2 Heroes & Hooligans in Goose Pimple Junction (20 page)

“Didn’t know it was there, huh?” Jack’s mouth twitched as he tried not to laugh in front of the embarrassed officer.

Hank stood there soaking wet and dripping, trying to catch his breath. Breathing hard, with his hands on his hips and his head bent toward the ground, he looked up at Jack through wet bangs. “Don’t suppose we could keep this just between you and me.”

“I doubt it.” Jack finally gave in to laughter. He clapped the officer on the back, spraying water, then took his hand away, shaking it off.

“Aw, c’mon, Jack,” Hank whined as they walked back toward Jack’s house.

“Okay, partner, how about we strike a deal. I won’t say anything about your dip in the pool if you won’t say anything about this whoever-it-was to the girls.”

“The girls?” Hank said, his shoes squeaking and squishing as they walked.

“Yeah
, any
of the girls—Lou, Tess, Martha Maye . . .”

“How’s come?” Hank asked.

“Because there’s no use alarming them. Tess and Martha Maye have been through enough in the last six months. Let’s just keep a lid on this, at least for a while.”

“I’ll have to make a report. Your call’s on the dispatch records.”

“Will that report include your impromptu swim?” Jack asked.

“Well . . . ” Hank stalled.

“Then I don’t think you need to report you actually saw or chased anyone. Just report that I was mistaken. Case closed.”

“I’ve never falsified a report before, Jack.”

“And I’ve never been able to keep a juicy piece of gossip to myself, either.” Jack’s raised eyebrows implied, “Get my drift?”

“I’ll need to run this past the chief. I couldn’t in good conscience lie on a report.”

“You’re right, but you know the minute you file a report, word will get back to the ladies. Let’s just do our best to keep a lid on this.”

“Fudgesicles,” Hank said.

“Fudgesicles melt,” Jack said, handing the officer a handkerchief.

Monday morning, when Johnny walked through the back door of the police station and past the break room, Officers Beanblossom and Duke filed in on either side of him.

“Eeee doggies, that was fun on Saturday night,” Skeeter Duke said as they walked. “We were on him like cheese on grits soon as he crossed into the county. And let me tell you, that Mr. Lenny Applewhite is meaner’n a skilletful of rattlesnakes. We near about had to run him in.”

“I sure do ‘preshade you boys handling that little matter,” Johnny said.

“When we ticketed him for speeding, he accused us of ambushing him,” Hank said. “You better watch your back, Chief. He said he knew you’d set him up, and he said he was gonna put a knot on your head big enough to hitch a trailer to.”

“Ha!” Johnny chuckled. “He’s welcome to try.”

“That’s what I said. I told him assaulting a police officer is a felony. Told him to go ahead and try it.” Johnny’s head swiveled toward Skeeter, who quickly amended, “Go ahead and try it because you’d lay him out flatter than a fritter, and I’d throw his butt in jail.” Johnny nodded in approval.

“We did like you said and followed him after we gave him a citation,” Skeeter said. “He finally went on home, and—”

“And I sat in the cruiser outside the hotel until about four a.m.,” Hank interrupted.

When they walked into the reception area, they stopped and stared. Bernadette, at the desk, said in a overly bright tone, “Chief, there’s someone here to see you.”

Lenny jumped up from a metal chair, making it clang against the wall. “I want to report police harassment.”

The officers protectively clustered in front of Johnny, but he pushed through them, opened the little gate for Lenny, and said, “Why don’t you and me talk back in my office.” It was not a request or a suggestion.

Lenny walked through the gate.

“Follow me.” Johnny turned and said, “Officers, y’all may join us if you’re so inclined.”

“Aw, no. Y’all is just gonna gang up on me. I want a lawyer.”

Johnny let out a loud sigh and turned to Lenny. “You aren’t under arrest.
You
came to see
me
. Now, do you want to see me or not?”

Lenny’s eyes showed doubt as they went from Hank to Skeeter and back to Johnny. He squared his shoulders and tried to stand up as tall as he could. He finally said, “Do.”

They all filed into the police chief’s office.

Johnny sat behind his desk and gestured for Lenny to take the seat in front of it. Hank and Skeeter stood in the doorway. Johnny tried to keep his face neutral. “Now, what’s this about harassment?”

“That’s right. Your men followed me around all night Saturday. They can’t do that. It’s a free country. I didn’t do nothing wrong.”

Johnny turned to his men and said, “That true, Officers?”

Simultaneously, the men said, “Negative.”

“Oh, of course they’re gonna deny it!” Lenny twisted in his seat, looking from the officers to Johnny.

“Sir, we stopped you for a speeding violation and smelled alcohol on your person. You didn’t blow over the legal limit, but in the interest of protecting our citizens, we thought it best to keep a watchful eye on you, lest you decided to imbibe some more.”

“That is total and pure, genuine bull-oney. One hunnerd percent grade A.” He pointed his finger at Johnny, who stared down at him. “Let me tell you, Mr. Policeman. You keep your officers away from me, and you stay away from my wife.”

Johnny leaned on his forearms across the desk. “Is that what this is really about, Mr. Applewhite?”

“It’s about y’all literally traipsing all over my civil rights,
Chief Butternut,
but while I’m here, I’m giving you fair warning—again—to stay away from what’s mine.”

“As you stated, this is a free country. If the lady in question wants to see me, she certainly has that prerogative.” He stood and leaned over his desk. “Just for the record, are you threatening a police officer?”

“Lookit, you Paul Bunyan wannabe.” Lenny jumped up and matched Johnny’s stance across the desk. Skeeter and Hank stepped forward, ready to pounce. “This ain’t no police matter. This is between me and you. Man-o and man-o. And you better look left, ‘cause you ain’t right. I’m determinated to keep you from sullying the good name of my wife and leading her down the dirt road into the mud.”

