2 Heroes & Hooligans in Goose Pimple Junction (28 page)

Louetta put her arm around her daughter’s shoulder and squeezed as they walked back to the bookstore. “I don’t think anyone would blame you if you threw him in a pine box and dropped a handful of mums over top.”

They’d been to the funeral home to make arrangements, to the florist to order flowers for the casket, and to the church to speak to the pastor about the eulogy.

“Thanks for going with me, Mama.”

“You’re awful sweet to do all this, Mart, considering how Lenny had been behaving toward you in his last days.”

“There’s no one else to do it, Mama. His brother’s coming for the funeral, but he won’t be here in time to plan anything. Besides, the man was Butterbean’s daddy. That has to count for something.”

“Is Butterbean coming to the store after school?” Louetta’s thick accent made “school” sound like “skule.”

“Yes. Bless her heart. I offered to let her stay home and take a personal day like I did, but she said she was up to going to school. It probably was best for her. I’m sure it took her mind off her daddy.”

“How’s she taking the news?” Lou threaded her arm through her daughter’s.

“Aw, right now she’s as lost as last year’s Easter egg, but I think she’ll be all right in time.” Martha Maye glanced at her watch. “My goodness, it’s about time for the kids to get let out, isn’t it? We better hoof it over to the bookstore.”

Tess looked up hopefully when Lou and Martha Maye came in, but her face fell when she saw who it was.

“Don’t look so disappointed. Were you expecting someone else?” Martha Maye asked, brushing the hair from her face with her fingers and dropping into a chair.

“Oh, don’t be silly. It’s just that I thought maybe you all were customers. Business has been slow today.” Tess walked to a bookshelf to return a book to its spot. “People don’t know whether to offer condolences or congratulations to you all. Condolences don’t seem fitting since it’s common knowledge you and Lenny were getting a divorce, but congratulating someone on the death of her estranged husband or son-in-law seems crass, even if it does mean an end to the custody battle. At least that’s my theory on why so many people are staying away.”

Lou was almost to her office when she turned around. “It’s just like him to get revenge on us even in death. I wonder how much longer that man’s gonna continue to be a burr in our collective butts.”

“Mind how you talk, Mama. You never know when Butterbean’s going to be around to hear you.”

“Did you accomplish everything?” Tess bumped into a table of books and then went about straightening them.

“Yes, I think so. We’re not gonna have any visitation, just the service. I doubt there’s anyone in town who would come pay respects anyway, but I hope some people will come to the service. There’s nothing sadder than a one-car funeral.”

“I expect it will be well attended.” Having dropped off her purse, Lou came back out of her office fussing with her hair and straightening her multicolored flowered dress. “People will want to show you their support.”

They heard a voice from behind a bookshelf. “And we thank you for your support.”

“Mmm, Bartles & James. Now those are good wine coolers,” Tess said.

Martha Maye sat up and twisted around in the chair. “Aunt Imy? Are you back there?”

“Yeppie.” She peeked around a shelf corner. “Tess put me to work.”

“Me too,” Pickle said, coming through the back room carrying two boxes stacked one on top of the other, the top one restricting his view. He bumped into the counter and stepped back, doing a little dance to keep the boxes from toppling out of his hands. He managed to maintain control of them, and with the tip of his tongue stuck out in concentration, he worked his way to the side of the store where he set the boxes down, revealing his T-shirt, which said,
HARD WORK MUST HAVE KILLED SOMEONE
.

“Don’t worry, Pickle. Hard work won’t kill you. Does it take you long in the morning to decide which shirt to wear?” Martha Maye asked.

“No, ma’am.” He looked at her like she had flowers growing out her ears. “I hardly pay any attention to what I put on. If it don’t stink and it’s in my closet, it’s fair game.”

“You keep carrying boxes around like that, Pickle. It’s good training for the wife-carrying contest.” Tess winked at him. “Who won that, by the way? The finals, I mean.”

“I heard Johnny Sue and Harlowe won it,” Lou said.

“Who’re they, Mama?”

“You know Johnny Sue. She’s the one everybody says has a butter face.”

“A butter face?” Tess asked.

“Everything looks nice but her face.” Louetta giggled.

“Oh, Mama. Quit being ugly.”

