Signed, Sealed and Dead

by Carolyn Ridder Aspenson

  “Lily—”

  I pulled away from her. “Don’t. Just don’t. It won’t—” I leaned further away, and my hand brushed against something on the floor, sending it rolling under the bottom of the bleachers. Curious, I tucked down and peered under the bottom of the closed up stands to check it out. When I did, I didn’t touch it.

  “Dylan, can you come here?”

  He held up his finger. “Give me a minute.”

  Belle bent her head to take a look. “What’s that?” She reached in to grab it, but I stopped her hand before she could.

  “Wait. Don’t touch it. It could be important to Carter’s murder, I mean, death.”

  She sat up and aimed her thumb and forefinger at me like a gun. “And here we go.”

  I sat up, too. “Well, you saw what it was. Don’t you think it’s suspicious?”

  Dylan walked over and crouched down, his face parallel to mine. His eyes darkened and focused intently into mine. “You okay?”

  I pointed underneath the bleachers. “You should bag that. I think it’s evidence.”

  He bent sideways, and because he’s six feet, had to maneuver himself into a contorted position with one arm straight out to his side, so he could use his pen to flick the item from underneath the movable wall of bleachers.

  The syringe came rolling out. “Well, that’s interesting.” He pulled a plastic bag from his pocket, picked the syringe up and rolled the bag over it, then sealed the zip lock closure of the bag together. “I’m not sure it’s evidence, but we’ll obviously keep it.”

  I glanced at Belle and then back at Dylan. “How can it not be evidence?”

  “I didn’t say it wasn’t, just that I’m not sure it is.”

  I jumped up. “Wait a minute. Right before I walked back here I saw Yancy over there with a garbage bin cleaning up under the bleachers.” I waved my hand toward the corner of the folded up bleachers separating the front and back sides that sectioned off the back part of the gym. “Don’t you find that odd?”

  “What? That a janitor was doing his job?”

  Breathe, Lily, just breathe. One breath in, one breath out.

  Belle held my hand. “You just told me you defended Bobby Yancy to Millie, what, not even an hour ago, and now you think he might have something to do with Carter’s death?”

  It did sound crazy, I realized that, but regardless, the timing fit, and I couldn’t imagine a reason for Carter to just up and die. It didn’t make sense to me. I didn’t know him all that well, but we’d talked a bit about our histories, his lacrosse experience, and how much that required of him physically. My knees weakened, and a slow ache traveled from the pit of my gut to the back of my throat. I didn’t want to throw up, but it sure felt like I might. “I don’t know.” I buried my face in my hands and cried.

  Belle helped me sit again, and she and Dylan talked, but I wasn’t paying attention. She handed me a tissue and told me to sit tight, that she’d make sure Bo was taken care of, and Billy Ray would have a sweet tea for me right quick.

  Only I didn’t want a sweet tea. I wanted my new friend Carter Trammell alive again. I wanted everything in Bramblett County back to how it used to be. I wanted the killings in my county to stop, and I was going to make darned sure that would happen.

  People I cared about were dying, and I took that personally.

  * * *

  The coroner showed up, and thankfully, he agreed with me. “I’m not so sure your boy here died of natural causes, Sheriff. My guess is this wasn’t a heart attack.” He wiped his nose on his sleeve. “See this?” He took great care in tilting Carter’s neck to the side, gently resting his head down on the cold floor. “Looks like he’s been stuck with a needle or something right here.” He’d been squatting down, and pressed his hands on his knees to push himself up. He removed the plastic gloves by pulling off one finger at a time. The sound of the powdery plastic against his skin pained my ears like nails scratching down a chalk board did to some people. “Anyone know if he’s diabetic?”

  “Not that I’m aware of,” Dylan said.

  “Any known allergies?”

  “We don’t know.”

  “Your people check the area already? Find an EpiPen or anything?”

  Dylan handed him the bagged syringe. “Something like this?”

  Henry took the bag. “Well, I’ll be darned. Ain’t that often you find a syringe in a high school now, is it?”

