I couldn’t wait for the big day, but I knew if I didn’t get moving on everything else beforehand, I’d feel stressed the whole time we spent in Italy, and I didn’t want that. So, that’s what I did. I got moving on everything else.
I sent Belle a quick text to let her know what I was doing, and instead of stopping at Millie’s, dropped Bo right at day care, and headed straight to Alpharetta. I took Interstate 400 but got off at exit fifteen in Cumming and hit the backroads the rest of the way. I didn’t mind the drive, but I hated sitting in traffic, and that interstate was a constant parking lot from exit 14 into Dunwoody, if not farther, since it was the only option to the city from the north suburbs.
I’d texted Dylan, too, but he hadn’t responded. I didn’t exactly tell him where I was going or whom I planned to meet, but I did say I might have something for him later. I knew I behaved shady by doing that, but I also knew he’d either want to go with me, or try to stop me from going at all, and something told me I needed to go.
I blamed that gut he told me to listen to.
When I got out of the car, he called, and I felt bad for it, but I hit decline so I could get inside and talk to Skip without the lecture.
He was there sitting in a corner table when I walked in. “Let me get a coffee, I’ll be right back.”
I ordered my large Pike coffee with room for cream, filled it with the half and half on the counter, and took a seat across from him at the small table. “So, what’s this about? The last time we spent alone together you threatened me.”
He sighed and took a sip of his coffee. “I didn’t intend to sound that way. I just wanted you off my back.”
“So, what’s changed?”
He did a quick review of the people in the small Starbucks and then whispered, “I didn’t kill Carole, but I think whoever did has been watching me, and I think we both know who the killer is.”
“Watching you?”
He nodded. “Here’s the thing, Carole and me, we knew what Floyd and Dabney were doing. That’s why she came to me. It wasn’t her planning to leave first, it was Dabney funneling business to Floyd. When Carole figured it out, she approached me, and we made a deal.”
“For her to move her business to you?”
He nodded again. “She was angry. Furious, actually, and she knew if she leaked a little information, word would get out, and the good agents would come over with her. That was the plan.”
“Did she implement the plan?”
“She’d started, and Dabney must have caught on, because the next thing we knew, even more of the homes her clients wanted to make offers on suddenly sold to Floyd.”
“Why would she come to your firm? I’ve been to both, and with all due respect, there’s a big difference between yours and theirs.”
He shrugged. “I asked her the same question. My son is always giving me grief because we don’t have a detailed online marketing plan among other things. He’s wanted to run it, but I’m more of a direct mail kind of guy. He’s been trying to get me to get on that wagon for over a year now.”
“He’s not exactly wrong.”
“I know. Carole convinced me of that. She had a solid online presence, and along with her client base, we both saw a big opportunity to merge. She wanted a fresh slate, something she could work with that wasn’t hindered by a jealous, deceiving partner, and I needed to get with the times.”
“Why not just use your son to do it? He seems like he’d know how it works given his age.”
“I hadn’t really considered it until Carole approached me. John’s a great kid, and he’s a strong seller, but he’s got a lot of growing to do. He’s not ready to be a partner, and he’s definitely not ready to make major decisions. Needs more years under his belt. I figured if I can get the company to a level even close to Craddock & Clayton, I could retire and leave him my place in the company. That was my plan.”
“And he’s okay with that?”
“I haven’t told him yet. He wasn’t thrilled with Carole coming on board, and since she was killed, we haven’t talked about what I’d planned. Haven’t had a lot of time to do that now.”
“I can understand.” I tapped my foot on the ground. Again, I had that gut feeling I was missing something, I just didn’t know what. “Why are you telling me this and not the sheriff?”
He glanced behind him again. “Like I said, I think someone’s watching me. I’m afraid if I go to the sheriff, I’ll end up in a bag at the morgue by the end of the day.”
I understood his fear, at least in a generalized way.
“Have you heard of Rachel Hudson?” he asked.
“The food blogger from Atlanta? I’d think everyone’s heard of her. She’s all over social media and TV.”
“We found out she’s planning a big move to Alpharetta. She’s planning to interview realtors next week.”
“Okay?”
“John had this wild idea to take her cooking class last month. Thought if he did that, he’d build a relationship with her and get her business.”
“Sounds like a solid plan in my opinion.”
“He’s a great cook already, and he wouldn’t make a fool of himself, so I told him to go for it. And you know who was in the class with him?”
“Floyd Bowman.”
He leaned back in his seat. “You got it.”
“They made cookies. Floyd said he’d burned his.”
“What would you expect him to say? He took that class, and then what happens? A woman ends up dead, from cookies.”
“You were at the town meeting. My fiancé said it wasn’t the cookies.”
“No, the sheriff said the cookies in her stomach weren’t the cause of her death.”
“And before that, you mentioned that Carole was poisoned, but no one else knew that. The sheriff’s office hadn’t released that information.”