“It ain’t ugly if it’s the truth.”

“But I do know just who you’re talking about,” Martha Maye added.

“Charlotte came in second in the chicken dance contest,” Pickle said proudly.

“Well, bless her heart,” Louetta said.

“As soon as Butterbean gets here I’ll take you both home, if you want,” Martha Maye said to Ima Jean.

“Take home a package of Tennessee pride!” Ima Jean crowed.

“We can do that, too.” Martha Maye walked to the window, watching for her daughter. “There’s that new officer lady. Looks like she’s heading this way.”

“I’ve seen her out there most of the day,” Tess said. “She’s talking to everybody she sees. Seems friendly enough.”

“She may be friendly, but that’s not why she’s talking to people. Ten to one she’s working the case. Johnny told me he put her in charge. Well, I’ll be. Here she comes.”

“We must be gracious,” Lou said, two seconds before the door opened and Velveeta stepped in.

“How’s the investigation coming along, Officer Witherspoon?” Martha Maye asked, as Velveeta walked through the door.

“It’s coming.” She took in the group standing and looking at her. “One thing’s for sure, I’m getting to know folks in this town real fast.”

“What can we do for you, Officer?” Lou asked.

“I’d like to ask y’all a few questions if you don’t mind.”

“Shoot.” Martha Maye’s eyes went to the officer’s service revolver. “I mean, don’t shoot, shoot, but go ahead, ask your questions.” She clamped her hand over her mouth.

Velveeta’s eyebrows rose at Martha Maye’s blabbering.

“I swan, Martha Maye. Sometimes I think that mouth has a motor of its own.” Louetta gave her daughter a stern look.

Velveeta switched her gaze to Tess. She stuck out her hand. “I’m Officer Velveeta Witherspoon. We weren’t formally introduced last night.”

Tess shook her hand. “Tess Tremaine. Have you met Louetta Stafford? She’s Martha Maye’s mother.”

“How do, ma’am.” She nodded at Lou.

“I do just fine, thank you.” Lou’s naturally hospitable behavior seemed a little forced.

“Tess, you’re engaged to Jackson Wright, is that right?”

Tess smiled at the unintentional pun. “Yes, that’s right. Mr. Wright is my Mr. Right.”

“Good one.” Velveeta walked closer to the three women. “Can you tell me about his relationship with Mr. Applewhite?”

“Relationship? He had no relationship with Lenny.” Tess’s face showed confusion, and her voice came out a little higher than normal.

“Were they friendly to one another?”

“I wouldn’t say anyone I know was friendly to Lenny,” Martha Maye interjected. “Folks I know thought he was about as useful as an ashtray on a motorcycle.”

“Did you witness any interactions between the two men?” Velveeta asked, continuing to look at Tess.

“Interactions?” Lou squawked. “She just told you Jack didn’t have no use for the man—”

“I think I know what she’s getting at,” Tess interrupted, placing her hand on Lou’s arm. “You want to know about last week at the diner, don’t you?”

Velveeta scratched her head with the eraser end of her pencil. “I’d like to hear your take on it.”

Tess told her the story of how Lenny came into the diner and started harassing Martha Maye. “Jack let him make a fool of himself for a bit, and then he showed him the door. That was basically all there was to it.”

“Were any threats made? From either party?”

“Oh, Lenny was just being Lenny.” Martha Maye stood with her hands on her hips. “He always had a pebble under his paw. Jack was protecting me, is all. He certainly didn’t threaten Lenny, for heaven’s sake.”

“Did Lenny threaten Jack?” Velveeta asked Martha Maye.

Martha Maye and Tess exchanged a look, and Tess said, “He ran his mouth off, is all he did. Nobody took him seriously.”

“So, Lenny did threaten Jack?”

“Oh, I think he said he’d put him in a permanent off position.” Tess leaned against a table and crossed her arms. “Something like that. But as I said, nobody thought he was serious.” She sat back slightly and knocked a stack of books off the table. “Oh, for heaven’s sake,” she mumbled, stooping to pick them up.

“Do all y’all have alibis for the time in question?” Velveeta asked, writing in her notebook, as Tess and Lou picked up the books.

“We sure as shooting do,” Lou said hotly. “We were all at the Oktoberfest. You can ask anybody.”

