by Amy Metz
With the officer’s interest in her and now Jimmy Dean’s interference, if she was going to do this job, she needed a change. Goodbye, hippie Trixie Cochran; hello, Waunice Newton, an irritating, irascible, cantankerous ogre who nobody could stand to be around. They’d leave her alone, free to go about her business. And when she left town abruptly after the murder, it would be too bad for law enforcement because like Trixie, Waunice would simply cease to exist. She was going to up her game in disguise like nobody’s business. And she was going to teach that little punk a lesson about messing with her. Perfect plan.
The next day, Wynona re-entered town as an overweight, helmet-haired, buck-toothed, smelly old woman. She was delighted with her shopping spree. She drove slowly past her mark’s house, but all was quiet. It was a beautiful summer day. The sun was shining, sprinklers were oscillating, and air conditioners were humming.
Driving down Main Street in a beat-up 1974 green Chevy Nova that she’d bought for a thousand dollars, she couldn’t wait to let the games begin. The car door creaked as she set first one then the other white orthopedic shoe onto the pavement with a thud. She pulled out her heavily-padded rear end and thighs, clad in one-size-too-small polyester pants. She wore a white warm-up jacket over a T-shirt that smelled badly of body odor (she’d had a five-mile run to achieve that particular aroma) and covered a fake double D-cup chest. Her top rode up at the waist, divulging a roll of fat above her waistband. Her bogus oversized eyeglasses rested on a bulbous foam latex nose and covered half of her heavily made-up face, complete with an inch of pancake makeup and bright red lipstick smeared under her bottom lip. She’d given herself dark under eye circles and a hairy mole on the side of her face. She bobbled as she walked as if it took all she had to move with the weight she was carrying. As she opened the door to the diner, she even let a wheeze come out of her mouth.
The first reaction from the folks in the diner was exactly what she’d hoped for: repulsion. They glanced in her direction and then quickly looked away. A few small children stared until a parent quietly chastised them. Waunice walked to the far end of the counter and plopped heavily onto a counter stool where her ample, lumpy bottom spilled over on all sides. She climbed on, almost fell off, and righted herself. She let out a heavy sigh as if it had taken all her strength to get herself out of the car and into the diner. Patting her heavily-sprayed gray helmet hair, she took note of her surroundings.
Those cranky old men again sat three seats away from her. The diner was three-quarters full, and Willa Jean and Junebug were hustling. Junebug came toward the kitchen hollering, “Got a bloodhound in the hay and a Bossie on a board, Slick.” She looked at Waunice, who smiled widely, revealing crooked lipstick-stained teeth. “One of us will be right with you, hon.”
Waunice eavesdropped on the folks at the booth closest to her. The woman said, “He didn’t let any moss grow under his feet, is all I’m saying.”
“Oh, come on. There never was no pause button. He didn’t speed up or slow down; he just kept going. Now that she’s dead, he doesn’t have to sneak around anymore.”
“I still say it’s unseemly. He practically had a date to her funeral.” She shook her head in disgust. “You don’t think he had his wife killed just to get her out of the way, do you?”
“Dee Dee, anything is possible.”
Yes indeedy, Dee Dee, anything is possible. Waunice smiled to herself.
Just then, Officer Hank Beanblossom entered the restaurant. Her smile was genuine now. It was good to see him. He sat down between the old men and her, leaving two seats between them. Perfect.
Hank nodded politely to Waunice and quickly looked away. Silently, she counted to herself: one, two, three . . . Waunice saw the look in his eyes change from a slight twinkle to that of a deer in the headlights when her special scent found his nostrils. Without moving his head, his eyes traveled in all directions and then darted again at Waunice. She raised her hand, wiggling her fingers and boldly licking her lips. Then she let out a smoker’s cough, hacking into her hand for about thirty seconds.
Junebug set a glass of water down in front of her. “You all right, hon?” She cocked her head quizzically.