“I may not have the big firm like Dabney and Floyd, but I’m not stupid, Miss Sprayberry. I did the math. Carole liked her sweets. Like I said, everyone knew that. If she’d been shot or something, your sheriff friend would have said. But he didn’t. When it first happened, no one said anything about how she was killed, so I made an assumption that she was poisoned. Carole could have eaten a cookie days before she died. It didn’t have to be the ones in her stomach when it actually happened.”
“Where’s your son?”
He blinked. “He’s…he’s got appointments this morning. Said he’d be back to the office later today. Why?”
“You stay put.” I grabbed my phone and hit Dylan’s cell short cut. “I’m serious, don’t leave here until you hear from me.” I stood and made a beeline for the door because I didn’t want Skip Rockwell asking me any other questions.
Chapter 17
“Well look who’s here, Lily Sprayberry. What’re you doing in my neck of the woods?” John Rockwell leaned against my car in the parking lot of the strip mall where the Starbucks was located.
I held my phone against my hip and shut off the volume with the silence button on the side. “Funny seeing you here, John.” I grabbed a hold of the strap on my bag to try and hide the fact that my phone was also in my hand.
He was too distracted by his ego to notice. “How about we go for a drive. I have this property to show you. It’s up off 369 and Busbee Road. You’ll love it.”
I knew that property, and I also knew it was in an isolated area with nothing much but woods surrounding it.
He held his right hand at his waist, and that’s when I saw the gun. “Come on, you drive.”
As I walked over to the car, I quickly hit the short cut to dial Dylan’s number. I prayed to God that Dylan had either answered his phone, or that his voicemail was recording our conversation. I’d long ago shared my location with Dylan through my GPS on my phone, and he’d once put a GPS tracker on my car, so I knew he’d be able to locate me. I just hoped he realized he needed to. I got into my car and quietly set the phone in the section of the door frame for odds and ends, speaker side up. I
kept my bag over my shoulder, but John removed it and threw it in the backseat.
“Pull out on Haynes Bridge and make a left. We’re going the back roads. It’s a pretty drive.”
“Your dad knows. He knows what you did.”
He laughed. “My father wouldn’t know a killer if one looked him in the eye. He’s too dumb to sell homes let alone figure out the truth.”
“I wouldn’t count on that.”
I hit the green light at Old Milton and Haynes Bridge and crossed through it. “Turn right up there.” He waved his gun to point ahead.
“You wanted to be a partner in the firm, and when you found out Carole was coming on, you killed her.”
He smiled. “You’re not as dumb as that partner of yours now, are you?”
“Belle’s not dumb. She was playing you. She laughed about it. We both did.”
He growled. “That’s bull, and you know it. I had her eating out of the palm of my hand.”
Not only was John Rockwell a murderer, he was a delusional one at that.
“A few more days and she’ll be crying on my shoulder for her dead friend.”
I gripped my steering wheel tighter. “You plan on killing your dad, too? He knows someone’s been following him, and he knows it’s the killer.”
“You don’t have to worry your pretty little head about my dad.”
He directed me onto a back road I didn’t know.
“He wanted to improve the business for you. Did you know that? That’s why he decided to partner with Carole. He said they’d build it up, and he’d retire and give you his half. He brought her on for you.”
He flinched, and I knew I’d set him back with that, but then shoved the gun into my arm. “He brought her on because she’s a moneymaker, and he’s selfish. It had nothing to do with me.”
“You’re wrong. He told me it was all for you.”
He laughed. “I could have done exactly what that woman was planning to do. He just didn’t give me a chance. When I met with her and she laid out her plan, I laughed. My ideas were better than that snobby old woman. Who handles social media better, a middle-aged woman or someone our age?”
“That’s not a reason to kill her.”
“Sounds like a good enough one to me.”
I drove ten miles under the speed limit, and John smacked my shoulder with the tip of his gun. “Faster. I got plans to stop by your office this afternoon. Your cute little partner is going to go out with me whether she likes it or not.”
Over my dead body, I thought. I just hoped I wasn’t actually right. I hit the gas and kicked up my speed to twenty over the limit, hoping that maybe an officer would be lurking on another back road and spot me.
That didn’t happen though. When we arrived at the property, he forced me to pull into the gravel drive and get out of the car. My mind raced for a way to grab my phone, but he forced me out too quickly to even try.
“Over here.” He shoved the gun into my back. “Use the lock and let us in.”
“I don’t have the code.”
“4-2-6-0.”
I unlocked the lock and entered the old home.
It had been vacant for years, and from what I knew, the old man that owned it had recently died, so his family decided to sell it without making any repairs or emptying the ratty furniture.
He directed me to the back room off the kitchen. “Stand there.”
I stood to the right of center in front of a blue and burnt orange couch. On the table was a lamp without it’s shade. I eyed it and scooted slowly over just a centimeter at a time.
“I’d be sorry about this, but I can’t bring myself to feel bad. You deserve this, Sprayberry. Sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong isn’t a trait I like to see in women.”
“How did you do it? How’d you kill her?”
