Decluttered and Dead

by Carolyn Ridder Aspenson

  She wrapped her arm around my shoulder. “You are not. You just found your third dead body in less than what, three months? And like you said, she was a friend of ours. I was wrong to make light of it. I’m the one that should be sorry.”

  A tear rolled down my cheek. Get it together, Lily.

  Dylan had arrived a few minutes after we’d called 911, and after getting the details from us, headed straight inside. A deputy secured the scene from the outside while another one managed the onlookers, or at least tried to. After what felt like hours, but was more like thirty minutes, the not-yet-defined man in my life stepped outside and signaled for the two of us to join him behind the yellow tape and on the front porch. Belle made some comment about special privileges, but I didn’t hear the whole thing because I was too busy wiping my face and pulling myself together. I didn’t want him to know I’d even come close to crying let alone already shed a tear. I didn’t know why I felt the need to be tough around him, but nonetheless, that’s how I felt.

  “I’m going to get statements from the other ladies, but I wanted to talk with the two of you one more time before I do.”

  We both nodded. When he’d arrived, we gave him a quick run through of what happened, but nothing too detailed because he needed to get inside and manage the situation.

  “Belle, why don’t you run me through what happened again? Start from when you arrived to when I got here, okay?”

  “Okay.” She pursed her lips together. “Lily and I got here around the same time. Separate cars.”

  She spoke is short, direct sentences, totally un-Belle-like. I wondered if that was on purpose.

  She waved her right hand toward the ground. “Waited here on the front porch for the others to arrive. Saw the note and—”

  Dylan interrupted her. “Note?”

  “Oh!” I swiveled around. “Where’s my bag? I put it in there.” I pointed to the front door. “Can I go get it?”

  Dylan shook his head. “Let’s wait until the coroner is finished, okay?”

  I nodded.

  “What did the note say?”

  Belle responded. “That she had to meet with her attorney and to lock up when we left.”

  “She being Savannah I assume?”

  She nodded. “Then we went in, and Lily began the class. Pointed out some of the stick up notes she’d left the night before, detailed the what and why for them, and then Henrietta saw one of them on the trunk and opened it.”

  The skin around the corners of her eyes bunched. “Oh, dear Lord, Savannah is dead.” She clutched her stomach and bent over. “I’m going to be ill.”

  Reality just hit her. I grabbed hold of her. “You okay, honey? Do you want me to get Billy Ray?”

  I didn’t have to. Dylan clicked the little radio on his shoulder and asked for them to send him over. In the meantime, I guided Belle to the swing and gently sat her down. “You did good honey.” I rubbed her back. “It’s not easy, trust me. I know.”

  “I’ll be back in a bit,” Dylan said and headed back into the house.

  She leaned back on the swing. “Don’t make it move. Please, my breakfast might make a reappearance, and you know how much I hate that.”

  I knew how much everyone hated that, actually.

  Billy Ray showed up with a cup of sweet tea, an ice pack wrapped in a cloth—something new to the mix—and a Band Aid. “Here you go Booboo, this ought to have your stomach feeling good as new right quick.”

  Belle took the drink and sipped it. “Thank you, Billy Ray. I don’t think I need the Band Aid though. You can’t put that on a broken heart.”

  Billy Ray frowned. “I know, but you keep it anyway. Might could use it sometime later. I got me a whole bag full of them anyway.” He placed his hand on her shoulder. “I’m sorry ‘bout your friend. I know you two was close once. It’s hard to lose someone, no matter how close you were now, she meant something to you before, and that matters.”

  Dang it. Billy Ray flipped the tear switch on for both me and Belle, and the dam broke. Tears poured out from the both of us.

  “Aw, now look what I gone and did.” He shook his head and his shoulders drooped. “Here I am, trying to make you feel better, and I set you both to crying. Ain’t no good at properly consoling a lady in despair now, that’s for sure.”

  Belle finished the tiny cup of sweet tea and stood. She wrapped her arms around Billy Ray and squeezed him into a tight hug. “Billy Ray Brownlee, don’t you go thinking that one bit. You are the master at making a lady feel better. My heart is already healing because of your kind words.”

