Lily Sprayberry Realtor Box Set

by Carolyn Ridder Aspenson

  I gave Millie a blow by blow, literally, explanation of the events from the night before, detailing out exactly what Carter Trammell told to me about the rules and how they hadn’t been followed previously.

  “Well, sounds to me like the parent—what’s his name?”

  “Bobby Yancy.”

  “Sounds to me like Bobby Yancy might could use a little attitude adjustment himself.”

  “He was just upset. I think he overreacted, but I don’t think he intended for things to get out of control like that.”

  “Well, I’ll be sure to correct anyone that’s got the story wrong.” She snuck a cookie sampler in my bag. “You know me. I hate to see someone bein’ talked about negatively, especially when it’s not the truth.”

  “I’m right there with ya, Millie.” I wiggled the bag. “And I saw what you tucked inside here. Thanks for that.”

  She winked. “You’re looking a little thin. Figured you could use ‘em.”

  “Wish that was the case, but thank you for the compliment.”

  It took all of seven minutes to drive to the high school. Parking was already crazy, but thankfully the volunteers had reserved spots, so I zipped right into one near the gym entrance and headed inside.

  I hit the ground running, checking off items on my to do list, and making sure we’d be set to go when the sale opened at nine o’clock sharp.

  While organizing some items near a side entrance, I jumped when Belled poked me in the middle of the back. “Hey, you could have said something first!”

  “I did. You just didn’t hear me.”

  “Oh, sorry. I’m a bit distracted. You know, big community sale and all.”

  Her jaw dropped and she covered her mouth with her hand, and then, using her thickest southern drawl, said, “Well, I do declare, you mean something is more important than little ol me?”

  “It’s for the children, Belle. The children.”

  She rolled her eyes. “I don’t remember programs costing this much when we were kids. We never needed a community sale to fund programs.”

  “I’m sure it didn’t, but we didn’t pay for it, plus, it’s all relative to the times. Besides, there’s a lot more to it now than there was then.”

  “Including bandages for when your parents have altercations with the coach.”

  I shook my head. “I can’t even believe that. My daddy would never have done something like that.”

  “No, but your momma might have.”

  I laughed. “Well, that’s an entirely different story, and completely true.”

  “Anyway, is Carter getting the Michael Jordan painting, too?”

  “I’m not sure, why?”

  “Someone else is interested in it, and he’s got a hold sticker on it. They’re willing to pay ten percent over asking price for it.”

  “Really? That’s great. I haven’t seen him yet, but he’s supposed to be here.”

  “Probably hiding in his office after last night.”

  “I would be, too. Millie said the gossip around town is he beat up Yancy.”

  “Seriously?”

  I nodded. “I told her what happened though.”

  “Good. Millie will set the town straight. She’s got that kind of power.”

  “She sure does.”

  “I’ve got to get a few other commitments secured on some other big ticket items. I’ve been encouraging some bidding wars on them, and they’re kicking into high gear. It’s kind of fun. If this realtor thing doesn’t work out, maybe I’ll open some kind of auction house or something.”

  “Uh, this realtor thing better work out since we’re business partners.”

  “Let me know what Carter decides.” She nodded her head to the left. “Oh, speak of the devil.”

  I glanced over toward the bleachers. Kneeling down with a big green rolling garbage bin next to him was Bobby Yancy. Clarissa Mooney hung by his side, chatting him up. She wiggled her head back and forth one direction as her hips gyrated the opposite direction. I unconsciously did the same thing as I watched her.

  “Ew, stop it. You’re imitating her, aren’t you?”

  I stopped and blushed. “Oh gosh, I am, aren’t I?”

  Belle laughed. “Honey, she can’t hold a candle to you.”

  “I didn’t do it on purpose. She’s just got such weird—” I wasn’t sure how describe what I meant. “A weird way of, I don’t know, moving?”

  “She’s flirting.”

  I twisted my mouth. “You think?”

  “Either that or she’s got to use the ladies room.”

