“Well?”
He took a bite of his sandwich and chewed it. I stood there, tapping my foot while I waited. “I was wrong. It was potassium chloride that killed him.”
“Excuse me?” He couldn’t have meant the mineral potassium, or was it the same thing? Gosh, it had been a long time since I’d used that part of my brain, the science part.
“Potassium chloride.”
“Is that the same thing as potassium, the mineral, and wait, that can kill you?”
He laughed. “No, it’s not the same thing. Our bodies make potassium and chloride, but they’re separate electrolytes in our bodies. Potassium chloride is used to treat low amounts of potassium in the blood stream, but it has to be diluted and a lot from what I understand. I’m not talking about the kind you buy in stores, I’m talking about the kind in a hospital. It’s not easy to come by, but it’s probably not impossible.”
“I wonder if it’s available by prescription?”
“The supplement is available online, but it’s two totally different things, really. The kind that was used to kill Carter is the kind you’d find at a hospital.”
“May I see Bobby Yancy now?”
He bit into the sandwich again, and I swear to God above, his eyes sparkled. “Lily Sprayberry, this is heaven,” he said with a mouthful of bread, bacon, lettuce, and tomato. “Let’s go.”
I set the wrapped and now cold sandwich on the table.
Bobby Yancy stared at it. “What’s that?”
“It’s a BLT from Millie’s.”
He blinked, and I noticed the slight straightening of his shoulders, the anticipation in the deep breath he drew in as he unwrapped the waxy paper and tasted that first bite. “It’s cold, but I don’t care. Millie makes the best BLTs in Georgia.”
“Yeah, sorry it being cold, but I was distracted by the autopsy results.”
He stopped mid-chew. “They’re back?”
I nodded. “Apparently, they just arrived. I’m sure you’re attorney will fill you in soon.”
“My attorney is a piece of garbage public defender. He doesn’t care whether I’m guilty or innocent. He just wants to get the case done and move on.”
I didn’t know how to respond to that, mostly because I’d never dealt with a public defender before. “I’m sorry.”
“What were the results?”
I wasn’t sure if I should tell him, and I’d made a deal with Dylan before that I’d keep the information of the investigation between us. “I’m not really allowed to say.”
His jaw clenched, and he tightened his fists. “You’re not really allowed to say?”
“I’m sorry, it’s not my place.”
He banged on the table. “Deputy, I’m ready to go now.”
“Wait.” I rotated in my chair and asked the deputy to bring in Sheriff Roberts.
Dylan came in, and I met him at the door. “Can I tell him the results of the autopsy?”
He rubbed his chin. “I’ll do it.”
And he did.
“I…I…how…like the stuff in a banana?”
I had a feeling that’s where most people would go when they heard the news.
Bobby Yancy rubbed his temples. “I don’t even know what that is.”
The deputy tapped Dylan on the top of his shoulder. “You’ve got a call. Said it’s important.”
He nodded. “I’ll be back.”
“It’s okay. I’d like to talk to Bobby alone if you don’t mind.”
“I’ll let my deputy know you’re not on any time limit.”
I gave him a full smile, showing every single straight tooth—my parents spent a lot of money at a Forsyth County orthodontist—smile and mouthed thank you. After he left, I pulled out my phone and did a quick internet search on how a shot of straight potassium chloride could kill someone. I didn’t read it to Bobby, but asked him questions, instead.
“So, you don’t have any family members who are in the medical field, right?”
“Didn’t we go through this before?”
“Anyone else a janitor like you?”
“No, ma’am.”
“What about your sister-in-law’s husband? What’s he do?”
“He works for the city of Alpharetta. Why’re you asking ‘bout him? What’s he got to do with this?”
“No one you know works in a hospital or for a doctor or medical office—"
“I already told you no.” He cracked his knuckles. The popping sound bounced off the walls and echoed in the room. The calming music playing over the loud speakers wasn’t loud enough to stop the sound from vibrating throughout the room. I hoped to remember that and mention it to Dylan, though I suspected he had to keep the music soft for the deputy to hear any potential uprisings that might occur in the room.
