by Amy Metz
“Aunt Bea!”
“All right, all right, all right. Hold your horses one sec while I put out the call.” She returned several seconds later. “He’ll be there in a jiffy. Are all your doors locked?”
“Oh, Lordy, no.” She half-ran, half-limped to the back door to lock it. This can’t be happening. She hurried to a side door next, feeling panicky and dry-mouthed. Down the hall she ran, her breathing rapid and shallow. Her skin felt cold and clammy. As she reached the front door, she heard a faint siren getting louder and louder.
“I hear sirens, Aunt Bea.”
A police cruiser jerked to a halt in front of her house.
“He’s here now, so I’m gonna hang up. Thank you, hon.”
Two more cruisers followed right behind Johnny’s. Before she knew it, three officers were on her front porch kneeling over Bad Penny.
Miss Penny! On my porch! Dead! She shuddered, listening to the chief barking orders to his officers. Caledonia felt she might faint until Johnny stood and walked to her. She opened the storm door for him and crumpled into his arms.
“Now, now, Caledonia. It’s all right. You’re all right. Everything’s gonna be just fine. Come on.” Johnny put his arm around her shoulders and led her to the den. She sat in an overstuffed chair, shaking. She felt like she was sitting on one of those old motel massage mattresses—she felt jittery from the inside out.
He knelt down, patted her hand, and looked in her eyes. “Can you tell me what happened?”
Caledonia told him everything she knew, right down to falling on her behind and dialing 911. “Can I make a phone call, Paul? Can I call a friend?” Caledonia had nicknamed Johnny “Paul” because everyone said he looked like Paul Bunyan.
“You’re not under arrest, and you’re not on Who Wants to Be a Millionaire.” He smiled at her, attempting to lighten the moment. “But yes, of course you can call a friend. I’m going to call a bus for you too. Get you checked out for shock. Nobody else is home, right? Where are the boys?”
“No, nobody’s home but me. I gotta call them. I don’t want them coming home yet.”
“Breathe, Caledonia. Sit right there and get your breathing back to normal and then make your calls.” She did as he asked and then called Pickle.
He picked up on the second ring. “Hi, Mama—”
“Listen to me, Dylan Everett Culpepper. I want you to go to the school and wait for the Peanut while he has basketball practice. Then take him to the bookstore with you. You hear?”
“Well, Mama, I can’t. I gotta be at work at three o’clock.”
“Ms. Louetta will have to understand. This is an emergency. I’ll explain later. You just do as I say. Do not come home. And I want you to keep your brother with you. You hear?”
“Mama, what’s wrong? Why can’t we come home? What’s the emergency? Why can’t you pick up the Peanut? You don’t sound like yourself.”
“Right now I wish I were anyone but myself.” She paused for a moment, and then a thought struck her. “Well, anyone but Bad Penny or myself.”
“Miss Penny—?” Pickle started to say.
“Lookit, I’ll explain later. Y’all just stay at the bookstore until I come get you. Promise me.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Pickle sounded unsure, but he knew better than not to mind his mama.
She nodded, hit end, and called Tess, who said she’d be right over. It wasn’t until after Caledonia had hung up that she realized she hadn’t wanted or needed to call her husband.
By the time Wynona switched back to her car and stowed her gear in the trunk, the rain was just a fine mist. She parked in front of Miss Penny’s Dress Shop and was greeted by a new face from behind the counter.
“Hiya. Can I help you?”
“Well, yes.” She held up a finger, signaling the woman to wait a moment, and walked to a rack of dresses, taking one to the register. “I’d like to buy this.”
“You sure are decisive. You don’t want to try it on first?”
“I was in earlier and tried it on. I decided I couldn’t live without it. Tell Miss Penny I came back for it, will you?”
“Will do.” The woman took the credit card from Wynona. “Who are you again?”
Wynona slapped her forehead. “Silly me. My name’s Trixie.”
“Well, I don’t know any other Trixies around here, so she’s bound to know it’s you.”
“I was in here with Caledonia Culpepper this morning.”