  I pressed my lips together, and then I couldn’t help myself, I laughed, loudly. Belle did, too.

  The two of them glanced at us, and Clarissa stopped the wiggle thing. Bobby tossed a few things from under the bleachers into the bin, stood, removed a pair of disposable gloves from his hands, and pushed the bin behind the bleachers and out of our line of vision. “I feel bad for him. I’m sure he has a story we just don’t know it.”

  “Probably, but it still doesn’t give him the right to behave like he did.”

  “True.”

  “Well dear, I have to run. I must make money for the children,” she said and blew me a kiss. “Ta-ta.”

  We headed off in opposite directions.

  We’d run out of several items at the concession stand the day before, so I checked to make sure they’d been properly restocked, and then followed the path along the front side of the bleachers to their back side on my way toward the locker rooms and Carter’s office. Only I didn’t have to go all the way to his office to find him.

  Lying on the floor just behind the bleachers was Carter’s body, and I’d nearly tripped over him. I knew what I saw, but I’d hoped I was wrong. I hoped it wasn’t too late, that I wasn’t too late.

  I bent down and pressed two fingers into the side of Carter’s warm neck, but I felt nothing. No faint, barely there beat, no hint of a pulse. “No, Carter, no.” I checked his wrist, too, but nothing beat there, either. I held my fingers over his nose and mouth, no air escaped either. “Please, Carter,” I cried. “Please breathe.” I pushed on his chest. “Breathe, Carter. Come on. Breathe for me.”

  I immediately hit the emergency button on my phone, did my best to remain calm while explaining the situation to the operator.

  “He’s not breathing.” I was on the verge of hyperventilating. I sucked in air and tried to stay as calm as possible, knowing I needed to focus. Carter Trammell was dead. I knew it, but I didn’t want to accept it. I could save him. I had to save him. His body was still warm. There was still time. There had to still be time. “No, Carter, please. No. No. No.” Push, Lily. Push.

  “I checked but can’t find a pulse. I’m administering CPR. Please send an ambulance. I’m at the high school.” I breathed into his mouth, though I knew I wasn’t doing it right then, I just needed to do something while I explained to the 9-1-1 operator what was going on. “Hurry. Please. What can I do? Is he choking? Should I turn him over? Dear God. I don’t know what to do. He’s not breathing. He doesn’t have a pulse. His chest isn’t moving.” I kept talking and pressing into his chest and breathing into his mouth but nothing worked. Nothing. I kept at it, though. Kept doing what I knew to do, the operator talking to me the whole time.

  I wasn’t sure what she said. I was too busy on my knees pushing the heels of my hands into Carter’s chest and screaming, “I need some help here. Somebody help me!” I pushed onto his chest again, counting the way I’d been taught. When I hit thirty, I tilted his head, and checked his breathing. When he didn’t breathe, I pinched his nose, and then breathed into his mouth. “Please, I need help!” I screamed louder.

  A crowd gathered, and people did help, though I wasn’t sure who or how many. “Does the school have a defibrillator?” I repeated the process over and over. “This isn’t working.”

  Carter was young. Too young to be on that gym floor, dead. Too young to die like that, in a new town, away from family, from the peopl
e he loved, with just me trying to save him. Me, Lily Sprayberry, who had no idea what she was doing really, but trying desperately to bring him back to life, and failing miserably.

  The room spun, and sweat poured down my face, dripping all over Carter. I didn’t realize until later the sweat was mixed with tears because I’d bawled my eyes out as I administered CPR on my new friend. My new, but dead friend.

  The school did have a defibrillator, and someone knew how to use it, but by the time they’d arrived with it, it was too late. Really, it had been too late from the moment I found him, because Carter Trammell was already dead, and there was no bringing him back.

  * * *

  Dylan closed off the entire area, and the community sale was postponed until later in the day.

  I stood next to my boyfriend, staring down at Carter’s body. “What do you think happened to him? He’s so young, and I can’t imagine he would just suddenly up and die like this.”

