Lily Sprayberry Realtor Box Set

by Carolyn Ridder Aspenson

  Several of the sale participants were hand crafters, and one even specialized in homemade dog treats. The scent of peanut butter captured both mine and Bo’s noses, and we raced to it like hounds on the hunt. The little bone shaped cookies were so delightful looking, even I couldn’t refuse a sample. Of course, the baker assured me they were safe for human consumption, too.

  Bo ate his sample in one bite. He didn’t even chew it, just inhaled it down. I wondered if he even tasted the thing.

  I nibbled on the edge of the bone, only slightly embarrassed. “What are they made of?”

  “All healthy ingredients. All natural peanut butter, cinnamon, coconut oil. That’s about it.”

  “They’re delicious.” I gave Bo the rest of mine for fear the drool dripping from his mouth would cause someone to slip and break a bone. I had to drag him from her table, still drooling as we walked away, a bag of them stuffed into my purse for later.

  “Some people get what they deserve.”

  I recognized Bobby Yancy’s voice, but I refused to turn around and acknowledge him. “Bo, heel.” I gently tugged on his leash, just to make sure he knew I was serious. I didn’t want him galloping to the man and showering him with affection.

  “I’m just saying you put bad things out there, those bad things’ll come back and bite you in the butt.”

  Bramblett County Georgia wasn’t like other counties. We’d stayed true to our roots and kept our small town personality, and along with that came the old school game of telephone. I knew, without a doubt, that word had already gotten around about Carter’s death possibly being under suspicious circumstances, and I suspected Bobby Yancy knew that, too. So, I decided there was no reason to hold back my thoughts, even though my momma would probably disagree. “Mr. Yancy.” I finally did turn around. “My momma always says the mirror is the best truth the good Lord gave us.” I gave him a view of my pearly whites. “I assume you have a mirror at home? You might could take a good look in it when you get there.” I glanced down at Bo who’d busied himself sniffing the flat mop. “Come on Bo, we’ve got work to do.”

  * * *

  Ginnie Slappey stood next to the concession stand, piling boxes of candy bars on top of the counter. “Sweetie, can you just take these and shove them somewhere back there for me?” She waved her arms toward the back of the room. “I don’t much care where they go, just somewhere so nobody trips on them. We can’t have another accident here or the community sale will be such a travesty that nobody will want to come again.”

  I noticed she touched her right hand to her wedding finger, twice. I unintentionally glanced at my would-be wedding finger and wondered if I’d do the same thing in her situation, whatever it might be. With the history Dylan and I shared—a high school and college romance to a several year break and a recent reunion, I couldn’t be sure what our future held, but I also tried not to think about it and just go with the flow. I wasn’t a go with the flow kind of girl, but I hadn’t updated my Pinterest wedding planning board in a few weeks, okay, a week, either, so for me, that was as close to going with the flow as I could get.

  I wanted to talk to Ginnie about her run in with Carter from the day before, but wasn’t sure how to approach it. Thankfully, I didn’t have to because Bo was the best conversation starter ever. He pounced right up to her and greeted her with a snout to her backside.

  “Oh, dear.” She bounded forward and flipped around. “Well, hello to you too, sweetie.” She crouched down and patted him on the head.

  “I’m sorry about that. I’ve tried to stop him, but he doesn’t listen.”

  “Don’t be silly. It’s his way of saying hey. My Scarlett does the same thing all the time.”

  Bless her heart, she lied like a dog on a rug. Her Scarlett, one of those little terrier type dogs, wasn’t any bigger than my foot, so I seriously doubted she’d ever even seen a behind, let alone shoved her snout into one. Needless to say, Bo opened the door for us to chat, so I walked right through it. “You’re involved with the lacrosse program, right?” I knew she was. She was at the game the night before, and I knew she was the president of the booster club, but I intentionally acted naïve.

  Her smiled faded, and she played with the collar of her shirt. “Yes, I am. It’s just so sad, what happened.”

