Murder & Mayhem in Goose Pimple Junction (11 page)

“
What say you and I take your mind off everything by goin’ to lunch at Slick and Junebug’s?”

“
Well . . . “ Tess hemmed, “I should get some things done around here before I go into work.”

“
Come on, it’s only a quick bite to eat. We’ll be in public. And if you insist, I’ll even refrain from biting.”

The
way he was looking at her made her nervous.
I could so easily fall into his arms, where I’d feel safe again.
He was sitting so close, she could smell his aftershave lotion, feel his body heat, and when she looked at him all she could think about was running her hands through his hair and kissing him silly
. NO, I have to stand on my own two feet. I have to get a grip
.
And not a grip on Jack!

“
Hell, no!”

“
Pardon?” Jack asked, one eyebrow raised questioningly.

Did
I say that out loud? Crap.

“
I said, ‘HEL-lo.’ You know, like, HEL-lo, no biting.”
Liar liar, pants on fire…

“
Well, then, I'll be back to pick you up in an hour. How’s that?”

“
That'll give me time to get those footprints off of my pretty hardwood floors,” Tess said, taking her mop out of the closet and trying to feel brave.

* * *

The minute Jack opened the door to the diner, Tess smelled the wonderful aroma of freshly baked bread. Tess stiffened slightly at Jack’s hand on her back directing her in, but seeing the two old men sitting at their regular perches at the counter made her smile. She realized it was the first time she’d smiled all day.

“
Afternoon, Jackson,” Clive said.

“
Afternoon, boys. How’re you two fine gentlemen doin’ today?”

“
Hangin’ in 'ere like a hair in a biscuit,” Earl said.

“
Yeah, but he’s about as useful as a pogo stick in quicksand,” Clive stage-whispered to Jack.

“
Gentlemen, have you met Tess yet?”

“
We’ve howdied . . . “ Clive started to say.

“
But we ain’t shook yet.” Tess beat him to the punch.

“
Clive Pierce, Earl Hicks, I’d like to present Ms. Tess Tremaine. Ms. Tess, this here’s Clive and this is Earl.” Jack motioned to each man as they were introduced. Tess noticed Earl didn’t have one tooth in his whole head.

“
Well ain’t she a dandy!” Earl said with a toothless smile.

“
Down boy.” Jack playfully pushed down on the man’s shoulder. “You’re too old for her.”

“
Yeah, well . . . you wait—one day soon 'at gal is gonna drop you like a hot potato, and I’ll be righcheer waitin’,” Earl said, pointing his finger at Jack. Jack laughed and led Tess to a booth.

“
Jack, do those men think we’re seeing one another?”

“
Prob’ly.” Jack grinned.

“
But we’re not!”

Jack
started patting himself all over, from his head, down his torso, saying, “I am visible, aren’t I? I mean, you
can
see me, right? And I can see you . . . “ Tess rolled her eyes, shook her head, and directed her
attention to the chalkboard menu at the front of the diner.

Junebug
arrived at the table, and with her hands on her hips she looked down at Jack. “Well lookie at what the cat dun drug in.”

“
Hey Junie! That’s no way to talk to our newest resident,” Jack teased.

“
I was referrin’ ta
yew
,” Junebug said, smiling. “Hidy, Tess, hireyew?” She moved her smile over to Tess.

Tess
looked at Jack questioningly and he mouthed, “How are you.”

“
Oh!” Tess laughed, “I’m fine, June . . . bug . . . how are you?”

“
Right as rain and twice as nice,” she joked. “And you, Jack?”

“
So hungry I could eat a stink bug off a dead skunk.”

“
Sorry, we’re fresh outta that t’day. What else can I gitcha?”

“
I think I’ll just have a salad with ranch dressing and sweet tea, please,” Tess said.

“
And I’ll have a hamburger with lettuce, ‘mater and onion, and a
Dr. Pepper, please, pretty lady.” Jack had suddenly started speaking in his exaggerated southern drawl.

“
Watch him,” Junebug said to Tess, pushing her pencil into her hair behind her ear and pointing at Jack. “When he puts on that southern accent, he’s up ta no good!”

She
headed off toward the kitchen hollering, “Burn one, take it through the garden and pin a rose on it! Cow feed! I need an MD and a tea with high octane.”

“
You’ll get used to it.” Jack smiled at her.

“
I think it’s great. I may not always understand it, but I think it’s great.” She tried to act natural, but she was wound tighter than a dime store clock. She felt like every nerve in her body was buzzing.

Jack
noticed. “Hey, are you okay?”

They
locked eyes for a moment, and she looked away first, taking in a deep breath. “I’ve never had a break-in and now I’ve had two in one week. Someone’s been in
my house
, Jack. And once while I was in it. I’m terrified.”

Junebug
came back to the table with their drinks. She saw the
worried look on Tess’s face. “You all right, sugar plum?”

Tess
nodded and took a sip of her tea, and Junebug left to take an order at another table.

“
And the really weird thing is, nothing is ever taken. Why would someone break in just to look around? What are they after?”

“
I don’t know, Tess. It’s a strange occurrence in this town. Maybe they just wanted to gaze at your lovely face while you slept.”

“
Jack, do you take anything seriously?”

“
Honey, if it involves you, I am taking it seriously.”

bidness
: noun \bid-nis\ business

Mind your own bidness.

