Rogues & Rascals in Goose Pimple Junction (Goose Pimple Junction Mysteries Book 4) (34 page)

“I know more than you think, Dee Dee girl. Like . . . I know you killed the judge.”

Dee Dee’s head jerked sideways at Y, and she balled her fists.

She cocked her head. “What, did you lose confidence in my abilities?”

“And well I should. There’s one thing I’ve learned in this life, and that’s if I want something done right, I have to do it myself.”

“Well, the judge is dead, but are you any better off?” She stared at the woman, trying to see any hint of sadness or guilt in her eyes. All she saw was hate.

In the history of the evil eye, not one has been more evil than the evil eye Dee Dee shot at Y.

“I guess I should tell you they’re going to know you killed the judge. You see, I was following you that night. I snapped a few pictures of you; I couldn’t resist. I slipped into the judge’s house today and left them on his dining room table.” Wy nodded. “I fixed your wagon, honey.”

“That’s impossible. Nobody would print such pictures.”

“You really are old, aren’t you? It’s miraculous, but people can actually print pictures on their own printers these days. The mind boggles, doesn’t it? So you see, Dee Dee, your fate is already decided. You’ll be spending the rest of your life in prison where you won’t be able to continue ruining people’s lives.”

“Those women were nothing more than babysitters their whole life. Now they think they’re owed something? Please.” Dee Dee dismissed her with a flick of the hand.

“I tell you what, you little-Dutch-Boy-
Matlock
-wannabe-horrid-old-woman you, I’d give my eyeteeth to be able to be a stay-at-home mom. Your job was to represent their best interests, not your own. You’re nothing more than a common thief. But I’m not gonna kill you. You know, I ought to thank you. Because you’ve made me see things I never would have seen. I don’t want to be anything like you. Or the me that I’ve been.”

“Get out of my house,” Dee Dee spat, her eyes filled with rage. She bounded for Wynona.

Dee Dee’s actions surprised Wy so much that Dee Dee was able to kick the knife out of her hand. It skidded across the kitchen floor. Both women dove for it.

Mama always said . . . If you don’t use your head, you might as well have two butts.

J
ohnny sat in his cruiser feeling totally perplexed. He’d called in officers to investigate the crime scene, but the investigation was over before it even began. He left one officer at the house to bag the evidence, but the case was cut and dry, thanks to some bewildering evidence left at the scene.

He had called dispatch. “Moppy, get me the address for Dee Dee Petty’s house just as fast as you can.” He was waiting on her reply.

When she finally returned with the address, he told her to send Skeeter Duke there. “Velveeta and I will meet him.”

Velveeta followed closely as he sped away from the judge’s house with the red and blues on. Her siren would have to do for the moment. He needed to be able to talk to Hank. He dialed the phone as he drove.

“Hank? Everything okay over there?”

“Yeah, yeah, Chief. Everything’s fine. I’m actually enjoying this assignment. I got a delicious home-cooked meal and we’re getting ready to watch a James Bond movie.”

“Listen to me. I don’t want Caledonia or the boys out of your sight until you hear from me.”

“You sound kind of tense, Chief. Something up?”

“Yeah. The judge is dead. The poor man was stabbed at least ten times. The coroner will get a better count once the blood’s washed away. But I tell you what, Hank. This wasn’t a random killing; this was vicious. Dee Dee Petty is behind all this; I’ve seen proof. No telling what she’s going to do next. I’m going to put out a BOLO for her and warn that she may be armed and dangerous. She’s definitely unstable. Whatever you do, don’t let that family out of your sight. Nobody comes in or out of that house. You copy me?”

“Solid copy, Chief.”

After Johnny flipped on his siren, he wiped his brow. He was sweating, even though it was cold outside.
The second murder since I’ve been chief.
He shook his head and set his mouth in a firm line, remembering what he’d found on the dining room table.

He strained to see the road ahead of him. It was a trash-moving, gullywasher out there. The windshield wipers moved furiously from side to side.

The judge was dead.

And he knew who did it.

Mama always said . . . You can’t unmash the potatoes.

J
ohnny’s headlights sliced through the rain as he sped to Dee Dee’s house. The rain was still coming down in sheets, and the wipers’ rhythm was in tune to his heartbeat. He bounded out of the car and sprang up the steps, banging on the door, Velveeta at his heels. Both officers pulled their service revolvers and held them at their sides. Johnny beat on the door.

“Police! Open up.”

He heard something from inside. “What is that?” he asked Velveeta. His ear to the door, he heard a steady knocking sound.

He tried the knob, and it was unlocked. He pushed through the door, and they followed the knocking sound to the kitchen.

On the floor, in a pool of dark red blood, lay Dee Dee. With tears streaming down her face, she was lying stock-still, making only one motion: banging her fist on the floor. “I can’t move. I can’t feel my legs,” she rasped.

“Witherspoon, first put on gloves and then call a bus.” Johnny ran to her and knelt down, pulling gloves on himself. There was so much blood, he didn’t know where to put his hand, but he felt like the woman needed some form of human contact. He settled on putting his hand on her upper arm and giving it a comforting squeeze.

“We’re calling for help, Dee Dee. Hold on. Is he still here? How long ago did he leave?”

“She. I don’t know. Maybe five minutes ago. Maybe more.” She coughed, and it turned into a snicker. “She’s a he.” Dee Dee laughed at Johnny’s puzzled expression. “You’ll never find her. She’s a
master of disguise.
” Dee Dee said the last words in a mocking tone, puzzling Johnny even more.

Is she delirious?

“You’ve lost a lot of blood. Hang tight. Help’s on the way.” He squeezed her shoulder once more and jumped up, frantically opening and closing drawers. He gave up searching her kitchen and called to Dee Dee, “Where are your tea towels?”

She looked puzzled but answered him. “Fourth drawer to the right of the sink.”

Velveeta entered the kitchen. “Bus is on the way.”

Johnny yelled, “Search the rest of the house.” She quickly did as ordered.

Johnny retrieved a stack of tea towels and turned Dee Dee on her side. “Is this wound to your abdomen the only one?”

She groaned. “Yes. We fought for the knife.” She scoffed. “I lost.”

Johnny pressed the towels to her stomach, and she gasped. She’d lost a lot of blood. “Who did this, Dee?”

“Y,” she rasped out.

“I don’t care
why.
I want to know
who
.”

“I’m telling you. It was Y. I don’t know—”

“You’re talking gibberish.” He leaned over, taking her jaw in his hand and forcing her to look in his eyes. “Look at me, Dee Dee. Who hurt you?”

“Not hurt me. Killed me,” she said in a monotone. She’d stopped crying now and seemed resigned to her fate.

“Don’t talk like that. Just tell me who it was, dammit. Did you have an accomplice for the judge? I saw the pictures. I know you killed him. But who else was there? Who was
here
?”

“Y,” she croaked. “It was Y.”

He sat back on his heels. “And What’s on second,” he muttered dryly. “Let’s try a different tack. Why did someone hurt you?”