  She’d hugged him with such force his eyes practically bulged from their sockets, but the smile on his face showed his relief. When she finally let go, he released a deep breath. I hoped she didn’t crack one of the old man’s ribs.

  “Then why you got them tears rolling down your cheeks?”

  We both wiped our faces. “Because that’s what ladies do, Billy Ray,” I said.

  Belle wiped her face with the side of her hand. “Yes, we cry at everything.”

  He nodded. “Ain’t that the truth. My sister, ‘fore she passed, she cried at the drop of a hat.” He went on to tell us a story about his sister who died when he was twelve. It made us both want to cry all over again, but we didn’t because we knew that would make him feel bad. Instead, we listened and smiled, and then sent him on his way.

  We waited for Dylan to come back out, but instead a deputy came by and told us he’d asked for us to wait with the other women from the class off the porch and near the side of the house. He directed us to a sectioned off area of the yard within ear shot of the crowd.

  “All that blood,” Henrietta said. “It might could take years to get that out.”

  Bonnie guffawed. “I got the perfect solution for that. My momma showed me once after Daddy cut the head off of a chicken and came in the house and plopped right down on the couch like he hadn’t just done it. The blood got all over his shirt. She told him not to wear his Sunday clothes when he cut them heads off, but my daddy, he never did listen to what Momma said. All you got to do is spray a little club soda and laundry detergent on it, let it sit a spell, pat—don’t rub ‘cause rubbing just makes the blood get in them fibers—and keep on doing that until the blood comes out. Nothing to it.”

  “Blood? I didn’t notice any blood anywhere,” I said.

  Both Henrietta and Bonnie stared at me like I’d lost my mind.

  “You didn’t?” Bonnie asked. “Blood was ever’where. Can’t believe you missed it. You might could do with an appointment at that eye doctor. What do they call them?”

  “Orthothamalgust?” Henrietta asked.

  “Yeah, that one,” Bonnie said. “Looks like you could use a pair of glasses.”

  “I recently had an eye exam with my ophthalmologist, and I’m all good.” I made a point of accentuating the word ophthalmologist.

  Belle giggled, and I asked her if she saw any blood.

  She shook her head. “There was something red on the trunk and maybe a little red stuff on the note, but I can’t be sure it was blood.”

  Caroline agreed. “I saw that too, but I’m not sure it was blood either.”

  “I saw it on a few of the yellow stick up notes you went over. Where’d you put those?” Henrietta asked.

  “They’re in my bag with the note from the door.”

  Heather tipped her head back and glanced toward the sun. She sighed. “I’m fixin’ to pop a blood vessel here. Are we ever going to be dismissed?”

  “You got ants in your pants or something?” Henrietta asked.

  Heather snarled. “I have better things to do than waste my time standing around here, that’s for sure.”

  Heather’s nostrils flared, and she stood with her feet shoulder width apart. Prime for a fight, I did my best to keep the peace. “I don’t think it will be that much longer. Do you want me to see if Billy Ray can get us some sweet tea?”

  “I don’t need sweet tea. I need to get
out of here.”

  The crowd next to us split in two, and Austin Emmerson marched through the middle of it, his face red, worry set in his eyes through the furrowing of his brows. “Where’s Savannah? Someone said she’s dead.”

  “Dear Lord, it’s like Myrtle Redbecker’s murder all over again. Only it’s the husband and not the great-nephew this time,” Belle said.

  I glared at her.

  “Sorry.”

  Austin pushed his way to our little group. “Lily, is it true? Is my wife dead?”

  Heather bowed up like a hen going after the biggest rooster in the flock. “From the looks of her stuffed in that trunk, she couldn’t be any deader.”

  Henrietta and Bonnie gasped.

  “Ooh wee. That one’s gonna sting,” Bonnie said.

  Austin stepped close to Heather and stuck his nose down into her face. “You want to do this right now? Right now?” He thrust back his shoulders and stuck his chin up. “Then come on, let’s do it. I don’t have anything to lose anymore.”

