“I sure hope so. Your daddy can’t make that long flight without taking something to calm his nerves, and you know how he hates taking pills. Can barely swallow them now since he’s quit smoking.”
I wasn’t sure how the two were related, but I didn’t dare ask, either. “I promise, if Dylan thinks we can’t make it, I’ll let you know right away, okay?”
“You think that’s going to happen? I sure hope it ain’t.”
“I don’t think so.”
We chatted a little longer, her blurting out her concern about a canceled wedding and what that would mean for my future, and while I normally would have been concerned about a canceled wedding, her panic made me see the hyperbole of it all and eased my nerves. I knew that no matter what, Dylan and I would get married, even if it meant we did it at the county courthouse in front of a judge. I’d stopped caring about the wedding itself and cared more about the actual marriage. Being Mrs. Lily Roberts for the rest of my life was more important than the event itself. We hung up with her feeling an ounce better about my pending nuptials.
Belle moaned. “I didn’t even talk to her, and I’m exhausted.”
“She’s just being Momma.”
“Who do you think told her?”
“You know how it works. I’m sure half the town called her. She gets calls all the time about what her daughter’s up to. Sometimes I think I should have left town like my brothers did. She doesn’t know anyone where they live.”
She laughed. “You’ll never leave here. You’re too attached to these nosy people.”
“I know. It’s a love hate relationship sometimes, but it’s charming in its own way. After the fact maybe, but when you’re in the heat of the gossip, it’s exhausting.”
She raised her eyebrow. “You haven’t thought about leaving, have you?”
“Dylan’s an elected official. If he’s not re-elected again, it’s possible we’ll have to leave.”
She shrugged. “I’m not worried about that. He’ll be re-elected every time he runs. He’s a great sheriff.”
“What about you and Matthew? Is he going to be content as a deputy sheriff indefinitely?”
“He’s said for the time being, that’s perfect, but he’s got some embers in the fire for another business, and I think, if that happens, he’ll do both until he can get the other one up and running successfully.”
“Another business?”
She held her finger to her lips. “I’m not supposed to say anything yet.”
“Got it. Then I won’t press.”
“Thank you. You know I’d tell you if you did.”
“I know, and that’s why I’m not pushing the issue. So, you’d better let it go, too.”
“Fine.” She covered her mouth with her hand. “I’ll do my best,” she mumbled.
The mail came, and Belle tossed me three bills, two finalized contracts an agent refused to scan to us, and an information flyer about a realtor open house the following week.
I threw the flyer into the garbage. “Won’t be going to that.”
“There goes free snacks, right down the drain,” she said.
“Hopefully the food in Italy is better than those roll up wraps from Costco.”
“I have a feeling it is.” I finished up some work, responding to emails from other agents and marketing firms we’d never use, and then asked if Belle wanted to come with me to my last showing before the big day.
“I’d love to, but I can’t. I’m almost caught up here, and I’m on a roll. Plus, Matthew said he might come by if he gets a break, and we might grab a late lunch at Millie’s or get a slice of pizza.”
“No worries. I’ll be back soon.” I headed out the door, saying goodbye to Old Man Goodson and Billy Ray on my way out.
* * *
I didn’t make it back to the main strip in town until just before six, when I had to pick up Bo at daycare. When I pulled back up in front of the office, I recognized the car parked in the next space immediately.
I walked around to Bo’s side of the car and let him out. “Bo, be nice.” He ran up to the office entrance. “And by nice, I mean jump on him and ruin those fancy pants he’s wearing.”
John Rockwell flinched and backed up into the conference table when Bo bounded into our office heading straight toward him. He stood near John and barked. Belle and I shared a look. As close as we were, I couldn’t read her mind, but sometimes I wished I could. That was one of those times. Bo’s mind, I could read. If he didn’t like someone, they knew. He barked at them and stood near them, almost acting as a shield between the person and his person.
I loved that about my mutt.