He laughed, flipping his gun in a circle in his hand. “The woman was a freak for cookies. Probably had some kind of overeating issue or something, I don’t know. I just helped her with that addiction. I met her the night before, you know, to discuss her worthless marketing plan, and I brought her two batches of cookies. Told her I’d had a change of heart and was happy she was coming on board. Said one batch was for her, and the other for a showing. Dumb woman was stupid enough to take a cookie from the first plate and eat it right in front of me. When she ate the second one, I had to stop myself from laughing.” He smiled. “I knew she’d be dead before the next afternoon.”
“John, no. How could you?” Skip Rockwell appeared in the entry way to the backroom.
John kept his gun pointed at me. “Get out of here, Dad. This doesn’t concern you.”
“Son, please. Don’t do this. You have a future. The company. Starting a family. Don’t ruin it. We can work this out.”
John whipped around and aimed the gun at his dad’s head. I dove to the side of the couch and grabbed the lamp, begging God it wasn’t plugged in. I yanked and pulled it from the wall and screamed as I smashed it on top of John Rockwell’s head.
It stunned him, but he didn’t go down.
His father charged him and wrestled to get the gun, as I jumped on his back and punched his neck and head as hard as I could. The gun flew across the room, and the two of them dropped to the ground, crawling for it, with me still hanging onto John Rockwell’s neck. I climbed off and charged for the gun, kicking it into the hallway on the second try.
And directly into Dylan’s path.
He and a deputy held their guns drawn on both men.
“Freeze,” the deputy said.
“Or don’t. I’d be happy to shoot someone for messing with my fiancée and our wedding,” Dylan said.
I smiled at him. “Glad you could make it today.”
He smiled back. “Looks like the wedding’s a go, Lily Bean.”
Chapter 18
The wedding did happen, though not exactly as planned. It went better than I’d ever dreamed it could have.
There were four additional guests on our flight, and they made a big deal about being in first class. The eight of us took up the first two rows on each side, and I felt for Pam and Staci, the flight attendants.
Henrietta sat with Old Man Goodson for the first half of the nearly twelve-hour flight, and since it was an overnight trip, she spent that time snoring louder than my dog.
Bo. How I wished he could have been with us. He would have made the perfect ringbearer.
Pam and Staci laughed every time they passed by, telling us stories of other flyers and their snoring habits. I showed them pictures of my favorite snorer, and as I did, Henrietta snored so loud she woke herself up.
Poor Old Man Goodson nearly had a heart attack, too, so Billy Ray did him a favor and switched seats.
“This won’t mess up those special agents flying with us now, will it?” he asked. “I don’t want people confusing me of being that old guy if the plane crashes.”
“Sir,” Pam said, “I promise you, in the unlikely event of something like that, the airline will do their best to properly identify your remains.”
Billy Ray’s jaw dropped, and the rest of us laughed.
Bonnie leaned out of her aisle seat and did not whisper to Pam, but spoke with clarity and volume, “Good thing he’s a looker. The porch light’s on, but ain’t nobody home.”
Pam giggled.
The two flight attendants showered us with treatment above what I’d expected in first class, including free champagne and fresh chocolate covered strawberries. When I thanked them, they both told me to thank the maid of honor, that she’d gone to great lengths to make the flight special.
I wondered what else she had up her sleeve.
When she stood and walked into the attendants’ cabin area, I knew she had a plan.
Pam’s voice came over the loudspeaker. “Ladies and gentlemen. We have some special guests on this flight today, and I’d like to share their wonderful news. Lily Sprayberry and Dylan Roberts sitting in seats one A and B, are heading to the island of Ischia
to tie the knot.”
The whole entire plane cheered, and Henrietta whistled loud enough to break the sound barrier, which concerned me because we were high enough in the sky that it could have happened.
“And to celebrate, their maid of honor and best man would like to do a toast.”
Staci and two other flight attendants came out pushing carts.
“Champagne was donated by the Bramblett County Sheriff’s Office deputies, but if you prefer sparkling water, or aren’t old enough for alcohol, we’ve got that, too.”
They handed out the drinks quickly, and Belle and Matthew said a wonderful toast that I hoped they’d written down because I didn’t want to forget it.
Belle spoke first. “I’d like to take a moment to say it’s about darn time these two tied the knot. God bless this man for courting my best friend with a swift and motivated attitude, because she is a hot mess, or was a hot mess in the love department.”
We all laughed.
“But here’s the thing, there’s never been another man for Lily Sprayberry, or should I say Lily Roberts. No other man could handle her, and no other man could care for her heart the way Dylan has. I’ve been telling her that for years, and thank God he showed up back in town because otherwise she would have for sure ended up a spinster.”
“Hey,” I complained. “You don’t know that for sure.”
“Someone would a made a wife outta her,” Billy Ray said, giggling.
“Honestly though, I am so glad they are together, and I’m so glad they finally made it official. My best friend deserves a good man, a man with a big heart, and the patience to put up with her. She’s found that in Dylan. And you—” she held up her glass to my husband. “You hit the jackpot with this one, so remember that when she’s sticking her nose where it doesn’t belong, you hear me?”
Realtor Rub Out Page 12