Signed, Sealed and Dead

by Carolyn Ridder Aspenson

  “Best friends are like that.” She’d been separating receipts into manila envelopes and finally finished. She closed the last envelope and tucked it into a plastic milk crate with the others. “Because her sister-in-law is a nurse at one of the big hospitals on Pill Hill.”

  “Really?” Pill Hill is an area in Atlanta where several of the top hospitals and medical offices are located. Years ago, someone labeled the area with that tag, and it stuck.

  She winked. “Honey, my momma didn’t raise no liar.”

  “You know what that means, don’t you?”

  She jutted out her hips as she crossed her arms. “How pretty do you think I am?”

  I went to dig my phone out of my purse and realized I didn’t have my purse. “Oh no.” I did that look-everywhere-around-me-in-panic thing people did when they’ve realized they’d lost something of importance. “I don’t have my—”

  Belle swiveled and bent over the table behind her. When she straightened, she had my purse. “Looking for this?”

  “How long has it been there?”

  “Long enough to wonder when you’d come looking. But you’re phone isn’t in it.”

  “How do you know?”

  She tilted her head toward my front pocket.

  I glanced down and blushed when I saw my phone sticking out from it. “Good grief. I need a vacation.”

  “Maybe someday you’ll have a nice bed and breakfast to get away to.”

  I sighed. “I have to call Dylan.”

  “Of course you do. We’ll talk about the B and B later.”

  “Emm hmm.” Bo and I walked away.

  * * *

  “Knock, knock.” I tapped on Michael Longley’s classroom door. “You busy?”

  He stood. “No, come on in. Lily, right?”

  I walked toward him. “Yes, Lily Sprayberry. Nice to meet you.” I knew a lot of people in town, but hadn’t met everyone personally. Yet. It was, however one of my business goals to do just that.

  “I’ve seen you around town. Several times actually, at Millie’s.”

  “I practically live there.”

  “Best coffee in town.”

  “And the baked goods. Can’t beat those.”

  He patted his belly, or the place where it was supposed to be. “Have to watch my weight. I’m not as young as I used to be.”

  “Happens to the best of us.”

  He smiled. “I suspect I’ve got a few years on you. I graduated with one of your brothers, actually.”

  “Oh, my apologies.”

  “You have a few of them, right?”

  I nodded.

  “I didn’t say which one.”

  I smiled. “Doesn’t matter. I still owe you an apology.”

  He laughed. “I have a sister. I have a feeling she apologizes for me a lot, too.”

  He motioned for me to sit, and I did. In a student desk. It brought back a lot of memories. I checked out the photos on his desk. There were three facing the classroom. Two of the coach with what I assumed were his wife and two young boys, and one of him with a younger woman with a wrap around her head, a clear indication of a woman with cancer.

  I pointed to the photo. “Is this your sister?”

  He smiled, and the sadness in his eyes was obvious. “Yes, Emily. We lost her last year to breast cancer. It was hard. My wife was her nurse. Both a blessing and a curse, I suppose. They were sorority sisters at Emory University. That’s how we met.”

  “I’m sorry for your loss.”

  “Thank you.” He twisted his wedding band on his finger. “Let me guess. You’re here to talk about Coach Trammell.”

  I pressed my lips together, giving myself a moment to gather my words. “Sort of. I’d like to talk to you about the team, or I guess the mechanics of how things work.”

  He leaned forward, his elbows on his desk. “What do you mean?”

  “I understand there were some concerns about how he planned to manage the lacrosse program.”

  Michael Longley sat back in his seat and spoke in a slow, southern drawl tainted with a hint of condescending snark. The way all Southerners did when they didn’t want to talk to someone they didn’t particularly like about something they thought wasn’t that person’s business. “Miss Sprayberry. You’ve earned quite a reputation in town for being inquisitive, among other things.” He folded his hands and placed them on his lap. “I’m sure you’re aware of that.”

  I fought fire with fire and kicked up my Southern twang. “Mr. Longley, I’m sure your momma taught you that a good Southern woman is always inquisitive, didn’t she?”

