2 Heroes & Hooligans in Goose Pimple Junction (25 page)

Staring at the toilet for a bit, she lifted all of the layers as high as she could. Facing the toilet, she walked forward and tried to straddle it, sitting on it backward. As she got halfway down, the skirt came up in her face, and she knew her hair and makeup would be ruined if she sat all the way down. She stood.

Priorities.

There was only one thing to do. She’d have to take off the dress and hoop slip, pee, and then put everything back on.
Or maybe I should go home and change clothes altogether.

When Velveeta Witherspoon’s cruiser turned onto Marigold Lane, her headlights swept over Skeeter Duke standing on a front lawn, waving his arms over his head. He ran toward her car as she approached the house. She rolled to a stop, lowered the passenger side window, and called out to him.

“Hey, Duke, whatcha—”

“Velveeta!” He pointed to a dark spot in the yard. “I think there’s a dead body in Martha Maye’s front yard. Call it in.”

Velveeta didn’t waste any time. “Dispatch, this is unit six. Got a 10-54 at 115 Marigold Lane. Over.” The adrenaline was pumping, and she was itching to get out of the car and take a look at the body.

Bernadette responded right away, but hesitantly. “Uh, we don’t use numbers, Officer. What’s a 10-54?”

“It’s a possible dead body,” Velveeta said impatiently.

“Possible? Is it or isn’t it?”

Velveeta turned toward Skeeter, who now stood over the lump on the lawn. She hollered, “Do we have confirmation of a fatality?”

“Affirmative. Got no pulse. Technically speaking, he’s deader ‘n a doornail.”

“We’ve got a body. Repeat, dead body. Call the chief, and then call the coroner’s office.”

“What’s going on? Who’s dead? Isn’t that Martha Maye’s house?” Bernadette’s voice had reached a high pitch.

“We haven’t identified the deceased yet. Call the chief, okay? Over.”

She ran to Skeeter and the body on the lawn, a man positioned face up. Pulling the flashlight off her belt, she passed its beam over the still form, stopping on the face.

“Holy cannoli.” Skeeter bent at the waist, leaning over the corpse to get a better look.

One arm lay straight out to the side, the other was parallel to the body. The man’s legs were crossed at the ankles. His eyes were open and his mouth was slightly ajar.

“Is this the way you found him?”

“Uh, no.” Skeeter scratched his head. “I found him facedown. Figured we needed to turn him over so’s we could see his face.”

“No! Don’t go touching nothing else. You’ll contaminate the scene. Is there an apparent cause of death?”

Skeeter stood up straight. “Don’t rightly know. I saw it, you came. Not much time to look. Besides, dead bodies make me nervous.”

“How many have you run across in your career anyway?”

“Uh, including my meemaw?”

“I mean in the line of work, fool. Not in a funeral parlor.”

“Well then, this would be the second.”

She moved the flashlight beam down the body, stopping at the man’s open jeans zipper. “For crying out catfish—”

Another cruiser, lights flashing and siren wailing, came to a screeching halt at the curb in front of Martha Maye’s house. Johnny sprang out of the car and rushed to the officers, looking frantic.

“Martha Maye? Where’s Martha Maye?”

Lou looked at her watch. “Law child, where’s your mama? She’s been gone so long I’m beginning to wonder if she fell in.”

Butterbean giggled. She had taken her taco shell off and now looked like a little pixie. “Where’s Aunt Imy?”

“She’s over to the pumpkin seed spitting contest. I told her we’d meet her here.” Louetta led her granddaughter by the hand and the group followed.

“I think they’ve held all the contests except for two,” Tess said. “Let’s head over to the polka and chicken dance contests.”

“We can’t miss the chicken dance contest. Charlotte and Peekal are gonna be in it,” Lou said.

Tess gave Jack a meaningful look. “No way,” he said. “Uh-uh. I am not entering any more contests tonight. You very nearly killed me as it is.” His cell phone rang, and he answered it with a finger over his ear so he could hear better.

As Jack talked into the phone, Louetta looked around. “Anybody seen Martha Maye?”

“No,” Tess said. “Not for a while.” Then she looked over Lou’s shoulder and pointed. “Oh! Here she comes now. Looks like she decided to leave the hoop slip at home.”

“That dress is just as pretty without it.”

The band broke into “Monster Mash,” and they watched the polka contestants gather. Jack held up a finger to Tess, signaling that he’d be just a minute. He smiled at Martha Maye before turning and walking away from the crowd to continue his phone conversation.