John Rockwell pushed further into the table and finally scooted toward the other side. In his defense, Bo was part Boxer, but also part Pit Bull, and the muscled brownish beige mass topped onto long legs with big mouth was intimidating.
“Back dog,” he said, his voice an octave higher than usual.
“Bo, sit.”
Bo sat, but he still kept his big mouth up close and personal so John Rockwell couldn’t or wouldn’t, make a move.
“What brings you to town?” I asked. I kept my eye on Belle.
“Oh, John’s just come by to check on me, that’s all.” Her sweet voice was a sign of tolerance and caution on her part. I took note.
“Didn’t Belle’s talk sink in? She’s got a boyfriend.”
He narrowed his eyes at me, and it alarmed me. “It’s a free world. I can’t be arrested for just checking on a friend now, can I?”
I wouldn’t exactly call he and Belle friends.
“I appreciate it, John, really, but I’m fine. We’re fine,” she said.
“There’s a murderer loose in your town, and I know you’ve got that sheriff boyfriend of yours looking out for you, but I wouldn’t feel right if I didn’t come by and check on you, too.”
“Why? Is there something you know that the police don’t?” I asked.
He shifted toward me. “I know murderers on the loose and pretty women don’t mix, and I wanted to offer my help in any way I can.”
How I wished at that moment that Henrietta was there to trip him with her plastic bat, or that Old Man Goodson or Billy Ray would have stuck around to try with their golf clubs. John Rockwell was slimy, and I didn’t like him. I didn’t want him hurt but put off balance wouldn’t be a bad thing. “Your help isn’t needed, Mr. Rockwell.”
Belle’s eyebrows nearly hit the top of her hair line. “But we appreciate the thought.” She pushed me aside and stood closer to him. “It’s very nice of you.”
“I’d like to have you over for dinner.” He was looking at Belle, but he moved to the side and smiled at me. “Both of you.”
“Oh, that’s so sweet,” Belle said.
“I think I’ll pass. I’ve got a wedding to get to soon.”
“You won’t want to miss my cooking. I consider myself a chef of sorts. I’ve been cooking for years, and recently dove back into the whole creating a meal from the appetizer to the dessert process. I’d love to have you over to give my creations a try.”
“Thanks, but I’m busy,” I said.
“Like I said, that’s very sweet, but I don’t think it’s a good idea, John.” Belle placed her hand on his shoulder. “I really am happily involved with someone. I appreciate the offer though.”
“Isn’t Matthew coming by to take you to dinner?” I asked. I knew they’d planned on a lunch, but what John Rockwell didn’t know would get him out of my office faster. I hoped.
“Then I’ll be going,” he said. He smiled at me again, and all I wanted to do was take a shower. “Belle, if you change your mind, you know how to reach me.” He headed toward the door with Bo at his heels.
Belle closed and locked the door behind him.
“That man’s all hat and no cattle.”
Belle laughed. “You have to admit, though, he’s got impeccable taste in women.”
I rolled my eyes. “He rubs me the wrong way.”
/> “But he cooks.”
“So he says.”
“True, and he’s not really my type anyway. I’m not into the ex-fraternity boy who still wears his polo shirts with the little animal on the chest. Showing designer logos is so retro and not my thing.”
I laughed because Belle loved a good designer outfit, and she knew it. She just didn’t like John Rockwell. Compared to Matthew there was no comparison.
“I am give slap out,” she said. She leaned against her desk and Bo came over and licked her foot. “Thanks for the kisses, sweetie. From the looks of things, you’re the only boy that’ll have time to kiss me tonight.”
“Welcome to my life.”
“Matthew said they’re close to making an arrest. He thinks we’ll have no problem making the wedding.”
“Seriously? Dylan hasn’t told me that.” I leaned against her desk too, but Bo didn’t try to lick my foot. “What else did Matthew say?”
“Just that.”
“Just that?”
“Yup.” She looked away when she said that.
