Lily Sprayberry Realtor Box Set

by Carolyn Ridder Aspenson

  “I don’t think we’ve got any left.” He sighed again, but from the sound of it, he wasn’t acting.

  I rubbed his shoulder and his muscles tensed. “What’s wrong?” I knew the question sounded silly, but I had a feeling something other than my nosing around Carter’s death weighed heavily on Dylan’s mind.

  “I’m an elected official, Lily. I have to earn my job more so than most people, and right now, I’m not doing that. If I can’t keep this county safe, come time for my re-election, I may not be able to keep it.”

  My heart sank. Dylan couldn’t leave here, he couldn’t leave me. Not again. He’d promised. “No, no. That…that won’t happen. You’ll get re-elected. People know you. You’re from here.”

  He shifted his chair toward me and entangled his fingers with mine. “I don’t plan to leave, Lily. I just need to clean up this county. To make things right. Make them safe.”

  “What can I do? How can I help?” My voice shook, but I refused to acknowledge the fear building in the pit of my stomach. The fear of losing him again. I needed to trust him, to trust that he wouldn’t leave me. My heart knew he wouldn’t, but my mind played tricks on me and directly competed with my heart to win over the rest of my body.

  Dylan’s face morphed from the boy with the charming smile I’d grown up crushing on, to a law enforcement official with a straight, thin lined mouth and a serious stare. “I really wish you’d do what you’re good at and let me do what I’m good at.”

  Is that a gentle nudge or an order disguised as a suggestion?”

  “I’m serious.”

  “That’s definitely an order disguised as a suggestion.” Same old, same old, I thought. I detached my hands from his and stared at his face. Tiny age lines were forming at the corners of his eyes. My momma called those smile lines, but Dylan wasn’t smiling, not even a little. In fact, his mouth was still straight as an arrow. “And, I know you’re serious.”

  When I was a kid, my brothers and I used to have staring contests, and whoever blinked first would get stuck doing the other sibling’s chores for the day. I have this unusual ability to go without blinking longer than most people, at least in my family, and apparently, longer than Dylan too, because after a good fixed glaring, he finally broke away and got up. I would have cheered for my win, but it really wasn’t one. He left without a hug, and the burning in the pit of my stomach stuck for the rest of the day.

  * * *

  Belle grunted as she spoke. “So, what’s your plan?”

  All of Bo’s sixty-five pounds rested on and crushed her tiny lap, but she didn’t mind. She just swung her arms to one side and swiveled her chair the opposite direction so she didn’t talk into his large block of a head while she worked.

  Owning our own business meant we could make the rules, and sometimes those rules included taking my dog to work. It didn’t happen often, though because Bo considered Belle’s lap his favorite spot at the office.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Are you going to honor his request?”

  I opened my calendar and frowned at the blocked out space labeled B&B research with Bestie. “Here’s the thing.” I went into my calendar and cancelled our appointment, and the space cleared. I cringed, but wasn’t facing Belle, so she couldn’t see it. “He even said there wasn’t an official investigation yet, and the autopsy wasn’t back, so technically speaking, there isn’t anything to stay out of.”

  “Hey, you just cancelled our appointment.”

  “What appointment?”

  “You know what appointment.”

  I spun around. “Honey, you can push it till the cows come home, but I am not buying a bed and breakfast. It’s not what we discussed, and it’s not what I want.”

  She rested her chin on the top of Bo’s head. “I think it’s time for a new best friend.”

  “I hear Joanna Gaines is really nice.”

  “Anyway, are you going to honor at least one person’s request?”

  “Ouch.”

  “Well.”

  I scooted my chair back in front of my desk and busied myself searching through the MLS system for listings for a new client. The verbal jab to my gut Belle just took hurt. She’d never been one to hide her feelings, and I’d always respected that about her, even when she’d called me out on my personal flaws.

  I printed out the information for six listings I thought my client would like and stuffed them into a file folder. “I’m heading out.” I tapped my thigh to call Bo to me. “Let’s go buddy, off to doggy day care.”