Someone who pets a live catfish isn’t crowded with brains.

~Southern Proverb

“C
alm down, Chief, calm down.” Skeeter grabbed Johnny by the shoulders. “It’s not Martha Maye. It’s Lenny.” Johnny let out a huge rush of air and realized he’d been holding his breath for far too long. He bent over, bracing his hands just above his knees, trying to bring his breathing back to normal.

“Bernadette . . . said 115 Marigold . . . Martha Maye’s house—I thought . . .” His voice wavered, and he walked away from the two officers to collect himself. Skeeter came up behind him and clapped him on the shoulder. “Get it together, man. It’s not Martha Maye.”

Johnny nodded, swiped his hand over his face, took a deep breath, and started barking out orders.

“I want lights set up so we can see what we’re dealing with. Velveeta, call in and request an investigator, and get your crime scene kit. Skeeter, tape it off—the whole lawn. Hell, the whole block. I want all the neighbors questioned. Anyone seen Martha Maye?”

“Far’s I know, she’s still in the town square,” Skeeter said.

Johnny got out his cell phone and called Jack, who picked up on the third ring. He could hear “Monster Mash” playing in the background.

“Hey Johnny, where’d you disappear to—”

“Jack, we got us a situation. Have you seen Martha Maye?”

“No, actually we were just—wait a minute.” After a few seconds and some muffled talking, Jack came back on the line. “Here she comes now. Want to talk to her?”

“No. Listen up, I want you to get where you can talk privately. Right quick.”

Johnny could hear movement and breathing for a few moments and then, “Okay. What’s wrong?”

“Lenny Applewhite is dead.”

“Come again?”

“He’s no longer eligible for the census.”

“Johnny, I know what dead means. I just didn’t know if I heard you right. What happened?”

“Don’t know, other than he’s lying in Martha Maye’s front yard, and his condition is non-conducive to life. Here’s what I need you to do: Get Lou and have her take Butterbean to her house before word gets out. As soon as they’re gone, tell Tess and Martha Maye what’s going on, then bring them over here. And do not–and I repeat do not–let this get out. I shouldn’t be calling you, but I know I can trust you, and I need your help. I want Martha Maye to be somewhat prepared for what’s over here, but I don’t want Butterbean finding out about this at the Oktoberfest. Tell Lou to let Butterbean spend the night at her house. Tell her you’ll explain later.”

“Sure. Sure thing, Johnny.”

“Hurry up, okay?”

“Okay,” Jack said to the air, because Johnny had already hung up.

Jack went quickly to Lou. He leaned over and whispered in her ear: “I’ll explain later, but right now I need you to take Butterbean home, get her in bed pronto, no questions asked. I promise we’ll explain as soon as we can. I’m taking Tess and Martha Maye with me.”

Her forehead took on more wrinkles as it creased in confusion. She tilted her head, and he said, “Soon. I promise. Now get going, all right?”

She studied his face and swallowed hard. “All right.” She returned to the group with a smile pasted on her face. “Alrighty, let’s take this party back to my house.” Jack heard some mild protesting from Butterbean, as he told Martha Maye and Tess to come with him. They looked questioningly at him, and he led them away from everyone to tell them the news.

“Why’s Mama and them leaving so soon? What’s going on?”

“Martha Maye, something’s happened.” Jack put his hand on her arm. “Something awful.”

“What? Is it Johnny?” she asked anxiously, looking around.

“No, Johnny’s fine.” He gently pushed her shoulders back so she faced him. “But he’s working a murder scene.”

Martha Maye searched around them as if she had an irrational need to ensure her mother, daughter, and aunt were all right, even though she’d just seen them. She turned back to Jack. “Murder? Who—”

“It’s Lenny.”

“It’s L . . . L . . . L . . .” Her mouth tried to form words, but nothing came out.

Tess found her voice. “It’s Lenny? He’s –”

“Metabolically challenged,” Jack finished for her.

“Jack, this is hardly a time for jokes.” Tess put her arm around Martha Maye, who stood with her hand over her mouth, staring blankly into the night, too stunned to form thoughts or words.

“I don’t mean to be disrespectful. It just seems gentler than saying he’s . . . dead. Martha Maye, do you think you can walk? Johnny wants us over there.”

She nodded, and he took her right arm, while Tess took the left. They steered her toward Marigold Lane.