“Who hates you on that lacrosse team, Mr. Yancy?”
His head jerked back and he crossed his arms over his chest as his posture stiffened. Instead of making eye contact, he kept his focus on the white waxy paper Millie used to wrap over her sandwiches.
I, however, kept focused on what mattered most. Carter’s murder. I honestly believed Bobby Yancy was innocent. “I’m trying to help you, Mr. Yancy, but I can’t if you won’t let me. So, tell me. Who hates you?”
“No one. No one hates me.”
“Come on. I saw how you behaved at that game. You were yelling at other kids, yelling about other kids, and basically calling your son the best player on the team. And I know your son is good. I’ve been told that, so I understand why you’re frustrated. I get it. I’m not here to judge.
“Someone hates you. You know it and I know it.” I realized then what was going on. “It’s Ginnie Slappey, isn’t it? She’s got something on you, doesn’t she?” I had a sudden urge to jump out of that seat and speed over to wherever Ginnie Slappy was and deliver a wallop of what for the size of Texas on that woman. Bringing murder charges on a man because his son was a better lacrosse player than hers was nothing short of pathetic.
He angled his body away from me, shifting himself toward the door. “I don’t have to tell you nothing, Lily Sprayberry. You ain’t my attorney, and you ain’t no law enforcement, neither.”
“Well, Bobby Yancy, you just told me right there now, didn’t you?”
He kept his body away from me, but still able to see the side of his face, I caught the flinch of the side of his lip, and I saw the strain and tightness of the veins in his neck. Bobby Yancy was angry. I’d hit a chord, and I’d hit it hard.
“Did she make you kill him? Is that why your prints are all over that syringe? You should tell your attorney. Maybe they can change the charges if you tell them she’s involved. Her sister-in-law is a nurse. She could get the potassium chloride.”
He flipped back around, clenched his fists and with a face redder than a Christmas Santa Suit, spit at me while he talked. “Now you listen to me, and you listen good. That woman don’t got nothing on me that would make me kill a man. I could never do nothing like that, you hear? I done already warned you to stay out of this, but you didn’t, and look what happened. You think that’s all they gonna do to you?” He laughed. “You’re crazy if you think you can beat these people. Heck, look at me? I’m going to jail for the rest of my life for killing a man, and I didn’t even do it. I told you.” He shook his head. “I told you to stay away from these people, but did you listen? Nope. Now you’re gonna have to go and pay the price just like me.”
“But I haven’t done anything.”
“I ain’t done nothing either. That’s what I’m saying.” He stood up from his seat and pounded his fists on the table. “Deputy. I’m ready to go back. I don’t want to see this woman again, you hear? Don’t care who her boyfriend is.” He grabbed the last half of the sandwich I’d brought and shoved the whole thing into his mouth, staring at me while he chewed it.
I just stood there while the deputy escorted him back to his cell. A minute or two later Dylan showed up. He wrapped his arm around my shoulder and aske
d if I was okay.
“I really don’t think he did it.”
“I know you don’t, but his fingerprints are all over that syringe.”
“But he doesn’t have any way to get potassium chloride. Have you talked to the medical examiner? It’s not like you can just buy the stuff at Publix or CVS. I checked the internet just a few minutes ago, and you said that yourself. So how could he get it?”
“By posing as a janitor at the hospital, maybe? Murderers can be creative, Lily.”
“Oh.”
He rubbed my head. “This is why you’re the real estate professional, and I’m the law enforcement professional. And speaking of that, how about you show me that cabin y’all are buying?”
I sighed. “Maybe tomorrow?” We walked out of the station and to my car. “I’m going to go get Bo, go straight home, take a bath and relax. I’m done trying to do your job. I just want to chill out and watch fictional crime shows for a change instead of attempting to solve one.”
“Now, I like the way that sounds. How about I come over later, after I’m done here. Might be late though.”
“It’s okay. Nothing personal, but I’d like some alone time tonight.”
He hugged me and kissed my forehead. “Tomorrow then. Millie’s for coffee before Bo heads to see his buddies?”