  A deputy coughed.

  Henry glanced up and him and winked. “That right there is what I call sarcasm. Probably inappropriate given the state of our youth today, but I tend to crack jokes in these kinds of situations to lighten the mood. My wife is working to break that habit, but she’s not been all that successful just yet.”

  Belle snorted.

  Henry Jr. nodded to her. “I like you. You come see me to make your arrangements, I’ll cut you a deal.”

  Her eyes widened. Even though I’d just lost a friend, I couldn’t help but smile, if only just a touch. Anyone that could brighten up a sad situation simply by being himself was a winner in my book, and the laugh did me good.

  The coroner continued. “All kidding aside, sure, it’s not unusual to find a syringe in a high school, but I can’t say for sure what happened. Even if he was diabetic or had a medical condition, and the syringe belongs to your dead guy here, it’s doubtful he’d give himself a shot in the neck. Sheriff, your boy here needs an autopsy.”

  Since our country’s coroner, Henry Huggins Sr., had suffered a stroke in late October, his son and assistant funeral home director, Henry Huggins Jr. had taken over his responsibilities. The position was an elected position, so we’d held a special election, and since no one ran against him, he’d won. I wasn’t exactly sure how that worked, but the Huggins family went back to the beginning of time, at least as far as Bramblett County residents were concerned, and that made Henry Jr. a shoe in for the position. I hadn’t paid too much attention to Henry Jr. as the new coroner until that moment, but I wouldn’t make that mistake again. I liked him as much as a mouse liked cheese.

  Chapter 3

  The community yard sale picked up where it left off only three hours later than expected, and with a bigger crowd than the day before, probably all wanting to get a look at where the new lacrosse coach died. Nothing drew a crowd like gossip and the scene of a crime, especially in Bramblett County. I hoped something good could come out of it, like a decent sized deposit for the athletic program. As heartless as that might sound, I knew Carter would have appreciated the money for the program, and it would at least mean his death wasn’t entirely in vain.

  It wasn’t easy for me to be there, but I had a job to do, and I tried to think about how Carter would have approached it. He was a team player. He would have stayed and done his job with everyone else, so I decided to do that to honor his memory, even though my heart was sad and my head throbbed from crying. I stayed for Carter, for his memory, and because I hoped to hear something that might help me figure out what happened to him.

  Dylan was kind enough to send a deputy over with Bo, who, against school policy, hung out with me as my unofficial emotional support dog for the day. Actually, he’d become everyone’s unofficial emotional support dog for the day, wandering leisurely by my side, stopping for a pat on the head, offering a lick or a snout to a behind—much to my embarrassment—and received a treat or forty every time he glanced up at someone with those big, sad puppy dog eyes of his. Thankfully he had plenty of exercise because with the amount of treats he’d received, he’d end up with his own reality TV show called something like My Six-Hundred Pound Dog Life otherwise.

  Several of the sale participants were hand crafters, and one even specialized in homemade dog treats. The scent of peanut butter captured both mine and Bo’s noses, and we raced to it like hounds on the hunt. The little bone shaped cookies were so delightful looking, even I couldn’t refuse a sample. Of course, the baker assured me they were safe for human consumption, too.

&n
bsp; Bo ate his sample in one bite. He didn’t even chew it, just inhaled it down. I wondered if he even tasted the thing.

  I nibbled on the edge of the bone, only slightly embarrassed. “What are they made of?”

  “All healthy ingredients. All natural peanut butter, cinnamon, coconut oil. That’s about it.”

  “They’re delicious.” I gave Bo the rest of mine for fear the drool dripping from his mouth would cause someone to slip and break a bone. I had to drag him from her table, still drooling as we walked away, a bag of them stuffed into my purse for later.

  “Some people get what they deserve.”

  I recognized Bobby Yancy’s voice, but I refused to turn around and acknowledge him. “Bo, heel.” I gently tugged on his leash, just to make sure he knew I was serious. I didn’t want him galloping to the man and showering him with affection.

