Realtor Rub Out

by Carolyn Ridder Aspenson

  “Just reliving our college days,” John said.

  When Floyd and Dabney arrived at our table, the tension level shot through the roof.

  The side of Dabney’s upper lip curled. “Not surprising, seeing the Rockwell men—if one can call them men—engaging with small-town agents.”

  Belle pushed out her chair and stood. “Well, bless your heart, you’re stuck up higher than a light pole now, aren’t you? I bet you make your momma proud.”

  Dabney Clayton lurched forward, but Floyd Bowman grabbed her wrist and pulled her back. “Don’t.”

  John Rockwell stood too, but his attention was focused on Belle. “Don’t bother with her, honey. She’s just a bitter woman looking for something she’ll never have. A real man.”

  Heaven help us. It was going to get ugly.

  The snarl on Dabney’s face grew bigger. “Did you grow up in a barn?”

  “Nope, next to one though.”

  Floyd Bowman laughed. “If you think being around this guy is being around a man, you’ve got another thing coming.” He pointed to John. “They may be a small firm, but they’re snakes, and they’ll steal your business while smiling in your face.”

  Skip let go of the chair and straightened his shoulders. “You want to talk about stealing business, you dirty little—”

  I held out my hand. “Fellas, this is not the place for this. Please.”

  Dabney Clayton snickered. “What are you, the etiquette police? I’ve been to your little run down county in the woods. There isn’t a lady in sight. Not one worth their weight in gold, anyway.”

  “Oh, you’ve been to Bramblett, have you? When was the last time you were there? You know we had a murder recently, right?” I asked. She’d made me angry, and I fully intended to have my say.

  “You go, girl,” Belle whispered in my ear.

  “Are you saying I had something to do with my partner’s death?”

  “I’m asking when you were in my little run down county last.”

  She furrowed her brow and snorted. “I don’t dirty my hands with this kind of behavior.”

  “You want to know who killed Carole, take a look at her new partner here,” Floyd said. “He’ll do whatever he can to get a bit of our business.”

  Skip puffed out his chest and growled. “I didn’t kill Carole, and you know it.” He stood with his legs spread apart and his hands on his hips. “But you? We all know you and your girlfriend here had something to do with it. Yeah, Carole was planning to partner with me. Had all kinds of plans to take my firm to the next level, but it didn’t include stealing business. You two wrote the book on that, so don’t be pretending you don’t know what I’m talking about.”

  Floyd leaned into Skip’s personal space. “You calling me a thief, Rockwell?”

  People had begun to gather. Rubbernecking happened everywhere, and lately, I’d been in the middle of all the action, whether I liked it, or not. And I didn’t like it one bit.

  “I’m calling you a thief and a murderer,” Skip said.

  Floyd grabbed Skip’s shirt, and John Rockwell jumped in to break up a soon to be physical battle. He yanked Floyd’s arm and pulled it away from his father, then stood in-between the two. “Now, now. How ‘bout we take a break and go to separate corners to cool off? No need to show everyone here our dirty laundry.”

  “Wait a minute,” I said, deciding to take the bull by the horns. “Why don’t you tell me why you think Floyd is a thief and a murderer, Skip?”

  Floyd bowed up again, and Dabney grabbed his arm to calm him.

  “We all know what happened when he worked with Carole years ago. He likes to call it a little good-hearted competition, but everyone knows the truth. He found out Carole’s client made an offer on a property her client wanted, and he got one of his clients to bid higher on the property, and according to her, he kept doing that. Don’t know how he found out about the offers, but he did, and every time she had a client ready to make one, he’d go in and grab it for one of his clients right out from under her.”

  I eyed Floyd. “Mr. Bowman told me it was the other way around.”

  “’Course, he did. Wouldn’t want to make himself look bad now, would he?” Skip Rockwell asked.

  “I don’t pull the rug out from other agents, Rockwell,” Floyd said.

