Open House Heist

by Carolyn Ridder Aspenson

  I sighed. “Oh gosh. I’ve become one of them, haven’t I? The next thing you know, I’ll be wearing sundresses and flowery pins in my hair.”

  “Well, you are a Woman of Society member, so…”

  We both laughed. The Women of Society was a group of what I’d once considered snooty, wealthy Southern women with too much time on their hands. I’d joined the group under duress and only as a means to discover information. I’d learned though that the women weren’t all that snooty and that they actually cared about the community. Belle was a member also, but while I’d continued to participate, she never even got started.

  The rest of the cabin checked out fine. Belle changed the passcode for the door and texted the cleaning company with the all clear to clean the place. We headed home, and in an effort to not be all murder and mayhem all the time, I shared my wedding planning thoughts. I had a feeling the murder was really a way for me to avoid my dread over my wedding.

  “I’ve been thinking about Caroline and William’s barn.”

  She glanced at me and then back at the road. “What about it?”

  “It’s a working barn. Even they said it would take a lot of work to clean it up and get it ready for a wedding. Maybe I should look into one of those rental barn places after all.”

  “Are you serious?”

  “I hate to ask all of my friends to spend all that time for an event that’ll be over in a few hours.”

  “Well, it’s a little late for that, and besides, you didn’t ask us. We volunteered, remember?”

  They had, but that didn’t mean I was okay with it. “I know but still. I’m not comfortable with it.”

  She turned off the back road we took to the cabin and onto Bramblett’s road into town. “It’s a little late to change, don’t you think?”

  “I called a few places in Roswell, and they’ve got some Friday afternoons available. We could change the date and get one of those.”

  “You’re kidding, right?”

  “I think it might work out better that way.”

  She sighed. “You sure that’s what you want?”

  I wasn’t, but I definitely didn’t want my friends to go to all that trouble for me. I didn’t know what I wanted to be honest, and until I figured that out, I didn’t want to guess, so I fibbed instead. “Yes, I’m sure.”

  She shook her head and sighed. “It’s your wedding, but I think it’s a bad decision. Do you want me to tell everyone?”

  “No, I can do that. It’s my responsibility.”

  “You’re in the middle of trying to plan a wedding, which you’ve now totally changed, and figure out who killed Jennifer Rawlings. You don’t have the time to talk to everyone about it. Let me do it for you. I’m your maid of honor, and I need something to do for this darn wedding.”

  She was right, at least about needing something to do anyway. “It’s okay. I need to sit on it for a bit I think anyway.”

  “Have you told Dylan?”

  “Not yet, but I will tonight. He’s on his way to my place with Bo now.”

  “You’re only marrying him because he’s a good dog daddy.”

  “Don’t tell anyone, okay?”

  We both laughed.

  “Speaking of happy endings, I saw Millie today.”

  I’d forgotten we needed a plan to get her to Buford’s assisted living. I just had too much in my head. That wasn’t like me, and I hated it. I was just all out of sorts. “Oh, gosh. We need to figure out how to get her to Buford’s place.”

  “No, we don’t.”

  I raised my brow. “And why is that?”

  “Because I already told her we were taking her there.”

  “You what? What did she say?”

  “A lady doesn’t repeat some of the words she used at first, but once I told her how much Buford looked forward to seeing her again, she changed her tune.”

  “Can’t believe you put your life on the line like that.”

  “I got your back, Lily. I told her we’d gone there to discuss Jennifer Rawlings, and when we mentioned her, Buford’s eyes lit up.”

  “Only we didn’t talk about Jennifer at all.”

  “No, we didn’t, but you still can. Trust me, once those two get their eyes on each other, that’s not going to matter.” She paused and licked her lips. “There’s just one thing.”

  And there it was, the bomb dropping. “I’m afraid to ask.”

  “Millie wants a makeover. She said she’s rode hard and put away wet, and, to quote her, ain’t no man in his right mind would want me looking like this.”

  I smiled. “She looks beautiful, but I get it. We can do that.”

  Belle smiled, too. “I know, and it’s going to be awesome.”

  We made a plan for the next day, and I promised to call Sarah and make sure Buford would be ready when we arrived.

  She dropped me off at the office, and while she headed to show a client some properties, I caught up on work. I needed to give my head a break from the case still, even with that diary looming and taunting me from my bag, and getting my clients organized and cleaning up my to-do list was the perfect way to do that.

  I hit realtor mode fast and hard, and the rest of the day flew by, and without a thought given to the diary. I’d actually completely forgotten about it. It was late, and I glanced at the clock on the office wall and wondered why I hadn’t heard from Dylan.

  I checked my phone and realized I had the volume off, so I’d missed his two texts.

  “Headed to your office,” he texted first. Ten minutes later he wrote, “Standing outside your office. Your head’s buried in your computer. Heading to your place.”

  I gathered my things and headed home, not even bothering to text back.

  Bo and Dylan were playing catch in my front yard. When Bo got his eyes on me, his tail went into full blown wag mode, nearly whipping him into circles from the sheer force of it. Dylan’s greeting suffered by comparison.