  She cowered, and all the spitefulness in her dissipated. “I…I...”

  Dylan had perfect timing and broke up the possible fight before it went full throttle. “Austin, how about we step over here and talk?”

  Austin stomped away, his hands flailing around him and his head jerking in all directions while Dylan remained calm and steady.

  I chided Heather like an elementary school teacher. “That was completely out of line. You should be ashamed of yourself.”

  She fixed her eyes on me and snickered. “Well, I for one am not upset that that boyfriend stealer is dead. You just don’t get it Lily. You have this perfect little life, all wrapped up in a sweet little bow. You don’t know what it’s like to have your future pulled out from under you.”

  She couldn’t have been more wrong. I’d been there, just maybe not in the exact situation, but I’d been there. Dylan left me my sophomore year at the University of Georgia. I spent seven years focused on building a future for myself and forgetting about him—although that part never really happened—so yes, I got it. I just didn’t think it was the right time to go into my sob story, and I’d moved on, like a person was supposed to do. Heather was too involved in her own pity party to listen anyway.

  Belle spoke in a calm, soft voice. “Heather, news flash. This isn’t about you. Austin dumped you eight years ago. Move on already.”

  Heather’s face flushed. “Well, I’ve never!”

  “You might ought to sometime. It’s good for ya,” Bonnie said.

  Heather clenched both fists. “I do not have to stand here and take this from the likes of you.” She flipped around and bumped into a deputy.

  “Going somewhere?” he asked.

  “Yes, I have a job, and a career. I am an artist, and I have a painting to finish.”

  “Ma’am, Sheriff Roberts hasn’t given permission for any of you to leave. I suggest you hold on a bit until he does.”

  Heather glared my direction. “Can you talk to your boyfriend? I don’t have time for this.”

  “I, uh…”

  Dylan squeezed my arm. “I got this.” He held up a red zipper sweat jacket. “This belong to any of you?”

  Heather swung her arm out to grab the jacket, but Dylan yanked it back. “That’s mine.”

  “When did you have it on last?”

  She stuck out her chin. “Yesterday morning. It was a bit chilly when I left, so I went inside again right quick and grabbed it from the coat rack. Why?”

  Dylan whispered something to the deputy.

  “Ma’am, I’d like you to come with me to the station.”

  Heather dug her heels into the ground. “I’m not going anywhere until you tell me what’s going on.”

  Dylan used his calm but authoritative voice, the soft, low one that accentuated his southern drawl. “We’ve got some questions for you, Heather, and it’s best they’re asked at the station. I’ll be there soon. Just go and sit tight, okay?”

  She pitched a fit bigger than the state of Texas. “Why am I going to the station? Do you think I had something to do with that…that…with Savannah’s murder? What’s going on? I need a lawyer. Someone get me a lawyer.”

  “You’re within your rights to have an attorney present at the time of questioning if you so desire, ma’am, and we can make arrangements for you to contact one at the station. Now, if you’ll just come with me.” The deputy held onto her arm and all but dragged her to his car.

  “Well, I am most definitely going to get myself an attorney. This is police brutality, that’s what it is. I am a victim here.” She screamed so everyone could hear her. “A victim!”

  Henrietta shook her head. “Oh, that can’t be good.”

  “If she did it, then maybe her paintings will sell, and she’ll die one of them martyrs or what you call them. You know, like that famous guy that cut his nose off did.”

  “It was Van Gogh and it was his ear, not his nose,” Belle said.

  “Yeah, that’s what I said. His ear. Cut it off so his paintings would sell. Smart man right there.”

  That wasn’t exactly how the story went, but I knew Belle wasn’t going to fill her in when she shook her head and turned away.

  “What’s going on?” Caroline asked Dylan.

  He’d been distracted for a moment by the two older women. He smiled at them and then at Caroline. “One of the neighbors said they saw someone outside the house last night wearing a red jacket with a hood.” He flicked his head toward the sheriff’s vehicle with Heather in the back. “We found that in the house.”

  “Austin is wearing a red jacket,” I said.