  Skip wiggled his finger between Floyd Bowman and Dabney Clayton. “Both of you are rotten to the core. Stealing business and marking up homes to make a bigger buck.”

  “You’re the one that stole Carole from our firm. We were business partners, and you just up and took her from me,” Dabney said.

  “I didn’t take a thing from you. She walked away on her own. Or was planning to until your boyfriend here decided to poison her.”

  Belle squeezed my shoulder. “We need to go. I need to get back to the office.”

  My cell phone vibrated in my pocket with a message from Dylan. “Coroner said the victim’s stomach contents contained sulfate dioxin. It’s slow acting, but definitely enough to kill her. Doesn’t appear to be in the contents of the cookies left at the Studebaker’s, so we’re working on where it came from. Keep this between us, please.”

  I glanced at Belle. “Results on the—I mean, I need to get to the bridal shop. My dress is ready, and I need to pick it up.” That was the truth. I’d had a voicemail earlier, and I wanted to stop there on the way back to the office since it was between counties.

  “Oh, sweetie.” She gave John Rockwell the biggest set of Southern gal ogly eyes I’d ever seen. “I have just loved chatting with you, but bridezilla here must be attended to, and I have got to get away from the tension in the room.” She patted his bicep and gave it a light squeeze then stared at the other three agents. “Why, it‘s just so thick you could cut it with a knife.”

  He brushed her black hair away from her face, and I thought it would be a heck of a night for her if Matthew discovered her little act. Part of me wanted to be there to watch her dig herself out of the hole she’d created, but the other part knew that could end up bad for both of us. “There’s some tension in the room all right, but I think it’s of a different kind.”

  Ick. My stomach couldn’t leave that one alone and got itself all up in knots.

  As we drove to the bridal shop, Belle’s general mood sat somewhere over the moon but south of entering a new universe all together. “That was amazing. Did you see how I finagled that guy? He thinks I’m an idiot.”

  “And that’s a good thing?”

  “I played him, and I’m sure he would have told me what he knew if those idiots hadn’t ruined it.”

  “If he knows anything. John Rockwell seems like the kind of guy that says what he thinks, even if it’s not exactly the truth.”

  “Maybe, but it’s more than we have now, right?”

  “Maybe not.” I filled her in on my conversation with Skip Rockwell.

  “Oh, that’s creepy, especially the being threatened part.”

  “I know. I think he’s hiding something, and now I’m just more confused.”

  “Sounds like we might have our killer.”

  “I don’t know. They all kind of threw each other under the bus just now.” I adjusted the seatbelt so it wouldn’t slice through my neck. “Besides, I’m pretty sure Floyd and Dabney are lovers.”

  She cringed. “That’s icky, but Skip did reference something to that effect.”

  “That’s exactly what I thought.” I went over their conversation with her.

  “Oh, I like how you played that, all sneaky and detective-like. We are pretty darn good at this, aren’t we?” She smiled over at me. “Sugar?” She smiled as she said that.

  I laughed. “Bless your heart, you’re becoming a stereotype.”

  “If you’ve got something that works, you might as well use it.”

  I preferred using questions and information to put together the pieces of the puzzle. Belle, it seemed, just liked to fly by the seat of her pants. “So, you know what this means right?” />
  “What?”

  “That we’ve got three possible suspects that are all up to something.”

  “And I may be able to use John Rockwell to find out what they’re all up to.”

  “Matthew isn’t going to like that.”

  She pulled into the bridal shop parking lot and shut off her car before facing me. “My best friend is supposed to get married soon, and if this case isn’t solved, there’s no way her fiancé and his best man are going to get on a plane and fly all the way to Ischia, Italy. I’m not opposed to doing whatever it takes to make sure they’re both on that plane.” She grabbed her purse from the backseat. “Well, not whatever it takes, but darn close.”

  “And I appreciate that.”

  “I’d hope so.” She closed her door. “I’m willing to step out of my comfort zone and get comfy with a slimy guy for you, and that’s saying a lot. You know how much I detest slimy guys.”