“Oh yeah, just fine,” Waunice rasped, thumping her chest. “Just having one of my spells. It’ll pass. Always does.” She let out a few more coughs. She was going to have to be careful, or the mouthpiece was going to come loose.
“What can I gitcha?”
Waunice squinted at the menu blackboard on the wall. “How ‘bout a chicken and egg sandwich and a glass of milk?” She made her voice sound gravelly.
Junebug nodded, turned, and yelled to the cook’s window, “Gimme a family reunion.”
Wynona held up a hand. “Gimme some French fries too, will ya?”
Junebug hollered over her shoulder, “And some frog sticks.”
“Frog sticks? No, dear, I said French fries.” She enunciated the words slowly.
“Don’t worry. I’ll fix you right up.” Junebug walked away, and Waunice noticed her rolling her eyes at the two old men.
Waunice left her overstuffed handbag on the counter, got up, and headed for the restroom. She stretched her arm, and her hand pushed off first one and then a second stool as if she needed help walking. As she passed Hank, she let her hand brush against his rear end and felt him stiffen. Three minutes later, when she came back, she heard the men talking.
“. . . thought you had yourself a girlfriend. What’s the matter? You run her off?”
Hank shrugged. “I don’t know what happened. Stanley over at Red Bud Inn said he hasn’t seen her since yesterday. Nobody has.”
“You scared her oft is what you did.” Clive poked his finger at the officer.
“I don’t see how,” Hank whined.
“She didn’t appreciate his good qualities,” Earl offered with a grin.
Waunice sat heavily with an “umph” and patted her hair. “You looking for a sweetie, sweetie?” She flashed her lipstick-stained smile at him.
“Um . . . I, uh . . . ” Hank stammered. He bent his arm like a wing and rubbed the back of his neck.
“I could pop my teeth out and you and me could go make out in the parking lot.”
“Um . . . I . . . ”
“Yeah, Hank. That’s got to be the best offer you’ve had all year. You better jump on this one like a duck on a June bug.” Clive slapped him on the back.
“Afraid I’m on duty, ma’am.” Hank smiled politely and looked away.
Her worry that he might recognize her had been unwarranted. The few quick glances he’d given her weren’t long enough for anything to register.
“Aw, come on. I don’t bite—” a huge leer came over her face “—much.”
Hank stood. “No offense, ma’am, but I’m on duty.” He waved to Junebug. “See ya later, Junie B.”
She frowned and propped a hand on her hip. “You leaving so soon? You didn’t even eat anything.”
“Yeah, uh, I forgot something I was supposed to do. I’ll be back later.” He rushed out the door.
Clive and Earl burst out in laughter.
Junebug stared at the door. “What in the world got into him?”
Clive cackled. “He took off like Moody’s goose.”
“Man alive. That was so good, I wish I could watch it again,” Earl said with a guffaw.
Junebug turned to him. “Watch what again? What are you two fools talking about?”
“Aw, Junie, you had to be there. It’ll lose something in translation.”
Slick hollered, “Order up!”
Junebug shook her head and went to get the plate. She set the sandwich and fries down in front of Waunice.
“There you go, hon. That oughtta chink your cracks.” She studied her face for a moment. “You’re not from around here, are ya?”
“Just passing through, doll.” Waunice ate as loudly and as sloppily as she could. She noticed the furtive glances aimed her way, but she was pleased at how many people were trying not
to look at her. Even Junebug, who chatted up everyone in the place, was pretty much steering clear of her.
While she ate, she once again listened to the two old guys arguing over tractors and bulldozers. Chewing the last bite of her sandwich with her mouth open, she let out a belch, thumped her chest, and said to no one in particular, “That tasted just as good the second time.”
Waunice could practically read the minds of everyone in the restaurant as their curiosity fought with their mothers’ voice in their heads saying, “It’s not polite to stare.”
“I’ll show you, you ornery cuss.” Clive raised his voice. “I’ma order me that bulldozer. Then we’ll just see which one can outpull the other.”