  He leaped off Belle’s lap, and she grunted. “Oh. That’s going to leave some serious bruises.”

  “Sorry about that.”

  “You’re upset.”

  “I never led you to think I would buy one, Belle.”

  “I know, but I wish you’d at least consider it.”

  “I have, but I probably haven’t made my thoughts clear, and I apologize. How about we talk later today? I’m going to go and check out these properties now.”

  “I can keep Bo if you’d like.”

  “Thanks, but he needs to release his energy, or I’ll pay for it later.”

  She walked over and hugged me. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be so abrasive.”

  I hugged her back, hard. “Yes, you did, but that’s why I love you.”

  I threw my bag over my shoulder and headed out. Bo and I walked over to Millie’s so I could fuel up on real caffeine before hopping in the car, dropping him off for a play date and spending the rest of the day property hunting for my new client. I’d actually planned to do that later in the week, but I knew if I didn’t do it then, I’d end up sticking my nose where Dylan didn’t want it, and I wanted to at least make an effort to honor his request.

  Unfortunately, that effort lasted as long as it took to order my café mocha.

  I really needed to work on my impulse control, at least when it came to staying on course in sticking my nose where it didn’t belong in Dylan’s work. I decided I’d add that to my list of New Year’s Resolutions for the next year.

  Millie prepared my drink, and as she did, spoke loudly over the espresso machine. “Can you believe we’ve had another murder? Why, I’m about to close up shop and head for the hills.”

  “First of all, we already live in the hills, and secondly, we don’t know yet that he was murdered.”

  “You’ve got a point about the hills, but as for the murder part, we don’t know yet that he wasn’t, either.” She added the whipped cream to my drink and handed it to me.

  I sipped it right away, savoring the mixed scents of warmed chocolate and coffee as the sweet taste slid down my throat. When I finished enjoying that first heavenly zing, I said, “Millie, you’re a strong influence in this town, maybe you should consider keeping that influence positive.”

  She squished her eyebrows together. “You think I’m a strong influence?”

  “No, I don’t think you are; I know you are. Everyone knows you are. Where does everyone come for local news? To Millie’s Café. Where does everyone look when they want to know the town schedule?” I pointed to her big community bulletin board on her front wall. “Right there. You’re a bigger influence for town news than the Gazette.” I winked. Everyone loved the Gazette, our local paper.

  “That piece of garbage? Nobody reads that no more.” Millie tipped her head to the right and giggled.

  I glanced to the right and said, “Oh, whoops.”

  Rufus Fulton, the owner and sole reporter for the Bramblett County Gazette, piped up. “I’m sittin’ right over here, you two.”

  “We can smell ya, Rufus. You smell like ink, just like your pa always did.”

  Rufus sniffed the sleeve of his red and black flannel shirt, and Millie and I laughed.

  “I get him every time with that one,” she said.

  “You’re a tough lady, Millie.”

  “And you can take that one to the bank.”

  I paid her for my drink. “If you hear anythi
ng credible about Carter, you be sure to let me know, you hear?”

  She saluted me. “You got it. Us influential people got to stick together.”

  “We sure do.”

  “I’ll report what I just heard, too, Lily,” Rufus said.

  I patted his shoulder as I walked by. “Thank you. Mighty kind of ya, sir.”

  Millie gave Bo a small treat and a pat on the head, and we headed out.

  * * *

  The first property on my list wasn’t located in Bramblett, but in Forsyth County, one of the counties near us, and near the lake. My client, a couple of years older than me, had been doing the partial work from home and commute thing to Alpharetta, which was a good hour from us, and though it wasn’t the city, it was far enough south that the commute had become a burden to their expanding family. Forsyth County schools were tops in the area. A growing community of young families, FoCo, as it was called, was perfect for them.