“You’re lying.” Belle was my best friend. I knew her almost as well as I knew myself, even better sometimes, so it wasn’t easy for her to get a lie past me. Her physical cues; not making eye contact, staring at the ground, those were obvious, but the subtle cues, the slight fluctuation in her tone, the barely there hesitation in speaking, those were the tells only people like me saw.
“I am not.”
“He didn’t tell you who they think killed Carole Craddock?”
She stared straight into my eyes. “No, he didn’t tell me who they think killed Carole Craddock.”
She told the truth then. She’d fibbed about something before, but I didn’t press her. Belle didn’t fib with malice intent. She fibbed for other reasons and none of them unethical, manipulative, or deceiving. She did it when she had a plan.
And that was what scared me the most, Belle having a plan. “You’re up to something.”
“I am not,” she fibbed.
“Bless your heart, you think I don’t know you better than anyone else. How naïve of you.”
“Honey, I am a whole lot of things, but I am not naïve.”
I laughed and then poked the bear. “And I’m not a nosy control freak.”
She laughed, too. “I’d be lying if I agreed with that.”
Whatever she had up her sleeve, I hoped and prayed it wouldn’t wind up embarrassing me. She had a knack for doing that intentionally.
Chapter 15
I tapped on Dylan’s opened office door while Bo rushed in without the go ahead. “Got a minute for your fiancée and her ill-mannered mutt?”
He stood, pet the pooch, walked over to me and gave me a tight hug. “I’ve always got time for you and this little guy.” He gave Bo’s big old head a scratch.
I closed the door behind us. “Rumor has it you’re close to making an arrest in the murder investigation?”
He sat at his desk, and I took the seat on the opposite side.
“I had a feeling you’d find out.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I planned to, but close doesn’t mean we’re there yet, and to be honest, I wanted to see if you drew the same conclusion from your quazi-investigation.”
I wasn’t sure if I should be insulted by that or not, but I was a little bit. “So, you’re saying you wanted to compare my quazi-investigation to your professional one before making an official arrest? Why? Because you think I’m a better investigator?”
Because sometimes I felt that way.
“That’s not what I mean, and I’m sorry you took it wrong.”
I smiled. “You’re forgiven.”
“We have the same possible suspects, and I’m curious about what you’re probably not telling me, and what that could mean.”
“What makes you think I’m not telling you something?”
“The fact that you’re breathing.”
I laughed. “Honestly, I’ve told you about everything I know, and if I had to choose a main suspect right now, my gut still thinks it’s Dabney Clayton. Is that where you’re leaning?”
“What makes you think it’s her over the others?”
I counted out my reasons. “One, she was so callous when I first talked to her. She showed complete disregard for the fact that her partner had just died. That’s a big red flag. They had to have had some good times together, some type of decent relationship to go into business together in the first place. I expected even a smidgen of sadness from her, but nope. Not a bit. Second, I’m not the most romantically experienced woman out there—”
“I disagree with that.”
I smiled. “You aside, but I do think a woman knows when another woman is being an opportunist, and I just can’t imagine Dabney choosing to be romantically involved with Floyd Bowman without another reason. Call it that gut you tell me to use, but I don’t think I’m wrong.”
“I’m with you on that.”
“So, you think she did it?”
“I think there’s a pull toward her, and we’re in the process of getting a warrant to go through her business files and bank accounts.”
“So, you think I’m right? That she can’t manage the business, and that’s why she’s going into business with Floyd?”
He nodded. “That’s what we’re aiming toward. We should have the answers later today. I called in a favor, and the forensic team from Forsyth County has agreed to help my guy go through it all.”
“So, you think you’ll arrest her?”
“If the hunch I have plays out, yes. But, Lily, I need you to keep this to yourself. And Belle needs to, too. If this gets out, it could ruin the investigation.”
“And the wedding.”
“And the wedding.”
I promised him I’d keep my mouth shut, and since Matthew hadn’t given Belle an actual name, I didn’t think she’d blab anything either, though I wouldn’t expect her to if he had. “Speaking of Belle, do you know what she’s hiding? I caught her fibbing earlier, so I know she’s up to something.”
