Lily Sprayberry Realtor Box Set

by Carolyn Ridder Aspenson

  “I think he was murdered.”

  I glanced up at the clock. Dylan wouldn’t let me sit with Yancy all day, and I didn’t have all day to do it anyway. “Mr. Yancy, we’re on the same page there. I’m asking a more specific question. You mentioned that you’re privy to information others night not be. So, considering that, and since you’re part of the lacrosse program, and you’ve been at the meetings and such, can you tell me, other than Michael Longley, who would have wanted him dead, and how would they have killed him?”

  I wouldn’t take his word as fact, but he had a point, I remembered we had a janitor when I went to high school, but I couldn’t tell you a thing about him. He was invisible. Yancy very likely did hear and see things with an ease others wouldn’t, and couldn’t, share. “If you had to guess, who would you say, within the lacrosse program, hated Coach Trammell enough to see him dead?”

  He placed his free hand on the table. “I already told you, Coach Longley.”

  I tapped my foot on the floor, hoping that would curb my impatience. “Anyone else?”

  “Yup. Probably the rest of the parents whose kids are at risk of being suspended from the team.”

  “And do you know who those are?”

  “Nope, but you might could find that out by talking to Coach Longley.”

  Unfortunately, I knew I’d have to do that again.

  The deputy sheriff walked over, tapping his finger on his watch. “Time to wrap it up.”

  “Okay,” I said, and stood to leave. “One more question, Mr. Yancy. Do you have any family members in the medical field, or know anyone in it?”

  “No, ma’am.”

  I nodded. “Thank you for talking with me. I appreciate it.”

  “I didn’t kill your friend, Miss Sprayberry,” Bobby Yancy said. “But for what it’s worth, you ought to watch your back around them lacrosse women. They ain’t the friends you think they are.”

  Chapter 7

  Dylan stopped me before I left the sheriff’s office. “Anything you care to share with me?”

  “Don’t you have work to do or something?”

  He kissed my forehead. “I’m in the middle of a murder investigation, but I always have a minute for the love of my life.”

  “You’re just using me for information.”

  He walked me to my car. “That, too.”

  “He made some good points.”

  “You still think he’s innocent?”

  “I’m not sure he’s guilty.”

  “Isn’t that the same thing?”

  “I don’t know. Your whole, someone gave him the opportunity thing, though, I’m not sure I’m on board with that. He doesn’t strike me as the kind of guy that would act on impulse. When he was angry the other night, it was pretty clear he’d had that brewing for some time. I wouldn’t call that impulsive.”

  “Did he tell you that?”

  “Not in so many words, but he did tell me some other interesting things.”

  “Such as?”

  “For starters, he thinks Michael Longley could have killed Carter, and he said several other kids were going to be suspended from the team, so those parents should be looked into. And he led me to believe there was something going on between Ginnie Slappey and Carter.” I shook. “That grosses me out, but it would explain her lack of a wedding ring.”

  Dylan stopped short. “Ginnie Slappey’s getting divorced?”

  I shrugged. “Don’t know, but next time you see her, check her ring finger. You’ll notice it’s missing something.”

  He nodded. “Interesting.”

  “I know, right? But really, do you see her as Carter’s type? I do not. She’s way too Southern for him.”

  “We live in the South, Lily. Most of the women here would have been way too southern for Carter Trammell.”

  I dismissed his comment with the flick of my hand. “Especially with her I do declares, and bless his hearts, and all those southernisms for the sake of being Southern. Who does that anyway? Heavens, I mean, seriously.”

  We reached my car, and Dylan just stared at me like I’d gone and lost my mind.

  “What?”

  He shook his head. “Nothing, honey.”

  I dug my heels into the parking lot blacktop. “You are not comparing me to Ginnie Slappy.”

  “I am not comparing you to Ginnie Slappy,” he said in a flat tone.

