Realtor Rub Out Read online

  “That’s not the right question.”

  Her eyes widened. “What’s goin’ on? That boy do something I need to get on him about?”

  I laughed. “No, of course not. He’s almost perfect, like always. It’s not him.” I took a bite of my biscuit. “There’s been a murder, you know that.”

  She blushed. “Oh bless my ever lovin’ heart, I forgot.”

  “Did you see that boyfriend of yours last night or something? Every time you see him, you’re rattled for days.” I smirked. “It’s cute, young love.”

  Months ago when we’d found out an old friend of Millie’s was living in an assisted living place in another county, Belle and I made arrangements for the two to see each other again. They’d had a thing years ago, and those sparks were still there. It made her happy, him happy, and all of us over the moon with excitement for her. Millie in love was like heaven on earth. She cooked better than we ever thought possible.

  “He ain’t no boy, that’s for darn sure.” She giggled. Millie, the toughest woman I knew, the one the entire town respected if for no other reason than they feared her–and she made the only good coffee in Bramblett County–giggled.

  It was a rare sight, but one to definitely be seen.

  “I spent the evening with him at the assisted living place. You know they don’t know how to make gravy there?” She crunched her cheeks up and in toward her nose. “Worst stuff I ever tasted. I had to go back to the kitchen and have me a little chat with the cook. Kid’s no more than twenty-five years old. Ain’t no way that boy can cook a good pot of gravy. There wasn’t even no tub of lard in sight.”

  Millie had owned the café for as long as I could remember, and it was the favorite pick for breakfast and lunch in Bramblett County. The food was typical Southern comfort food, made fresh, and served with an attitude. No one messed with Millie. She wasn’t a crotchety old woman by any means, but everyone knew she had a switch the size of a small tree in her kitchen, and she’d whipped those into shape who disrespected the people she loved, or her food. Probably more her food than people, but because of the switch and all, no one said that out loud.

  I laughed. “I’m pretty sure lard is a no-no at an assisted living facility, Millie. They try to be healthy in their food choices.”

  “They might could give them people something with some flavor.” She shook her head and took a bite of my biscuit. “Why, I wound up making something for us, and half the residents wanted it, too. Ended up cooking dinner for twenty-seven people last night.” She wiped her brow with a napkin. “I’m still give slap out from all the running around that big kitchen.”

  I could see Millie doing that, and I worried she’d over exerted herself. “You need to relax at night, Millie. You’re going to drive yourself to an early grave doing that kind of thing.”

  She shrugged. “Don’t think I’ll be doing it for too long. Looks like I might have a roommate come next week anyhow.”

  My eyes popped open, and I almost jumped out of my seat. “A roommate?” I grabbed her hand and squeezed it. “That’s the best thing I’ve heard in weeks.”

  She hesitated but then she smiled, and I could tell by the light in her eyes she was excited. “Buford’s a good man, and he don’t need to be in that place. We’ve been friends for years, and I got me an extra room that’s sitting all but empty, so I figured why not?”

  I giggled. It was sweet that Buford would move into Millie’s spare room, or that’s what they wanted the town to think. It wasn’t my business, and I didn’t much care what they did behind closed doors, just that they were happy. Millie deserved it more than anyone I knew. “I’m so happy for you. Does he need help moving? What about your place? Do you need anything done before his stuff gets there?”

  “Sweetie, I appreciate you offering, but you got a wedding to prepare for, and I don’t need you focusing on me. We got help, and we’ll be fine.”

  Bonnie and Henrietta walked in just then, waving their hands and smiling like they’d been up to no good. Which was probably the case with those two.

  “Hey, y’all.” Bonnie pulled up a seat and sat next to me.

  “You talking about our little floozy here getting ready to shack up with a man she ain’t married to?”

  “He’s renting a room from me you, and who you calling a floozy? You look in the mirror lately?”

  “Why yes, I have, and I’m mighty easy on the eyes, if I do say so myself.”

  I chuckled.

  They fought, but it wasn’t a real fight. Each of them just liked to poke the bear every chance they got.