  He took my hand and guided me away from the body. “I’m not sure, but there are no visible signs of violence. It looks like maybe some form of natural causes. The coroner will probably request an autopsy through the medical examiner’s office just to be sure.”

  “That doesn’t make sense. He’s young. Was young. He worked out and took care of himself.” I glanced around the back of the bleachers and recalled seeing Bobby Yancy just moments before finding Carter on the ground. “I saw Bobby Yancy over here just a few minutes before finding Carter. Do you think this could have something to do with what happened last night?”

  He pressed his palms onto my cheeks and wiped away the tears from my eyes with his thumbs. “Lily, how about I do the investigating? I left Bo with a deputy at the station, and the community sale isn’t going to start back up for a few hours. I’m sure they can handle it without you. Go get Bo, go home, and rest. You deserve it. You need it.”

  “He’s right.” Belle snuck up from behind and handed me a box of tissues. “And you know you did everything you could, sweetie.”

  “I know. I’m just tired of all this death. I think I’m cursed.”

  I sat on the floor and leaned against the back of the bleachers. She sat next to me and wrapped her arm around my shoulder, tugging me up close to her. I imagined what she must be thinking. You’re not cursed. This isn’t your fault. All the same things I would say to her if our positions were reversed.

  “Lily—”

  I pulled away from her. “Don’t. Just don’t. It won’t—” I leaned further away, and my hand brushed against something on the floor, sending it rolling under the bottom of the bleachers. Curious, I tucked down and peered under the bottom of the closed up stands to check it out. When I did, I didn’t touch it.

  “Dylan, can you come here?”

  He held up his finger. “Give me a minute.”

  Belle bent her head to take a look. “What’s that?” She reached in to grab it, but I stopped her hand before she could.

  “Wait. Don’t touch it. It could be important to Carter’s murder, I mean, death.”

  She sat up and aimed her thumb and forefinger at me like a gun. “And here we go.”

  I sat up, too. “Well, you saw what it was. Don’t you think it’s suspicious?”

  Dylan walked over and crouched down, his face parallel to mine. His eyes darkened and focused intently into mine. “You okay?”

  I pointed underneath the bleachers. “You should bag that. I think it’s evidence.”

  He bent sideways, and because he’s six feet, had to maneuver himself into a contorted position with one arm straight out to his side, so he could use his pen to flick the item from underneath the movable wall of bleachers.

  The syringe came rolling out. “Well, that’s interesting.” He pulled a plastic bag from his pocket, picked the syringe up and rolled the bag over it, then sealed the zip lock closure of the bag together. “I’m not sure it’s evidence, but we’ll obviously keep it.”

  I glanced at Belle and then back at Dylan. “How can it not be evidence?”

  “I didn’t say it wasn’t, just that I’m not sure it is.”

  I jumped up. “Wait a minute. Right before I walked back here I saw Yancy over there with a garbage bin cleaning up under the bleachers.” I waved my hand toward the corner of the folded up bleachers separating the front and back sides that sectioned off the back part of the gym. “Don’t you find that odd?”

  “What? That a janitor was doing his job?”

  Breathe, Lily, just breathe. One breath in, one breath out.

  Belle held my hand. “You just told me you defended Bobby Yancy to Millie, what, not even an hour ago, and now you think he might have something to do with Carter’s death?”

  It did sound crazy, I realized that, but regardless, the timing fit, and I couldn’t imagine a reason for Carter to just up and die. It didn’t make sense to me. I didn’t know him all that well, but we’d talked a bit about our histories, his lacrosse experience, and how much that required of him physically. My knees weakened, and a slow ache traveled from the pit of my gut to the back of my throat. I didn’t want to throw up, but it sure felt like I might. “I don’t know.” I buried my face in my hands and cried.

  Belle helped me sit again, and she and Dylan talked, but I wasn’t paying attention. She handed me a tissue and told me to sit tight, that she’d make sure Bo was taken care of, and Billy Ray would have a sweet tea for me right quick.