  The outside of the four bedroom, three bath home sent butterflies fluttering in my uterus. My biological clock was not ticking. I wasn’t old enough yet for that, no matter what my momma said. I held my breath as I got out of my car. I loved the white painted brick with the glossy black shutters, an old thing that had become new again in Georgia. The wide steps to the covered wrap around front porch, and the swing dangling on the right took my breath away. Definitely my favorite style, and I couldn’t help but sit and swing for a moment. As I did, I imagined what it would be like, Dylan and I sitting in that swing, watching our little ones play in the front yard, Bo darting around with them, maybe running through the sprinkler on a hot summer evening, him barking while little Dylan giggled.

  Oh my, Lily. Knock it off. Marriage hadn’t even been mentioned, not once. Okay, it had once, in high school, on a chilly night at the lake, but that was years ago, and long forgotten by Dylan I suspected.

  Dylan was far too into his career to even think about marriage, and frankly, so was I.

  Maybe.

  I gathered my senses and typed in the code on the realtor box. When I opened the door I immediately fell victim to the number one realtor trick in the book. The scent of fresh homemade chocolate chip cookies.

  My stomach growled. I headed straight to the kitchen, plucked one from the counter and munched on it as I took in the sights of the new black stainless steel appliances, another trend I’d grown to love, and the otherwise all white kitchen. The sink wall had no top cabinets, only a long line of windows that faced the backyard and provided a fantastic view of a lovely landscaped lot dotted with crepe myrtles in shades of pink, white and lavender. The trees provided shade for alternating pink and white azalea bushes, two larger red rose bushes, and lavender vines I knew would smell glorious with the windows open.

  I wanted the house for myself, and I hadn’t even seen most of it.

  I wandered into the great room just off the eat in kitchen and instantly fell in love with the stacked stone fireplace. Sure, it was status quo in the newer north Georgia homes, but the dark bookcases attached to its sides, and the fact that the room didn’t boast a two-story ceiling gave it a comfy-cozy feeling, and the over-stuffed, over-sized, light-colored furniture focused on the fireplace really made it stand out. I searched the entire room but couldn’t find the TV.

  I loved that. Loved it. I would totally give up my crime TV shows for cozy nights by the fire with a good mystery book in hand, snuggled up with Dylan and Bo.

  The listing information said there was a basement, so I found the door, skipped down the steps and wa-la, the TV magically appeared, along with a plethora of kids toys all neatly stacked into built-in cabinets perfect for a young family. Off to the side was a built-in desk and craft area, what most realtors would tag a mom’s office, filled with bins for storage and supplies.

  I knew I had five other properties to view, but I had a feeling I’d found my client’s home. I checked out the rest of the house, snapped a few photos and sent them via text.

  As I locked up, Dylan called. “I’ve got news.”

  “Is the autopsy back?”

  “Not yet, but I heard from Henry.”

  “And?”

  “And I really shouldn’t be telling you this, but I know you’ll hear it anyway.”

  “I thought you wanted me to stay out of your investigation?”

  “I never said that exactly.”

  “You didn’t have to say that.”

  “Do you want to know?”

  “Of course, I do.”

  “We found fingerprints on the syringe.”

  “Whose?”

  Dylan sucked in a large breath. “Bobby Yancy.”

  “Oh, no.”

  “I have to be honest. I thought you’d respond differently.”

  “I’m not a tyrant.”

  “No, but you’re not his biggest fan, either.”

  “Well, no, but I hate for anyone to be accused of murder. So are you going to arrest him?”

  “We’re bringing him in for questioning.”

  “Good, because his fingerprints on the syringe doesn’t mean he killed Carter.”

  “No, but it doesn’t mean he didn’t, either, and considering his behavior the night before, he’s got motive.”

  I wasn’t sure whose side I wanted to be on, and I knew I needed to make a decision. On the one hand, I wasn’t at all comfortable with Bobby’s behavior at the box lacrosse game, and I certainly didn’t like his comments to me after Carter’s death, but the man had roots in Bramblett, and he had a family to care for. Could a man with those things kill someone?

  When I asked Dylan that question, his answer was emphatically yes. “His family is an absolute reason for murder, Lily. Think about it. He doesn’t have the money to get his son into college, and Bobby Jr. could get a scholarship, but Carter could have screwed that up. What’s the solution? Take Carter out of the picture. Problem solved.”