  “Probably just as much as I do.”

  The salesclerk went into the back area to pull my dress as I stepped into a dressing room to undress.

  Belle stood outside and chatted while I put on my gown. “You’re still planning to ship our dresses to the hotel, right? We’re not taking them with us, are we?”

  “Yes, I mean, no. I mean yes. I called and they said they would keep it if we had to change our plans, or I could make arrangements to ship them back here if necessary.”

  “Let’s hope that’s not necessary.”

  I opened the dressing room door and stepped into the main area with the mirrors.

  Belle gasped. “Oh my gosh. I…it’s…you’re…I just don’t know what to say. You’re beautiful. Just gorgeous.” She crouched down and fluffed the small white pearl beaded train. “I knew it was a stunning dress, but I had no idea how perfect it would look on you.” Tears welled in her eyes. “Oh, bless my heart, I’m going to be a hot mess next week.” She walked a circle around me admiring the heart shaped neckline and the way it accentuated my shoulders. “Those spin classes have really paid off.”

  “You mean the ones I haven’t taken in months?”

  “Honey, you are the most beautiful bride I’ve ever seen, and we were in a sorority, so I’ve seen my share.”

  I laughed. “Well, you’re supposed to think that. You’re my best friend.”

  “Do you have a necklace picked out? That heart shaped neckline is perfect for something, and pearls would match the gown.”

  “I have a few options, but nothing that screams, wear me just yet.”

  “I’m sure you’ll find something perfect. You know, I’m so glad your parents are going to your wedding. You mother would pitch a fit if she missed seeing you in this.”

  A tear fell from my left eye. “Stop it,” I said as I wiped it away. “You’re making me all emotional.”

  “You’re getting married, you should be all emotional. When it’s my turn, I’ll be a hot mess, I’m sure.”

  “No, you’ll be bridezilla, for sure.”

  She hugged me. “Hush.”

  We both laughed.

  Belle slipped into her maid of honor dress, and I understood how she felt seeing me in mine. The long lavender gown fit her like a glove, which was exactly my intention in picking that particular style. The neckline was heart shaped to match mine, and it accentuated her curvy figure perfectly. Belle wasn’t a gym rat, as people liked to call committed exercisers, but she was blessed with a figure to die for. I would have been jealous, but even though she was perfect in every way to me, she had her own psychological body image issues to deal with, like most women my age.

  “Wow. If you ever get married, you definitely need a dress in that style. It’s perfect on you.”

  She grimaced. “If I ever? You say that like it’ll be a miracle if it happens.”

  “It’s going to take a strong man to keep you happy, that we both know.”

  “And Matthew’s doing a fine job, so that must say something good about him.”

  “Are y’all talking about getting married?”

  “It’s come up a time or two, but nothing serious.”

  “Then we had better make sure to keep our flaps shut about your little flirtation earlier. I don’t want to cause any ripples and increase the odds of you being a spinster.”

  She laughed. “Honey, that man is wrapped around my little finger almost as tight as you’ve got Dylan wrapped around yours.”

  I smiled and fluffed the bottom of her dress as she walked so we could see how it laid out. “I bet you do.”

  “You don’t have to bet on that.”

  Chapter 8

  A small box sat outside our office’s front entrance. Belle jumped when she saw it. “Oh look, we got presents!” She grabbed the box as I unlocked the door. While I set my things down and ran to the bathroom, she opened the box. I returned to her staring at a piece of paper. “This isn’t good.”

  “What?”

  She handed me the paper and I read it out loud. “Mind your own business or you’re next.” I glanced inside the box and at a wrapped plate of chocolate chip cookies. “Don’t touch those.”

  “I’m not crazy,” Belle said.

  I dialed Dylan’s number. When it went to voicemail, she called Matthew as I texted Dylan, “9-1-1.”

  I checked the video and alarm system but yet again, neither of us had thought to turn it on in days, so it wouldn’t do us any good in identifying who’d left the package.

