2 Heroes & Hooligans in Goose Pimple Junction (33 page)

“Yep. She showed up with her old man over to Big Darryl’s. So Lenny, the old dog, he gets Darryl D to yack at the husbin while he takes the wife for a test drive. And I do mean, he took
her
for a test drive.” Cash’s eyes went big in the telling, and he nodded with a know-what-I-mean look.

“In the car?” Johnny squeaked.

“While the husband waited back at the lot?” Jack’s eyes bugged out like a bullfrog’s.

“Yup. That’s old Lenny for you. Or I should say,
was
Lenny.”

“Did the husband find out?”

“Don’t know. But she wasn’t the only one he did crazy stuff like that with. Maybe one of them husbins got wise to him. You know?”

“Can you give us some names?” Johnny asked.

“Thought you weren’t on the case no more.” Cash stood up straight, his distance showing his reluctance to cooperate.

“Unofficial investigation. I’ve got to clear my name. Don’t worry, I won’t say where it came from.”

Cash reached for a glass to dry, appearing to think it over.

“I gotta know, Cash,” Johnny said. “I swear I’ll leave you out of this.”

The bartender hesitantly scratched three names on a napkin and slid it across the bar to Johnny. “There were more, but those are the only names I know.”

Johnny looked at the napkin and then back at Cash. “You have got to be kidding me.”

“Nope.”

“What?” Jack leaned over to get a look.

Johnny handed him the napkin. “I know two of these women.” He took a pull on his beer. “Well, not
know
know them, but I know who they are.”

“That Lenny.” Cash shook his head. “I’ll say one thing for him. That man could sell socks to a rooster. But honestly, he didn’t have to try all that hard with women. Can’t explain it, don’t understand it. There was just something about him the girls liked. It was like watching moths to a light.”

“Until they got to know him,” Johnny said.

Cash pointed to Johnny. “You got that right.”

“Maybe one of the women had a score to settle,” Jack suggested.

“Wouldn’t surprise me. Of course, could be his old lady found out about his philandering ways.”

Johnny slammed his hand on the bar. “No. It could not be, and don’t you go spreading unfounded rumors like that.”

Cash studied Johnny for a moment and then wandered off to help another customer, looking glad for an excuse to leave the conversation.

“How do you want to approach these women, Johnny?”

“Let’s call on them tomorrow night right after supper. I want to talk to them with their husbands there. It will be interesting to see how
both
of them react when we bring up old Lenny’s name.”

After a moment of silence, Jack asked, “So what do you think of Lenny’s brother?”

Johnny turned the bottle in his hands in a slow circle, thinking how to answer. The jukebox played Lewis Grizzard’s “If Love Were Oil, I’d Be About a Quart Low.”

“I think he’s as useless as pockets on a cow. I think Martha Maye and Butterbean are the best things that ever happened to the sorry lot, though I don’t see how she ever got mixed up with them in the first place.”

“He seemed like a decent enough fellow to me,” Jack said. “I didn’t talk to him all that long, but it looked like he took good care of Butterbean and Martha Maye. You’ve got to give him credit for that.”

Johnny grunted. “I don’t trust him any more than I could throw him. There’s just something about him that isn’t quite right, and it’s not just on account he’s an Applewhite.” Johnny shook his head in disgust. “Maybe it’s coply intuition, I don’t know. I do know I’m going to be glad to see his taillights, I tell you that.”

“You didn’t hear?”

“Hear what?”

“T. Harry’s sticking around a while. Says he wants to look after
the girls
.”

“Isn’t that a fine how do you do.”

Cash came back and stood warily in front of them. “‘Nother one?”

“I’ll take one,” Jack said. “Johnny’s driving. He’s reached his limit.”

“You know.” Cash popped the top on the bottle. “I thought of something else.”

“Oh?” Johnny raised his eyebrows.

“There were some dudes in here looking for Lenny—two, maybe three times. Real rough looking. He never was here when they were. Wait, maybe he was here once, but he beat feet. Anyway, they didn’t hook up with him far’s I know.”

“Any idea who they were?”

“No idea. They weren’t local, I know that. They didn’t offer names. Just asked about Lenny.”

“Well, well, well,” Jack said, turning to look at Johnny. “Add that to the stew and mix real good.”

All the buzzards will come to the mule’s funeral.

~Southern Proverb

T
he sound of Muzak and a creaky grocery buggy wheel couldn’t drown out a distressed mother’s voice.

“Cinnamon! I’m not playing. I’m about to embarrass you.”

The man wearing overalls and an oversized jacket heard the mother yelling to her daughter one aisle over. He leaned into the grocery shelf full of cookies, pretending to examine them carefully, eased the package of Double Stuf Oreos into his jacket, then stood up straight, adjusting his coat.

“Put that back, puddin’. I don’t have money for that,” he heard the mother say,

wondering for a moment if the woman was talking to him. Over his shoulder, he saw Pickle and his mother rounding the aisle, although it appeared they hadn’t seen him yet. He turned his back, flipped his coat collar up, and pulled his hat down over his brow, praying neither one would recognize him. He began to nonchalantly make his way out of the aisle.

“Let’s get some Nilla wafers so I can make ‘nana puddin’,” Pickle’s mother, Caledonia, said.

“Yeah, I love nanny puddin’, Mama.”

“I know it, son. Pretty soon you’re gonna eat us out of house and home.”