  “But couldn’t there have been another way to handle that?”

  “Of course, but desperation doesn’t necessarily equate to logic, especially when money and family are concerned.”

  “I hate this for his family, especially his son. Bobby Jr. was visibly upset when he had to leave the game the other night. I can’t imagine how he’ll feel if his dad is arrested for murder.”

  “We’re only bringing him in for questioning at this point.”

  “Are there any other suspects?”

  “Not yet, but we’re talking to the rest of the lacrosse parents. There’s a lot of talk about the state athletic association rules and Carter’s decision to follow them. I guess that upset a bunch of the parents.”

  “Wow. Way to teach your children ethical behavior.”

  “Times ain’t like they used to be, babe.”

  “Guess not. I climbed into my car and clicked my seatbelt together.

  “Where are you?”

  “Cumming. Checking out a few properties for a client.”

  “Well, if I can get out of here at a reasonable hour, I’ll stop by, but I have a feeling it’s going to be a late night.”

  “I won’t expect to see you.”

  We hung up, and I finished my tour of homes for my client, and though the others were lovely, none of them held a candle to the first one.

  * * *

  I’d barely gotten out of my car on our main street in town when Ginnie Slappey rushed at me like I was the queen bee in her hive and she just had to kiss my wings or only the Lord knew what would happen. “Oh hey there, how are you holding up with all this mess going on?”

  All this mess going on? Did she mean the murder, and did she not remember how passive aggressive she’d been when we’d last talked? That was something I’d never quite adjusted to about life in a small town, even though I’d grown up in one. One minute someone was running you all kinds of ways with a verbal lashing, and the next, they’d hand-baked you an apple pie and served it to you after your daddy’s funeral. Sometimes it felt sincere and other times as fake as a prostitute reading the L
ord’s Prayer in Sunday School.

  Ginnie Slappey reminded me of the prostitute.

  “Oh hey, Ginnie. I’m okay. How’re you?”

  “Oh, I’m just a hot mess, that’s how I am. Girl, you should hear the talk goin’ round. It’s just horrible, let me tell you. Why this county’s about to bust open at the seams.”

  I raised my eyebrows. “What do you mean?”

  “Well, for starters, they arrested poor Bobby Yancy. Senior of course, not the boy. If they’d arrested the boy, that would just be horrible. I mean, it’s horrible they arrest his daddy and all, I know, but the boy—” she glided the tips of her fingers across the side of her cheek. “Heavens, that would just be terrible, you know?”

  I wasn’t quite sure if that was a real question, so I just nodded and said, “Em hmm.”

  “Anyway.” She flung her hand at me. “It’s just a mess, what’s happening now. Word is that sheriff boyfriend of yours has gone and talked to the state athletic association, and they’re going to cancel our lacrosse program until they get this mess figured out. Can you believe it? Now Lily, what’re you going to do about this?” She crossed her arms over her chest and gave me a death stare that bore through me with such pithy disdain I about crawled back into my car and sped back to my dream house in Cumming.

  This mess?

  Millie charged through her café doors with a rolling pin swinging back and forth like she’d lost her ever-lovin’ mind. I held my hands over my head and ducked for cover behind my car door. When she saw me, she raised the baking tool up level with her face and examined like it was the first time she’d seen the thing. “Oh for heaven’s sake, Lily Sprayberry. What do you think I’m goin’ to do, hit you over the head with this thing? Why I’d sooner hit Miss Slappey here for spreading that foul gossip of hers than your precious face.”

  Ginnie had her back to Millie, but you can bet she’d turned around to run right then, and faster than I’d thought she could in that pair of cheap stilettoes, too. I half expected her to break an ankle when she teetered off the curb and went sailing toward the ground, her arms flailing in front of her to try and soften her fall on the cement sidewalk and blacktop road. It wasn’t funny really, but there was a part of me—a small, catty part—that thought it might have appeared humorous to onlookers. I had a feeling I’d be apologizing for that thought when my time came.