  “I’m just saying you put bad things out there, those bad things’ll come back and bite you in the butt.”

  Bramblett County Georgia wasn’t like other counties. We’d stayed true to our roots and kept our small town personality, and along with that came the old school game of telephone. I knew, without a doubt, that word had already gotten around about Carter’s death possibly being under suspicious circumstances, and I suspected Bobby Yancy knew that, too. So, I decided there was no reason to hold back my thoughts, even though my momma would probably disagree. “Mr. Yancy.” I finally did turn around. “My momma always says the mirror is the best truth the good Lord gave us.” I gave him a view of my pearly whites. “I assume you have a mirror at home? You might could take a good look in it when you get there.” I glanced down at Bo who’d busied himself sniffing the flat mop. “Come on Bo, we’ve got work to do.”

  * * *

  Ginnie Slappey stood next to the concession stand, piling boxes of candy bars on top of the counter. “Sweetie, can you just take these and shove them somewhere back there for me?” She waved her arms toward the back of the room. “I don’t much care where they go, just somewhere so nobody trips on them. We can’t have another accident here or the community sale will be such a travesty that nobody will want to come again.”

  I noticed she touched her right hand to her wedding finger, twice. I unintentionally glanced at my would-be wedding finger and wondered if I’d do the same thing in her situation, whatever it might be. With the history Dylan and I shared—a high school and college romance to a several year break and a recent reunion, I couldn’t be sure what our future held, but I also tried not to think about it and just go with the flow. I wasn’t a go with the flow kind of girl, but I hadn’t updated my Pinterest wedding planning board in a few weeks, okay, a week, either, so for me, that was as close to going with the flow as I could get.

  I wanted to talk to Ginnie about her run in with Carter from the day before, but wasn’t sure how to approach it. Thankfully, I didn’t have to because Bo was the best conversation starter ever. He pounced right up to her and greeted her with a snout to her backside.

  “Oh, dear.” She bounded forward and flipped around. “Well, hello to you too, sweetie.” She crouched down and patted him on the head.

  “I’m sorry about that. I’ve tried to stop him, but he doesn’t listen.”

  “Don’t be silly. It’s his way of saying hey. My Scarlett does the same thing all the time.”

  Bless her heart, she lied like a dog on a rug. Her Scarlett, one of those little terrier type dogs, wasn’t any bigger than my foot, so I seriously doubted she’d ever even seen a behind, let alone shoved her snout into one. Needless to say, Bo opened the door for us to chat, so I walked right through it. “You’re involved with the lacrosse program, right?” I knew she was. She was at the game the night before, and I knew she was the president of the booster club, but I intentionally acted naïve.

  Her smiled faded, and she played with the collar of her shirt. “Yes, I am. It’s just so sad, what happened.”

  “It is. Belle and I sold Carter his condo, well, technically it’s a townhouse, but it looks like a condo. We’d become friends with him. He was a nice man.”

  “That’s right. He bought on the old Redbecker property. You sold that too, right? After Myrtle died?”

  I flinched. My name had become a synonym of sorts with death in these parts. It wasn’t something that made me proud. “Her property was already in negotiation for sale when she passed.”

  Bo sniffed Ginnie’s toe and licked it. “Bo, sit.” I’d grown to hate open-toed sandals on women. Especially women I wasn’t particularly close to.

  She pulled her foot back. “It’s fine. I should have known better than to wear an open-toed shoe this time of year anyway. My little nuggets are about to fall off, they’re so cold.”

  Who called their toes little nuggets? Bo’s doggy saliva definitely wouldn’t make that any better.

  She straightened the plastic straws and napkins on the concession counter. “I just can’t believe it though, what happened. And in our own gymnasium, too.” She flipped around and surveyed the gym full of shoppers. “But the people sure came out to honor Coach Trammell, didn’t they? I just hope they open their wallets and share the wealth.” She covered her mouth with her hand. “Oh dear, where’s my manners? I should just hush.”