The woman pursed her lips. “Oh. That explains Penny’s surly demeanor earlier.”
“Them two are like oil and water, aren’t they?” Wynona took the card back from the cashier.
“Boy, I’ll say. They’ve been sworn enemies for as long as I can remember.”
“It got kind of heated in here earlier. I could feel the hate emanating from Miss Penny, that’s for sure. And she was rather vocal with her feelings.”
“Yeah, she gets that way around Cal. That’s why I was surprised when she said she was going over there.” The woman put the dress in a bag.
Wynona froze. “Over where?”
“Over to Cal’s house. That’s where she is now. I tried to talk her out of it, but she was bound and determined to give Caledonia a piece of her mind. I guess she wanted to continue whatever was started this morning.”
“Why? What’s the point?” A niggling feeling began at the back of Wynona’s brain.
“Honey, there ain’t no point. It’s just the way them two are. They’ll go to their death fighting and hating each other.”
“How long ago did Miss Penny leave?” Wynona shifted her weight from foot to foot.
The woman consulted her watch. “Oh, I don’t know. Within the hour.”
Wynona took the bag and headed out into the misty, gray day thinking, No, that can’t be.
Mama always said . . . Every day is just a roll of the dice, and snake eyes are just a way of life.
Pickle led his little brother Peanut into A Blue Million Books shortly after three fifteen. He’d called to tell Louetta that he’d be a little late today but apologized again once he got there.
“Peekal, it’s fine. I wonder what’s got your mama all worked up? You reckon we should check on her?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know, Mizz Louetta. She said for us to stay here until she comes to get us. I figured it’d be okay since I was due to work anyway. Peanut can sit in a chair and read. Would that be all right?”
“No. Let’s put both of you to work until she comes. Idle hands are the devil’s workshop.”
“Yes, ma’am,” both brothers answered.
Just then, the bell over the door tinkled, and Jimmy Dean sauntered in with a smug look on his face. Louetta’s eyes narrowed, but she kept her composure, remembered her manners, and tried her best to be civil.
“Hello, Jimmy Dean. Anything we can help you with today?” She wouldn’t allow herself a smile. One need only take politeness so far.
“No thank you, ma’am. I’d just like to browse.” He strutted off toward the back of the store, turning to actually wink at Lou.
She turned to Peanut and whispered in his ear. “You g’won over there and stick to him like stink on a hog, you hear? I don’t care if he knows you’re watching him. You just glue your eyes on him and let me know if he tries to walk out with anything he didn’t come in with.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Peanut pumped a fist in the air and scurried off on his important mission.
Louetta shook her head in disgust. “Those people oughtta spend more time giving their kids home-training instead of going around spending money and strutting their stuff. I tell you what, I see one thing his daddy’s teaching his son—if his lips are moving, you can bet he’s telling a tall tale. I reckon Jimmy Dean will make a stellar lawyer like his daddy. I’m of a good mind to—”
The store bell sounded again, signaling the arrival of another customer.
“Well, never mind. We’d best get to work.”
When Pickle started for the st
ock room, Lou noticed what his T-shirt said on the back: THE LAST TIME I REACHED FOR THE STARS I PULLED A MUSCLE. She shook her head and went to greet the hippie-looking woman who had just stepped into the store.
“Hidee, sugar. Weren’t you here last night with Hank?”
“Yes, I was. Lovely party.”
“Thank you, I’m glad you could come, uh . . . What did you say your name was?” Lou looked expectantly at the woman.
“Trixie. My name’s Trixie.”
“Oh yeah! I remember now. We don’t have any other Trixies around here. Yeah, we like to do it up right. Tess deserved it. Are you looking for anything impa tickler?”
“I just thought I’d browse a bit. Perfect day to get lost in a book.”
“Honey, any day is a perfect day to get lost in a book, but I take your point. You stay long’s you want. Has the rain let up any?” Louetta twisted around to look out the window.
“A bit. It’s still pretty nasty out there.”
“Well, a little rain never killed anybody. Holler if you need anything.” Lou went behind the counter and picked up the phone.
