“Rumors?”
“About the coach and Ginnie. Those two had themselves a little love connection. All the parents from the team know it, they just didn’t talk about it. It’s not proper manners, you know? That’s what broke up her marriage. Might be worth a conversation with that sheriff boyfriend of yours. Maybe poor old Mr. Yancy isn’t guilty of stopping Carter’s heart after all.”
“You think Carter and Ginnie were having an affair?”
“No, I don’t think it, I know it.” She eyed my pale pink cardigan sweater, white and pink striped tank top, dark blue Silver brand jeans and brown cowboy boots, my most recent purchase and favorite shoes of the month. Once I’d broken them in of course—and boy, was that painful. “Is that your normal attire?”
I down glanced at my outfit and felt her judgement burning into me from just a few feet away. “Yup, sure is, and I love it, don’t you? Very fashionable for someone as young as I am.”
She winced, and I knew I’d caught her off guard. Clarissa was in her early forties, which wasn’t old by any means, but why she felt the need to criticize me made no sense. Southern women didn’t play by any set rule book, and when she threw out that pitch, I definitely hit it. From the annoyed expression on her face, I’d hit a home run.
“Well, I strongly suggest you have a little talk with your boyfriend about taking care of the athletic association situation. I’d hate to see things get out of hand. I hear there’s an election coming up soon. There’s a lot of parents with children coming up into the school athletic programs, and I wouldn’t want to see something negative come from his inability to work with us, you know what I mean?”
“Are you threatening the sheriff’s re-election status because of your desire to cheat a system he can’t control? Wow, Clarissa, that’s low, even for someone like you.”
She flashed a quick, cold smile, and then pinched her mouth into a pursed, tight circle. Her eyes darkened, and I knew she wanted to say something nasty, but since she was at work, she had to maintain some sense of professionalism. “I’m saying you might could do your best to get him my message. Now, can I ring your things up for you, Miss Sprayberry?” She yanked the two items from my hands and marched to the counter.
Whatever Clarissa’s problem with me was, I’d just made it worse, and I’d very likely made Dylan’s re-election concerns worse, too.
I called Dylan on my way from Gibson’s over to the high school to have another chat with Michael Longley or whomever would talk to me about Carter Trammell and the high school athletic programs.
“Figure out why the lacrosse women hate you?”
“Nope, but I think I probably fueled the fire a bit.”
“That’s my girl.”
“And I think I might have dug your re-election problem hole a bit deeper, for which I’m sorry.”
He sighed heavily. “What happened?”
“She seems to think you have some kind of power over the state athletic associations decision to unsuspend their suspension of the school’s athletic program.” I stopped talking and thought about what I said. “Did I say that right?”
He laughed. “If you didn’t, I understood, and we’ve both got issues.”
“Well, I already knew that. Anyway, I told her you don’t have any control, but she gave some veiled threat that if I didn’t make you do something about it, the parents can vote you out come your election.”
Dylan sighed, another heavy breathed sigh, and I wanted to whack little miss hoity-toity in the shin. He shook his head slightly. “It’s all right. I’ve already had a talk with the school superintendent and the state athletic association legal counsel. They’re going to hold an emergency meeting tonight at six o’clock to discuss the situation. I’ll be there. You want to be my body guard?”
“Heck yeah, I do, and I’ll bring my team. We’ll keep you safe.”
“I’m afraid to ask, but I can’t help myself—”
He didn’t have to finish. “Henrietta and the gang, of course.”
“Good Lord. They’re not bringing shot guns, are they?”
“Not if I tell them not to. Hopefully.”
“Please promise me they won’t.”
“I’ll promise to try.”
“That’s better than nothing, I guess. See you there.”
I wasn’t even sure they owned shot guns, but if I had to guess, I’d guess Henrietta and Bonnie did over Billy Ray and Old Man Goodson any day. And I’d guess they knew how to use them, too. The only concern would be if they could see far and clear enough to hit their targets.
God help the innocent souls near them if they couldn’t.
I arrived at the school, signed in, peeled off the sticker for my visitor’s pass and stuck it to my cardigan. The school had been remodeled since I’d graduated nearly a lifetime ago. The front office was no longer in the front, but in what I’d call the back, and for someone that spent four defining years of her life there, that really messed me up when I had to sign in. Going to the community sale wasn’t a big deal. A weekend event didn’t require signing in, and I’d simply entered through the gym entrance. Visiting during school hours was a big deal nowadays, especially with the security requirements as of late. I’d practically given them my first born in the attendance office, and the front desk clerk that day was the same one from when I was a student. She even recognized me, but she was a stickler for the rules back in my day, so I hadn’t expected her to be any different, and she wasn’t.
She definitely wasn’t any nicer. “What’re you doin’ here anyway? Don’t you got a job now stealing money from people with them high priced homes you sell?”
“It’s nice to see you, too,” I said as I walked out of the attendance office. She needed a good dose of vitamin D or a little sunshine in her life, I didn’t think she’d had any since long before I’d graduated.