  “It is. Belle and I sold Carter his condo, well, technically it’s a townhouse, but it looks like a condo. We’d become friends with him. He was a nice man.”

  “That’s right. He bought on the old Redbecker property. You sold that too, right? After Myrtle died?”

  I flinched. My name had become a synonym of sorts with death in these parts. It wasn’t something that made me proud. “Her property was already in negotiation for sale when she passed.”

  Bo sniffed Ginnie’s toe and licked it. “Bo, sit.” I’d grown to hate open-toed sandals on women. Especially women I wasn’t particularly close to.

  She pulled her foot back. “It’s fine. I should have known better than to wear an open-toed shoe this time of year anyway. My little nuggets are about to fall off, they’re so cold.”

  Who called their toes little nuggets? Bo’s doggy saliva definitely wouldn’t make that any better.

  She straightened the plastic straws and napkins on the concession counter. “I just can’t believe it though, what happened. And in our own gymnasium, too.” She flipped around and surveyed the gym full of shoppers. “But the people sure came out to honor Coach Trammell, didn’t they? I just hope they open their wallets and share the wealth.” She covered her mouth with her hand. “Oh dear, where’s my manners? I should just hush.”

  I giggled. “It’s okay. I thought the same thing, and I think Carter would have wanted that, too. After all, that’s what this is for, raising money for the sports programs, and he was a team player, so I’m sure he’s hoping for the best now, too.”

  “I’m sure he is.”

  “I’m curious about what happened at the box lacrosse game.”

  “What about it?” She waved to a little girl walking by. “Hey, Mary Sue, you look mighty pretty in that dress. Did your momma make that for you?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Well, it’s just beautiful on you, and you’re just beautiful in it. You go tell your momma I said that, too, you hear?”

  “Thank you, Miss Slappey.”

  “You’re welcome, honey.” She waved to her. “Bye now.” Ginnie focused back to me. “Oh, heavens, that was a mess, for sure. Carter shouldn’t have done that.”

  “Done what?”

  “Get all up in Bobby Yancy’s face like that, and for something the other coaches haven’t done in practically forever. If something ain’t broke, don’t fix it, you know? Makes no sense to me, pullin’ his kid from the team for grades. Bobby’s a hard worker, but he’s never going to be able to put his kid through college on a janitors salary. At least not the kind of college Bobby Jr should be goin’ to anyway, not with the way the county pays his daddy. And then Coach Trammell goes and suspends him from the team, and there goes his chances at a scholarship? Why that’s just terrible, if you ask me. Some people need those scholarships to afford to send their kids to proper colleges, like the one your parents sent you to. I saw the degree on your wall in your office just the other day. University of Georgia, right?”

  I nodded.

  “Well, not everyone can afford that kind of tuition.”

  I didn’t mention the fact that in Georgia, if a student gets a B average, they qualify for the HOPE scholarship, a Georgia only program that pays for most of the tuition at many Georgia state schools. I was confident Ginnie knew that. “But the state athletic association requires students be suspended for grades. He was just following the rules.”

  “Honey, some rules don’t apply here in Bramblett County. That’s just the way things work around here.”

  “Maybe that’s why we’ve had a rise in murders then.”

  She raised an eyebrow, and the tone of her voice switched from pleasant to curt.
“Don’t you ever wonder how these murders all happen to people you know, Lily Sprayberry?”

  And there it was. I knew it would start eventually. The blame game. The accusations. The connection between me and the murders in town.

  “It’s a small county, Ginnie.” I glanced down at her left hand, making sure she noticed, and said, “I hope you get things worked out at home soon.” I tugged on Bo’s collar. “Come on Bo, let’s go.”

  We walked away as Ginnie Slappey picked her jaw up off the gym floor, and I felt absolutely no guilt whatsoever. Sorry, Momma.