“That’s right” Earl nodded. “Waste your money. Then we’ll have us a little contest. I dare you.”
“Oh yeah?” Clive puffed out his chest. “Well, I accept that dare.”
Waunice paid for her food, left the diner, and waddled down the sidewalk toward her car. People passing her gave her a wide berth. She crossed the street and sat on a bench in the town green, thinking. She was going to have to do this job, and she needed it done sooner rather than later. Then she could get the heck out of town. She couldn’t afford to make another mistake. She’d just have to make it look like an accident or there would be too many questions.
The day after the shooting, Caledonia was a nervous wreck. Finding a dead body on her porch had been such a shock. Philetus had acted all concerned in front of Johnny and the officers, but as soon as they left the house, he was back to his cold, indifferent self. He’d had the nerve to ask her what she had planned for dinner, and when she said that was the farthest thought in her mind at the moment, he inquired as to whether there were any thoughts in her head.
Caledonia walked past Ernestine & Hazel’s Sundries. A car slowed alongside her, and she was startled when she heard a voice call her name. She stopped and turned her head to see Louis P. Howe leaning across the passenger seat, glaring at her.
“That was an unfortunate incident yesterday, Caledonia. It appears you literally dodged a bullet.” He shot her a piercing glare and sped away, gravel spitting from under the tires.
She looked all around her but saw no one within earshot. The nerve of that man. Oooh . . .
Barreling through the door of A Blue Million Books, she was relieved when she saw her friend. “Tess, you’ll never believe what just happened.”
“You’re shaking. What happened, Caledonia?” Her friend put a hand out to steady her.
“That man—”
“What man?” Tess led her to a chair.
“Louis P. Howe. He all but threatened me. He said it looks like I literally dodged a bullet. I know he wanted to keep me quiet about his son, but cold-blooded murder? Lordy be. You should have seen the look he gave me. You don’t think it was him, do you?”
“He’s a lawyer. He’s capable of anything. I think you need to report this to Johnny.”
“I suppose you’re right. You don’t think I’m in danger, do you? I mean, the pompous airbag is all talk, right? That bullet wasn’t meant for me, was it?” Caledonia seemed to be talking to herself now. “But who’d want to kill Miss Penny? Shoot fire, who’d want to kill me other than that vile man, but I can’t believe that the stakes are so high he’d resort to murder. People don’t just bump someone off to get their kid out of hot water.” Her head shot up, and her eyes met Tess’s. “Do they?”
“Caledonia, calm down.” She turned toward the back of the store. “Lou!” Louetta rushed toward them, and Tess continued. “I need to walk Caledonia down to the police station. You’ll be okay without me for a few minutes—right?”
Lou smoothed down her multi-colored flower print dress as she walked up to the women. “Well, sure, honey. What’s wrong now?”
“Louis P. Howe just pointed some thinly-veiled threats Caledonia’s way. I’m going with her to report it.”
“Y’all go do that and don’t worry a bit about the store.” Lou blotted her brow with a lacy hanky. “It’s a quiet day in here anyway. G’won, y’all. Turn in that piece of vermin.” She shooed them out the door and then frowned when she looked up the sidewalk and saw Jimmy Dean heading her way. In no mood to mess with the likes of him today, she went inside, locked the door, and changed the sign in the window from “Open” to “Closed.”
Mama always said . . . If you don’t use your head, you might as well have two butts.
Johnny was empathetic and took the report seriously. He tried to lighten Caledonia’s stress by saying he wondered if the Howe family tree had more than one branch.
On the walk back to the bookstore, Caledonia got a text from Phil saying he wouldn’t be home until late that night. After he told her his plans, Tess and Caledonia made some of their own. Tess picked up Cal later that evening, and Betty and Al headed for their first stakeout.
Tess drove her dark green “Countryman” Mini Cooper around the town square and past the upscale bar & grill, The Silly Goose, searching for Phil’s car. When she saw his black Infiniti, she parked a block to the south and scanned the area. Phil had told Caledonia he was meeting a friend for drinks and then going to a baseball game. His car was here all right, but who was he with? Tess opened all four windows, turned off the car, and settled in her seat.