  “Sorry I can’t show that kind of physical excitement when I see you, but trust me, I’m happy you’re home.” The corner of his mouth twitched.

  I kissed his cheek. “I’ll take what I can get, I guess. Any news on what happened at Clara’s?”

  He shook his head. “You’re probably right. It’s got something to do with the Rawlings girl, but Clara doesn’t think anything was taken, and there’s not a whole lot we can do at this point. There wasn’t an actual break in. We dusted for prints, but she said the person had gloves on, so as expected, we didn’t find anything. Did you get a look at the diary?”

  “I wanted to, but Belle insisted I needed to step away from the case and focus on other stuff. She even tricked me into thinking the rental cabin was trashed.”

  “Ouch. That’s a low blow.”

  “I know, right? And what really stinks is I totally fell for it.”

  “I was going to knock on your window at the office, but you were heads down into something, so I figured it was important. I thought maybe it was the diary. I’d like to have a look at that.”

  “I know, but Dylan, I really, really think this is meant for me to solve. I know you don’t agree, and I can’t force you to do anything I ask, but please, can you just give me a few more days? I’ll read the diary, and if there’s anything in it, I’ll let you have it. I’ll even let you have it when I’m finished, if you really want it.”

  “Clara doesn’t want us to do anything about the break in. She says it’s her place, and her decision.”

  “Then can you legally do anything?”

  He nodded. “Sure, if I think I have cause, I can have someone look into Jennifer Rawlings’ murder again.”

  “But you already have someone looking into it. You have me.”

  He sighed. “That’s not the same, and I’m not all that comfortable with that.”

  “I know, and I love that about you, how you want to protect me, but please. Just give me some more time, okay? If it gets out of hand or something, I’ll come to you, and you can take
it over, okay?”

  “You promise?”

  “Cross my heart.”

  “That’s already mine anyway, isn’t it?”

  I smiled. “Forever and always.”

  It took some coaxing, but he went with my plan, even if under duress.

  “I’m worried about Clara though. She’s all alone, and what’s to say that won’t happen again?”

  “Me, too. We suggested she stay with family until we learn more, but she refused. I think she’s going to have a cousin or someone come stay with her for a while.”

  “Well, that’s something, I suppose.”

  We walked inside, Bo carrying his partially chewed tennis ball dripping with drool with him.

  When I opened the door, I said, “Bo, leave it.” The ball fell from his jaws. It was so slobber ridden, it splashed when it hit the ground.

  “You eat yet?” Dylan asked.

  I shook my head. “I think I just lost my appetite. What about you?”

  He nodded. “Bo and I had ham and cheese sandwiches from the gas station.”

  I winced. “Great. he’s going to be a blast in a bit. Literally.”

  Dylan laughed because he knew what I meant. “I’m already suffering for that decision. I’m pretty sure his gas killed trees on the walk home from the gas station.”

  I waved my hand as I filled Bo’s water bowl. “You don’t have to go into any more detail. I get it.”

  He took off his shoes and placed them next to the door.

  “I still have to talk to Eric Rooting. I’m a little concerned though that his wife already told him I was there asking questions.”

  Maybe he knew about the diary and was the one that trashed Clara’s place looking for it?

  “Of course she did. She probably called him the minute you left.”

  “He was playing golf.”

  “Then she probably left a message.” He smiled. “You need to talk to him without his wife there, and you need to show up unannounced, catch him off guard like you did his wife. Especially now that you know someone is probably looking for that diary.”

  “I don’t think that woman’s once let her guard down. How would I do that now anyway? He already knows I’m asking questions.”

  “You know where he works?”

  “Alpharetta.” I poured myself a glass of sweet tea. “Owns an investment company, I think.” I offered him a glass of tea, too.

  “I’m good.” He opened the ‘fridge and grabbed one of his beers. “Then go there Monday morning. He’ll probably be there and away from the possible influence of his wife.” He cracked open the bottle and took a long, slow drink.

  We sat in the family room, and I laid out all I knew, my notes, my sticky notes, the case file, and my potential suspect and motive list. I explained that I’d not asked Buford anything, and didn’t feel I could until after he and Millie saw each other again. “The thing is, I don’t think he did it, and the whole event from today just makes that thought stronger.”

  “It would be hard for him to do that at Clara’s, but it’s possible he hired someone else to.”

  “That’s what Belle said.”

  “Okay, that aside, what makes you think he’s innocent?”

  “Just a feeling. He just doesn’t seem like the kind of guy that could kill someone.” I stopped him before he spoke. “And I know, thirty-five years can change a person.”

  I’ve seen old men you’d think were friendly grandpa’s charged with murders from years ago. Don’t count him out because of what you see now. Consider who he was then.”

  “Millie insists he didn’t do it.”

  “But he doesn’t have a solid alibi, Lily, and obviously, the woman had feelings for the man.”

  “I know, but something tells me she’s right.”

  “And you still don’t think Old Man Goodson did it either?”

  I moved closer to him on the couch. “Do you think that sweet man could kill someone?”

  “It’s not about what I think, it’s what the evidence says. You’ve got two men with no real accounting for their whereabouts the night Jennifer Rawlings was killed. That’s telling. Your other possible suspect, Amy what’s her name?”

