I talked as if someone was actually listening, as if they would talk back.
“I don’t. I have a fulltime job. No, not a job. A career. I’m a business owner. I’m out late sometimes. How can I get home to let a dog out? What if it starves? Or poops on my floor?”
I glanced at my phone propped in the speaker unit on my bathroom counter. “Okay, so it’s not even seven o’clock but that doesn’t mean this happens every night.” I held my nose and dunked myself under the water. I figured it I drowned myself I wouldn’t have to worry about the puppy because I’d be dead.
Only that didn’t work because apparently my body had some innate will to breathe and forced my head out of the water where the puppy thoughts lived. “I do not have time for a puppy.”
A text came through, getting me out of my argumentative state and shutting down my music temporarily. Unfortunately, it killed my relaxed mood and when I couldn’t get it back, I stepped out of the bath, dried off, dressed, and checked the message. It was from Dylan.
“Thought you should know Jesse’s bail was paid. He’s being released in the morning.” He sent one more text that said, “Please keep an eye on your surroundings, and call me if you need me.”
Jesse made bail? How was that even possible? Based on everything I’d heard, he was at risk of losing his garage because he couldn’t pay his loans, so how could he come up with ten thousand dollars to get out of jail? If he owed money on his garage, I didn’t think he could use it as collateral, but I wasn’t sure. They never really covered that kind of thing in the TV shows. I wondered who would have paid it for him. Jesse never was the most popular guy in town, and though losing his family elicited empathy from some, being suspected of murdering his aunt seemed to negate that entirely. I wanted to know, but it was getting late, I was tired, and I didn’t think I could handle an extended text or verbal conversation with Dylan at the moment, so I responded with a simple thank you and decided to find out later.
For the most part, I could talk with Dylan, but there were times when my emotions got the best of me, and talking—or even texting—to him drained me, and I just couldn’t do it. I needed my space. Even though it had been years, his return to town opened up a barely healed wound that even sweet old Billy Ray Brownlee’s Band-Aid couldn’t make feel better.
I did find some comfort in knowing that guilty or not, Jesse Pickett hadn’t become a Vicki Lawrence—Reba McEntire song. At least not yet.
I spent the rest of the evening avoiding my cell phone so I wouldn’t watch the video of my cute puppy or have the urge to talk with Dylan. Instead I watched old episodes of Monk and CSI hoping they’d help me figure out who killed Myrtle Redbecker. I even Googled the question, but nothing came up.
And I thought Google had an answer for everything. Maybe everything that happened in metropolitan areas, but things that happened in Bramblett County didn’t make it to the Internet.
Before finally closing my eyes for the night, I watched the video of my puppy one more time, giggling as he bounced and hopped and his adorable paws pushed on his cage. How someone could just abandon a sweet little guy like that puzzled me. His happy but sad face and floppy ears had me digging my heels into my mattress to stop myself from running out to get him right then. Not that the shelter was open at ten o’clock at night anyway.
Thank goodness, because I definitely didn’t have the time for a dog. Definitely.
I checked my email one last time and saw that Clara Smith from the Georgia Historical Society had sent me a file. I opened the email and gave it a quick once over.
“Ms. Sprayberry, we have maps dating back to the 1500s but with respect to colonization and property rights, the best ones to determine legal rights for your area date back to about 1751. I’m attaching a scanned photo of the longitude and latitude coordinates for the specific area you mentioned along with the specific land rights information we have on file. Should you have any questions, please feel free to contact me, and I’ll do my best to help again. Thank you.”
I right clicked on the attachment and saved the image to my downloads, but not before opening it first to see who owned the section of land the two families had fought over for years. I wasn’t sure if the answer was the one I expected, but I knew at least one person wouldn’t be happy.
* * *
Millie’s had a line out the door and past the antique store next door. “What’s going on?” I asked the woman in front of me.
“Haven’t you heard? She’s got a new scone, and she’s giving them away to random customers all day today.”
Way to go with the effective marketing, Millie. Give something away, but don’t tell them when. I loved that idea. “Do you know the flavor?”
“Sweet lavender.”
My mouth immediately watered and all kinds of yummy thoughts kidnapped my brain. “That sounds delicious. I’m going to have to try it.”
“Said everyone else in Bramblett County,” Belle said from behind my right shoulder. “Millie knows how to work the scone business, that’s for sure.”
I almost knocked down the woman in front of me. “When did you get here? And seriously, don’t sneak up on me like that.” I leaned toward her ear and whispered, “I could have broken that poor woman’s leg or something.”
She laughed. “Either this murder has you all stressed out or it’s Dylan being back in town, but whichever it is, you need a massage or something.” She smirked. “Or something.”
I elbowed her in the side. “Stop that.” I knew my face was red by the heat penetrating from it. “And it’s not because of Dylan. Someone paid Jesse’s bail. He’s being released this morning.”
Her eyes widened. “Seriously? Who’s stupid enough to do that?”
The woman in front of me leaned back and whispered, “If you ask me, I’d say Old Man Goodson, that’s who.”
I elbowed Belle again for not knowing how to whisper.
She bent to the side and rubbed it. “Ouch.”