  Henrietta had taken a seat next to Millie. “You got them boys scheduled yet?” She nudged her on the arm. “I could use me a little variety. Old Man Goodson and Billy Ray Brownlee are a little slow on their feet these days.”

  Probably because they’re old men trying to keep up with an old woman that had the energy of a middle-aged one. “Henrietta, that’s not nice. Those men would do anything for you and Bonnie.” And they had. They’d switched girlfriends between the two women when asked for months, though I had a feeling that wasn’t too hard on them. It was the other things that wore them out, things like running them around town, picking them up and sitting them on their laps, and the like. The men were too old to be acting like teenagers, but they loved every minute of it.

  “Oh sugar, they have,” she said, winking at me. “But a little variety is good for the eyes. I’m not asking for much.”

  Millie shook her head. “I got them scheduled, but I ain’t telling you for when. I know you, and you’ll have those boys running scared five minutes after they see you.”

  “What’re you talking about?” I asked.

  “College Hunks Hauling Junk,” Bonnie said.

  “Oh, the movers?” The company was a franchise with several locations around North Georgia. My clients used them for moves all the time.

  Millie nodded. “I got me a discount because of my age, and they’re coming to get some stuff out of my house to make room for some of Buford’s stuff. I want him to feel at home.”

  “I bet you do,” Henrietta said.

  “Henrietta, hush,” I said.

  She smiled.

  “I think that’s a great idea, Millie, and they’re a great company. I’ve had several clients use them. I think you’ll be pleased.”

  She agreed, and when two more customers came in, she scooted behind the counter to take their orders.

  “How’s our Belle doing?” Bonnie asked.

  “We brought her over some chicken soup last night and tried to cheer her up,” Henrietta said. “She didn’t look that good.”

  “It’s hard going through what she did.”

  “Well, you ought to know. You’re the expert on dead bodies,” Henrietta said.

  “Gee, thanks.”

  “Belle said they think the cookie was poisoned. That’s a horrible way to die. Everyone loves a good cookie.”

  She was right about that.

  “She should have smelled it first. Cookies got their own smell, and if it ain’t right, I won’t eat it,” Bonnie said.

  Henrietta raised her eyebrow. “You are the craziest person I know, smelling cookies.”

  Bonnie ignored her. “So, what’s the plan? When we going to get to solving this case?” She pulled a package out of her large orange bag. “I got me and Henrietta here an investigator kit, and we’re ready to start right now.” She set the box on the table.

  “What’s an investigator kit?” Part of me thought it would be something helpful, but since Bonnie had purchased it, I didn’t think it would be all that beneficial. It was probably an internet buy for kids, but I withheld judgement.

  She opened the box with a Swiss Army knife she’d removed from her purse, too. I flinched when I saw that. The last thing Bonnie needed to carry around with her was a knife. Well, the second to last thing. The first was a gun.

  She peeked inside and giggled with a whole lot of giddiness, and I knew it wouldn’t help. �
��Oh, God bless the internet. This is perfect.”

  “Well, come on you old coot, show us what you got,” Henrietta said.

  She pulled out two small, plastic walkie-talkies and handed one to Henrietta. “This here’s a gadget thingie we talk to each other through. You know, like them spies in the movies.” She removed a thin, nearly flat silver item and held it up for all of us to gawk at and ooh about. “And this,” she flipped it around in her hand. “This is a—I don’t know what it is, but I bet it’s important to catching killers.”

  Henrietta yanked it out of her hand, opened it up, and then showed it to each of us. “It’s an ink pad. And an ink pad ain’t gonna do us no good helping Lilybit and Belle figure out who made that batch of killer cookies.”

  Bonnie grimaced. “It sure will. All we gotta do is get a hold of one of them cookies, dust it with some flour from Millie’s kitchen, get the finger prints off it, and then go and get the finger prints from the suspects. Like taking milk from a cow.”

  “Like you’ve ever even tried milking a cow.”