  “Flanders then, Stapleton now.”

  “She was at the drag race, which was corroborated by several people, making her alibi solid, for the most part at least, right?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “When they questioned people about the boyfriend, Pittman confirmed her alibi. There wasn’t a need to dig deeper for her.”

  “Before you thought it was strange that Pittman talked to all of the suspects except Amy, three times, and now you’re saying her alibi clears her. I’m not sure I understand.”

  Dylan shook his head. “I never said her alibi wouldn’t suffice. I said I’d find out why Pittman only talked to her once, and she told you.”

  “And I’m supposed to believe her? What if she’s lying?”

  “Did you get a feeling she was?”

  I sunk into the back of the couch. “I’m not sure, but I don’t think so, and based on what she said, I don’t see what kind of motive she could have had anyway. If anything, her conversation with Jennifer Rawlings would upset Eric, not Amy.” I flipped through the file. “What’s interesting is Pittman never noted Amy saying she talked to Jenny. Wouldn’t it be in the file?”

  He took the notes from me and examined them. “It should be, especially considering the call helps with the timeline of the victims last day.” He searched through the whole file, found nothing, and handed it back to me. “Sometimes things are accidentally left out. It happens.”

  I located the page with the timeline of events. Everything I’d learned so far was on it, except that call. “I guess, but I feel like it would be an important factor for him, something he’d remember.”

  “Does it change anything if you add it into the mix?” he asked.

  I stared at him. “It gives Amy a bit more motive?” I wasn’t sure if he was trying to get me to think harder or just asking a question.

  “Then add it, but keep thinking about it. After you talk to the boyfriend and Jennings, you might see no need for the call. Where’s the diary? Let’s have a look at that.

  I set the papers down and sighed heavily. “I have to talk to you about something.”

  “Okay?”

  “It’s about the wedding. There’s something I need to tell you.”

  His body stiffened. “You’re not changing your mind, are you?”

  “Dylan Roberts, I have loved you since the day I met you. I would not change my mind. I can’t believe you’d think that of me.”

  He kissed my forehead and smiled. “Lilybean, when a woman says what you just did, he’s got a right to be worried, regardless of history.”

  I smiled. “I guess you’re right, but that’s not what’s going on.” I leaned my head onto his shoulder.

  “Okay then, what is it you need to tell me?”

  “It’s the barn. I don’t think we should have the wedding at Caroline and William’s place.”

  He furrowed his brow. “What? Why not?”

  “It’s going to require so much prep work, and I just don’t think it’s fair to ask that of our friends. It’s too much. I called two of the old plantation homes in Roswell. You know, the ones that provide those wedding packages, and they both have Fridays available. If we take one of those, we get a fifteen percent discount off the package price.”

  He stared at me. “Lily, I don’t want the first day of the rest of our lives together to be a package deal. I want it unique and special to us, and exactly what we want.”

  “It will be unique. They give you options and you choose from them. It’s not a one-size-fits-all wedding. Besides, we can add things to make it our own.”

  “I don’t think anyone will mind helping us clean up the barn. Everyone’s already said they’d do it.”

  “But it’s so much to ask of them. I don’t think it’s right.”
r />   He sighed. “Is this what you really want, a comes in the box wedding?”

  “Again, that’s not what it is, but yes, it’s what I want.” It wasn’t really, but it was the best I could do without money falling off a tree to cover the high cost of a for rent barn. I hoped that might help ease my angst about the whole thing.

  “Okay then, a Friday night wedding in Roswell it is, but you know I’d elope if that’s what you wanted. I just want to be able to call you my wife.”

  I hugged him. “You’re the best.”

  Chapter 7

  My bedroom window blinds allowed the smooth purple and orange glow of the sunrise to filter in between their slats, but I didn’t mind. I loved waking to the soft, warm glow, and I always made a point to stand outside sipping a cup of coffee and watching the colors of light change as Bo did his business. Bramblett was quiet then, and I often wondered how many people woke up early enough to see the deep, colorful ball of fire rise up over the horizon.

  Bo caught a whiff of something he wanted and followed the scent toward the road. “Bo, stay close please,” I said, barely above a whisper. The scent led him to the mailbox, and he sniffed it like it was best smelling thing on earth. I was all for a sniffing adventure, but the cool breeze went right through my terry-cloth robe and under my pajamas, and tiny goosebumps popped down my arms and up my legs. “Okay, buddy, let’s go. You can sniff to your little heart’s desire in a bit with your new girlfriend, but Momma’s got to get a move on.”

  He followed me back inside, never once lifting his nose from the ground.

  An hour later I had him sit outside of Millie’s Café as I ordered a vanilla latte inside. While Bo waited, he greeted Millie’s other customers. He was a very popular—and free—first face for the café.

  “I’ve been thinking,” Millie said. Her usual smiley and chipper attitude replaced with a down-turned mouth and wary eyes. “I’m not sure I can do this seeing Buford again.” She came around to my side of the counter and made me examine her. “Look at me. There ain’t no fixing this mess.”

  Her new employee handed me my drink. “Come outside with me, please.”