“He died of a heart attack,” I said. “Did he have heart problems?”
“Not that I knew about,” Carolyn said. “But he was only 51 when we divorced. Maybe they hadn’t developed yet. Or maybe having a much younger wife he had to keep up with brought them on.”
Maybe. Alexandra shifted on her chair, and I knew she was thinking the same thing I was. Maybe the heart problems had a been a result of something Maybelle did, and not by being fifteen years younger than her husband.
Carolyn looked from one to the other of us. “What?”
I glanced at Alexandra.
“I think she killed him,” Alexandra said.
Carolyn stared at her for a second without speaking. “That’s a horrible thing to say.”
“I don’t want her to marry my dad,” Alexandra said, sticking her bottom lip out. “I don’t want him to die, too.”
Carolyn looked at me. “Is she serious?”
I shrugged. “We’re considering it. There’s no evidence one way or the other yet.”
“And you thought I’d have some?”
“We thought you might have a few thoughts. Maybe some knowledge we don’t. Or suspicions.”
She shook her head. “I never once considered that she’d killed him. But then I never considered that she’d married him for any other reason than that she wanted him, either.”
Because every woman must want a middle-aged CPA with thinning hair who smells of curry.
“There’s no reason to think anything happened, other than that he died of a heart attack. But I have a friend in the police department who says she’ll pull the file tomorrow, if she has time. She’ll let me know if there’s anything suspicious.”
“And you’ll tell me,” Carolyn said. It didn’t sound like a request.
I smiled sweetly. “Of course.”
Chapter 7
We walked out of Carolyn’s house a few minutes later. Alexandra stopped next to her car at the end of the driveway and looked at me. “What do you think?”
“Not a whole lot,” I admitted, drawing my coat a little closer. It was getting colder at night this late in the year. We’d had no snow yet, and we hadn’t really dipped below freezing either, but it was chilly standing outside in the evening. “She didn’t know much we didn’t already know ourselves.”
Carolyn had mentioned the fact that she thought Maybelle had been married before stealing Harold. Apparently, that was how she had explained away the inability to balance the checkbook and the general air of helplessness. Her husband had taken care of everything and had treated her like a queen, and she’d never learned how to do anything for herself. A lot of men seem to like that in a woman. It was what mother had trained me to pretend to be. I’m expected to know how to do it all, but poorly, so as not to make a potential husband feel like I don’t need him. It’s OK for me to know how to do it, just as long as I let him know that he can do it better.
“She said he didn’t have heart problems,” Alexandra said.
I nodded. “But they may have developed after she divorced him. My dad died of a heart attack in his early fifties. With no warning whatsoever. We had no idea he had problems.”
“I’m sorry,” Alexandra said.
“Thank you. It’s a few years ago now. I’ve learned to deal with it.” Although sometimes I still missed him. “It’s possible Harold just died from a heart attack, Alexandra.”
Alexandra stuck her lower lip out, petulantly. “What about the life insurance policy?”
The life insurance policy was suggestive. The fact that he’d upped it from $250,000 to a cool million after marrying Maybelle, and then, four years later, he was dead, was interesting. Murder has been committed for a lot less than a million dollars.
“A friend of mine is looking into it,” I said. “When I hear from her, I’ll let you know what she says.”
Alexandra nodded. “I’ll be in school tomorrow. You can send me a text. Maybe I can cut out early and we can meet.”
“What about after school?” I didn’t want to be responsible for her cutting classes. I was corrupting her enough as it was.
“Monday is family movie night,” Alexandra said. “We’ll probably watch a Disney Princess movie.”
“You’re kidding.”
She grinned. “Yeah. But Maybelle insists on what she calls wholesome family movies. Last week it was something called The Goonies from—like—the nineteen eighties.” She rolled her eyes.
“I was born in the 1980s,” I said.
Alexandra shrugged. “There was a cute guy in it, at least. Although he’s probably old by now.”
Probably. Or at least too old for Alexandra. Maybelle’s age, maybe. She’d probably grown up seeing The Goonies.
“I’ll send you a text if I hear anything tomorrow,” I said. “Let me know if anything happens, OK?”
“Like what?” Alexandra said and opened the car door.
“No idea. Just anything.” I opened my own and slid behind the wheel.
She followed me through the neighborhood over to Gallatin Road, where we both headed south. Alexandra peeled off first, by the Inglewood library, and I continued on toward home. I was almost there when the phone rang. I put it on speaker to keep my hands free.
“Kylie?”
“We want to make an offer,” Kylie said, without so much as a how-do first.
“Excuse me?”
“The house in East Nashville. We want it.”
“Really?”
The word just slipped out, I swear. But I’m not used to clients who see a house and decide to buy it right away. I’m not used to going out with clients twice, and finding their dream house. Gary Lee and Charlene had kept me hopping for weeks, if not months, before we managed to find something they liked. I know I shouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth, but this seemed too good to be true, and I’ve learned to be wary of those.
“Now,” Kylie said. ‘We want to make an offer now. What do we have to do?”
“Are you sure you don’t want to sleep on it, at least?”