Johnny stared at him, trying not to laugh. He leaned in until their faces were just inches away. In a controlled, low voice, Johnny said, “You ought to be ashamed of yourself. Your mouth runs like a boarding house toilet. I am nothing more than a friend to Martha Maye, and I’ll not have you insinuating otherwise. Now, you take your insults and your threats and get out of my police house, and while you’re at it, you leave Martha Maye alone.”

“Who are you to be telling me to stay away from my wife?”

“Listen, Mr. Applewhite, if you have a police matter, I’m happy to discuss it with you, and if you want to discuss non-police matters, you call me at home, but I’m telling you, the lady does not want you around her, so you better watch yourself.”

“Or what?” Lenny taunted.

“Or I’ll be all over you like stink on a skunk.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Literally,” Johnny said.

Lenny turned to go but stopped at the door. Skeeter and Hank moved aside to let him through. He pointed at Johnny and yelled so everyone in the station could hear. “Did y’all hear that? That’s the second time he’s threatened me.”

He pointed two fingers at his eyes, pointed them at Johnny, and then back at his eyes, before he swung around and brushed past the officers. The three officers shared a look, shaking their heads.

“That boy is a dog of his own trot,” Hank said.

Bernadette appeared at the chief’s door. “Elvis has left the building.”

“And?” Johnny said.

“How do you know there’s an ‘and’?”

“Because I know that look. Go on, this is already starting out to be a stellar day. Lay it on me.”

“Roddey McClansky called. Says one of his chickens is missing. Says no way it ran off by itself.”

Johnny sat down, his chair squeaking, and sighed. “Okay, Bernie. Thank you.”

Bernadette walked back to her desk, and Skeeter said, “What are you thinking, Chief?”

“You cannot get the water to clear up until you get the pigs out of the creek.”

“Huh?” both men said.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Hank asked.

“Means we’re gonna catch us a thief. Get everybody in the squad room for a meeting at five o’clock.”

“Fifteen minutes could save you fifteen percent or more on car insurance,” Aunt Ima Jean said as she let Martha Maye and Butterbean into Lou’s house.

“Good to know, Aunt Imy. Hireyew doing?”

“Sometimes you feel like a nut “—she clucked her tongue twice—”sometimes you don’t.”

“I know exactly what you mean,” Martha Maye said, patting her aunt on the back. “Where’s Mama?”

“Ancient Chinese Secret.”

Butterbean’s face showed confusion until Lou bustled through the door in a bright-red dress with big white polka dots, wiping her hands on a dishtowel.

Martha Maye looked at her mother and her aunt and thought the sisters couldn’t be more different. Lou was a big woman whose body type matched her personality. She wore bright makeup and loud clothes and had a bouffant hairstyle and disposition. Her appearance and temperament were larger than life.

Ima Jean was petite and almost always wore a housecoat. Her appearance belied her personality. Her plain clothes, Brillo pad hairdo, and makeup-free face made for a surprise when she opened her mouth and proved her complete craziness. Both women were good people—as good as they came.

Butterbean’s face lit up. “Hi, Granny!”

“Aw, my babies! Whatchy’all doing?”

“We dropped our school stuff at home and came out for a walk. It’s too beautiful to stay inside.” Martha Maye kissed her mother’s cheek.

“Come on back, you two. I’ve got some double fudge brownies in the cookie jar. We’ll take them out on the patio.”

“Aunt Ima Jean, did Pickle ever admit to eating all your waffles?”

“No, he did not,” Lou answered for her sister. “And he didn’t take the Raisin Bran, either.” Lou gave Ima Jean a pointed look. This had clearly become a sore subject between the two.

“I’m sure we ate them all,” Lou said, “and Raisin Bran don’t just get up and walk outta the house. You can’t blame Peekal for everything. I think you’ve just forgotten how much you ate, Imy.”

“I can’t believe I ate the whole thing,” Ima Jean said, mimicking the old Alka Seltzer commercial.

“I know, but that must be what happened.”

“‘Cept it isn’t. I didn’t eat all those waffles. I’m sure of it.”

Martha Maye left her mother and aunt bickering and went to see who was knocking on the front door. “Hidee,” she said to a tall man in a bad suit standing on the doorstep.

“I’m looking for a Martha Maye Applewhite,” the man said, glancing at the envelope in his hand. “I was told I could find her here.”

“By whom?”

“Excuse me?”

“Who told you that you could find me here?”

“You’re Ms. Applewhite?”

She nodded.

“A neighbor of yours said you’d be here. My job is to deliver this to you. Have a good day.” He pushed the envelope into her hands.

Martha Maye looked from the smarmy man walking away to the envelope she now held. The return address read
Louis P. Howe, attorney at law
.

“Who was that, Mart?” Lou came up behind her. She peered out the front door and then nodded at the envelope. “What in the world is that?”

“A deliveryman of some sort. He gave me this.” She held up the envelope, then turned it over and ripped it open. As they walked back to the kitchen, she began reading it, stopped dead in her tracks, and gasped.

“What is it?” Lou looked over her shoulder.

“Um, Butterbean, would you go see if Mr. Jack would like you to walk Ezmeralda for him?”

“I don’t wanna right now, Mama. I wanna eat this brownie.”

“In that case, take some over to Mr. Jack. Don’t argue, now. Go.”

“Let me wrap some up for you to take next door,” Lou said quickly. The kitchen stayed quiet as she hurried to get the brownies ready, and Martha Maye continued to silently read the document she’d just received. When Lou finished, she handed the goodies to Butterbean, who reluctantly left, saying, “I know y’all just want to get rid of me.”