“I asked Ms. Applewhite last night, and she indicated there was a period of time where nobody can vouch for her whereabouts.”

“That’s on account of she went home to use the little girl’s room, then she came right back. Everyone else was together, I guar-on-tee it.” Lou stood and crossed her arms defiantly.

“Why did you go to your mother’s house instead of your own?”

“Mama suggested it on account it was closer.”

Velveeta nodded and wrote that down in her notebook. When she looked up, she noticed Ima Jean for the first time.

“Oh, hello. I don’t believe we’ve met. Who might you be?”

“I drink Dr Pepper and I’m proud. I’m part of the original crowd.”

“This is my sister, Ima Jean Moxley. She lives with me now.” Lou came up behind her sister, putting an arm around her shoulder.

Martha Maye sidled up to Velveeta and said out of the corner of her mouth, “She ain’t right in the head.”

“No kidding.” Velveeta walked closer to four-foot-eight Ima Jean, towering over her.

“You were at the Oktoberfest all night, too?”

“Yes, she was,” Lou answered for her sister.

Velveeta persisted, directing her question at Ima Jean. “Do you remember being there all night, Ms. Moxley?”

“‘Course I do. I’m not crazy.”

Velveeta wrote in her notebook, suppressing a smile. “Yes, ma’am.”

She turned toward Martha Maye. “You and the deceased were in the process of a divorce, is that right?”

Martha Maye nodded. “Yes, that’s right.”

“Was it a contentious divorce?”

The ladies exchanged looks, which Velveeta noted.

“I guess you could say it was.”

“How so?”

“We were fighting for custody of our daughter.”

“Did your husband want the divorce?”

Martha Maye snorted. “He said he didn’t, but he never acted like a proper husband, with all the philandering he did.”

“I’ll bet that was humiliating. Must’ve made you real angry.”

“No,” Lou interrupted. “Hell, no. I know what you’re getting at, and the answer is no. Martha Maye wanted a divorce, and she wanted custody of Butterbean, but she did not kill Lenny. That’s just not logical.”

“Oh my gosh.” Martha Maye shrieked. “Oh my gosh. Oh my gosh! You still think I did it?”

“Well, you have motive—the divorce and the custody battle—and you can’t account for your whereabouts for about thirty minutes right around the time of the murder . . .” Velveeta let the suggestion hang in the air to see if anyone would try to fill the silence.

All four women did. They all began talking over one another.

Lou: “Martha Maye could no more kill someone than she could sing an opera”

Martha Maye: “I was madder than fire at him, but I didn’t kill—”

Tess: “That’s ridiculous.”

Ima Jean: “Sometimes you feel like a nut, sometimes you don’t.”

“Now you listen here, little missy.” Louetta put her hands on her hips and walked toward Velveeta. “I know you’re just trying to do your job, and I know you’re new in town and don’t know no better, but you’re about as smart as a mashed potato if you think Martha Maye, or any of us for that matter, had anything to do with Leonard’s death. Jack included. Now you best giddyup and get along.”

“Okay, okay folks.” Velveeta held her palms up to quiet them. “That’s all for now. Thank you for your time. I’ll be talking to you.” She turned toward the door and then turned back around. “Is there anyone you think might have wanted to do harm to the deceased?”

“Harm him?” Martha Maye laughed through her nose. “Nobody had any use for the man. But murder him? No.”

“Can any of y’all think of anything out of the ordinary that night? Did you see anyone that stuck out to you?”

“I saw Ernest Borgnine,” Ima Jean piped up.

“You saw Ernest Borgnine,” Velveeta repeated, looking at the woman skeptically.

“Yeppie.”

“In Goose Pimple Junction.”

“Sure as eggs is eggs.”

“Last night,” Velveeta persisted.

“Woman, are you deaf? Isn’t that what I just said?”

“Ima Jean, don’t be ugly now, she’s just making sure she heard correctly what you think you saw,” Lou said.

“But she keeps going and going and going.”

“Like the Energizer Bunny, right?” Velveeta smiled kindly at Ima Jean. No one smiled back. “All right.” On the way to the door, she glanced over her shoulder. “That’s all for now. Thanks again.”

And with that, she beat a hasty retreat.