“See you there.”
If only I could have actually not thought about Carter’s death, but that would have taken a miracle.
Chapter 10
I’d gone to get Bo at day care, stopped at the office to grab the paperwork for the offer, though Belle had already submitted it with my electronic signature, I wanted a copy of it to review and keep for my records. In case I had any desire to do any kind of work later at home, which I highly doubted, I also grabbed a few other files just in case, and headed back to my bungalow.
My cozy little abode looked as though no one had trashed it with toilet paper or foul language, and I reminded myself of how blessed I was. I sent Dylan a quick text thanking him for that, and asked for the contact information for the people who’d done the work. I’d make sure to send them a fruit basket to show my appreciation.
I fed my puppy, put my alarm on the way Dylan had instructed for when I was home, not because I was worried, but because I knew he was, poured myself a glass of sweet tea, drew a nice hot bath even though it wasn’t even six o’clock, turned on some relaxing music on a Spotify station I followed, and stepped into the steaming hot water of my sensational claw footed bath tub. Oh, how I loved that tub. Belle had scored the find at an estate sale on a trip to Atlanta when I bought my house a few years ago, called me about it, and I’d bought it on a whim, with absolutely no regrets. I’d loved it every single day since.
The vanilla scented bubbles toppled over the top of the tub, and Bo ate them, as he always did. I laughed, and I had a feeling he knew it made me happy, because he kept eating them, and then he’d sneeze probably because they tasted horrible, as soap always did, I knew from experience as a girl with three brothers with garbage mouths. I’d had my mouth washed out with it a time or two. My momma worked hard to change me from a tomboy into a Southern belle and after much effort, we met somewhere in the middle.
I tried endlessly, with the mightiness and dedication of the likes of General Robert E. Lee, to figure out how to win the battle, to figure out who killed Carter Barrett, and why, but like Lee, I just couldn’t. So much for not thinking about the murder, but in truth, I knew I’d not be able to put it to rest until the case was solved, and in my head, it wasn’t. Bobby Yancy didn’t kill Carter Trammell.
My suspect list wasn’t all that big, and the reasons were as cloudy as a rainy December day in Georgia.
Sure, Bobby Yancy had a temper, and maybe even a motive. He needed the scholarship money to get his kid into college. But really, who didn’t? Every single one of those parents wanted a scholarship for their kid, even Michael Longley said that.
Yancy might have had the motive, but he didn’t have the means, no matter what Dylan said about posing as a janitor. I just didn’t think Bobby Yancy had that in him. And besides, like Bobby said, he didn’t have the heart, and I believed him.
Yes, Michael Longley, the interim coach, the man who’d coached the kids for years, felt he deserved the position, the stature, the pay, the recognition. He also had a dead wife, no disrespect meant of course, and a sister who were both nurses, so he could have easily had access somehow to potassium chloride. And he made a big deal of saying he wouldn’t mess with the women. What was that expression? He that protested too much was full of it, or something like that? I dipped my body deeper into the tub, soaking all but my head into the warm, soapy water, wishing I could soak there forever, letting the world around me–except my sweet, smelly Bo, of course–melt away forever, but my mind refused to forget about Carter’s death. Flat out refused.
An image of Ginnie Slappey flashed through my head. The last of my suspects. My supposedly relaxed, not at all numbed, head.
Ringless, marriage in trouble, flirtatious, Ginnie Slappey practically waved at me from the forefront of my mind. I pictured her saying, hey there Lily Sprayberry, it’s me, just to distract me. Taunting me with her big, Southern hair and expensive designer dresses.
Maybe there was some truth to the rumors about Ginnie and Carter? Maybe her husband had finally had enough and decided to leave? Maybe because he’d left, she needed her son to get a scholarship for college? Maybe his grades weren’t good, and he was at risk of being suspended? Maybe she flirted with Carter to stop him from suspending her son, and he wouldn’t do it, so she killed him. I pushed myself up in the tub. “That’s it!”
I surprised Bo, who jumped up from the side of the tub and barked.