  Bo galloped to the opposite side of the gym and straight into Belle’s legs. “Ouch,” she said as he about knocked her over backwards. “I swear to goodness this dog is going to kill me one day. He’s got the head of a horse.” She kneeled down to his level and smooshed his ears with her hands, rubbing them against his head and making loving moaning sounds filled with you’re a good boy, and Auntie Belle loves your smelly self, before forcing herself back up with an old lady groan. “I really need to get back into working out. I feel older than I look.”

  “Get back into working out? You haven’t worked out since high school.”

  “That’s why I’m saying I have to get back into it.”

  I nodded. “I don’t think I’ll wait for that miracle. Anyway, what’re the sales numbers so far?”

  She shrugged. “We’re up by thirty-five percent over last year.”

  “Oh, wow.”

  “Yes, it’s hard to be happy about that though.”

  “Double-edged sword.”

  “My thought exactly.”

  “I just had an interesting conversation with Ginnie Slappey. Well, first I had one with Bobby Yancy, and then with Ginnie Slappey.”

  I told her about the conversation between me and Bobby Yancy, but before I said anything about Ginnie, she dropped her bomb.

  “Did Ginnie happen to mention her sister-in-law’s in town?”

  “No, but I’m not sure why that would really come up in conversation.”

  Belle smirked. “It wouldn’t because it might put Ginnie at the top of your suspect list. Because we know you already have one brewing in that brain of yours, right? And she should go on Dylan’s, too.”

  “You know me so well.”

  “Best friends are like that.” She’d been separating receipts into manila envelopes and finally finished. She closed the last envelope and tucked it into a plastic milk crate with the others. “Because her sister-in-law is a nurse at one of the big hospitals on Pill Hill.”

  “Really?” Pill Hill is an area in Atlanta where several of the top hospitals and medical offices are located. Years ago, someone labeled the area with that tag, and it stuck.

  She winked. “Honey, my momma didn’t raise no liar.”

  “You know what that means, don’t you?”

  She jutted out her hips as she crossed her arms. “How pretty do you think I am?”

  I went to dig my phone out of my purse and realized I didn’t have my purse. “Oh no.” I did that look-everywhere-around-me-in-panic thing people did when they’ve realized they’d lost something of importance. “I don’t have my—”

  Belle swiveled and bent over the table behind her. When she straightened, she had my purse. “Looking for this?”

  “How long has it been there?”

  “Long enough to wonder when you’d come looking. But you’re phone isn’t in it.”

  “How do you know?”

  She tilted her head toward my front pocket.

  I glanced down and blushed when I saw my phone sticking out from it. “Good grief. I need a vacation.”

  “Maybe someday you’ll have a nice bed and breakfast to get away to.”

  I sighed. “I have to call Dylan.”

  “Of course you do. We’ll talk about the B and B later.”

  “Emm hmm.” Bo and I walked away.

  * * *

  “Knock, knock.” I tapped on Michael Longley’s classroom door. “You busy?”

  He stood. “No, come on in. Lily, right?”

  I walked toward him. “Yes, Lily Sprayberry. Nice to meet you.” I knew a lot of people in town, but hadn’t met everyone personally. Yet. It was, however one of my business goals to do just that.

  “I’ve seen you around town. Several times actually, at Millie’s.”

  “I practically live there.”

  “Best coffee in town.”

  “And the baked goods. Can’t beat those.”

  He patted his belly, or the place where it was supposed to be. “Have to watch my weight. I’m not as young as I used to be.”

  “Happens to the best of us.”

  He smiled. “I suspect I’ve got a few years on you. I graduated with one of your brothers, actually.”

  “Oh, my apologies.”

  “You have a few of them, right?”

  I nodded.

  “I didn’t say which one.”

  I smiled. “Doesn’t matter. I still owe you an apology.”

  He laughed. “I have a sister. I have a feeling she apologizes for me a lot, too.”

  He motioned for me to sit, and I did. In a student desk. It brought back a lot of memories. I checked out the photos on his desk. There were three facing the classroom. Two of the coach with what I assumed were his wife and two young boys, and one of him with a younger woman with a wrap around her head, a clear indication of a woman with cancer.

  I pointed to the photo. “Is this your sister?”

