Signed, Sealed and Dead

by Carolyn Ridder Aspenson

  Because, the truth was, he was right. It was my chance to talk to them. In a controlled environment, with trained law enforcement officials close by in the event someone tried to slice my head off with a lacrosse stick. Seriously, those things looked like they’d hurt.

  Four lacrosse moms walked into the room, one by one, escorted by Matthew, the traitor, as I’d decided to officially call him. He nodded, gave me a slight smirk, and left the room.

  The women sat, each of them offering me their own particular hoity toity expression, Ginnie Slappey’s being the most nervous one of them all. That caught me off guard, so I decided to start with her.

  “Why? What was the reason for doing this to me, Ginnie? What purpose did it serve? You’re obviously the pack leader, so you tell me.”

  She winced and chewed on her left forefinger’s nail. “Why would you think I’m the pack leader? I’m the booster club president, that’s all. I’m not a pack leader.” She rubbed her arms and glanced around the room. I took note of her quick look at Clarissa Mooney, which surprised me. Could I have been wrong about the pack leader?

  “Okay then, Clarissa, what about you? I mean, I wouldn’t call us friends or anything, but come on. What’s the deal here? You heard it straight from the athletic association people. This isn’t something Dylan can control, so why are you all harassing me? Lord knows you can’t get blood from a turnip.”

  She sat there, arms crossed over her chest, tight lipped, and refused to say a word.

  I drew in a long, frustrated breath and released it after feeling calmer. “Right. We’re going to play it this way.” I stood up and walked from one side of the room to the other. “Let me tell you what I think. I think there’s something going on, and y’all are trying to cover it up, or distract me or the sheriff from finding it out.” I wiggled my finger at Ginnie Slappey. “But see, that’s not how this is going to work.” I walked over to her and pointed directly at her ring finger. “Where’s your wedding ring, Mrs. Slappey? Things not going well between you and your husband?”

  Beads of sweat formed on her forehead. “I…I—don’t be rude, Lily. It’s not ladylike.”

  I slammed my hands down on the table. “And T-Ping my house and spray painting cuss words on my driveway with your teenage son for no reason is?”

  The four women jerked back in their chairs.

  “It was a prank, Lily, that’s all,” Clarissa said.

  “T-Ping is a prank. The spray painting crossed the line into criminal intent, and involving your sons? Well, now. My momma says that beauty is only skin deep, but that ugly? Well, ugly goes clean to the bone, and what y’all did to me, that right there was some kind of ugly for sure. So there you go. You tell me what that says about you in your pretty little designer jeans and fancy tops, with your spray tans and department store make up. Oh, and what it says about your boys and their fancy, overpriced cars they’ll never be able to afford on their own if they can’t get their grades up and get into good colleges. Y’all know I got a business and marketing degree from Georgia, right? Where’d y’all get your MRS degrees? Community college? How’s that working for ya, Ginnie? And Ginnie, Is T-Ping houses how you want your boy to treat women? With that kind of disrespect? Is that how your husband treats you? Or wait, I bet he up and left you, didn’t he?” I sat in my chair across from them so they wouldn’t see my legs shaking like leaves falling from a tree, that’s how nervous I was. “Tell me about that.”

  Every one of the four women flinched.

  “We have it all on video you know. What you did to me? Clear as the moon in the midnight sky, yes we do.” I crossed my arms over my chest. “Emm hmm.” Dear God, I couldn’t believe I’d pulled off that act. I deserved an Emmy. I was half ready to cry from fear and pride.

  The two women I didn’t know flicked their eyes at each other, and I knew I had at least two of them more scared than a church mouse.

  “You didn’t expect that, did you? You thought you’d go along with your buddies here, right?” I nodded for them. “Thought you’d be part of the popular crowd. Figured nothing could happen? I mean really, it’s okay. You’d be safe. They’ve got your back. Just like all your friends in high school did, right?” I laughed because we all knew that was a pipe dream then, too. I’m dating the county sheriff. The sheriff.” I said sheriff with added intent. “Did y’all think you’d get away with this? Really? I got some great security cameras all over my house, and my neighbor, he even saw you doing what you did, so the gigs up ladies. You’re done.”