Dylan smirked and looked away, and I knew he knew, too. “Don’t have a clue.”
“Emm hmm. Y’all are involved, aren’t you? It just better not screw up the wedding.”
“It won’t, I promise.”
I was grateful that he said it with such a guarantee, which I thought meant he expected the wedding to go as planned. And that was good, considering my parents were leaving for Italy soon.
It was late, and Bo and I were hungry, so we headed home without Dylan. He said he’d be by later if he could get out before I went to bed, but I told him not to bother. I had some work to do, along with some last minute wedding planning stuff, but first, I wanted to add to my notes about my suspects.
Bo and I had a pattern and both of us settled right into it when we got home. He did a security walk around the backyard while I prepared his yummy grub, a new to us brand the vet recommended for his tummy. He was the kind of dog that, if something smelled, that meant it was edible, and a lot of what he ate wasn’t, so soon after the consumption, his stomach regretted it. And that regret had anyone within smell shot suffering. I cared less that I suffered, because sometimes, if I was being honest, the sounds his little tummy made fascinated me, but I didn’t want him to suffer, so we went with the brand the vet recommended. It hadn’t stopped him from eating things that didn’t belong in any stomach, but it had stopped the battle within it.
As he snarfed down his kibble, I prepared a small salad for myself. I tossed a little romaine lettuce, fresh tomatoes and some cucumber slices with a shake of parmesan cheese and a squeeze of lemon in my bowl and sighed. I missed salad dressing, but like Bo with his inedible findings, it didn’t agree with my stomach.
We sat in the family room, Bo on the couch and me on the floor between it and the coffee table where I’d spread out the entire contents of my work bag.
I leaned my head back next to his on the couch cushion. “Do yo
u see the irony here?”
He licked my face, which likely meant he didn’t care. Good thing I didn’t, either.
I added to each note card for Skip, Floyd, and Dabney.
Floyd and Dabney had thrown Carole under the bus like a discarded Coke can, and though Skip hadn’t exactly done the same, he hadn’t really done much of the opposite, either.
Floyd made a point of saying he couldn’t cook, and specifically mentioned that he burned cookies in a class he’d taken, but unless I had the details on the class, I couldn’t verify that. I made a note to ask for those details.
Dabney. I leaned my head back onto the couch again. “That woman makes me even more grateful for Belle.”
Bo agreed by swiping his tongue along the side of my cheek.
“Thank you. I needed to get that old makeup off.”
He did it again.
My cell phone buzzed. I stretched underneath the table where it had slid. I didn’t recognize the number, so I let it go to voicemail, but shortly after, I received a text message from the same number.
“It’s Skip Rockwell. Can you meet me tomorrow?”
I stared at the text message, wondering what he wanted, and why it required us to meet. I had a lot to do before heading to Italy, and not enough time to get it done, and I wasn’t quite sure I wanted to meet with him without back up. “Is this something we can do over the phone? I can call you back.”
He replied instantly. “Rather do it in person. It’s important. I’ll be at the Starbucks on Haynes Bridge and Old Milton at nine o’clock. Will that work for you?”
That was a busy area in Alpharetta, and he hadn’t asked to meet somewhere private, which I wouldn’t have done, so I assumed he didn’t have anything nefarious planned. It would be hard to pull off a murder in such a public place.
Unless poison was his weapon.
I texted back that I’d be there, and promised myself I’d order my own coffee, and not let it leave my hands while there, just in case.
Chapter 16
Dylan didn’t make it over that night, and I went to bed shortly after detailing out my notes on the case and emailing the wedding manager about some final details. Before shutting off my computer though, I did take another peek at the location. We’d picked the beautiful castle Aragonese on the island of Ischia, a short ferry ride from Napoli, Italy. The weather would be perfect, or so said my special weather app, and the scenery stunning.
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