Rogues & Rascals in Goose Pimple Junction (Goose Pimple Junction Mysteries Book 4) (5 page)

“It’s not flattery. It’s the truth.”

“Well, whatever it is, now you’ll be taking me to the diner for lunch.”

Jack beamed at Tess. “You gotta admit that is one special dog.”

Ezzie’s ears perked up, hopeful she was out of trouble.

“I’ll admit she’s gifted in the art of eating. How she eats Pop-Tarts, bread, and cookies without eating the wrappers is beyond me. Maybe she has opposable thumbs.”

Jack grabbed his wife around the waist. “You’re so beautiful.”

Her eyes gleamed. “Are you attempting to change the subject?”

“What were we talking about? I can’t remember.” Jack started to kiss her.

“We were talking about you taking me to lunch.”

Jack wrapped his arms around his wife. “In a minute.”

Mama always said . . . When you’re getting kicked from behind, that means you’re in front.

L
ouetta could have sworn the kid realized she had seen him shoplifting in her bookstore, A Blue Million Books. He looked right at her two seconds after he stuffed the book under his pink Ralph Lauren button-down shirt. She couldn’t believe it when he headed for the door with a blatant look of defiance.

“Jimmy Dean Howe, you hold it right there.” Octogenarian Louetta barreled across the bookstore to the teenager who’d just opened the door. “Are you leaving?” She glared at him, her hands on her ample hips that were covered in a lime green dress. Every hair on her gray head was in place, and her makeup was just as loud as always. Her appearance was every bit as bright in color as her mind was sharp.

“Yes, ma’am. I need to get home.” The boy stared at his feet. He was short, stocky, and had brown hair that looked like it hadn’t been combed in years. He’d opened the door and was halfway out. His expensive preppy clothes didn’t match his hairstyle at all. She supposed the look was what the youngins called the naturally tousled look. She thought it was the naturally ignorant look.

“Yeah, well there are two things you gotta do first.”

Jimmy Dean looked blankly at her. With the door open, she could see Officer Hank Beanblossom coming their way up the sidewalk.

“First, you gotta give me that book you think you’re hiding in your pants.” She leaned out and called to Hank, “Officer Beanblossom, I’m in need of your assistance.” She looked back at the boy. “Then you gotta explain to this officer why you’re shoplifting in my store.”

Officer Beanblossom stopped just outside the doorway, assuming a wide-leg stance with his arms folded across his chest. He resembled a bouncer. He peered over the top of his dark sunglasses. “Can you explain that, kid?”

Instead of the fear Lou thought she would see in the boy’s face, Jimmy Dean’s air of feigned innocence also had a tinge of . . . of . . . was that glee?

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” The boy’s chin rose in the air, and a hint of a smile appeared on his lips.

“What I’m talking about,” her voice got louder as she reached to pull up his shirttail, “what I’m talking about is
thi
s.” She yanked the book from under his belt.

“But, Mizz Louetta, that book’s mine.”

The dirty little ninny had the nerve to appear amused.

“Oh it is, is it?” She was horrified to see the book was
Everything You Always Wanted to Know About Sex But Were Afraid to Ask
. She couldn’t remember the last time she had blushed, but she could feel her face growing hot. She knew she didn’t carry the book in her store, but she opened the cover just the same. Written inside was “Jimmy Dean Howe.”

She looked from Hank, who was rubbing his forehead, eyes hidden, to Jimmy Dean, who had
Don’t you feel stupid now?
written all over his face.

Hank broke the silence. “Uh . . . Lou . . . I don’t reckon . . . you still need me?”

She handed the book back to Jimmy Dean, and with all the dignity she could muster, said, “No, Officer Beanblossom. I don’t reckon I do.”

The kid actually had the nerve to say, “It’s all right, Mizz Louetta. I know you’re getting on in years. I won’t tell my dad about this.”

Louetta was seldom at a loss for words, but all she could do was stare at him wide-mouthed like the fish she felt she was, having been hooked and reeled in by this kid. Thankfully, Hank spoke up.

He whipped off his sunglasses and used them to point at the boy. “Dude, I don’t know what kind of game you’re playing, but Mizz Louetta is sharper than anyone in this town. There’s not a person in it she doesn’t know and nary a Goose Pimple Junction fact she’s forgotten. I’d keep that in mind next time you cross her path. You’re already in a heap of trouble for past lapses in judgment. You need to keep your nose clean. Now you best be getting home.”

The kid smirked and sauntered away. Louetta turned to go inside with Hank on her heels.