  He blinked. “Well, uh, of course she did.”

  “Then surely you know, I’m just trying to do right by my friend, Coach Trammell?” I gave him the widest smile I could considering I thought he was a big, arrogant snot.

  He nodded. “I’m sure you are, Miss Sprayberry, but I’m not sure I understand what you’re trying to do, or why.”

  I straightened in my chair. “I’m trying to find out what happened to my friend, and from what I saw at the box lacrosse game, there was some tension with the parents, and I don’t think it was just Bobby Yancy, so I was hoping you could explain a few things to me.”

  He adjusted the collar of his shirt. Did I make him nervous? “How do you mean?”

  “Carter told me he intended to follow some rules the school hadn’t followed. Something about the state athletic association? I’m not sure of the details. Perhaps you can fill me in?” I intended to research it when I got home, but I wanted his take on it all for starters.

  “Miss Sprayberry, forgive me for sounding crass, but why does this even matter? Carter is deceased. Things will go on as they have, and frankly, it’s none of your business.”

  I’d had a class in his room when I went to high school. The walls weren’t painted pale blue then, and there weren’t poster-sized maps of other countries on the walls, and quotes of foreign officials weren’t printed and hung in frames, either. I scanned over the posters, noticing how each of them focused on ethics and character; things I thought Mr. Longley lacked in that moment.

  One in particular stood out. It was a quote of Winston Churchill. “The true guide of life is to do what is right.”

  “You’re a fan of Winston Churchill?”

  He nodded. “He was a great man.”

  As I stood to leave, I pointed to the poster and said, “Mr. Longley, that right there is exactly why this matters.”

  I walked out of there with my shoulders back and my head up like I owned the place, and more determined than ever to find out what happened to my new friend.

  Chapter 4

  Dylan sat at my kitchen table tapping his finger on my bamboo placemat. I handed him a wet paper towel I’d folded into a square. He held it in his hand and stared at me with his eyebrows furrowed, making a wrinkled eleven at the bridge of his nose. It was all sorts of adorable. “What’s this for?”

  I grabbed it and pressed the cold mass of mushy wetness onto his forehead. “Your face is so red I’m afraid you’re going to have a heart attack.”

  “Lily, you’re approaching people in a possible murder investigation.”

  I held up my index finger. “To be clear, I did not approach Bobby Yancy. He talked to me.”

  He dropped his head onto the ball of his hand and blew out an exasperated sigh. I assumed the exasperated part was mostly for affect.

  I poured us each a cup of coffee. “When is the autopsy supposed to be done?”

  He scooped a teaspoon of Stevia into his coffee and stirred it before answering. “It could be a week, but Henry’s trying to rush it.”

  “You sure can get a lot of favors called in for you, can’t you?”

  “I don’t think we’ve got any left.” He sighed again, but from the sound of it, he wasn’t acting.

  I rubbed his shoulder and his muscles tensed. “What’s wrong?” I knew the question sounded silly, but I had a feeling something other than my nosing around Carter�
�s death weighed heavily on Dylan’s mind.

  “I’m an elected official, Lily. I have to earn my job more so than most people, and right now, I’m not doing that. If I can’t keep this county safe, come time for my re-election, I may not be able to keep it.”

  My heart sank. Dylan couldn’t leave here, he couldn’t leave me. Not again. He’d promised. “No, no. That…that won’t happen. You’ll get re-elected. People know you. You’re from here.”

  He shifted his chair toward me and entangled his fingers with mine. “I don’t plan to leave, Lily. I just need to clean up this county. To make things right. Make them safe.”

  “What can I do? How can I help?” My voice shook, but I refused to acknowledge the fear building in the pit of my stomach. The fear of losing him again. I needed to trust him, to trust that he wouldn’t leave me. My heart knew he wouldn’t, but my mind played tricks on me and directly competed with my heart to win over the rest of my body.

  Dylan’s face morphed from the boy with the charming smile I’d grown up crushing on, to a law enforcement official with a straight, thin lined mouth and a serious stare. “I really wish you’d do what you’re good at and let me do what I’m good at.”