  “Because if you are, you’re better off talking to a fence post.” I threw my hand up to my mouth. “Oh goodness. I’m her. I’m Ginnie Slappy, only younger.” I leaned against my car. “This is it. I’m officially one of those Southern women I promised myself I’d never be. Might as well get myself a yellow sundress and a pair of Candies. Dear Lord.” I flipped around and dramatically splayed out against my car, sighing for effect. I even pressed the back side of my hand against my forehead. “Heaven help me.”

  The side of his mouth twitched. “You’re not Ginnie Slappey. You’re prettier, and a heck of a lot smarter.”

  I turned back around and winked. “Well, thank you. It sure takes a lot to get a compliment from you.”

  “But you do have the same accent.”

  I smacked his arm. “Stop it. I’m ill.”

  He laughed. “On a more serious note, what’s your feeling about Yancy?”

  “Look at you, asking me my professional opinion about a criminal investigation.” I smiled. “I kind of love this.”

  “I’m not asking your professional opinion about an investigation, Lily. You’re not a professional. I’m asking for your personal impression of a man.”

  Dylan was a pin and me, a balloon. “Gee, thanks. As I said, he gave me reasons to think others could be just as interested in seeing Carter Trammell dead.” I unlocked my car with my electronic key fob, and then turned toward my boyfriend once again. “You know what really got me though?”

  “What?”

  “He said he’s invisible.”

  “Come again?”

  I pointed to him. “Exactly. He told me his position affords him the opportunity to see and hear things others don’t. I took it to mean that as a janitor, he’s not given a whole lot of respect, which is sad when you think about it, and that because of that, people just don’t see him, so he is privy to things others aren’t.”

  Dylan kept his eyes focused on mine. “Interesting.” He gave that some thought. “And did he give you any examples?”

  “Nothing that I haven’t already mentioned. He did warn me to watch my back around the lacrosse women. Said they weren’t really my friends.”

  “I didn’t know you considered them friends.”

  “I hadn’t, but if I had, I’d certainly question it now. His tone reflected serious caution, and I plan to snoop around to see why he feels that way.”

  “Of course you do.”

  “Who wouldn’t?”

  “Why do you care?”

  “Dylan, women don’t put it out there, verbally or not, that they don’t like someone without a reason. Bobby Yancy gave me a warning he felt I needed, and I’m going to find out why. It could be something as simple as they didn’t like my relationship with Carter Trammell, but you can bet your cute little cowboy hat I’ll figure it out.”

  “I have no doubt you will, Lily Sprayberry. No doubt whatsoever.”

  I got in my car then and waved goodbye.

  * * *

  I made a quick pit stop at Clarissa Mooney’s part time job, a local boutique called Gibson’s. She didn’t own the store, and I wasn’t sure she’d even be there, but it opened at ten o’clock, and it was just coming on that time, so I thought I’d stop by and see if she was there. I wanted to chat her up and get a feel for how she acted around me. Since we’d had limited engagement before, and it wasn’t all that great, but I hadn’t thought about the why behind it, I wanted to see how my approach to her impacted her attitude toward me. I figured she was as good of a place to start as any when it came to the lacrosse women. Plus, I wanted to get an update about the stud
ents in the lacrosse program and their grades, or anything she’d be willing to provide. If that was anything at all.

  Thankfully, another woman flipped the closed sign to open as soon as I walked up to the door. She opened it for me with a hey, how you doing greeting, and let me in.

  We chatted about nothing of substance for a bit, and I walked through the store pretending to shop, which ended up in actual shopping because Gibson’s had the most adorable, if not completely useless items. I picked a piece of wood art that said I like big mutts and I cannot lie, and a coffee cup for Belle that said, Best Freaking Friend Ever, and didn’t even notice when Clarissa walked out of the back room and said hello.

  “Oh, hey, Clarissa.” I hadn’t expected to be caught off guard by the main reason I’d come to the boutique in the first place. “How’re you?”

  “I’m just a wreck over this whole sports thing, Lily. Have you talked to that sheriff boyfriend of yours again? Has he fixed things for the program yet?”