  One of the women fidgeted, and I knew she wanted to say something. She finally opened her mouth and began to speak, but Ginnie Slappey coughed, and she hushed right up.

  I sat in my chair. Annoyed and losing my patience, I didn’t know what else to do, or what else to say to get the women to tell me what was going on, but it sure felt good having the say that I’d had.

  “I don’t know what’s going on here, but it stinks to high heaven.” I stood and walked to the door. “And you can bet those designer handbags of yours I’m going to find out.”

  Chapter 9

  “Come on, you’ll love it, I promise.” Belle dragged me to see an old beat up cabin style home in the mountains after my visit with the trespassing criminals. I didn’t want to go, but at least I was able to tell her about my talk with them on the way to the place.

  “They are worse than snakes in the grass, I swear. If my granny was there, she’d have tied them to a tree and beat them with the clothes line, I can promise you that.”

  “And I would have watched just for giggles.”

  “I might have too,” I said, and I didn’t feel one ounce of guilt for saying it, either. “But I will say, I did a mighty fine job of acting all Belle-like, and brave, and putting up a good front. It was scary.”

  “Sweetie, you showed them you’ve got gumption. Matthew said he watched from the other side of the glass and you were fabulous. I bet you could be on your very own crime TV show.”

  “Lily Sprayberry, Failed Interrogator Extraordinaire.”

  “Now don’t you go and do that to yourself. You put them on warning, and that’s what matters.”

  “I told you, something is going on, and I’m determined to find out what. The key is Ginnie Slappey. I don’t know why I think that, but I do.”

  “Why just Ginnie Slappey though? Didn’t that Yancy guy warn you about all of them?”

  “He did, yes, but I feel like Ginnie is the key to this. I don’t know how or why, or even if she’s controlling it, but I think she’s the key. Maybe. Though she did kind of falter at first, but only a bit.”

  She nodded slowly. “Okay, you’re not making an ounce of sense, but whatever you say.”

  I knew she didn’t quite get it, but that was okay, because I didn’t either. It was just a feeling.

  We pulled up to a charming, if not run down, cabin at the top of a hill in the woods.

  “Isn’t this adorable?” Belle asked.

  “Okay, I’ll give you that. It’s adorable.”

  “Now, don’t get all snooty when you walk in. I’ll admit it needs some work, but I think it’s totally us, and no, it’s not a B and B thing. I’m over that, I promise, but I do think we could keep it, rent it out maybe, and use it ourselves.”

  “What’s it cost?”

  “One-twenty-five.”

  “That’s well under our budget.”

  “I know, so we can put extra into redoing it.”

  “That’s the part I struggle with, the redo.”

  “Just go inside and check it out. I promise, you’ll love it.” Belle got out of the car and all but ran up the porch steps and to the front door. “Come on slow poke, get a move on.”

  I climbed out of the car, my thoughts still focused on Ginnie Slappey and the whole attack Lily deal. I couldn’t understand their driving motivation, but I knew once I figured it out, I’d figure out everything else, and hopefully, that included Carter Trammell’s killer.

  Focus on the ca
bin. Just focus on the cabin, I kept telling myself. My life did not revolve around murders and lacrosse moms. It shouldn’t have only revolved around real estate either, but at least that was something more pleasant to think about.

  The little cabin was everything Belle said and more. I had to admit, she’d picked a winner. As always, I fell in love with the tiny, wood plank, wrap around front porch with the dark wood double front doors framed with iron, and faded, and definitely in need of repair, white shuttered windows. The cabin had an old Southern appeal that spoke of late nights sitting on the front porch swing wrapped in a blanket staring at the stars kind of feel.

  We stepped inside, and though the place needed a lot of work, I still saw the charm Belle mentioned. Instead of separate rooms for a kitchen, eating area and family room, they were all kind of one big open space, which, I thought, created an inviting, community living area that was cozy and warm. “This is perfect. I love the open floor plan, the wood burning stove in the family room area. I don’t think we’d need a heater with the amount of heat that thing can give off.”