The woman turned around. “Guess he feels bad, what with his son causing all that trouble for Jesse back when his family died and all.”
“What trouble?” Belle asked.
“You live under a rock or something?”
“No, ma’am. A sorority house in Athens, actually.” The snootiness in Belle’s tone wasn’t discreet at all.
“Well, far as I’m concerned, it’s the same thing.”
“What happened?” I asked. My tone lacked the conceit of Belle’s in an effort to maintain my good reputation and get an answer to my question.
“Oh, bless his heart, Jesse Pickett has had a time of it, and I don’t think I should be spreading any more gossip about that poor boy.”
“Of course. I understand. I’m working with the trust on his aunt’s property, and I was just wondering if it has anything to do with why he and his aunt had a falling out.” It was an honest question, and I was genuinely curious.
“I can’t say one way or another, but Myrtle Redbecker was a nasty old woman who would have shot her own dog if it peed on her shoe, so I don’t think it was anything that young man said or did.”
The line moved closer to Millie’s entrance, and she came out carrying a tray of scones just in time to save Belle from laying into the woman. “I’ve got me twenty-five of my new sweet lavender scones for the taking. Here’s how it’s going to work.”
She detailed the directions, asking everyone to draw a number from the bowl her employee next to her carried. Millie then picked a number herself and everyone with that number got a free scone.
Everyone that didn’t get a free scone dropped from the line and left, including the woman Belle nearly verbally accosted. Cheapskates. Belle got a free one, but I didn’t. She shared hers with me, and I stuck around and ordered us lattes and got myself a blueberry scone, too.
“Do you think he paid the bail?” Belle asked.
“Old Man Goodson?”
She nodded.
“I don’t know, but I’m going to ask Dy
lan. He’ll know.” I tapped out a text.
She placed her elbows on the table and set her head in her hands. She flashed a big, toothy smile straight at me.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
I kept typing. She kept toothy-grinning at me.
“What?”
“Look at you, all smiley and stuff while you text him.”
“You’re the one that’s all smiley, not me.”
“Uh huh.”
“This is professional anyway.”
“You’re a real estate agent, how is this professional?”
“You know what I mean.” I placed down the phone. “And just so you know, I thought about it, and I’m not getting my puppy. I just don’t have time for him.”
“Did you just hear what you said?”
“Yes, that I’m not getting the puppy.”
“No, you said you’re not getting my puppy.”
“I did not.”
“Yes, you did.” She broke off a piece of my scone and ate it. “You are absolutely getting that puppy.”
I had a feeling she was absolutely right, but I wasn’t ready to admit that to her or even to myself.
My cell phone dinged. Dylan’s text said, “Where are you?”
“Millie’s.”
“Be there in ten.”
I set my phone down. “Great. Just great.”
“What?”
“He’s coming here.”
She giggled. “Not only are you getting a puppy, you’re getting back together with your ex.” She leaned back and crossed her legs to the side. “It’s almost like you’re starting your own little family. What’s your favorite flower?” She laughed. “Wait, it’s a lily, right?”
“I need a new best friend. Savannah Emmerson is coming back to town to get her parent’s house ready to go on the market. Maybe she and I can reconnect.”
“Yeah, I can see that. You and the biggest—”
“Don’t be rude.”
“Well, you know she didn’t act all that ladylike in college.”
“Most girls didn’t.”
“Most girls didn’t do things with their best friend’s boyfriends.”
“That’s true, but she never did anything with Dylan.”
“Probably not for lack of effort on her part.”
“Lovely.”
“Just a testament to the fact that you and Dylan are meant to be.”
“Meant to be what?” Dylan asked.
I dropped my chin to my chest. The man had the worst timing ever.
“We were just discussing Savannah Emmerson. You remember her, don’t you? She’s coming back to town.”
“Really? Bet there’s a sellout of dead bolts at the hardware store.”
I couldn’t help myself. I laughed. So did Belle.
Dylan flipped around the chair next to me and straddled it. “Heard Millie’s got a new scone. Either of you give it a try?”
Belle nodded. “Got me a free one. Lavender. It’s fantastic, of course.”
“Lavender is edible? I thought it was a bath soap or something.”
I rolled my eyes. “Yes, and yes. Well?”
“Well, what?”
“Are you going to tell me who paid for Jesses’ bail?
“Since it’s public record, yes, I can tell you.”
I waited.
He stared at me.
I waited some more, and when he didn’t say anything, I huffed.
He smiled. “Old Man Goodson paid it.”
“Oh my gosh, that nasty woman was right,” Belle said.
“What nasty woman?”
I waved my hand. “Nothing. Why do you think he’d do that?”
“I had a similar question for him.”
“What did he say?” Belle asked.
“Said he felt sorry for Jesse. Said the bad blood between the two boys always bothered him, and he felt he deserved something good in his life for a change.”
“Wow. Just, wow,” Belle said.
“Ditto,” I said. I ate the last of my scone so Belle didn’t get a hold of it. A few crumbs fell from my mouth as I spoke. “Did he say what exactly happened between the two?”
“No.”