“Do you see him?” Caledonia whispered behind Tess.
“I see his car. He must be inside.”
“I’ll text him.” Caledonia came out from under a blanket, her hair mussed.
“Good idea.” Tess glanced in the rearview mirror and giggled at the ridiculousness of Caledonia’s head suddenly popping up with messy hair and wild eyes. “You know there’s no point in hiding until we spot him, right?”
“Just don’t want to take any chances. Plus, I don’t want anyone to walk by and see me. They might mention it to Phil.”
“Good point.”
A few minutes passed and Cal reported, “He texted back. He says he’s having a drink with Pat.”
“So he’s in there. We’ll wait, see who he’s with, and then follow him.” Tess was quiet for a moment and then said, “Is Pat a guy?”
“Yes. No worries.” After a beat, Cal added weakly, “Unless he’s gay.”
It was hard to see the door to the restaurant from where they were parked, so Tess moved the car to the same block as Phil’s and pulled in three spaces down. Trouble was, now they were looking at the restaurant door through Phil’s car, which made it difficult to see. Whenever the restaurant door opened or someone walked past on the sidewalk in front of them, Caledonia retreated under the blanket, and Tess slouched lower in her seat while straining her neck and eyes to see who came out.
When someone parked in the spot right next to Phil’s, it completely blocked their view. Tess moved the car again, this time parking diagonally across from the restaurant. From that vantage point, they had to twist their bodies or crane their necks to see the restaurant door, but they would have a better view of him coming out.
An hour passed and then another thirty minutes. They alternated between having the car on for the benefit of the air conditioning to turning it off and opening all the windows. The temperature outside hovered around ninety, so they turned the car on more frequently than off, especially since Caledonia insisted on hiding under a blanket.
“Do you have enough room back there?” Tess twisted to see her friend. “I don’t know how comfortable the backseat can be for an extended period of time. I guess you’re just lucky Jack talked me into the four-door instead of the two-door.”
“I’m fine. I have enough room. I can even stretch out if I want.” She held up a bat. “But do you want to tell me why you have a bat in your car?”
Tess laughed. “I used to keep it by my bed at night, but since I have Jack to protect me, I keep it in my car. Does that make me paranoid?”
“Not after what you’ve been through, honey. A girl’s gotta protect herself.”
The women sang along to the Dixie Chicks, d
rank sweet tea, and played the game “I have never, have you ever?”
Tess started it off. “I have never smoked a cigarette in my life, have you ever?”
“Oh yeah, Betty, all the cool kids did back in high school. But I didn’t want smoker’s lips, so I quit after a couple months.”
“Good for you. Okay, Al, your turn.”
Caledonia had one ready. “I have never worn a thong, have you ever?”
Tess laughed. “No. I have never. Now me. I have never . . .” Tess thought for a moment. “ . . . gone skinny-dipping.”
“Heavens no, Betty. That would be unseemly and unhealthy.” She ducked down when someone came out of the restaurant, but when Tess said it wasn’t Phil, she continued the game. “My turn now. I have never worn white shoes before Easter or after Labor day, have you ever?”
“Only when I was a bride.” Tess thought for a moment and then said, “I have never changed the oil in my car, have you ever?”
“Not ever,” Caledonia said emphatically. “I have never changed a tire, have you ever?”
“Once, and I’ll never do it again.”
They played the game until dusk was setting in. Finally, Caledonia said, “It’s getting late, Betty. We’ve been here for over two hours. He shoulda left by now if he’s going to the game. I’m gonna text him again.”
“What are you going to say?”
“I’m just coming out and asking if he’s still at The Silly Goose.”
A minute or two passed, and then Caledonia read from her iPhone: “No, I left my car there and rode with Pat. We’re at a restaurant not far from the stadium right now. Going to the game soon.”