Realtor Rub Out Read online

  Before anyone had a chance to snatch up Floyd too, I bolted to him. I wanted to ask him about his business relationship with Dabney Clayton and get as much out of him as I could.

  “How’s the merger coming along?”

  He shifted his weight to his right leg and attempted to act casual, but his widened eyes gave his nervousness away. “What makes you think I’d go into business with Dabney?”

  “I didn’t say anything about Dabney.”

  He grimaced.

  “But since you asked, it’s the same thing that makes me see why you’d have an intimate relationship with her. Money.”

  He flinched. “I’m not sure what you’re talking about.”

  “I think you are, and here’s what else I think. I think it’s been you manipulating Carole’s sales opportunities to your benefit, not the other way around, like Skip said, and I think Dabney knows that. When Carole decided, for whatever reason, to leave her own firm and work with Skip Rockwell, Dabney came to you, told you what homes Carole’s clients would be making offers on, because we both know as owners of their agency, they’d share that information, and then you’d go in and get one of your clients to make an offer first.”

  He sighed. “It’s not what you think.”

  “So, you’re saying I’m wrong?”

  “Yes. No. Yes, I mean, you’re right, Dabney was feeding me information about Carole’s offers, and yes, I did go in and take one or two of them, but not because I’m going into business with Dabney.”

  “Then what is it?”

  He hesitated, dragging his hand down his cheeks and chin and then rubbing his neck. “Carole screwed me over one too many times, so when Dabney gave me the opportunity to stick it to her, I took it. It’s as simple as that.”

  “Why exactly would Dabney give you that opportunity? What was in it for her?”

  “You heard the rumors. She thought Carole was going to work with Skip.”

  “Thought and knew are two different things. She could have just asked her.”

  “She knew something was going on, we just weren’t sure what.”

  “We?”

  He smiled. “Me and Dabney. We’re in love.”

  “Anyone will tell you love is a motive for murder.” I stared at the ground for a moment and then back up at Floyd Bowman. “And you’d know Carole loved cookies because Dabney could have told you.”

  “The sheriff said the cookies didn’t kill her.” He laughed. “And even if they did, you think that’d be my weapon of choice? You’re crazy. I’m a horrible cook, and my baking skills are even worse. You can ask Dabney. I even took a class to try and improve, but I burned the cookies. That’s how bad I cook.” He sighed again. “Listen, I didn’t like Carole. I admit that, and yeah, I was taking sales out from under her, but I didn’t kill her.”

  Chapter 13

  I snuggled with Bo on my couch while Dylan stretched his legs out and rested them on my coffee table. I wanted to ask him about the cookies right away, and normally, I would, but I also wanted to ask him if he’d made an arrest. He wasn’t exactly forthcoming with information as he yawned and closed his eyes. “Did you make an arrest?”

  He smiled at me and then leaned his head back again. “Nope. Everything we’ve got is circumstantial.” He shifted his head and sighed my direction. “Would you believe the three of them accused each other?”

  “But what about what Bonnie and Henrietta heard?”

  “There’s an agent Belle’s suitor wants fired. He’s putting pressure on his dad to do it.”

  “Oh.”

  He laughed. “I appreciate their effort, but those two don’t know how to solve a murder. Investigator kits and all.”

  “Don’t forget the plastic baseball bats.”

  “How could I?”

  “Is the commissioner right? Are you going to make an arrest soon?”

  “Not with what we’ve got so far.”

  I nestled in close. “I had a talk with one of the agents from Carole’s firm, and she said Carole loved cookies. She also said if someone wanted on her good side, all they had to do was bring in cookies. There was a coffee and snack station in the office with a bunch of cookies, and when I first talked to Dabney Clayton, she was eating one.”

  “Yes, we’ve seen the cookies.”

  “You said the cookies weren’t what killed Carole. Is that true?”

  “I said the cookies found in her stomach weren’t the cause of her death.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “There was traces of the poison in her stomach as well as remains of what the lab tested as chocolate chip cookies and sulfate dioxide in her intestines and colon.”