Overalls edged down the aisle, feigning interest in all things cookie. He heard the young mother’s voice again.

“Why, hello, Ms. Winchester. Hireyew tonight?”

“You’re that new officer, right?” he heard another woman say.

“I am that. I’m off duty now. You can call me Velveeta. “

“And you can call me Honey. Did y’all catch him yet?”

“You mean Mr. Applewhite’s killer?”

“Yes. When I think it happened just a few feet from my house, lawzie, I just get the heebie-jeebies. Did you catch him?”

“Not quite, ma’am, but I’m hot on her trail. His. His or her.”

“Her? You said ‘her’ first. You think the killer’s a
her
?” Honey was loud, and her voice rose a few decibels at the end.

“I really can’t comment, ma’am.”

Overalls leaned into the display of chocolate MoonPies, as he sensed Pickle and Caledonia passing behind him.

“A her.” Honey said it as though she were talking to herself more than to the officer.

“Yes, ma’am. But don’t you worry. I’m all over it like a bad rash on a big butt.”

“Oh my.”

Velveeta let out a big laugh.

“What’s so funny?”

“Your hand went unconsciously to your behind when I said that, bless your heart.”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake.”

“But I’ve said too much, ma’am. I really can’t say any more. Just rest assured we’ll apprehend the person responsible for the homicide. Don’t you give it another thought. You’re perfectly safe here in Goose Pimple Junction.”

Looking over his shoulder, he saw Pickle and Caledonia turn the corner. He thought the officer and Honey were through talking but then heard Velveeta’s voice.

“Say, where were
you
at the time of the murder? You didn’t happen to see anything that night, did you?”

“Me?” Honey asked. “No, I wasn’t home when it happened.”

“Just exactly where were you, ma’am?”

“Ma’am? Me?” Honey said again, then under her breath,
When did I go from Miss to ma’am?
“I was at the Oktoberfest, of course.”

“All night?”

“Yes, I was there with my daughter and Martha Maye and her daughter. And Lolly.”

“What’s a Lolly?”

“It’s a he. Pete Lallouette, the fire chief.”

“Ohh. All right then.” There was a pause. “Well, I gotta get these youngins home. Nice talking to you.”

“You too, Officer.” After a pause, she added, “Velveeta.”

Overalls decided to move quickly, intending to leave the store before he was seen. As he reached the end of the aisle, suddenly a little girl flew around the corner, slamming into him, causing the cookie package to rustle. His hands went out instinctively to the little girl, to keep them both from toppling over, and when he did so, the cookie package fell to the ground. She looked up, wide-eyed, into his eyes.

He quickly mumbled, “You ought not run in the store.” He scooped up the cookies and walked away as fast as he could.

Behind him, he could hear the little girl saying, “Mama, that man had cookies in his belly.”

“Cinnamon, whatchew talking about, child?”

“Who’s first on the list?” Jack asked Johnny, as he buckled his seat belt.

“Molly Ann Adair and her husband Stanley. They live in a small house up in Spring Hill. I’ve run into him a time or two. He should remember me.”

“By gonnies, they live so far out they just about have to pump sunshine in.”

“Oh, Jack, it’s not that far out.”

“It’s halfway to Bristlebuck. I call that a pretty fer piece.”

“Sit back and enjoy the ride.”

When Johnny pulled in front of the Adairs’ house, he said, “See? It wasn’t that bad.”

Jack pretended to be asleep, and Johnny punched him in the arm.

“All right, all right, I’m up.” Jack opened the door and started to get out of the car.

“Jack, would you mind if I call Martha Maye right quick?”

Jack had already swung his legs out, but he twisted in the seat to look at Johnny. “‘Course I don’t mind. Want me to go on up to the house? Give you some privacy?”

“Naw, you don’t have to do that.” Johnny punched in the numbers on the phone. “I just want to make sure she’s doing all right. I haven’t seen her since the funeral yesterday and haven’t been able to reach her all day.”

Jack nodded as Johnny held the phone to his ear. A few seconds later he said, “Martha Maye, this is Johnny. Just wanted to see how y’all are doing. I hope you and Butterbean are all right. Give me a call when you get a chance.” He punched the phone with his thumb, disconnecting the call.

“Third message I’ve left today.” He looked at Jack. “You don’t suppose she’s avoiding me, do you?”

“No,” Jack said firmly. “I do not think that.”

“There’s a killer on the loose. You don’t suppose—”

“Nope. Don’t think that, either.”

“What’re you smiling at?” Johnny asked.

“You. You’re so darn cute when you’re smitten.”

As they walked up to the house, Johnny noticed a blue minivan with a
DO NOT DISTURB
bumper sticker parked in the driveway. The yard was well maintained and manicured, which was more than he could say for Molly Ann when he stepped up on the porch and got his first look at her. It was a beautiful fall evening, and Molly Ann and Stanley were sitting on the glider on their front porch, amid potted chrysanthemums and asters.

The couple appeared to be in their thirties, and Molly looked like she had lived every one of those days to their fullest. At first glance, Johnny thought she was pretty enough, but then he noticed her bleached blond teased hair, her face caked with too much makeup, and leathery skin that suggested she’d spent too many summers in the sun. The lines above her upper lip told Johnny she was a smoker. Even though she looked a little rough, it appeared to Johnny that she’d married down.