“No,” Kylie said. “Is there a reason we can’t do it now?” A touch of panic crept into her voice. “Did someone else already make an offer? Did someone come to the open house who wanted it?”
I hastened to reassure her. “Not at all. Nobody made an offer at the open house.” Honestly compelled me to add, “Although there were a few people who seemed to like it a lot.”
“We need to make an offer now,” Kylie said. “Can you meet us somewhere?”
“Sure.” It wasn’t very late, and I had no other plans. All I had to look forward to was a lonely evening at home with an inferior romance novel and a TV dinner. “Where?”
She named a coffee shop on the south side, about halfway between our two locations, and I told her I’d be there in twenty minutes and stepped on it.
The coffee shop was hopping when I got there, and the parking lot was full, but after driving around the building a few times, I managed to find a parking space in the back, out of the way, and tucked the Volvo in beside the dumpsters. Inside, I snagged a table in a semi-quiet corner, and sat down to wait. Aislynn and Kylie walked in a few minutes later, and we got to work crafting an offer I felt comfortable taking to Tim. They gave me their earnest money check—a little extra high to show how deathly serious they were about wanting the house—and we walked out together.
“I’ll give Tim a call when I leave here,” I told them as we passed into the darkness of the parking lot and headed toward the blue Volvo on the corner of the building. “He’ll probably tell me to wait until tomorrow to give him the offer—I’ll see him at the sales meeting first thing in the morning—but at least he’ll know it’s coming.”
“You don’t think he’ll take another offer tonight, do you?” Aislynn said.
“That’s why I’m going to call him. So he’ll know we have an offer to submit, too. In case someone else does, as well.”
She nodded. “Thanks for coming out again tonigh
t, Savannah.”
“It’s no problem,” I said. “It’s what I do. And I want you to get the house you want.”
The sooner the better, since I could use the income. The commission on this one was a nice, healthy chunk, that would keep me afloat for the first few months of the new year.
“You think this’ll work out?” She let go of Kylie’s hand and walked around the car to open the passenger side as Kylie undid the car alarm.
“I think you stand a good chance. It’s a good offer.” I hesitated for a moment before adding, “In case another offer comes in and Tim asks for highest and best... do you have a little flexibility, or is this as high as you can go on the price?”
They exchanged a glance over the roof of the car.
“We can go up a little higher,” Kylie said. “Not much, but a little.”
I nodded. “It’s always good to leave yourselves a little negotiating room. Most offers aren’t accepted exactly the way they are, and if you have the opportunity to go up just a bit in a later round, it might make the difference.”
Both of them nodded. “Do what you can, Savannah,” Kylie said.
I promised I would. “I’ll call you as soon as I know something, OK? It’ll probably be tomorrow. Most likely in the afternoon.” I’d have to give Tim the offer, and he’d have to track down his clients, and they’d have to think about it, and call Tim back, and he’d have to get back to me... tomorrow afternoon was actually pretty optimistic. Tomorrow evening or maybe even Tuesday morning was more realistic.
“We’ll look forward to it,” Kylie said, and folded her legs into the car. Aislynn followed suit, and they backed out of the parking space and made their slow way to the road while I walked around the building and got into my own car.
The first thing I did—even before turning the car on—was call Tim, to tell him the good news. “I have an offer for you.”
“Oh, goody!” Tim said, and I pictured him rubbing his hands together.
“What do you want me to do with it? Drop it off to you? Scan it or fax it?”
There was a short pause while Tim thought it over. “You might as well wait till the morning,” he said.
Bingo, I thought. “Are you sure? I don’t mind dropping it off. It’s practically on my way home.” Tim lived in 12 South, the area around 12th Avenue, and although it wasn’t exactly on my way, I didn’t mind driving a few extra miles, either. I wasn’t too far away as it was.
“I wouldn’t be able to look at it tonight anyway, darling. I have other things to do. You know how it is.” He giggled in my ear. Tim is unapologetically gay, and he enjoys rubbing my nose in his sexual antics. Not literally, of course, but he likes to see my reactions to his often uninhibited statements. Or, in this case, hear my reactions. I wasn’t brought up to discuss those kinds of things, especially not with members of the opposite sex. And this time he didn’t even have to say anything: I recognized the giggle.
“Will you be at the sales meeting tomorrow morning?” I persisted. “Can I give it to you then?”
“Sure,” Tim said.
“If you get another offer, you’ll consider ours first, right?”
“Yes, Savannah,” Time said, with obvious patience. “Get it to me in the morning, and if I get another, I’ll look at yours first. And ask you for a highest and best offer price.”
Of course. But I guess I couldn’t really fault him for that; his job was to get the best price for his clients, while mine was to get the best price for mine.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” I said. “Enjoy your evening.”
“Oh, darling,” Tim fluted, “I mean to!”
He hung up with another giggle. I winced as I did the same.
I was almost home, off the interstate and on my way up 5th Avenue toward East Main Street, when my phone rang again. It was getting to be a nuisance, especially when I saw who the number belonged to. As a result, my voice was perhaps a little shorter than it should have been.
“Aislynn? What can I do for you?”