  “But you said—”

  “There are some parts of the investigation we don’t make public and that’s one of them. If the killer thinks we’re clueless, he’ll get lazy. Lazy killers are easy to catch.”

  “Or her.”

  “Or her.”

  “So, what you’re saying is the cookies at the Studebaker’s home aren’t the ones that killed her?”

  He nodded once.

  “But she’d eaten a cookie or cookies possibly, that had poisoning in it?”

  He nodded again.

  “Which could have come from anywhere.”

  “Unfortunately, yes, but we have a few leads.”

  “Care to share them?”

  “I do not.”

  I groaned. “Fine. I’m sure I’ll figure it out eventually.”

  “I don’t doubt that one bit.” His upper lip twitched. “I’m looking forward to it, actually.”

  “What happened with Skip and John Rockwell? The way Bonnie said it, their conversation sounded ominous.”

  “To her, I’m sure it did, but they verified, separately, they were discussing a woman in their firm. One they wanted to fire, not murder.”

  “Poor Bonnie. Bless her heart. She tried.”

  “She sure did.”

  I reiterated what Kizzie Warbly told us earlier.

  “Can she prove Dabney gave any files to Floyd?”

  “I’m not sure. Would you like me to find out?”

  He shook his head. “How about you let the sheriff handle that?”

  “I might could do that. I’ve heard he’s not too bad at doing his job.”

  Dylan laughed. “If you’d give him a chance to do it, he might actually solve a case or two.”

  It was my turn to laugh. “If you’d do it faster, there wouldn’t be an issue.”

  “Ouch.”

  “Kizzie was pretty adamant that Dabney didn’t want Skip and Carole taking her business. She thinks that’s why she gave it to Floyd. He’d have to split it with her though, or else, what’s the point?”

  “If they were planning to merge firms, it would all make sense. Get the business before Carole can.”

  “And when that started to fall apart, they killed Carole. That way, the business would stay with Dabney, and she could just transfer it to the other firm.” It made sense, but I knew something was off. I just wasn’t quite sure what. “But wait. That doesn’t make sense.”

  “Why not?”

  “First of all, Floyd told me they weren’t merging firms. He said they were in love.”

  “He told us that, too, but that doesn’t mean it’s the truth.”

  “But with Carole dead, what purpose does Floyd serve Dabney if they aren’t really in love? Why would Dabney need to merge the firms then? Why wouldn’t she just continue on her own without a partner at all? And why would she continue the ruse with Floyd if she doesn’t love him?”

  Dylan considered my question, but before he had a chance to speak, I blurted out, “Maybe because Dabney can’t effectively manage the business. Maybe that’s what Carole did, and with her dead, Dabney needs Floyd?”

  “We’re already working that angle.”

  “I think that’s the route to take. I feel like Dabney’s not being genuine, and maybe poor Floyd is being screwed over. And besides, he said
he can’t cook. He even said he took a cooking class and burned the cookies.”

  He laughed. “I can’t relate to burned cookies. Never happens to me.”

  “And you’ve actually baked cookies how many times exactly?”

  His lip curled. “Two.”

  “Huh. I’ve had them both times then?”

  He nodded. “Because I baked them for you.”

  I smiled. “That’s sweet, but how ‘bout you stick to the grill from now on?”

  “After the wedding, I’m going to bake you up the biggest, best batch of chocolate chip cookies you’ve ever had, just to prove my point.”

  My mood changed. “Dylan, I’m worried. We don’t have much time. The wedding is close. What happens if you don’t make an arrest before we have to leave? You and Matthew both can’t run off to Italy in the middle of an investigation, and with the way the county commissioners have been acting, I don’t think they’d let you if you tried.”

  He held my hand. “Honey, we’re going to Italy, and this case is going to be solved before then, I promise.”

  I nuzzled into him. “You can’t promise that.”

  “I can promise to do everything possible to make that happen. How’s that?”