  Is that a gentle nudge or an order disguised as a suggestion?”

  “I’m serious.”

  “That’s definitely an order disguised as a suggestion.” Same old, same old, I thought. I detached my hands from his and stared at his face. Tiny age lines were forming at the corners of his eyes. My momma called those smile lines, but Dylan wasn’t smiling, not even a little. In fact, his mouth was still straight as an arrow. “And, I know you’re serious.”

  When I was a kid, my brothers and I used to have staring contests, and whoever blinked first would get stuck doing the other sibling’s chores for the day. I have this unusual ability to go without blinking longer than most people, at least in my family, and apparently, longer than Dylan too, because after a good fixed glaring, he finally broke away and got up. I would have cheered for my win, but it really wasn’t one. He left without a hug, and the burning in the pit of my stomach stuck for the rest of the day.

  * * *

  Belle grunted as she spoke. “So, what’s your plan?”

  All of Bo’s sixty-five pounds rested on and crushed her tiny lap, but she didn’t mind. She just swung her arms to one side and swiveled her chair the opposite direction so she didn’t talk into his large block of a head while she worked.

  Owning our own business meant we could make the rules, and sometimes those rules included taking my dog to work. It didn’t happen often, though because Bo considered Belle’s lap his favorite spot at the office.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Are you going to honor his request?”

  I opened my calendar and frowned at the blocked out space labeled B&B research with Bestie. “Here’s the thing.” I went into my calendar and cancelled our appointment, and the space cleared. I cringed, but wasn’t facing Belle, so she couldn’t see it. “He even said there wasn’t an official investigation yet, and the autopsy wasn’t back, so technically speaking, there isn’t anything to stay out of.”

  “Hey, you just cancelled our appointment.”

  “What appointment?”

  “You know what appointment.”

  I spun around. “Honey, you can push it till the cows come home, but I am not buying a bed and breakfast. It’s not what we discussed, and it’s not what I want.”

  She rested her chin on the top of Bo’s head. “I think it’s time for a new best friend.”

  “I hear Joanna Gaines is really nice.”

  “Anyway, are you going to honor at least one person’s request?”

  “Ouch.”

  “Well.”

  I scooted my chair back in front of my desk and busied myself searching through the MLS system for listings for a new client. The verbal jab to my gut Belle just took hurt. She’d never been one to hide her feelings, and I’d always respected that about her, even when she’d called me out on my personal flaws.

  I printed out the information for six listings I thought my client would like and stuffed them into a file folder. “I’m heading out.” I tapped my thigh to call Bo to me. “Let’s go buddy, off to doggy day care.”

  He leaped off Belle’s lap, and she grunted. “Oh. That’s going to leave some serious bruises.”

  “Sorry about that.”

  “You’re upset.”

  “I never led you to think I would buy one, Belle.”

  “I know, but I wish you’d at least consider it.”

  “I have, but I probably haven’t made my thoughts clear, and I apologize. How about we talk later today? I’m going to go and check out these properties now.”

  “I can keep Bo if you’d like.”

  “Thanks, but he needs to release his energy, or I’ll pay for it later.”

  She walked over and hugged me. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be so abrasive.”

  I hugged her back, hard. “Yes, you did, but that’s why I love you.”

  I threw my bag over my shoulder and headed out. Bo and I walked over to Millie’s so I could fuel up on real caffeine before hopping in the car, dropping him off for a play date and spending the rest of the day property hunting for my new client. I’d actually planned to do that later in the week, but I knew if I didn’t do it then, I’d end up sticking my nose where Dylan didn’t want it, and I wanted to at least make an effort to honor his request.

  Unfortunately, that effort lasted as long as it took to order my café mocha.

  I really needed to work on my impulse control, at least when it came to staying on course in sticking my nose where it didn’t belong in Dylan’s work. I decided I’d add that to my list of New Year’s Resolutions for the next year.