I took the long route to Michael Longley’s classroom, making a pit stop at my old locker in Hall B. We’d had assigned lockers each year, but typically each class stuck with their freshman locker for their time at the school. They’d painted the lockers crimson to match the school colors, and whatever person had mine had a bunch of Taylor Swift stickers plastered all over it. I hoped the locker belonged to a girl. I draped my hand across it as I walked by and said a silent you go girl to her in my head. I wasn’t sure what grade she was in, but knew she’d have her ups and downs and memories to last a lifetime, and hopefully, if she was lucky, she had her own Belle. Someone to have her back through thick and thin, in spite of the haters, and to travel through the battles of high school and out the other side for the long run.
The bell rang as I approached Longley’s classroom. I flattened myself against the hallway wall to dodge the assault of teen angst as it rushed out of the classes and onward to whatever happened next.
I watched the groups of teens assemble into their cliques, and then each kid as they pulled their cell phones out of their pockets and stuck them in front of their own or one another’s faces. I wondered what was so important, what could happen in those few seconds that would make them jump to be on technology like that? Then I remembered what it felt like to be in high school and cut them some slack, but only just a little. I hoped by the time I had teenagers the thrill of wireless technology will have run its course. I truly believed it was the downfall of relationships and humanity in general.
I knocked lightly on Michael Longley’s door. He glanced up, and I noticed the frown before he twisted it upward into a smile. “Miss Sprayberry, come on in.”
“I hate to bother you, but I wanted to chat with you a bit more about a few things. If you have a minute, that is?”
“You’re in luck. This is my free period.”
I took the same seat I’d taken the other day and caught a glimpse of the photo on his desk again. He caught me staring at it. “Is your wife still a nurse?”
“Yes, she’s up at Northside Forsyth. The women’s center there.”
“Oh, that’s great.”
“She just started there a few months ago actually.”
“Must be fun. Is she working in the labor and delivery unit?”
“The birth center, yes, but only part time. We have the two boys involved in several activities now, so it’s easier for her to work while they’re at school.”
I nodded. “Makes sense. Anyway, I had an interesting situation recently, and I’m wondering if you can help me out. I’m not really sure what to do, or even if there’s anything I can do, so I’m appealing to your expertise.”
He tilted his head. “Okay?”
“A few of the lacrosse mothers came to my house.”
“And you survived? That’s good.”
“It was a little intense.”
“I can imagine.”
“And I’ve had a few run ins with Clarissa Mooney, not to mention a talk or two with Ginnie Slappey.”
“Well, looks like you’re making the rounds, winning friends along the way for sure.”
“Not by choice for all of them either, I promise.”
Michael Longley shuffled some papers on his desk and closed his laptop. “The mothers can be a bit on the trying side, that’s for sure. What can I help you with?”
“For starters, you can tell them to get off my back.”
He waved his hands from side to side in front of his chest. “Thanks, but no thanks. I’m not getting involved in that. I’m not man enough to step over that line, and I fully admit that.”
I chuckled. “Are they really that bad?”
“Last season I pulled the best player out of the team for initiating a fight during a game. Just for that game, and it was the last five minutes of the fourth quarter. The kid’s mother pitched a fit, went to the principal, and two weeks later your buddy got the head coach job, so you tell me.”
“Did you want the head coach position?”
“Not only did I want it, I deserved it.” He pushed his chair back and placed his right ankle onto his left knee. “Lily, I’ve been the interim coach for four years. I’ve built this team since these seniors were freshman. I know these boys. I know how they play, what their strengths and weaknesses are, and how to best motivate them. I’m their coach. I’ve done the hard work. I’ve made them mad enough they’ve told me to stick it where the sun don’t shine, and they’ve even offered to do it for me. Anyone that would come in now would be getting a strong, winning team. Our record is unbeatable. We were undefeated last year. We should win the state championships this year. In fact, it’s ours to win. A little, barely known county from North Georgia winning the state lacrosse championships with an interim coach? What team wouldn’t hire that guy?”
“One with uppity parents that control the program?”
He snapped his fingers and pointed at me. “You got that right.”
“Wow. I don’t recall it being like that when I was a kid.”
“Oh, I’m sure it was to some degree.”
“So, what are the odds of you getting the position now?”
He shrugged. “No program, no coach.”
“And no scholarships for the momma’s boys.”
“Bingo.”
“Do you think someone associated with the team could have killed Carter?”
“I wouldn’t put it past them.” He rubbed his palms together as if he wanted to warm them. “I’ll be honest though, I don’t think it was Bobby Yancy, and when I’m interviewed by the sheriff’s office, which is in a few hours, I’ll tell them that.”
“Why don’t you think it was him?”
“I’ve known Yancy for years. He may fly off the handle a time or two, sure, but he’s not a killer. At least I don’t think so.”
“What makes you say that?”
“The guy’s like a teddy bear. Like I said, he’s got himself a bit of a temper, but he’s struggling. He’s a janitor. You know what kind of money they make? Heck, I’m barely covering the bills now. I can’t imagine he’s making close to what I am. I just can’t see him taking it to the next level. Now one of the wives though, yeah.” He nodded. “Those women, I’d watch out for them.”