  “Better than nothing, I suppose.”

  He sighed. “We’ll solve Carole Craddock’s murder, Lily Bean. And we’ll do it before we have to leave for Italy.”

  Chapter 14

  Our highly trained and physically fit security guards were ready and waiting for us when Belle and I arrived for a quick breakfast at Millie’s Café, their plastic bats and golf clubs in hand.

  Thankfully they’d chosen to dress in clothing more weather appropriate. “I love your dress,” I told Bonnie. “The yellow is stunning.”

  “Oh, thank you. I got me this at the Goodwill day before the boys got them clubs. It’s a little big, but I’ll stitch it up when we’re done solving this murder.”

  “Well, I think it’s perfect.”

  Bonnie and Henrietta had adorable taste in clothing. Their potato sack style dresses, something like a house dress I assumed, always included bright colors and large prints, and jelly shoes that perfectly matched the dresses dominant color.

  “What’s for breakfast,” Belle asked.

  “Biscuits with a side of white gravy and grits,” Billy Ray said. He stuffed a big bite into his mouth and moaned. “Best gravy in the South if you ask me.”

  “Not going to argue that,” Belle said. She stuck her finger in the gravy, scooped up a bit onto it, and licked it clean. “Yum.” She hollered over to Millie for her own serving.

  We tried to convince the crew we didn’t need security, but they wouldn’t hear it. They insisted on doing their part so the wedding could would happen.

  “We don’t want our Lilybit to be a spinster any longer.”

  “Hey, what about me?” Belle asked.

  Bonnie shrugged. “Pigs’ll fly before you finally settle down.”

  “Bless your heart. Maybe one day that Matthew will decide you’re a keeper,” Henrietta said.

  I drummed my fingers on the table and looked away so I wouldn’t laugh.

  The mood shifted when Dabney Clayton walked into Millie’s, her head held high, and an air of snobbiness coming off of her in waves.

  “Well, well, I knew I’d find you here. You small-town realtors don’t work all that hard now, do you?”

  Belle rolled her eyes. “We just work smarter than you uppity city folk, that’s all.

  Dabney glanced at her watch. “It’s almost nine o’clock. Shouldn’t your office be open by now? I’ve been knocking on that door for a good ten minutes.”

  “What do you need, Ms. Clayton?” I asked.

  “I need you to mind your own business, that’s what I need.” She stood over me. “I know you’re telling that sheriff of yours lies, and I’m telling you to stop before I get my attorney involved.”

  “Might could do you some good to get that attorney involved right quick anyway,” Old Man Goodson said. “Looks like you’re going to be headed to the slammer soon.”

  My eyes darted to my older friend and I hoped he knew I wanted him to hush.

  “I didn’t kill Carole. She wasn’t worth my time, so why would I risk my freedom with such a waste of a person?”

  “Because she was leaving your firm to work with someone else,” I said.

  “I was done with her anyway.”

  “Then how about because she planned to take clients with her? Clients you wanted to keep at your firm.”

  “You don’t know what you’re talking about, but if you keep saying things and keep bothering my agents, I’m going to have you arrested for harassment.”

  Bonnie had had enough. She pushed herself up from her chair and stood up to Dabney. The top of her head reached just below Dabney’s chin, so she backed away a bit and glared up at the woman. “You got no right coming in here and threatening our Lilybit, you hear me? This is our town, and we don’t behave like that here. You want to act like you don’t stink to high heaven, that your soul ain’t blacker than the night, that’s fine. Just do that in your own neck of the woods. We don’t want your kind here.”

  Dabney’s jaw dropped, but she quickly recovered, swapping the shocked expression for a snotty smile. “Well, aren’t you just adorable, acting all big, and tall, and strong, and brave.” She tapped Bonnie on the head with her finger. “When I could tip you over with one finger.”