“Tessie? What in God’s green land is going on in this town? Did you hear—”
Tess interrupted, “I can’t really talk right now, Lou. I’m at Caledonia’s house. There’s been an accident.”
“What kind of accident?” Lou’s voice boomed across the store, and she noticed Trixie watching her. Lou smiled and turned her back to the customer, lowering her voice to almost a whisper. “Is Caledonia all right?”
“Caledonia’s fine. We’ll explain when we see you.”
“When will that be?”
“I don’t know. Soon as we can. I promise.”
Louetta hung up muttering, “Don’t that beat all.” She bustled around the store, working off her nervous energy. It wasn’t long before she looked up to see Martha Maye walk in.
“Hey, darlin’. Did you get Butterbean over to your Aunt Imy’s all right?”
“Just like always. It’s cute how they each think they’re babysitting the other.” She studied her mother’s face. “You don’t seem right. What’s the matter?”
Lou took her daughter’s arm and led her to the office. She told her all she knew and begged her daughter to call Johnny.
“Mama, I can’t call him to ask about gossip. What’s gotten into you?”
Lou sighed and sank into her office chair. “You’re right. I’m just so anxious to know what’s going on. Tess’s voice sounded grim.”
An hour later, Lou looked out her office door to see who’d come into the store. When she saw Officer Skeeter Duke, she rushed to him, Martha Maye on her heels.
“Skeeter, what in tarnation is going on?”
Skeeter’s face was drawn. “Y’all won’t believe this, but we’ve had another homicide.”
The women grabbed each other. Lou said, “Sweet Jesus and Mary Jane.”
Martha Maye said, “Is Johnny—”
The officer held his hands up. “Johnny’s fine.”
“Who got killed?”
Skeeter looked around the store and pulled the women in close. “It was Miss Penny.”
They gasped. Lou slumped into a nearby chair. “Well, I’ll be battered and fried. Penny wasn’t the most genteel woman in town, but who’d want to kill her?”
“That’s what we’re gonna have to find out.”
“What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be at the crime scene?”
“I was, but Johnny told me to come up here and give all y’all the news so you wouldn’t worry. Maybe you could break it to Pickle and Peanut about a murder at their house? I gotta go tell Miss Penny’s employee and then get back.”
“What about Oren? Has anyone told him?”
“The chief’s going to break it to him personally.”
Skeeter left, and Martha Maye sunk into a chair next to her mother, seeming completely flummoxed.
“Mama, what are we gonna do?” Martha Maye looked like she was about to cry. “Tank Marshall and Lenny’s murders were shocking enough, but Miss Penny! She’s practically a pillow of the community.”
“Martha Maye, it’s pillar. And we’re gonna make a casserole; that’s what we’re gonna do. Now, go get a pencil. We need to make a shopping list.”
Lou noticed Trixie lingering nearby and realized she must have overheard their conversation.
She rushed over to the woman. “Don’t you worry none, hon. This here’s a safe town.”
Martha Maye returned and blurted out, “These days it seems like it’s one murder after another if you ask me.” She slapped a hand over her mouth.
Mother and daughter glanced nervously at each other and then at Trixie, who looked alarmed. Lou conceded, “Well, this technically makes three in recent history. But the first two were of an unsavory sort—”
“Mama!”
“Well, they were.”
“That don’t make it right.”
“I think I’ll end my stay here a little early.” Trixie’s face had gotten white, and she began backing toward the door. “I don’t like discord of any kind. Especially dead bodies.”
“Well, now see—”
Peanut suddenly appeared at Lou’s side. “Um . . . Ms. Louetta, that boy’s taking off with more than he came in with.” He pointed to Jimmy Dean who was making a beeline for the door.
Lou’s face scrunched up. “That little turkey. I see his game now. First he comes in and makes me believe he stole something, so I confront him, and he makes a fool out of me. He thinks that gives him the green light to come in and take whatever he wants, and I won’t say anything out of fear of being humiliated again.”
“Mama, what are you going to do?”
“I have an idea,” Lou said with a gleam in her eye. “He will rue the day he thought he could mess with Louetta Stafford, let me tell you.”