“There’s talk of something going on between Ginnie and Carter. Had you heard anything about that?”
“There’s always been talk of something going on between Ginnie and someone, but I think you’re barking up the wrong tree with that one. Ginnie’s got a reputation, but I’ve never seen anything to validate it. If you’re looking for a possible suspect,” he tilted his head and gave me a glance that I read to mean, and we both know you are, and said, “I don’t think Ginnie’s your girl. Maybe one of the other, more aggressive ladies deserve a look.”
“How are the rest of the boys’ grades? Maybe one of their mothers would be that desperate? Rumors say a few of the kids are struggling and were at risk of being suspended, or I guess should have been. Is that true?”
He nodded. “I’d talked with Carter. Told him he shouldn’t go that route, but he planned to suspend a good bit of them. It would have killed the team, but he was a rule follower. Said he was going to hold tutoring sessions. Had already set up some agreement with the math and science departments, and I guess had arrangements in process with the literature department, too. His plan was to get the boys in here two days a week after school and on Saturday mornings to study. Thought he could get their grades up and have them improved in no time. You ask me, that would have destroyed any chances of a state championship, but I didn’t have a say in the matter.”
“So, how many boys are you talking about? Three? Four? More than that?”
“Seven, maybe eight.”
“Wow.”
“Yeah.”
“How many players are on the team?”
“And the team only has fifteen.”
“But they could have gotten their grades up to play?”
“No guarantee.”
“I guess that’s on the kids then, and their parents, too.”
“Not everyone would agree with that.”
“But it’s the rules.”
“Some rules are meant to be broken.”
“Has the athletic association ever cancelled a program like this before?”
“One down south, but it was years ago.”
“Did they reinstate it?”
“Eventually.”
“That’s good to know. Maybe this is just a scare tactic then?”
“Who knows? They’re talking fines and permanent termination of the program.”
“Permanent?”
He nodded. “Now you get why the parents are up in arms about this. Those D1 scholarships don’t go to kids who don’t play, and they especially don’t give them to kids who play for terminated programs.”
“D1’s?”
“Division One.”
“Wouldn’t the seniors already have theirs by now?”
“Some, but definitely not all. We were a sleeper team last year. Came out of nowhere. We weren’t even on the radar really, so now these kids have all this exposure, and we’re pulled? Don’t look good for the program here at all, and the kids are the ones that suffer, by no fault of their own.”
“Except for their poor grades.”
“May be true, but again, we haven’t let that be an issue in the past, so they haven’t been trained to worry about that.”
It wasn’t a point worth arguing, and I’d come to realize it wouldn’t do me any good with the mothers of the kids either. They didn’t play by the rules, even if the state athletic association did. I wasn’t sure how that would all play out, but I hoped the meeting later would make a difference. “Are you going to the meeting tonight?”
“Wouldn’t miss it. And I suspect whoever is responsible for Trammell’s murder will be there, too.”
I’d stood to leave, but his comment stopped me in my tracks. Did he know something I didn’t? And was he trying to give me a clue? “Why do you say that?”
“Miss Sprayberry, whoever killed your friend did it because they’re invested in this
program one way or another. You want to find who did it, you pay close attention tonight. You’ll find your killer.”
* * *
Belle sipped her double espresso latte while we sat at Millie’s Café, and I filled her in on my recent events. “Do you think he was trying to distract you from picking him as the one?”
“I don’t know. It was a little disconcerting, that’s for sure. He made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.” My whole body shook at the thought. “I don’t like that man.”
“I can tell, and I don’t like him either.”
“Thank you.”
Millie brought us our peanut butter and strawberry jam on whole wheat sandwiches with a side of kettle chips. It was the best early before a tense public meeting supper a girl could ask for, and it was on the house, so that made it even better. For reasons I didn’t understand, Millie had taken both of us in as her own, and more and more of our coffee, tea and meals were on the house. I quickly wrote a note on a piece of paper and folded a twenty dollar bill into it and stuffed it into her tip jar. The note read, this twenty is only for Millie because she’s Bramblett County Realty’s favorite. We love you.
I scooted back to our table before she charged out of the kitchen toward us again.
“Thank you for doing that,” Belle said.
“She’s so good to us.”
“That she is.”
Millie slid us each a bowl of vanilla ice cream with chocolate sauce next to our plates. I smiled, but Belle groaned. “My hips will never forgive you. My stomach and taste buds on the other hand are loving you like crazy. Thank you, Millie.”
I finished chewing a bite of my heavenly sandwich, a reminder of my youth when life was so much simpler. A time when my biggest worries were which Spice Girls song was my favorite, or if I’d get to watch Charmed, and what sleazy outfit Alyssa Milano and the others wore in it, and how much of a tizzy my momma went into over them, not escrow, and closing contracts, or how a lacrosse coach was murdered, and who had the motive and means to stab him in the neck with a needle. I missed that easier time. I smiled at Millie, wishing her sandwich and chips could magically take us back there, if even for a minute. “Yes, thank you, Millie. You’re incredible. Best sandwiches in town.”
Signed, Sealed and Dead Page 10