“Louetta, what was that all about?”

“Hank, I wish I knew. In all my days—and there have been many—I never saw anything like it. I saw him put the book inside his belt and cover it up with his shirttail. And I saw him seeing me see him put the book in his pants. Lord knows he doesn’t need to steal, what with his daddy being the richest man in town. But I saw him do it. Or at least I thought he was stealing.”

“His daddy’s Louis P. Howe? The highfalutin lawyer?”

“Mmm hmm. Maybe I
am
losing it. Lord knows I feel as old as Moses’s toes.” She shook her head in disgust. “I’ve owned this store probably longer than you’ve been alive, and I know a shoplifter when I see one. I thought for sure he’d taken that book.”

“You’re not old, Lou; you’re a classic.” That comment elicited a small smile from her. “I meant what I said a minute ago. You could whoop anyone in town in smarts and twice on Sunday.”

“Lawzee, don’t go getting carried away now. You don’t have to try to make me feel better.” She patted his arm. “But I do ‘preshade it.”

“It was an honest mistake, Lou. He set a trap. Don’t let that kid get to you. He ain’t through climbing fool’s hill yet.”

“He ought to be. He’s about to be a senior in high school. It’s time he stop climbing.”

After Hank left, she asked Pickle Culpepper, her teenage employee, to mind the register, and she sat in her office at the rear of the store. The incident had really rattled her. Why would that boy want her to think he was shoplifting? Just to humiliate her? It certainly felt premeditated with his choice of book. It just didn’t make sense. She closed her eyes and shook her head vigorously, trying to rid her head of the thoughts. When she opened them, her eyes fell on the calendar. She sat up straight then grabbed the phone and punched in some numbers. Her daughter, Martha Maye, picked up.

“We need to have a party.” Lou gripped the phone hard.

“What for?”

“For Tess. Are you in?”

“Well, sure, Mama, but why does Tess need a party?”

“Her one-year anniversary as a resident of Goose Pimple Junction is coming up, and we’re gonna throw a party. We’ll have it here at the store. Get a pencil. Let’s plan the menu. We can cook all weekend. Number one on the list is lemon squares.”

“Oh, of course. They’re Tess’s favorite.”

“And pound cake. Orange-almond or coconut?”

“How about both? And a chocolate one and a chocolate chip one too. You never can have too much chocolate. Or cake.”

“I like the way you think.”

“Chicken salad?”

“Check.”

“Yeast rolls?”

“Check.”

“Ham?”

“Uh huh.”

“Brownies?”

“Plain, frosted, and Mississippi mud.”

“Pea salad, corn & Fritos salad, and my famous lime Jell-O mold?”

“Check, check, and check.”

Lou could tell her daughter had put her hand over the phone because her voice was muffled when she said, “Butterbean! Step away from the cookies until after dinner.” Then she came back on. “Let’s do squash casserole, green beans, and smushed potatoes too.”

“Wonderful. Make some little corn muffins, ‘kay? I’ll get Slick to bring some of his barbecue, and it’ll be good as little finger sandwiches with the corn muffins.”

“All right, Mama. You think we’re gonna have enough food?”

“I think we’ll be in good shape. You get busy on the shopping list and going to the market. I’ll be home in a little while. Meet me there so we can get started?”

“Sure. Mama, is everything all right? You don’t sound like yourself.”

“Oh yeah, honey. I’m fine. Just fine. See you in a bit. And give that handsome husband of yours a kiss for me.”

“Okay, Mama.” Louetta could hear the laughter in Martha Maye’s voice, and it warmed her heart to know her daughter was so happy now.

She hung up, and her mind went back to Jimmy Dean. She kept picturing his smirk. What on earth was that boy up to? Did he just want some kicks to humiliate an old woman? It didn’t make sense. But one thing she was sure about: he didn’t know who he was messing with.

He sat in his fancy office with his big feet inside shiny loafers propped on his solid mahogany desk. He shifted his size 11B’s from side to side slightly so he could admire the bright shining pennies in his shoes against the polished brown leather. He was forty-one but felt twenty-one. Or he would if he were free. Not tied down with a ball and chain. What had he been thinking when he married her? Probably let his hormones do the thinking for him. She was so hot back then; he’d been like a rat on a Cheeto. If she wasn’t so needy, maybe he could tolerate her. And that mindless drivel that constantly fell from her mouth. But the thought of divorcing her and losing half of everything he owned made him sick to his stomach. Ugh.