  “I don’t think we can do that,” I said. “I think it’s probably some infringement of the suspects’ rights or something, and I doubt Dylan would appreciate it. Besides, I’m pretty sure the ink would soak into the cookie, but what else is in the box?”

  Bonnie grunted. “Y’all don’t know how to investigate. My grandson Nicholas showed me how to watch movies on the Netflix TV thing, and I’ve been watching me a bunch of those British detective shows, and I’m learning all kinds of stuff.”

  Belle had walked in and heard Bonnie’s mention of watching detective shows. “Oh heavens, you’re like an older Lily.” She gave Bonnie a hug from behind. “I’m not sure that’s a good thing.” She glanced inside the box. “Oh, what’s that?” She pulled out a magnifying lens. “What’s this for?”

  Bonnie snatched it from her. “It’s for investigating. We’re gonna help Lily and you here solve that cookie murder, and the stuff in this kit here is going to help us do that.” She returned the items to the box.

  Millie stepped over, handed Belle a cup of hot coffee and then nodded her head toward the door while staring at me. “Your fiancé is headed this way, or at least someone from the Sheriff’s Office is. Two coffee tumblers are waiting over on the counter for them. Must have been a long night.”

  “It was. He even told me he’d need a few pots of coffee. He must not have been kidding.”

  “I spoke to Matthew, and they really don’t have much to go on at the moment. They should get the cookie results back today though.”

  We all knew Carole Craddock was poisoned. We just didn’t know if the cookie was the actual culprit.

  Matthew and Dylan walked into the café. Their tan uniforms, crisp and clean, fit like they were specially made for them, and they wore them well. I always got a fluttering of butterflies when I saw my fiancé in uniform. He hadn’t had it on when he’d come by earlier, so I was surprised to see him in it.

  I raised an eyebrow, and he knew what I was referring to because he smiled and whispered, “Public image and all.”

  “Good morning, ladies.” Dylan attempted to peek into the box, but before he could get a good look inside, Bonnie slammed the flaps shut and put it on her lap.

  “This here’s personal stuff for our investigating job,” she said.

  I gritted my teeth. Dylan glanced at me, but I just shrugged. Deny. Deny. Deny. It wasn’t a lie. I hadn’t asked them to help, and Dylan knew those two women well enough to know nobody told them what they could or couldn’t do. They just claimed they were too deaf to hear and did whatever they wanted.

  “Is this something we should know about?” Matthew asked.

  Belle held up her hands. “I’ve got nothing to do with it, I swear. I just walked in and saw the magnifying lens, that’s all.”

  Millie had given both of the men a cup of coffee, and when Belle said magnifying lens, Dylan nearly spit his out. He squatted down next to Bonnie so he was eye level with her. Bonnie was as short as she was round, having gained a touch of weight over the past few months, and it suited her, because she was just as adorable as ever. “Miss Bonnie, you’re not planning to interfere with our investigation now, are you?”

  She smiled at him and kissed his forehead. “Sheriff, I promise you we won’t do a thing to get in your way. I’ve been watching the Netflix, and I’ve got me a list of questions to ask your suspects.” She opened her purse and took out a small spiral notepad. “Billy Ray is on his way here to take me over to the print shop so I can make you a copy.”

  Belle pressed her hand to her chest. We both knew Bonnie’s intentions were good, but we understood the effort probably wasn’t necessary.

  “Ma’am, I appreciate your doing that for me, but how ‘bout I just take a picture of the questions with my phone? That way you won’t have to go to Forsyth County like that.”

  “Oh, you’re a sweetie pie, Sheriff, and a good looking one at that.” She placed her hand on his shoulder and whispered in his ear. “You ever want to dump Lilybit there, I can make myself available. I know how to shoot a gun, but you already know that.”

  Belle covered her mouth and faked a cough to hide her laughter. “Any news on the cookie?” she asked.

  The men shook their heads. “Not yet, but it’s early.”