[  1935  ]

Goose Pimple Junction was a typical small town, where the hub of
activity centered on the town square. On the south side of the square was the courthouse, which took up one entire block. The town filling station was on the southwest side, and next door sat The Majestic movie theatre, followed on the northwest side by Burke’s bakery, whose
owner, Burke Henderson made the best doughnuts in seven counties.
A combination candy shop and newspaper store sat in between the
bakery and The First National Bank on the northeast block. Daffodil’s Home Goods Store, which sold everything from clothing to furniture, was diagonal to the bank on the east side. Completing that block was Ernestine & Hazel’s, a small five-and-dime store, and next to that was a diner. In the middle of the square was a wide green expanse, scattered with trees and benches, and a raised gazebo in the center.

A
typical Saturday afternoon in the heart of downtown Goose
Pimple Junction would find all of the businesses humming with activity, but none more so than the Pure Oil filling station, which was always busy washing cars, checking oil, fixing tires, and pumping gas. Often, the police were parked up at the gas station, but you could count on them definitely being there on Saturdays. There was room on the side for them to park, and so many things happened in the heart of downtown, you saw it if you were at the station.

Drunks
constantly got into fights in the town square. In fact, it was a regular Saturday afternoon occurrence for the filling station owner, Psalmist David, P.D. to most people, to have to get out the water hose and wash the blood off the driveway after the police tried to arrest some drunkard who didn’t want to be hauled off to the drunk tank.

Since
the police were almost always at the station, they began to give its phone number out as one of their own. It got so that P.D. was calling to relay messages so often, they decided to install a whistle with an air compressor on it—a loud one, like the kind used at a factory.
If one of the police cars wasn’t parked there when a call came in or a fight broke out, P.D. would blow the whistle, and the police would come see what was needed.

Once,
a drunk named ‘Hard Times,’ who was built like a tank, was all fired up and itching for a fight. The police chief, Bug Preston, and his deputy had followed him from a bar around the corner. It wasn’t long before he was shouting insults at the chief on the sidewalk in front of Ernestine’s and Hazel’s Sundries. The deputy disappeared, leaving Bug to face off with the drunk.

“
Hey y’all! Come o’re hare and take a lookit this cracker jack
po-leece man. He's so damn ugly his cooties have to close their eyes,” Hard Times yelled. He swayed a little, and got a grip on a light post to steady himself. Then he began to loudly sing insults. “He’s soooo
uglyyyy his mama took him everywhere she went so she didn't have to kiss him goodbyyyyyyye.”

The
chief shot back, “You ain't worth the powder and shot it'd take to blow you to kingdom come, Hard Times.”

Swaying
and having trouble getting his words out, Hard Times said, “I am . . . I am gonna skin . . . your . . . your neck and . . . rrun your . . . your lleg through it!”

“
Oh yeah? Well you better give your heart to Jesus, 'cause your butt is mine,” the chief said.

Everyone
knew Bug Preston was trigger-happy, but the drunk
apparently forgot. The chief pulled out his gun and fired between the man’s legs. It didn’t faze Hard Times, but it distracted him enough that a deputy was able to sneak up behind him and hit him over the head with a tire iron, knocking him out cold.

Another
time, John Hobb and the other tellers watched through the bank windows as two police officers got into a disagreement that got out of hand. They both pulled their weapons, one taking shelter in the inset door of Daffodil’s, and the other across the street behind the corner wall of the diner. In typical Old West fashion, they both stepped out at the same time, aimed and fired, killing each other simultaneously.

Those
were occurrences that, while tragic or dramatic, weren’t
unusual in Goose Pimple Junction. But one Tuesday morning, something happened that was unique. P.D. was in one of the bays, working on a car, when the family of a man recently arrested, and doing time in the jail, showed up. The three brothers confronted P.D., pulled a gun on him, and said, “We know you have a whistle to call the police. So call ‘em.
Now
.”

P.D.
was a God-fearing, decent, honest man. He knew the men wanted an ambush. He said, “That’s not the way to handle your
problem, boys.”

One
of the brothers snarled, “Mind your own bidness.”

Another
man pointed the gun in his face and repeated, “Now,”
motioning for P.D. to go into the office, “or I will walk a mud hole in you and stomp it dry,” he said through gritted teeth.

But
old P.D, wasn’t stupid. Instead of blowing one long blast, like he normally would, he blew two short ones. The police chief heard the whistle and figured something was wrong. He and two of his men snuck around the back of the station and into one of the bays. They had a
police car drive slowly down the street to get the men’s attention
.

P.D.
had seen Bug beside the office door, and to distract the men, he pointed down the street to the police cruiser. “Well, here they come. You boys mind if I slip out back?”

The
three men, cocking their weapons and taking positions in the station’s office, were intent on the police car out front, giving Bug and two of his men a chance to sneak in and surprise them. While Bug went for the man who looked to be the leader, the other officers pushed guns into the backs of the other two men.

“
Drop yer guns and say yer prayers, son,” Bug drawled. The men were apprehended without incident.

[ 
June
2010  ]

Tess was exhausted. She’d spent the day scraping more walls. Having successfully completed her work in the master bedroom, she went to bed tired, but not sleepy. She tossed. She turned. She needed sleep. Why wouldn’t her mind cooperate?

She
gave up on sleep once again and got out of bed for her laptop. She wanted to sit outside on her porch, but was afraid of what, or who, might be out there. She climbed back into bed, tucking her sheet and quilt around her, placing her computer on her lap.