  “No, we wouldn’t.” She enunciated we when she spoke.

  “I caught that.” I walked toward the first bedroom and opened the door and fell instantly in love with double sliding doors that opened onto the small, private deck. I walked out onto the deck and glanced at the beautiful view of the side of the mountain. “And the views are great from here, too, just like the family room.”

  “You can see almost the whole county from the second bedroom. I bet it’s gorgeous up here on a clear night.”

  She was right about the second bedroom. The view was stunning. “Oh goodness, I love it.”

  We stood in that room, on the old, creaking wood floor, and I couldn’t help but wonder about the cabin’s past. It made me feel at home, like I had with the home in Cumming. Gosh, that couldn’t have been just a few short days ago, but it was. It felt like years though. So much had happened since then.

  The little cabin reminded me of family, of happiness, of people sharing their lives, and I wondered about the people that lived in it before, what the home would tell me if it could speak, what ghosts lived inside its walls. Not that I believed in ghosts, at least not the kind that were once human anyway, because I didn’t. I meant the ghosts of history, of stories, traditions, and memories. I always wanted to know more about what happened before.

  Because history mattered. It mattered for the future. What we left behind helped determine what happened in the future. I truly believed that.

  “I knew you would.” She opened the manila file she’d brought in with her. “I did the numbers, Lily, and we can totally afford this. We could probably even negotiate a lower price and have more cash to put into the remodel. We have so many contacts, I’m sure we’d get deals on the work, too. We could list it on Airbnb and VRBO and make back our investment in a few years easily. Plus, the tax breaks would be awesome.”

  I walked back into the main living area. Belle followed. “You do have a point.” I turned around. “About the tax breaks. We’d have to furnish it though, and that can be expensive.”

  “Lily Sprayberry, you know I can squeeze a quarter so tight the eagle on it’ll scream bloody murder.”

  I laughed. “That’s for sure.”

  She hopped on her tippy toes. “Come on. It’s been on the market for twenty-four hours. This thing’ll get grabbed but quick.”

  I glanced up at the ceiling. “Looks like it’ll need a new roof.”

  “We’ve got the best inspector in the business. We’ll work everything into the sale. If the seller won’t do it, we’re out. I promise.”

  I raised my eyebrow. “Pinky promise?”

  She held out her right pinky. “Pinky promise.”

  I grabbed hers with mine and squeezed. “I’m in.”

  “Ouch. Don’t cut off my circulation. I need that finger.”

  “Just making sure you know I’m serious.”

  “Oh sweetie. I’ve known you since you were five. I know you’re serious.” She whipped her long, dark hair back behind her and marched to the front door. Now, let’s get to the office so I can get the paperwork started. I’ll call the realtor and let her know my client is making an offer.”

  I smiled. I was excited, but honestly, I was more excited about getting back to the office to start working the plan I’d thought up in the past few minutes to unravel the mystery behind the actions of Ginnie Slappey and the rest of the lacrosse moms. Well, I hadn’t exactly thought up a plan, but I’d decided to start thinking up a plan, and that was a start.

  * * *

  Manipulation is a key element in the power of women, or at least some women think that way. It’s something they learn with their daddies, a power some girls—and women—use to their advantage, while others, like me, consider it a devious means to an end. I didn’t like to use manipulation, though if pressed I would, but only when necessary. I’ve manipulated my brothers, but I’d always considered that my obligation as a sister. It allowed them to learn how to deal with women, their future girlfriends, wives, possible daughters, even women they’ve had to work with or encounter in life in general. Some people might consider that wrong, but I didn’t think manipulating my brothers for the last of the half gallon of Mayfield chocolate chip ice cream was exactly wrong, and I suspected most honest women would agree. Ice cream was immune to manipulation guilt, and diet plans.