  Only I didn’t want a sweet tea. I wanted my new friend Carter Trammell alive again. I wanted everything in Bramblett County back to how it used to be. I wanted the killings in my county to stop, and I was going to make darned sure that would happen.

  People I cared about were dying, and I took that personally.

  * * *

  The coroner showed up, and thankfully, he agreed with me. “I’m not so sure your boy here died of natural causes, Sheriff. My guess is this wasn’t a heart attack.” He wiped his nose on his sleeve. “See this?” He took great care in tilting Carter’s neck to the side, gently resting his head down on the cold floor. “Looks like he’s been stuck with a needle or something right here.” He’d been squatting down, and pressed his hands on his knees to push himself up. He removed the plastic gloves by pulling off one finger at a time. The sound of the powdery plastic against his skin pained my ears like nails scratching down a chalk board did to some people. “Anyone know if he’s diabetic?”

  “Not that I’m aware of,” Dylan said.

  “Any known allergies?”

  “We don’t know.”

  “Your people check the area already? Find an EpiPen or anything?”

  Dylan handed him the bagged syringe. “Something like this?”

  Henry took the bag. “Well, I’ll be darned. Ain’t that often you find a syringe in a high school now, is it?”

  A deputy coughed.

  Henry glanced up and him and winked. “That right there is what I call sarcasm. Probably inappropriate given the state of our youth today, but I tend to crack jokes in these kinds of situations to lighten the mood. My wife is working to break that habit, but she’s not been all that successful just yet.”

  Belle snorted.

  Henry Jr. nodded to her. “I like you. You come see me to make your arrangements, I’ll cut you a deal.”

  Her eyes widened. Even though I’d just lost a friend, I couldn’t help but smile, if only just a touch. Anyone that could brighten up a sad situation simply by being himself was a winner in my book, and the laugh did me good.

  The coroner continued. “All kidding aside, sure, it’s not unusual to find a syringe in a high school, but I can’t say for sure what happened. Even if he was diabetic or had a medical condition, and the syringe belongs to your dead guy here, it’s doubtful he’d give himself a shot in the neck. Sheriff, your boy here needs an autopsy.”

  Since our country’s coroner, Henry Huggins Sr., had suffered a stroke in late October, his son and assistant funeral home director, Henry Huggins Jr. had taken over his respon
sibilities. The position was an elected position, so we’d held a special election, and since no one ran against him, he’d won. I wasn’t exactly sure how that worked, but the Huggins family went back to the beginning of time, at least as far as Bramblett County residents were concerned, and that made Henry Jr. a shoe in for the position. I hadn’t paid too much attention to Henry Jr. as the new coroner until that moment, but I wouldn’t make that mistake again. I liked him as much as a mouse liked cheese.

  Chapter 3

  The community yard sale picked up where it left off only three hours later than expected, and with a bigger crowd than the day before, probably all wanting to get a look at where the new lacrosse coach died. Nothing drew a crowd like gossip and the scene of a crime, especially in Bramblett County. I hoped something good could come out of it, like a decent sized deposit for the athletic program. As heartless as that might sound, I knew Carter would have appreciated the money for the program, and it would at least mean his death wasn’t entirely in vain.

  It wasn’t easy for me to be there, but I had a job to do, and I tried to think about how Carter would have approached it. He was a team player. He would have stayed and done his job with everyone else, so I decided to do that to honor his memory, even though my heart was sad and my head throbbed from crying. I stayed for Carter, for his memory, and because I hoped to hear something that might help me figure out what happened to him.

  Dylan was kind enough to send a deputy over with Bo, who, against school policy, hung out with me as my unofficial emotional support dog for the day. Actually, he’d become everyone’s unofficial emotional support dog for the day, wandering leisurely by my side, stopping for a pat on the head, offering a lick or a snout to a behind—much to my embarrassment—and received a treat or forty every time he glanced up at someone with those big, sad puppy dog eyes of his. Thankfully he had plenty of exercise because with the amount of treats he’d received, he’d end up with his own reality TV show called something like My Six-Hundred Pound Dog Life otherwise.