  He smiled, and the sadness in his eyes was obvious. “Yes, Emily. We lost her last year to breast cancer. It was hard. My wife was her nurse. Both a blessing and a curse, I suppose. They were sorority sisters at Emory University. That’s how we met.”

  “I’m sorry for your loss.”

  “Thank you.” He twisted his wedding band on his finger. “Let me guess. You’re here to talk about Coach Trammell.”

  I pressed my lips together, giving myself a moment to gather my words. “Sort of. I’d like to talk to you about the team, or I guess the mechanics of how things work.”

  He leaned forward, his elbows on his desk. “What do you mean?”

  “I understand there were some concerns about how he planned to manage the lacrosse program.”

  Michael Longley sat back in his seat and spoke in a slow, southern drawl tainted with a hint of condescending snark. The way all Southerners did when they didn’t want to talk to someone they didn’t particularly like about something they thought wasn’t that person’s business. “Miss Sprayberry. You’ve earned quite a reputation in town for being inquisitive, among other things.” He folded his hands and placed them on his lap. “I’m sure you’re aware of that.”

  I fought fire with fire and kicked up my Southern twang. “Mr. Longley, I’m sure your momma taught you that a good Southern woman is always inquisitive, didn’t she?”

  He blinked. “Well, uh, of course she did.”

  “Then surely you know, I’m just trying to do right by my friend, Coach Trammell?” I gave him the widest smile I could considering I thought he was a big, arrogant snot.

  He nodded. “I’m sure you are, Miss Sprayberry, but I’m not sure I understand what you’re trying to do, or why.”

  I straightened in my chair. “I’m trying to find out what happened to my friend, and from what I saw at the box lacrosse game, there was some tension with the parents, and I don’t think it was just Bobby Yancy, so I was hoping you could explain a few things to me.”

  He adjusted the collar of his shirt. Did I make him nervous? “How do you mean?”

  “Carter told me he intended to follow some rules the school hadn’t followed. Something about the state athletic association? I’m not sure of the details. Perhaps you can fill me in?” I intended to research it when I got home, but I wanted his take on it all for starters.

  “Miss Sprayberry, forgive me for sounding crass, but why does this even matter? Carter is deceased. Things will go on as they have, and frankly, it’s
none of your business.”

  I’d had a class in his room when I went to high school. The walls weren’t painted pale blue then, and there weren’t poster-sized maps of other countries on the walls, and quotes of foreign officials weren’t printed and hung in frames, either. I scanned over the posters, noticing how each of them focused on ethics and character; things I thought Mr. Longley lacked in that moment.

  One in particular stood out. It was a quote of Winston Churchill. “The true guide of life is to do what is right.”

  “You’re a fan of Winston Churchill?”

  He nodded. “He was a great man.”

  As I stood to leave, I pointed to the poster and said, “Mr. Longley, that right there is exactly why this matters.”

  I walked out of there with my shoulders back and my head up like I owned the place, and more determined than ever to find out what happened to my new friend.

  Chapter 4

  Dylan sat at my kitchen table tapping his finger on my bamboo placemat. I handed him a wet paper towel I’d folded into a square. He held it in his hand and stared at me with his eyebrows furrowed, making a wrinkled eleven at the bridge of his nose. It was all sorts of adorable. “What’s this for?”

  I grabbed it and pressed the cold mass of mushy wetness onto his forehead. “Your face is so red I’m afraid you’re going to have a heart attack.”

  “Lily, you’re approaching people in a possible murder investigation.”

  I held up my index finger. “To be clear, I did not approach Bobby Yancy. He talked to me.”

  He dropped his head onto the ball of his hand and blew out an exasperated sigh. I assumed the exasperated part was mostly for affect.

  I poured us each a cup of coffee. “When is the autopsy supposed to be done?”

  He scooped a teaspoon of Stevia into his coffee and stirred it before answering. “It could be a week, but Henry’s trying to rush it.”

  “You sure can get a lot of favors called in for you, can’t you?”