  I checked my watch. It was early, but I’d planned a quick stop at the Studebaker’s house and needed to get on my way. I had a busy day ahead with finalizing a few wedding items on my to-do list and figuring out what happened to Carole Craddock, not to mention a professional to-do list a mile long. Oh, and the broker lunch. I couldn’t forget about that.

  Weddings required planning I’d never imagined, and destination ones even more than I’d originally thought. What I thought would be easy ended up being a lot more work than expected, and I worried I wouldn’t have things together before Italy or while there. If nothing else, I needed to have my work ducks in order before we left, and hopefully, the wedding would fall into place easily once I made it to Italy. If I made it to Italy.

  But keeping my eye on the prize was important, and since Belle and I would both be gone, we’d lose a week of opportunities and possible clients, but we’d made arrangements to have an agent in Forsyth County take our calls, so at least there was that.

  Chapter 6

  I drove to the Studebaker home, admiring the two small goat farms along the curvy road on the way. As a kid I’d ridden my bike to those farms to play with the goats, and Belle and I had practically broken our ribs from laughing at their screaming. I slowed as I passed each, waving at the herd of goats as I passed. When things settled down, Belle and I would have to take a trip there and play with them.

  Harold Studebaker answered the door shortly after I knocked. Wearing a green and yellow striped, long sleeved button down shirt and a pair of pajama bottoms, the scruffy bearded man blushed when he saw me. “I don’t normally answer the door half dressed, but my wife is in her knickers at the moment.”

  “Oh, it’s okay. I’m immediately in my jammies the moment I get home, so I always answer the door in them.”

  He smiled. “What can I do you for young lady?” He stepped to the side to allow me in. “Can I get you an iced tea? It’s been in the sun for three days now. Ripe with flavor.”

  “Oh, that would be nice, thank you.” I’d learned a long time ago if someone offered you a drink, take it. It allowed you to stay longer, and if you needed to close a deal, you just drank the drink slowly. I figured I’d get the drink in case Shirley Studebaker took her time getting dressed.

  Harold Studebaker brought me back my drink and set it on the table in the family room. “You hear about that woman I assume?”

  “Yes, sir. I’m sorry that happened here. We don’t usually have situations like that.”

  He nodded. “Seems to me dead bodies have a way of showing up around you, but I understand. Means God’s callin’ on you to do good work.”

  I hadn’t really thoug
ht of it that way. I liked that concept a lot. “Well, if he is, he’s sure making me work hard now, isn’t he?”

  He chuckled. “We all have our gifts, Miss Sprayberry.”

  “Please, call me Lily.”

  Shirley Studebaker hollered from the bedroom. “Harry, is that Lilybit?”

  “Sure is honey. Came by to talk about that woman that went to the Lord here.”

  “Did you offer her a coffee or tea?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  She stepped out from the bedroom and into the hall, taking a look our direction. “Good. I’ll be out right quick. Just finishing getting ready for the day.”

  Shirley Studebaker wore blond wigs, had for as long as I could remember, and she’d yet to put one on. I pretended not to notice. “No rush, ma’am.” I smiled at Harold. “Mr. Studebaker, I understand you’re diabetic?”

  He nodded. “Part of getting old, I guess. Shirley’s got to give me a shot before I eat, but it’s okay. Don’t bother me none.”

  “So the cookies obviously didn’t belong to you?”

  “No, ma’am. We know we’re supposed to put them out for visitors, but they’re too temptin’. I love me a good cookie.”

  I understood that. I loved me a good cookie, too. “Mr. Studebaker, is there anyone that can get into your home? Someone that has a key perhaps?”

  He pursed his lips and furrowed his brows together to a point at the base of his nose. “Let’s see. Our kids do of course, but they ain’t been in town for months. Little Harry Junior is living in Alabama now, and his sister Emmajean’s up in northern Tennessee.”

  Shirley Studebaker walked into the family room and sat next to her husband on the couch. “Neither of them were here.” She smiled at me. “Already told that nice police officer that, too.”

  “I’m just trying to figure out what happened. I don’t want things like this happening with our clients, and if something we’re doing puts you in danger, we need to fix it and do our best to keep you safe.”