  Manipulating a desperate man to kill someone though, that was another story entirely, and that was what I thought Ginnie Slappey had done to poor Bobby Yancy. So, I hoped manipulating both Dylan and Bobby Yancy with Millie’s famous bacon, lettuce and tomato sandwiches would help me discover at least part of the truth.

  The front desk deputy at the sheriff’s office rang for Dylan. It surprised him to see me admiring his photo on the lobby wall in the waiting area. “Hey, didn’t expect to see you this afternoon.” He eyed the bag from Millie’s in my hand. “You bring lunch?”

  I frowned, and held the bag tighter in my grip. “Not exactly. It’s for your prisoner. You know, the innocent man you arrested for Carter Trammell’s murder?”

  He lifted his chin. “I see. Should I be worried? Do I have a little competition?” The side of his mouth twitched.

  “Actually, yes.” My expression was flat, but serious, and I kept my eyes steadily focused on him.

  He raised his eyebrows. “Oh, well then. Visiting hours are from four to six, ma’am. You can come back then, if you’re on the list. Which I don’t think you are.” The twitch happened again.

  I smiled. “Your competition is me.”

  He laughed. “I see.” He pivoted toward the main doors to allow us into the secured area of the station, swiped his keycard over the electronic reader, and we waited for the doors to open. I followed him in. “We’ll have to run the bag through security. Standard procedure.”

  “No problem. It’s three BLTs.”

  “I figured. I can smell the bacon.”

  “Me, too. I’ve been drooling for the past fifteen minutes.”

  “Wait. Why three?”

  “Because I brought you one, too, silly. In case I had to charm you into letting me see him.” I opened the bag and pulled out a sandwich for Dylan. “And because they’re your favorite.”

  He stopped walking and held the wrapped piece of bliss in his hand, the smell of bacon wafting through the air and attacking my nasal passages with the passion of all the men fighting the Civil War. That sandwich wanted to win me over, and it had. “Lily Sprayberry, you’re up to something, aren’t you?” He used the thickest Southern accent he had.

  “Why Dylan Roberts, whatever do you mean? Can’t a girl just do a nice thing for the sheriff in this county?”

  “Lily. You brought me a BLT. The last time you did that you wanted me to help you study for your chem test at Georgia.”

  “You would have helped me whether I brought that sandwich or not.”

  “The assistant instruction for the class was
in my fraternity.”

  “And?”

  “Come on.”

  “What?”

  He tilted his head and shook it, as if I knew what that meant.

  “Did you think I wanted you to get me the test?” I snatched the sandwich from his grimy little hands and gasped. “I cannot believe it. You thought I wanted you to help me cheat?”

  “The assistant instructor was my fraternity brother, Lily.”

  “I am not a cheater, Dylan Roberts.” I marched off toward the sign in area for the jail.

  “Wait.” Dylan followed behind me. “My BLT.” He caught up and race-walked next to me. “That’s my sandwich. You brought it for me.”

  I gave him a quick look, and saw the devious little smirk on his face. “You keep that up, Dylan Roberts, I’ll kill you and swear you died.”

  He laughed.

  “It’s not funny.”

  “It kind of is. You just said that to the county sheriff. In the county sheriff’s office, where everything is on tape.”

  My eyes shifted around the hall in search of video cameras. I found one in the corner, so I waved at it. “Hey y’all. I just threatened to kill the sheriff and I meant every word of it. The man called me a cheater. Can you believe it?”

  He laughed again.

  “I’m about to pitch a fit the size of…”

  “Texas?”

  “Nope. That’s too small.” I faced him. “I cannot believe you thought I wanted to cheat on that test.”

  He leaned his forehead into mine. “You’re adorable when you’re mad.”

  I blushed all shades of red. “You hush. We’re on camera.”

  “You’re cute when you blush like that. Now, can I have my BLT back?”

  I shoved it into his stomach. It might have squished it a little.

  “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome. A little. Now may I please see Bobby Yancy?”

  “Sure, but do you want to know about Trammell’s autopsy first?”

  My eyes light up. “Is it back?”

  He nodded while he opened his sandwich. “Just in, actually.”