“Did you ask?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“It didn’t seem relevant to the investigation.”
“But Jesse told me to keep Junior away from the property, and Junior knows about the money possibly being buried there.”
“Everyone in town knows there might be money buried on that land or hidden somewhere in that house, Lilybit. You want me to question the entire town?”
“Don’t call me that, and now that you mention it, maybe?”
He pushed the chair forward and stood. “We have our suspect. The DA is building the case against him, and we’ll go to trial. Jesse is going to be convicted, but in the meantime, I need you to stay clear of him, okay? I don’t want anything to happen to you. Do you understand?”
I went to speak, but Belle interrupted me. “She understands, and don’t worry. She’ll be safe. She’s getting a puppy.”
His eyes shifted between us and finally landed on me. “A puppy? You?”
“I am not getting a puppy.”
“A Boxer mix. He’s adorable.” She pulled her phone from her purse. “Want to see a video?” She tapped the screen on her phone and shoved it up into Dylan’s face.
Tiny puppy sounds filled my ears, and my heart ached. Stay strong, I told my heart. You are not getting a puppy. You don’t have time for a puppy. I had a feeling my heart thought differently, but I ignored the feeling.
“It’s cute,” Dylan said. “But a lot of work. You sure you have time for it?”
“I am not getting a puppy.”
“She keeps saying that, but she is,” Belle said. “You two can take it for long, romantic walks together.”
I kicked her under the table.
“Ouch.”
Dylan laughed and tipped his hat, said, “Ladies,” and walked away.
I spit daggers at her. Theoretically speaking, of course. “I cannot believe you said that.”
She chuckled. “What? That you’re getting a puppy? You are, and you know it.”
I gathered my things and walked away without saying another word.
* * *
I found myself on the outskirts of the county at Old Man Goodson’s small engine repair shop. I hadn’t consciously intended to go there, so when I arrived, I was a bit surprised. Old Man Goodson wasn’t surprised to see me though.
“Wondered when you’d show up,” he said as I entered the shop.
“Really? Why is that?” I admired the old antique tin signs hung throughout his shop. The Coke® ones were my favorite, but I got a kick out of the ones with the pin-up girls sitting on cars, too.
He handed me a bottle of cold water. “Here. Sit a spell. I’ll tell you the story.”
“I feel like you were expecting me or something.”
“That woman your partner got sassy with this morning? She come by and told me you were asking questions. I figured you’d be stopping by, too.”
Word got around fast in a small town.
I unscrewed the bottle of water and took a sip. I wasn’t thirsty, just polite. “Do you think Jesse killed Myrtle?”
Something metal crashed in the back of the shop and landed on the ground. I jumped. Old Man Goodson took his time turning around and headed toward the sound. He tossed a few pieces of equipment I couldn’t recognize around on the floor and then grabbed a broom resting against the wall.
“Darn rats. Can’t seem to get rid of the little boogers.”
I wanted to run out and vomit. I’d never been a fan of rats.
He wandered back my direction after scooting the varmint out the back of the shop. “Now, what’d you ask again?”
“I wanted to know if you thought Jesse killed his aunt.”
“Oh, right. Sorry about that. Don’t really know but figure
d the boy could use someone on his side for a change.” He finished off his bottle of water and wiped the beads of sweat pooling on his brow. “Figured it ought to be me since I’m part of the reason he and Junior ain’t friends no more.”
“How do you mean?”
“If I’d kept my big trap shut, those two boys wouldn’t have had their falling out and they’d still be friends. But because of me, Junior told Jesse his daddy might have had a fling with another woman that resulted in the making of another baby. A little sister for Jesse. One he never knew about.”
Part of me felt empathy toward the guy, while another part of me saw even more reason for his desperation and angst.
“Do you think it’s true?”
“Which part?”
“All of it.”
He shrugged. “Lot of men have affairs. Wouldn’t surprise me none if he did. Can’t say if the kid is his or not, but that wouldn’t surprise me none either.”
I watched a bug crawl along a crack in the cement floor.
“I know what you’re thinking,” he said. He opened a can of tobacco chew and stuffed a pinch behind his bottom lip.
“You do?”
“You want to know who the kid is.”
Actually, I wondered more about the mother, but the daughter interested me, too. “It’s not my business.” But yes, please tell me. Please. I hoped he heard my internal begging.
“Don’t matter, I don’t know who neither of them are anyway. Jesse’s dad never said no names, and I never knew if he was telling me the truth either. We were drunk when he said it, and the next time it came up was when I asked, and he just laughed and said that was drunk man’s talk was all.”
“So how did Junior find out?”
“Overheard me fighting with the missus one night. She was giving me a what for, telling me how I wasn’t good for nothing, and I said at least I didn’t cheat on her and make no babies with another woman like Jesse’s daddy did. Guess Junior heard that.” He walked over the garbage can in the corner of the room and spit the chew into it. “Week or so later Junior and him got in an argument and the next thing I know they ain’t friends no more. Happened shortly after his parents got killed. Poor timing on my kid’s part, too.” He stuffed more tobacco into his mouth. “Felt sorry for the boy.”
Deal Gone Dead Page 9