  I giggled. “It’s okay. I thought the same thing, and I think Carter would have wanted that, too. After all, that’s what this is for, raising money for the sports programs, and he was a team player, so I’m sure he’s hoping for the best now, too.”

  “I’m sure he is.”

  “I’m curious about what happened at the box lacrosse game.”

  “What about it?” She waved to a little girl walking by. “Hey, Mary Sue, you look mighty pretty in that dress. Did your momma make that for you?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Well, it’s just beautiful on you, and you’re just beautiful in it. You go tell your momma I said that, too, you hear?”

  “Thank you, Miss Slappey.”

  “You’re welcome, honey.” She waved to her. “Bye now.” Ginnie focused back to me. “Oh, heavens, that was a mess, for sure. Carter shouldn’t have done that.”

  “Done what?”

  “Get all up in Bobby Yancy’s face like that, and for something the other coaches haven’t done in practically forever. If something ain’t broke, don’t fix it, you know? Makes no sense to me, pullin’ his kid from the team for grades. Bobby’s a hard worker, but he’s never going to be able to put his kid through college on a janitors salary. At least not the kind of college Bobby Jr should be goin’ to anyway, not with the way the county pays his daddy. And then Coach Trammell goes and suspends him from the team, and there goes his chances at a scholarship? Why that’s just terrible, if you ask me. Some people need those scholarships to afford to send their kids to proper colleges, like the one your parents sent you to. I saw the degree on your wall in your office just the other day. University of Georgia, right?”

  I nodded.

  “Well, not everyone can afford that kind of tuition.”

  I didn’t mention the fact that in Georgia, if a student gets a B average, they qualify for the HOPE scholarship, a Georgia only program that pays for most of the tuition at many Georgia state schools. I was confident Ginnie knew that. “But the state athletic association requires students be suspended for grades. He was just following the rules.”

  “Honey, some rules don’t apply here in Bramblett County. That’s just the way things work around here.”

  “Maybe that’s why we’ve had a rise in murders then.”

  She raised an eyebrow, and the tone of her voice switched from pleasant to curt. “Don’t you ever wonder how these murders all happen to people you know, Lily Sprayberry?”

  And there it was. I knew it would start eventually. The blame game. The accusations. The connection between me and the murders in town.

  “It’s a small county, Ginnie.” I glanced down at her left hand, making sure she noticed, and said, “I hope you get things worked out at
home soon.” I tugged on Bo’s collar. “Come on Bo, let’s go.”

  We walked away as Ginnie Slappey picked her jaw up off the gym floor, and I felt absolutely no guilt whatsoever. Sorry, Momma.

  Bo galloped to the opposite side of the gym and straight into Belle’s legs. “Ouch,” she said as he about knocked her over backwards. “I swear to goodness this dog is going to kill me one day. He’s got the head of a horse.” She kneeled down to his level and smooshed his ears with her hands, rubbing them against his head and making loving moaning sounds filled with you’re a good boy, and Auntie Belle loves your smelly self, before forcing herself back up with an old lady groan. “I really need to get back into working out. I feel older than I look.”

  “Get back into working out? You haven’t worked out since high school.”

  “That’s why I’m saying I have to get back into it.”

  I nodded. “I don’t think I’ll wait for that miracle. Anyway, what’re the sales numbers so far?”

  She shrugged. “We’re up by thirty-five percent over last year.”

  “Oh, wow.”

  “Yes, it’s hard to be happy about that though.”

  “Double-edged sword.”

  “My thought exactly.”

  “I just had an interesting conversation with Ginnie Slappey. Well, first I had one with Bobby Yancy, and then with Ginnie Slappey.”

  I told her about the conversation between me and Bobby Yancy, but before I said anything about Ginnie, she dropped her bomb.

  “Did Ginnie happen to mention her sister-in-law’s in town?”

  “No, but I’m not sure why that would really come up in conversation.”

  Belle smirked. “It wouldn’t because it might put Ginnie at the top of your suspect list. Because we know you already have one brewing in that brain of yours, right? And she should go on Dylan’s, too.”

  “You know me so well.”