’t recall her being so sweet in high school, but her attention and affection was exactly what I needed.

  “Sweetie, you look like something the cat drug in. You sure you’re up for this today? Maybe you should cancel? I can tell the ladies it’s off for the day and send them home.”

  “No, it’s okay, but thank you. I need to do this. I’ll be fine once I have some coffee and a bit of food.” That’s when I realized I’d forgotten to pick up the food at Millie’s. “Well shoot. I forgot the order at Millie’s.” I set my bag and box down. “I need to run over there. Would you mind putting my stuff in the conference room? I don’t want to leave it here in the way.”

  She picked up my things. “It’s not a bother at all. You go on now and get yourself something, and don’t worry a bit about this. I’ll get the room set up.” She peeked in the box. “I might could put these out for the ladies if you’d like?”

  I breathed a sigh of relief. “That would be wonderful, Ellie Jean, thank you so much.” I hugged her one more time and made a quick run to Millie’s.

  Millie’s line hit the end of the block. I settled in behind a group of three older men, regulars who showed up every morning for coffee and biscuits. They nodded their hello and went back to their discussion.

  The man with the long white beard that reminded me of Santa Claus, spoke first. “Sheriff needs to get a handle on the crime in this town. You ask me, bringin’ him on wasn’t smart. Murder rates gone up ever since he came on. Maybe he’s got something to do with it?”

  I bit my tongue.

  “Don’t think so. I know his pa. He ain’t the kind of boy that kills just to look good. ‘Sides, Myrtle Redbecker? Her murder, that wasn’t him. That was one twisted tale right there.”

  I angled myself toward the street. My face was plastered all over town. If they actually paid attention, they’d have to know I was Myrtle’s realtor, and I was involved in the whole situation from the start, and I preferred to remain anonymous at that moment.
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br />   The larger man wearing faded tan overalls, said, “Word is the dead girl had a bit of a reputation, if you know what I mean. I’m not saying she got what was coming to her, but you play with fire, you gone get burned. You hear what I’m sayin’?”

  The men nodded, and Santa Claus’s twin spoke again. “If I were the sheriff, I’d have a talk with the husband. You got a lady cheatin’ like that, you’re gonna have one ticked off husband, and there ain’t no telling what a man can do when he finds out his wife ain’t been faithful.”

  I loved living in a small community, but I hated how stories were twisted. I realized it happened everywhere, but in a small place like Bramblett County, where everyone pretty much knew everyone, the damage had a greater impact. Savannah might have cheated on Austin, I didn’t think so, but I didn’t know, but according to her, that wasn’t the cause for her decision to divorce him, and rumors like that did nothing but make the situation worse.

  I couldn’t keep my mouth shut. I flipped around and poked my finger into fake Santa Claus’s chest. “Actually, that’s not what happened, and you should be ashamed of yourself for spreading rumors and speaking ill of the dead.”

  The men stepped back, so I stepped forward. “Savannah Emmerson was my friend, and I was with her shortly before she died. She was not the one cheating on her husband. You might could do yourself some good by keeping your mouth shut. Shame on you. At your age, a man like you should know better.”

  Millie came outside and took orders and the man in overalls hollered to her. “Hey Millie, we’re gone take a seat over yonder.” He pointed to the empty table near the edge of the windows connected to the store next to the café. “Away from this little spitfire right here.” He wrapped his arm around me and whispered. “You done good honey, your momma would be proud,” and then he hollered back to Millie, “You get to us when you can, you hear?”

  She waved them off, and they headed to their seats. Millie caught my eye and winked. “Hey honey, I’ve got your stuff on the counter waiting for you. Go on in and grab it. You can pay me later.”

  I smiled, proud of myself for standing up for my friend and setting the record as straight as I could, knowing as much as I did. I walked past Millie, said, “Thank you,” grabbed my bag and headed back to the library.

  I considered the potential suspects on my brief walk back to the library. Austin, of course, was my number one suspect because like Santa Claus said, the spouse is always considered a suspect, and in real life, not on the TV shows, more times than not they’re the ones that committed the crimes. Plus, Dylan said the neighbor saw someone in a red jacket outside of Savannah’s house the night before we found her, and Austin had a red hoodie. Yes, Heather did also, and it was found inside the Armstrong’s house, and I couldn’t let that go.

  I slowed my gait to give myself more time to think. I doubted the ladies would care if we started right on time, anyway.

  Savannah did have a reputation, and her arrival back in town shocked both Caroline and Heather. Though we’d all been close growing up and in college, except Savannah after the Austin incident, of course, we all went our separate ways once we graduated. Belle and I obviously stayed best friends, our bond growing closer with the launch of our real estate business, and Caroline and Heather, from what I understood, had stayed best friends, too, but seeing Heather with William, and William taking off, and then Belle saying she saw them together also, well, that added a layer to things that made me wonder if Caroline and Heather’s friendship wasn’t in some kind of turmoil, and if Heather was capable of things I couldn’t imagine.

  Caroline and William married, and they’d taken over William’s parent’s corn maze and pumpkin patch. They’d established themselves in the community, whereas Heather never quite recouped from her break up with Austin. She’d expected to be Mrs. Austin Emmerson and spend her days living the good life, playing tennis and painting her time away somewhere other than Bramblett County. That hadn’t happened. Instead, she still lived with her parents and worked at her store while trying to pan her paintings off to local small businesses. She hadn’t dated in years, though I really couldn’t judge her for that, or for any of it, for that matter.