  Dylan responded that he’d be right there, and we assumed Matthew would come with him since he hadn’t answered Belle’s call.

  Five minutes later, while we sat and stared at the box, afraid to do anything else really, they arrived.

  “We touched it, but not after we saw the cookies,” I said.

  “Good,” they said in unison.

  They put on gloves and Matthew checked the rest of the office though we told them the door had been locked, and it was unlikely anyone had gotten in.

  “All clear,” he said.

  “Told you,” Belle replied.

  Dylan examined the box closely as I took photos of it. “No postage, so it was dropped off at the door.”

  Belle crossed her arms and exhaled. “Do you think it’s from the person that killed Carole Craddock?”

  “Has to be. No one knows it could have been a cookie.”

  Dylan peered directly into my eyes. “Unless you said something.”

  “I don’t think so. Wait, I might have to the Studebakers, but they’re harmless, and when I talked to Joey Ronnetti’s mother, she guessed, but I didn’t say it.”

  “She guessed?”

  “Well, I casually mentioned that I’d heard her son liked cookies, then I wouldn’t eat one she’d made, so…”

  He smirked. “Anything else I should know about? You might have ticked off the killer and he or she is trying to make a point.”

  I pressed my lips together. “We went to a broker lunch, and a few unexpected things happened.”

  “How about you tell me about them?”

  “I might have been sort of threatened by Skip Rockwell, and there might have been a verbal altercation between him, Floyd Bowman, and Dabney Clayton.”

  Dylan removed his hat and rubbed the top of his head. “Sort of threatened?” He paced in a short line. “I don’t know why I thought it was okay to let you in on this investigation.”

  “You what?” Matthew asked.

  “He didn’t exactly let me in on it. I kind of pushed my way in.”

  Dylan flung his hand at me. “You try and stop her. Woman’s as stubborn as a mule.”

  “I think he just called you a jack—” Belle giggled but stopped herself from finishing that sentence.

  I raised my eyebrows. “It was a broker lunch. We go to those all the time.” Okay, we didn’t go to them all the time, but once every six months wasn’t never, either. “And I found out that there’s some kind of romantic connection between Floyd and Dabney. I bet you didn’t know that, did you? And by the way
, if one of them isn’t the killer, then they’re up to something else that I’m guessing is illegal.”

  I let them know why I thought that.

  “Did they see you spying on them?”

  I blanched. “I wasn’t exactly spying. I had to use the ladies’ room and they were in the hallway having a disagreement. I didn’t want to disturb them.”

  He smirked. “So, while you waited for them to finish you figured listening in would be a good idea?”

  “Sounds about right,” Belle said.

  “You’re not doing me any favors,” I whispered. “Dylan, they’re up to something. Dabney specifically mentioned me, or it sounded that way, and she’s concerned.”

  “What exactly did she say?”

  “Something like, the police are going to find out what’s going on if that woman keeps sticking her nose in our business or where it doesn’t belong. I’m not sure which, but it’s close either way. I may be wrong, but it sounded like she was referring to me.”

  “Of course she was,” he said.

  “Wait a minute. Didn’t Skip Rockwell say something about Carole being poisoned?”

  Belle nodded. “Oh my gosh, he did.”

  “How would he know that if he wasn’t involved?” I asked.

  “Are you sure you didn’t mention the cookies to any of them?” Dylan asked.

  “I’m sure.”

  He stared at Belle with a raised eyebrow.

  “Oh, nope. Not me. I didn’t say a thing about any cookies.”

  “Looks like we’ve got ourselves a murderer,” Matthew said.

  “This is why I want you staying away from active investigations. Sticking your nose into them always gets you in some kind of trouble.”

  “But she’s got the cutest little nose, Dylan, and you should see her in her wedding dress. You’re going to burst a blood vessel at how beautiful your bride is.”

  His snarl softened. “I’d like to make sure she’s still around for me to see.” He walked over and took my hands in his. “If you’re going to do this, please do it with a little distance between you and the suspects.”