  Dylan nodded. “He’s headed to the station also. Another one of my deputies is taking him. Quietly, I hope.”

  William Abernathy arrived and hurried over to Caroline. “Honey, what’s going on? Are you okay?”

  “Oh, William, it’s just terrible. Awful.” She wrapped her arms around him and fell into him. He held her tight. “Savannah, she’s dead. My old friend. Someone killed her.”

  She laid it on as thick as the sap dripping from a Georgia oak tree, and William fell for it completely.

  “Why, I’m just devastated,” she said. “I can’t believe she’s dead.”

  Bonnie coughed. “You can’t? I recall you threatening her in class yesterday.”

  Henrietta nodded. “Yeah, I recall that, too. And you pitched a hissy fit at Millie’s yesterday afternoon.”

  “That’s right, she sure did. One with a tail on it,” Bonnie agreed. “Thought you would pull that poor girl’s hair out right there.”

  When a southern woman pitched a hissy fit with a tail on it, that meant it was serious.

  Caroline’s face reddened. “It wasn’t…it wasn’t like that.”

  “What are they talking about?” I asked.

  “Why, she was arguing something fierce with that dead girl at Millie’s yesterday after class,” Bonnie said.

  “Threw her drink in her face, she did,” Henrietta said.

  Bonnie made a tsk, tsk sound. “Waste of money it was, too.”

  I heard a slight chuckle from Dylan, but he kept it soft and under his breath, so I hoped the others didn’t hear it, too.

  “Waste of good sweet tea, too. The best in the state,” Henrietta said.

  Dylan stepped between the women and directed his attention toward Caroline. “You had a confrontation with Savannah yesterday?”

  She lowered her eyes and stared at the ground. “Yes…no, I mean, it wasn’t…it wasn’t like that. We had words, but that was it.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Words that involved throwing your drink on her?”

  “And threats,” Henrietta said.

  “What kind of threats?” Dylan asked.

  “She said something about that hussy had better keep her filthy paws off her man or she wouldn’t see the light of day because this girl ain’t no softy like Heather.” Bonnie coughed. “Or something like that.”

  William ran
his hand through his hair. “Caroline, did you really do that?” He dropped his hand and turned in a circle. “What were you thinking?” He paced around the group of us standing there.

  “It’s not like they’re saying, William. I promise. I just…I just didn’t want her coming between us. I didn’t want her ruining what we have.” She burst into tears. “I just don’t know what’s come over me lately. I’m just a hot mess about everything.” She buried her face into William’s chest and sobbed.

  He tilted her head back and kissed her gently on the forehead. “Why would you think she’d ruin what we have? Come on Caroline, nothing happened back then, and it certainly won’t happen now.”

  “Nope, it sure won’t ‘cause she’s deader than a doornail now,” Henrietta said.

  The side of Dylan’s mouth twitched. Inappropriateness aside, Henrietta and Bonnie were a hoot.

  Dylan patted William on the shoulder. “Would you mind bringing your wife to the station? I’d like to ask her a few questions. I’ll be done here in a bit.”

  “Do you really think that’s necessary? It was an innocent argument. She’s been under a lot of stress lately. Sick practically every day, exhausted. She’s just not herself. She didn’t mean anything by it.”

  “I’m sure she didn’t, but I’m going to need to talk with her anyway, buddy.”

  “Is she under arrest?”

  Caroline shivered, and her teeth clattered. “Am I going to jail? I can’t go to jail. I have a hair appointment this afternoon. I’m getting a foil. You know how hard it is to schedule those?” She grabbed at her hair and pulled. “Look at my roots. They’re a hot mess. I can’t go on like this much longer. Please, don’t make me miss my appointment. William, make him understand.” She buried her face into his chest again.

  “It’s just a few questions, that’s all.” He glanced at me and mouthed. “We’ll catch up later, okay?”

  “Are we dismissed?” Henrietta asked.

  Bonnie groaned. “I sure hope so. I’m pooped. All this excitement has got me needing a nap.” She yawned and started a chain reaction for the rest of us.