“Savannah?” Her voice was choked with tears, and I sat up straighter in my seat. This didn’t sound like just another call to ask me a question about the house or the contract or when we’d have an answer back from the sellers. Or—God forbid—to tell me that they’d had a moment of buyer’s remorse and wanted to change their minds.
“What’s wrong?”
“We had an accident,” Aislynn said, between sniffles. “On our way home. Kylie...”
“What about Kylie?” My own voice took on a hint of panic. “She’s all right, isn’t she?”
“She’s in the hospital,” Aislynn sniffed.
“Which hospital?”
“Vanderbilt,” Aislynn said. “In the ER. I’m scared, Savannah”
“I’m on my way.” I turned the car around in a U-turn, across four lanes and the turning lane in the middle of the street, to head in the opposite direction. About halfway across, I narrowly missed having an accident of my own, when a white Toyota in the lane next to mine didn’t slow down and almost broadsided me. I guess the driver wasn’t paying attention for that second or two and didn’t notice my admittedly kamikaze-like maneuvering.
I made it to Vanderbilt University Hospital in record time, and pulled into the parking garage with a squeal of brakes before jumping out of the car and running up to the emergency room. “Kylie Mitchell?”
The desk nurse looked up at me down the length of her nose. “Are you family?”
“Sister,” I said. We might look alike enough that she’d believe it.
“She’s in the O.R. The doctors are working on her.”
“O.R.?”
“Operating room,” the nurse said, in a tone of voice that conveyed eloquently her opinion of my intelligence.
“What about her girlfriend?”
The nurses eyes slid sideways to the waiting area. “The state of Tennessee does not recognize common law marriages.”
“Excuse me?”
She repeated it.
“She means I have no rights,” Aislynn’s voice said next to me. “Kylie and I live together, we’re buying a house together, and we want to have a baby together, but I don’t get to see her in the hospital, because only family is allowed, and I’m not family!”
By the time she got to the end of the statement she was shrieking, and the nurse was wincing.
“Will you tell me when she comes out of surgery?” I asked.
She nodded.
“We’ll just wait over here.” I grabbed Aislynn by the arm and towed her over to the waiting area. “Listen. That kind of behavior won’t get you what you want.”
“I know that,” Aislynn said, and ran the back of her hand over her face, smearing the wet makeup. “But it’s so frustrating. They won’t tell me anything!”
“They probably can’t. It’s the law.”
“The law is wrong,” Aislynn said, with a sniff. “How come they’ll tell you?”
“I lied. I told them I’m Kylie’s sister. If they ask, you’ll have to back me up.”
She managed a watery smile. “Thank you.”
“It’s no problem.” I sank down on one of the padded chairs in the waiting room and pulled her to a seat next to me. “What happened?”
“We were on our way home,” Aislynn said, still sniffing, although she had stopped actually crying by now. “Just talking, you know. About the house and the offer and whether they’ll take it and what it would be like to live there.”
I nodded.
“We were on our way down Edmondson Pike. There’s an area there, just below the agricultural center, where the road dips. There’s a four way stop at the bottom of the hill, and the entrance to a subdivision. One with big brick gates. Forest Crossing.”
I nodded. I was somewhat familiar with it, having sat an open house in that area once for Tim.
“When Kylie stepped on the brakes, they didn’t respond. We just kept going. Straight toward the four-way stop. Faster and faster.” She swall
owed. “For a second I thought we were going to slam right into another car. But I kept my hand on the horn while Kylie tried to control the car, and everyone got out of the way. All except one car. We were going really fast by then, and when Kylie tried to swerve to avoid it, she lost control of the car. We hit one of the gates instead.”
Her bottom lip trembled. I winced. I’d seen those gates, and the memory didn’t fill me with a whole lot of confidence. “What happened?”
“I jumped out,” Aislynn said. “Opened the door and rolled onto the grass a second before the car hit the brick wall. Kylie tried, but she didn’t make it. She couldn’t get her seatbelt to open.” Her eyes filled with tears again. “I had to reach across her to unhook her seatbelt, and she fell out of the car.”
“Unconscious?”
Aislynn nodded, tears trickling down her cheeks again. Black tears.
“That’s probably a good thing,” I said. “If she’s unconscious, she won’t feel the pain. That might be the best thing for her right now.”
“I guess.” Aislynn kept dashing at her cheeks, but the tears kept coming.
“How are you?” I wanted to know. “Has anyone looked at you? If you jumped out of a runaway car, do you maybe need some medical attention too?”
She shook her head. “I’m OK. I just tucked and rolled. I got a little banged up, but it’s just bruises. It’s Kyle I’m worried about. She didn’t wake up, Savannah. Not when I got her out of the car, and not when the paramedics came. Not on the whole way here.”
“I’m sure she’ll be all right,” I said, although truthfully, I had no idea. “They’ll be out soon to tell us something.”
Aislynn nodded, but she didn’t look like she believed it any more than I did. We sat in the waiting room, hand in hand, and waited.
It was two hours later by the time a tired-looking man in green scrubs with a silly little hat on his head came into the waiting room. “Kylie Mitchell?”
Aislynn jumped up. I followed suit a second later. “That’s us.”
A Done Deal Page 8