She turned, trying to decide whether to tell Trixie that Goose Pimple Junction really was a crime-free town or lecture Jimmy Dean on his sins, but both were gone.
Wynona and Jimmy Dean hit the door at the same time. Both were in a hurry to get out of the store and collided after they did a little dance of you first, no you go ahead until finally both tried to push through at the same time. There was a collective “Oomph” followed by “Oh, good grief” from her and an expletive from him. She glared at him, brought her purse strap up tighter on her shoulder, and pushed ahead. Jimmy Dean took advantage of the moment, reaching in and lifting out her wallet. He was relieved when she hotfooted it around the corner, obviously not detecting the slight movement his hand made when it dipped into her purse.
Jimmy Dean hung back to open the wallet, pulling out several credit cards and IDs. IDs—plural! Dumbfounded, he sifted through the contents of her wallet: three drivers’ licenses under three different names and three different women, and three credit cards matching the names on the licenses. This is gold.
The teenager began walking while studying his bounty. Something’s familiar about all three women, he thought. He was so engrossed in inspecting Trixie Cochran’s license, he plowed right into someone. When he raised his head, the woman was glaring at him with her arms crossed over her midsection.
When he stepped back, she held out a hand. “I believe you have something of mine, Poop.”
“Several somethings, huh?” he snorted, the triumphant expression on his face turning to annoyed when her name for him registered. “And would you please stop calling me that?”
“You’re gonna need to come with me.” Wynona took his arm and firmly led him to her car.
She put him in the passenger seat and headed around the front to the driver’s side. He lifted his phone in the air as she entered the car. Then his thumbs typed furiously on the small keypad, and he finally looked up with a satisfied smile on his face. “So what are you, an identity thief? A hustler? A con artist? Whatever you are, I’m in.”
“Excuse me?”
“I want you to teach me what you know. I want to have a l
ittle fun in life. You teach me everything you know about breaking the law and I won’t tell a soul what I know.”
“Or I could just take you out of town, kill you, and dump your body.”
He laughed nervously and ran his sweaty palms across his thighs. “Naw, you won’t do that. I just took your picture and sent it to my friend. Told him I had a hot date with you. But if I turn up dead, you’re the first person they’ll look at. Jordan will make sure of that.”
Wynona let out a heavy sigh. “Look, kid, I’m not into anything. I’m hiding from my abusive ex-husband; that’s all. That’s why I have three identities. Period. End of story.”
He studied her with an eyebrow raised. “You really ‘spect me to believe that?”
“You don’t have any proof otherwise.”
“Still, I could go to the law and tell ‘em what I know.”
“You think they’d believe a punk-ass kid like you? Think again.”
“I heard that police officer talking about a murder. I think they’d be interested in someone who just happens to be walking around with three IDs on the day a murder is committed in town.” He studied her face and a diabolical grin crossed his. “You did it, didn’t you?”
Wynona flung her hand in the air. “Wow. That was quite a leap. Don’t be ridiculous.”
“You got an alibi for this afternoon?”
“Of course I do.” She adjusted her glasses.
“Bet you don’t.” The rascally smile returned.
She scrutinized him. “You go telling the police anything and my ex is bound to hear about it. How much you want?”
“I don’t want money. I got that coming out my ears. I want knowledge. I want a mentor.”
“Let me think about it, kid.”
He stuck out his hand. “Jimmy Dean Howe at your service.”
Mama always said . . . You’ve got to be 10% smarter than the equipment you’re running.
Wynona drove sixty miles south before she got off the interstate and then right back on, heading north again. She had decided on Plan B. She knew that little punk would blow her cover sooner or later. She also knew Wynona couldn’t leave town before the job was done, especially after she’d botched it. Killing the wrong person—the act of killing alone—had her so rattled she wasn’t thinking clearly. The drive had helped her put her head on straight, and she knew what she had to do. A little voice in her head kept asking why she had to do it. She put her hands in her ears and said, “La la la la la.” Then she realized she needed to hold onto the steering wheel.