  The woman was nuttier than a fruit cake. One minute she was sweet as cherry pie, and the next minute she was sassy. She exhausted me. “Clarissa, this isn’t something the sheriff’s office can fix, you know that, don’t you? I mean, it’s a school issue. It’s not a legal one. The school wasn’t following the athletic association’s regulations, and there are consequences for that.”

  “Yes, but surely your boyfriend can do something. He’s the sheriff.”

  Bless her heart, she really wasn’t that bright. “What exactly do you expect him to do?”

  She shuffled her feet, and I half expected her to say something snarky, but she didn’t. “It’s all just a big mess, isn’t it? And that Ginnie Slappey, she’s so stuck up, she’d drown in a rainstorm. Making me do things no secretary in her right mind would ever do. Should ever do, really. Heavens, if I had a mind to, I’d report her to the association myself. I’m telling you, she’s like a slave driver at times. Do this, Clarissa. Do that, Clarissa. And now that poor Coach Trammell is dead, why, she’s just a hot mess.” She pulled on the sleeve of my pink cardigan and turned her body at an angle so she wasn’t facing me, but instead, facing the front of the store while she talked into my ear. “You’ve heard the rumors, right?”

  “Rumors?”

  “About the coach and Ginnie. Those two had themselves a little love connection. All the parents from the team know it, they just didn’t talk about it. It’s not proper manners, you know? That’s what broke up her marriage. Might be worth a conversation with that sheriff boyfriend of yours. Maybe poor old Mr. Yancy isn’t guilty of stopping Carter’s heart after all.”

  “You think Carter and Ginnie were having an affair?”

  “No, I don’t think it, I know it.” She eyed my pale pink cardigan sweater, white and pink striped tank top, dark blue Silver brand jeans and brown cowboy boots, my most recent purchase and favorite shoes of the month. Once I’d broken them in of course—and boy, was that painful. “Is that your normal attire?”

  I down glanced at my outfit and felt her judgement burning into me from just a few feet away. “Yup, sure is, and I love it, don’t you? Very fashionable for someone as young as I am.”

  She winced, and I knew I’d caught her off guard. Clarissa was in her early forties, which wasn’t old by any means, but why she felt the need to criticize me made no sense. Southern women didn’t play by any set rule book, and when she threw out that pitch, I definitely hit it. From the annoyed expression on her face, I’d hit a home run.

  “Well, I strongly suggest you have a little talk with your boyfriend about taking care of the athletic association situation. I’d hate to see things get out of hand. I hear there’s an election coming up soon. There’s a lot of parents with children coming up into the school athletic programs, and I wouldn’t want to see something negative come from his inability to work with us, you know what I mean?”

  “Are you threatening the sheriff’s re-election status because of your desire to cheat a system he can’t control? Wow, Clarissa, that’s low, even for someone like you.”

  She flashed a quick, cold smile, and then pinched her mouth into a pursed, tight circle. Her eyes darkened, and I knew she wanted to say something nasty, but since she was at work, she had to maintain some sense of professionalism. “I’m saying you might could do your best to get him my message. Now, can I ring your things up for you, Miss Sprayberry?” She yanked the two items from my hands and marched to the counter.

  Whatever Clarissa’s problem with me was, I’d just made it worse, and I’d very likely made Dylan’s re-election concerns worse, too.

  I called Dylan on my way from Gibson’s over to the high school to have another chat with Michael Longley or whomever would talk to me about Carter Trammell and the high school athletic programs.

  “Figure out why the lacrosse women hate you?”

  “Nope, but I think I probably fueled the fire a bit.”

  “That’s my girl.”

  “And I think I might have dug your re-election problem hole a bit deeper, for which I’m sorry.”

  He sighed heavily. “What happened?”

  “She seems to think you have some kind of power over the state athletic associations decision to unsuspend their suspension of the school’s athletic program.” I stopped talking and thought about what I said. “Did I say that right?”