“Oh, sorry buddy, didn’t mean to scare you.” I patted his big head with a wet hand. He licked it.
I climbed out and dried myself off, telling Bo my theory as I completed my normal after bath routine of applying body lotion and facial cream. I placed my right foot on the edge of the tub and rubbed the lavender scented lotion on my leg.
In my heart, I believed Ginnie Slappey killed Carter. Possibly because he’d rejected her affections, and perhaps that was what I’d seen, what I’d interrupted that morning when I’d gone to tell him about the Walter Payton painting, and Ginnie knew it, and that was why she’d decided to come at me the way she did. She’d gotten her minions to follow her lead and used Dylan and the state athletic association as the means to her end. She’d used those as her cover story with her minions to get them to do what she wanted to keep herself out of the limelight and safe from being considered a suspect in Carter’s murder.
I unwrapped the towel I’d wrapped around me and stepped into my red, one hundred percent cotton sweatpants with Georgia printed down the side, slid on an extra large gray and red t-shirt, and a bulky red Georgia sweatshirt, twisted my hair up into a clip and headed into the kitchen, Bo following at my heels. I grabbed a bag of kettle chips, more sweet tea and a tube of cookie dough, and I went straight to the family room to discuss it further with K9 detective Bo Sprayberry.
We plopped ourselves onto the couch, and Bo licked my leg when I asked his opinion. “You’re adorable, but as useless as a poodle hunting deer.” I dragged myself into the kitchen again in search of my cell phone, which was actually in my bedroom. That time Bo didn’t follow. I suspected the smell of kettle chips took priority.
I dug through my nightstand for a notepad and pen, found one, and shuffled back to the family room, where I found Bo’s head stuck inside the kettle chips bag.
I knew it, the little stinker.
“Bo Sprayberry, you get yourself out of that right now, you hear?” I sprinted over and yanked the bag off his head. Speckled across his face were tiny scraps of kettle chips. He licked the ones he could reach, and I swiped the others off. I kissed his nose. “You’re lucky you’re cute. The crumbs are the best part.” He licked my face and all was immediately forgiven.
I called Belle, an
d she picked up on the first ring. “Hey there, what’s up?”
“I guess it could be Clarissa Mooney, but I can’t really see a reason. She’s got more money than God, and I doubt she needs cash for her son to get into college.”
“Maybe he needs the scholarship because his grades are bad.”
“Is that even a thing?”
“If he’s a good enough player it can be, can’t it?”
“I guess, but I’m not exactly sure.”
“The way Matthew explained it, some kids get in because of their athletic abilities and then they help them with their grades, so maybe that’s what she was hoping for?”
“I would think that would be for kids with financial struggles. Not ones that drive cars that cost in the upper five figures.”
“You make a good point. Hey, I thought you went home to relax and clear your head?”
“I did, but it didn’t work. Our client, my friend, your friend, is dead, and I need to know why.”
“Finding out how first would be helpful in finding out why, don’t you think?”
“Oh, Matthew hasn’t told you? The autopsy came back. Carter died from potassium chloride poisoning.”
“Like the potassium in bananas?”
“You know, that’s where Bobby Yancy went, too.”
She chuckled. “Well, who wouldn’t? I mean, really.” I heard her tapping onto her laptop. “C-h-l-o-r-i-d-e.” She went silent for a moment. I waited for her to read what she’d found. “Oh, wow. If there’s enough in the syringe, it can cause sudden death, but it says here it can burn. Poor Carter.”
A heaviness took over my chest, and I wished I could turn back the clock, get to Carter even ten minutes earlier than I had, then maybe I could have saved his life. I knew that wasn’t possible, but I couldn’t help but think it anyway. A single tear fell from each of my eyes. “Ginnie Slappey did this. I know she did.”
I cried, no, I ugly cried, and then I was furious. “This is it. I’m done. I’m tired of playing games. These women have messed with me enough. You saw what they wrote on my driveway. I’m a nice girl. I don’t deserve this.”
Signed, Sealed and Dead Page 14