  Millie stood next to Dabney and tapped on her shoulder. Millie wasn’t tall, but she was broad, and I suspected she could still hold her own in an old-time saloon if need be. “It’s time you get on out of my café before I throw you out on that skinny little butt of yours, you hear? I don’t need to call the sheriff. I’ll take care of you myself.”

  Dabney flinched and then pointed at me. “Stay out of my way, Miss Sprayberry.”

  As she turned around and began to walk away, Henrietta stuck out her plastic bat, and since Dabney’s nose so far up in the air, she didn’t see it and went sailing onto the ground, nose first. She yelped as her face hit her arm, which thankfully for her, she’d flung out to stop the fall.

  We all just sat there, staring as she rushed to get up, wiped off her outfit, and scooted out with her tail between her legs. When the café door closed behind her, Bonnie, Henrietta, Millie and the men hooted and hollered, as did the rest of the people in the café. Belle and I stared at each other, both of us forcing straight, serious faces, but not for long.

  We couldn’t contain our laughter either.

  “Goodness Henrietta, remind me not to mess with you,” Belle said.

  “Darn straight,” Bonnie said.

  “That’s what happens when someone threatens the people we love,” Henrietta said.

  * * *

  “I really hope we’re like those two when we’re their age,” Belle said. She’d just finished the last of the filing she’d promised she’d finish before the wedding. She dropped into her office chair. “I’m glad you talked them out of hanging out in here. I love them, but there’s a lot to do before we leave, and they can be a bit distracting.”

  “That snoring, for sure.”

  “Oh my gosh, can you believe it? They’re louder than Bo.”

  “They’d scare Bo awake with that noise. And I wouldn’t say I talked them out of it. I’d call it insisted.”

  “Strongly insisted.”

  “With a bribe.”

  “Hey, if offering to pay for them to all have a fancy dinner in Alpharetta is a bribe, it’s worth it. Besides, just seeing them get all gussied up and go out on the town will be worth it.”

  “We won’t actually see it, Belle. We’ll be in Italy, but either way, I’m glad they’re not as interested in worrying about me as they are interested in a chunk of red meat and a baked potato.”

  She laughed. “I can’t wait for Italy. If Matthew and I get married, we’re having a destination wedding, too. I’m thinking Santorini. Those white buildings w
ith the blue on them? I’ve seen so many photos of brides there, it’s just gorgeous.”

  I spun my chair toward hers. “Do you think you two will get married?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t think I’d say no if he asked.”

  “Oh my gosh, that’s huge Belle, huge!”

  She waved her hand at me. “The man’s got to ask first.”

  “He’ll ask. How could he not? You’re amazing.”

  “Ah, well, yes, that is true.”

  I threw a pencil at her. “And modest.”

  “Of course.”

  My cell phone rang, and when I checked it and saw it was my momma, I dreaded answering it, something I never felt when she called. I didn’t want her to think the wedding might not happen, but Bramblett being Bramblett, I suspected someone had filled her in on what was going on, and she was worried. Momma always worried.

  “Hey Momma. I was just thinking about you.”

  “Sweetie, what’s going on? I hear you found another dead body? You have got to stop putting yourself in harm’s way like that. What’ll we do if something happens to you? Your daddy and I are getting all set for the wedding, but I heard you may have to cancel now because of that dead person?”

  “Momma, first of all, I didn’t find the body, Belle did, and no, as of now, the wedding is not being canceled. Actually, it wouldn’t be canceled at all. Maybe postponed, but Dylan promised me that won’t happen, and I’m not all that worried.”

  “Now don’t you lie to me. They can’t solve a murder when they don’t even have a suspect. What’s your fiancé doing not having a suspect?”

  Sometimes the gossip reached farther than necessary, and when it did, it wasn’t at all like the truth. “He’s doing his job, Momma.” The woman was sweeter than Millie’s tea, but when someone pressed her panic button, there was no stopping the worry. I gave it my best shot though. “My dress is being sent over there as we speak, and Belle and I were just sitting here talking about what we have left to do before we leave. It’s all fine, I promise.” I hoped that was true.