  Millie prepared my drink, and as she did, spoke loudly over the espresso machine. “Can you believe we’ve had another murder? Why, I’m about to close up shop and head for the hills.”

  “First of all, we already live in the hills, and secondly, we don’t know yet that he was murdered.”

  “You’ve got a point about the hills, but as for the murder part, we don’t know yet that he wasn’t, either.” She added the whipped cream to my drink and handed it to me.

  I sipped it right away, savoring the mixed scents of warmed chocolate and coffee as the sweet taste slid down my throat. When I finished enjoying that first heavenly zing, I said, “Millie, you’re a strong influence in this town, maybe you should consider keeping that influence positive.”

  She squished her eyebrows together. “You think I’m a strong influence?”

  “No, I don’t think you are; I know you are. Everyone knows you are. Where does everyone come for local news? To Millie’s Café. Where does everyone look when they want to know the town schedule?” I pointed to her big community bulletin board on her front wall. “Right there. You’re a bigger influence for town news than the Gazette.” I winked. Everyone loved the Gazette, our local paper.

  “That piece of garbage? Nobody reads that no more.” Millie tipped her head to the right and giggled.

  I glanced to the right and said, “Oh, whoops.”

  Rufus Fulton, the owner and sole reporter for the Bramblett County Gazette, piped up. “I’m sittin’ right over here, you two.”

  “We can smell ya, Rufus. You smell like ink, just like your pa always did.”

  Rufus sniffed the sleeve of his red and black flannel shirt, and Millie and I laughed.

  “I get him every time with that one,” she said.

  “You’re a tough lady, Millie.”

  “And you can take that one to the bank.”

  I paid her for my drink. “If you hear anything credible about Carter, you be sure to let me know, you hear?”

  She saluted me. “You got it. Us influential people got to stick together.”

  “We sure do.”

  “I’ll report what I just heard, too, Lily,” Rufus said.

  I patted his
shoulder as I walked by. “Thank you. Mighty kind of ya, sir.”

  Millie gave Bo a small treat and a pat on the head, and we headed out.

  * * *

  The first property on my list wasn’t located in Bramblett, but in Forsyth County, one of the counties near us, and near the lake. My client, a couple of years older than me, had been doing the partial work from home and commute thing to Alpharetta, which was a good hour from us, and though it wasn’t the city, it was far enough south that the commute had become a burden to their expanding family. Forsyth County schools were tops in the area. A growing community of young families, FoCo, as it was called, was perfect for them.

  The outside of the four bedroom, three bath home sent butterflies fluttering in my uterus. My biological clock was not ticking. I wasn’t old enough yet for that, no matter what my momma said. I held my breath as I got out of my car. I loved the white painted brick with the glossy black shutters, an old thing that had become new again in Georgia. The wide steps to the covered wrap around front porch, and the swing dangling on the right took my breath away. Definitely my favorite style, and I couldn’t help but sit and swing for a moment. As I did, I imagined what it would be like, Dylan and I sitting in that swing, watching our little ones play in the front yard, Bo darting around with them, maybe running through the sprinkler on a hot summer evening, him barking while little Dylan giggled.

  Oh my, Lily. Knock it off. Marriage hadn’t even been mentioned, not once. Okay, it had once, in high school, on a chilly night at the lake, but that was years ago, and long forgotten by Dylan I suspected.

  Dylan was far too into his career to even think about marriage, and frankly, so was I.

  Maybe.

  I gathered my senses and typed in the code on the realtor box. When I opened the door I immediately fell victim to the number one realtor trick in the book. The scent of fresh homemade chocolate chip cookies.

  My stomach growled. I headed straight to the kitchen, plucked one from the counter and munched on it as I took in the sights of the new black stainless steel appliances, another trend I’d grown to love, and the otherwise all white kitchen. The sink wall had no top cabinets, only a long line of windows that faced the backyard and provided a fantastic view of a lovely landscaped lot dotted with crepe myrtles in shades of pink, white and lavender. The trees provided shade for alternating pink and white azalea bushes, two larger red rose bushes, and lavender vines I knew would smell glorious with the windows open.