  It surprised me to see Caroline react to Savannah the way she had and to hear she’d pitched a fit at Millie’s, and even alluding to killing her if she came near William was over the top. Heather’s disdain was at least partly justifiable, even if it was time to move on, but Caroline never had any proof of a relationship between William and Savannah, so, like I told Dylan, I struggled with thinking she’d actually kill Savannah over it, though I couldn’t come to terms with why she was still so upset. She claimed her emotions were on overdrive, but that in and of itself was a bit unbelievable.

  The only thing that stuck with me was what my momma always said. “There was always a little truth to a rumor”. I wondered if Caroline knew something she didn’t want anyone else to know? I kept Caroline on my mental list of suspects for that reason. A person didn’t react the way she had without justification, or at least a belief of justification, and until I found out otherwise, she would stay on my list.

  The three suspects on my list were all people I’d once been close to, and I just didn’t want to think any of them capable of killing Savannah Emmerson.

  I made it back to the library and saw Heather chatting with Ellie Jean, or Heather chatting at her, actually, and one of them—not Heather—showed signs of uncomfortableness. Heather leaned in toward Ellie Jean and she leaned out, almost backing up while she spoke at her. Her arms were crossed over her chest, and I’d learned in my business communications class that was a clear sign that someone had closed themselves off or felt the need to protect themselves from the person near them. The urge to intervene took over, and I set Millie’s goodies down and stepped into their conversation.

  “Hi, ladies. Ellie Jean, thank you so much for helping me this morning.” I nodded to Heather. “Would you mind taking the bags from Millie’s to the conference room for me?”

  “Oh, honey, of course, but I was just explaining to Ellie Jean here how a few of my paintings would be lovely in the library, and especially in the conference room.” She spread her arms out and scanned the room. “As my meemaw used to say, you can’t make no silk purse out of a sow’s ear, but at least the reds would add a pop of color to these dreary walls, and they’d brighten up that sad looking conference room for sure. I’ve mentioned how I’m into reds, right?”

  “You might have,” Ellie Jean said.

  “Heather, I’m sure Ellie Jean would have to discuss this with the library board for any kind of decision right, Ellie Jean?”

  She nodded. “Oh, yes. I am just the head librarian. I don’t make financial or décor decisions at all, but I’ll be sure to tell the board about your paintings, Heather. I saw one at my doctor’s office the other day. They’re quite lovely.” The way she emphasized lovely made me question her honesty.

  “Well then, I think I’ll just have me a little conversation with the board myself,” Heather said. “It’s so dreary in this here library, I can’t imagine anyone feels good when they leave here. I know I sure don’t.”

  Oh my. Talk about hitting a woman where it hurt. Libraries were Ellie Jean’s life, especially since her daughter had moved away. She mumbled something about painting by numbers kits under her breath, but I couldn’t quite hear her.

  Heather leaned toward her. “What did you say, Ellie Jean?”

  “Oh, nothing dear. I was just mumbling to myself.”

  “Okay then, how about we head to class?” I heaved the bags into my arms and nudged Heather along. “We’ve got a lot to catch up on.”

  Heather followed, though unwillingly from the sound of her stomping. “I am so behind on my to do list, what, after being brought in for questioning for Savannah’s murder and all. I can’t believe the nerve of Dylan Roberts doing that to me.” She flung her hair and huffed. “Now, I don’t know if I’ll ever catch up with this class taking up eve
n more of my precious painting time. I’m not even sure I should be here. I mean, it’s not like this is important anyway. I was just doing you a favor by attending.”

  I walked into the conference room without saying a word to her.

  Belle and the rest of the group had already arrived and of course, the conversation focused on Savannah’s murder. All of them except Caroline, who sat in utter silence, a dazed expression on her face.

  “The sheriff called me in for a statement,” Bonnie said. “And I thought he was going to arrest me right then and there.”

  “Oh Bonnie, you’re a hot mess. Why would that man arrest you? You didn’t do nothing wrong,” Henrietta said.

  “Oh, I know that. I was just hoping he’d put the handcuffs on me.” She winked.

  Belle choked on her bottled water.

  “Now don’t go acting like that around here. You know our teacher is the sheriff’s girl. You don’t want to get an F in class, do you?” Henrietta asked.

  I set the bags down and placed the treats onto the plates for everyone to access. “It’s okay, Bonnie. We’re not giving grades in class, and I’m not dating the sheriff anymore.”

  Heather flicked her long, red hair. “Well that’s interesting news. So, Dylan’s available now?”

  “Oh no, that ain’t right,” Henrietta said.

  Belle thrust her palm out toward Heather’s face. “Oh, sweetie, do not go there.”

  Bonnie interjected her opinion, and it was one I completely agreed with. “And besides, didn’t he just drag you into the police station kicking and screaming like a child? What in the heavens would make you think he’d want to date you after that scene?”

  Heather shot Bonnie a look that had no respect in it whatsoever. She feigned innocence when she smiled at Belle, flinched and pressed her hand into her chest. “Heavens, wherever do you think I’m going? I simply asked a question.”