  He laughed. “If you didn’t, I understood, and we’ve both got issues.”

  “Well, I already knew that. Anyway, I told her you don’t have any control, but she gave some veiled threat that if I didn’t make you do something about it, the parents can vote you out come your election.”

  Dylan sighed, another heavy breathed sigh, and I wanted to whack little miss hoity-toity in the shin. He shook his head slightly. “It’s all right. I’ve already had a talk with the school superintendent and the state athletic association legal counsel. They’re going to hold an emergency meeting tonight at six o’clock to discuss the situation. I’ll be there. You want to be my body guard?”

  “Heck yeah, I do, and I’ll bring my team. We’ll keep you safe.”

  “I’m afraid to ask, but I can’t help myself—”

  He didn’t have to finish. “Henrietta and the gang, of course.”

  “Good Lord. They’re not bringing shot guns, are they?”

  “Not if I tell them not to. Hopefully.”

  “Please promise me they won’t.”

  “I’ll promise to try.”

  “That’s better than nothing, I guess. See you there.”

  I wasn’t even sure they owned shot guns, but if I had to guess, I’d guess Henrietta and Bonnie did over Billy Ray and Old Man Goodson any day. And I’d guess they knew how to use them, too. The only concern would be if they could see far and clear enough to hit their targets.

  God help the innocent souls near them if they couldn’t.

  I arrived at the school, signed in, peeled off the sticker for my visitor’s pass and stuck it to my cardigan. The school had been remodeled since I’d graduated nearly a lifetime ago. The front office was no longer in the front, but in what I’d call the back, and for someone that spent four defining years of her life there, that really messed me up when I had to sign in. Going to the community sale wasn’t a big deal. A weekend event didn’t require signing in, and I’d simply entered through the gym entrance. Visiting during school hours was a big deal nowadays, especially with the security requirements as of late. I’d practically given them my first born in the attendance office, and the front desk clerk that day was the same one from when I was a student. She even recognized me, but she was a stickler for the rules back in my day, so I hadn’t expected her to be any different, and she wasn’t.

  She definitely wasn’t any nicer. “What’re you doin’ here anyway? Don’t you got a job now stealing money from people with them high priced homes you sell?”

  “It’s nice to see you, too,” I said as I walked out of the attendance office. She needed a good dose of vitamin D or a little
sunshine in her life, I didn’t think she’d had any since long before I’d graduated.

  I took the long route to Michael Longley’s classroom, making a pit stop at my old locker in Hall B. We’d had assigned lockers each year, but typically each class stuck with their freshman locker for their time at the school. They’d painted the lockers crimson to match the school colors, and whatever person had mine had a bunch of Taylor Swift stickers plastered all over it. I hoped the locker belonged to a girl. I draped my hand across it as I walked by and said a silent you go girl to her in my head. I wasn’t sure what grade she was in, but knew she’d have her ups and downs and memories to last a lifetime, and hopefully, if she was lucky, she had her own Belle. Someone to have her back through thick and thin, in spite of the haters, and to travel through the battles of high school and out the other side for the long run.

  The bell rang as I approached Longley’s classroom. I flattened myself against the hallway wall to dodge the assault of teen angst as it rushed out of the classes and onward to whatever happened next.

  I watched the groups of teens assemble into their cliques, and then each kid as they pulled their cell phones out of their pockets and stuck them in front of their own or one another’s faces. I wondered what was so important, what could happen in those few seconds that would make them jump to be on technology like that? Then I remembered what it felt like to be in high school and cut them some slack, but only just a little. I hoped by the time I had teenagers the thrill of wireless technology will have run its course. I truly believed it was the downfall of relationships and humanity in general.

  I knocked lightly on Michael Longley’s door. He glanced up, and I noticed the frown before he twisted it upward into a smile. “Miss Sprayberry, come on in.”

  “I hate to bother you, but I wanted to chat with you a bit more about a few things. If you have a minute, that is?”

  “You’re in luck. This is my free period.”