Short & Tall Tales in Goose Pimple Junction

by Amy Metz

  Louetta strained her neck to look out the window for Butterbean. “And you mentioned tissue. Do you still need that?”

  “Yes! Thank you. A nose in need needs Puffs indeed.”

  There was silence for several minutes as Lou didn’t know what to say.

  Imy resumed, “That should do it. No wait, I need hairspray too. I get that big pink and white can. And go ahead and get me two of those.”

  “Aqua Net?”

  “Yes. That’s the one. The humidity is so thick, I’ve got to have something to hold these curls.” Suddenly she sang, “Silk — you go to my head.”

  Louetta took the phone from her ear and stared at the receiver as if it were a foreign object. Then she put it back to her ear. “All right, honey. I’ll run by Food Country, and then I’ll be over to the hospital to pick you up and bring you on home. ‘K, hon?”

  “Food Country’s the food specialist,” was Ima Jean’s answer.

  Louetta shook her head and ended the call before her sister came out with any more nonsense.

  Lou arrived at eleven o’clock to check out Ima Jean from the hospital and take her home to convalesce. Tess was minding the store, and Martha Maye would join her in the afternoon. It had only been a little over an hour since she talked to her sister. She was worried about her but glad to be taking her home where she could keep an eye on her.

  The strange looks on the nurses’ faces vaguely registered as Louetta marched past them on the way to Ima Jean’s room. “Morning, ladies. Beauty of a day out there.”

  “Well, yes it is, but--” the nurse said in Lou’s wake. “Mizz Stafford . . . ”She rounded the counter at the nurses station and went after Lou.

  “Mizz Stafford,” the nurse repeated as she walked into the hospital room. Lou was standing in the middle of an empty room.

  “Where is she?” She turned in a circle as if she would find her sister hiding somewhere in the empty room.

  “That’s what I was trying to tell you. I thought you knew. She’s already gone.”

  “Gone?” Louetta’s face lost all color, and she whirled around to face the nurse.

  The nurse quickly amended, “Not gone, gone. She’s gone home.”

  “Whatta you mean she’s already gone home? I just got here.”

  “Um . . . yes, ma’am, I see that, but . . . ” the nurse bit her lip and twisted a ring on her finger.

  “But what? Are you telling me she took a taxi home? I just talked to her a little over an hour ago.”

  “No ma’am. He said you knew. He said it would be all right. And Ima Jean was happy to go with him, so I didn’t see a problem — ”

  “He? He who? Oh, I just bet I know he who — ”

  “Um . . . ” The nurse held up one finger. “I’ll be right back.”

  She came back seconds later with a chart. “It says here Chester Hale was authorized to check Ima Jean out of the hospital.”

  “Authorized? Who authorized him?” Lou tilted her head and narrowed her eyes.

  “Well . . . you.” The nurse looked perplexed. “He said he talked to you. And Ima Jean wanted to go with him, so I didn’t see a problem . . . ”

  Lou raced home, mad as a wet hornet that Chester Hale had overstepped his bounds. As she neared her house, she scanned her driveway and the street for any unfamiliar cars but saw none.

  Martha Maye and Butterbean were putting the finishing touches on the room Ima Jean would stay in while she convalesced. Lou rushed in, out of breath.

  “Mama, where’s Aunt Imy? Why are you so out of breath?”

  Lou put a hand to her chest as she tried to control her breathing. “You mean she’s not here?”

  “Of course she’s not here. You went to get her.” Martha Maye’s brow furrowed. “Didn’t you?”

  Lou told her what happened at the hospital. Martha Maye tried to calm her mother and hazard a guess as to where her aunt could be. “Maybe they stopped for lunch on the way home. You know how much Aunt Imy loves to eat out. After four days of hospital food, she probably just wanted one of Slick’s burgers.”

  An hour later, after Lou had called all the restaurants in town and found out no one had seen Ima Jean today, she started to panic. She called Jack and begged him to take her to Abingdon to check if Chester had taken Ima Jean to his home.

  “Jack, I don’t think I shoulda waited until today to have that talk with Imy.”

  Jack pulled out his cell phone. “I’ll take you up there, but first I’m calling the law.”

  That’s crazier than a dog in a hubcap factory.

  ~Johnny Butterfield

  “Welcome aboard, Chief.” Four officers and Bernadette stood in the reception area of the Goose Pimple Junction Police Department, figuratively and literally applauding Johnny’s arrival.

  “Thank y’all. Thank you very much.” He shifted a cardboard moving box from one huge arm to the other and reached out with his other hand to take the ball cap that Skeeter Duke handed him.

  “We got you a little welcome to the department gift. It ain’t much . . . ”Skeeter shrugged.

  Johnny looked at the navy blue hat with white lettering. “GPJPD. Whew, good thing this town doesn’t have a longer name. It wouldn’t fit on a ball cap. But thank you. I’ll wear this with pride.” Everyone looked at him expectantly, so he added, “But not in the building.”

  The men took turns shaking hands with the new chief and clapping him on the back. Bernadette looked at him over her reading glasses. “You refrain from calling me a little lady, and we’ll get along just fine.”

  “I will show you the same respect I do the officers. And if you refrain from telling me what to do, we’ll get along just fine.” Johnny flashed his lopsided grin, and Bernadette’s stern face turned sheepish.

  Her ramrod straight posture drooped a little. “Okay, okay, alpha dog established. Can’t blame a girl for trying.”

  Johnny nodded. “It will take some time for us to get to know each other’s idiosyncrasies, but I want all y’all to know I’m a straight shooter. I don’t tolerate gossip or backstabbing. If you’ve got something to say, you say it. My motto is plain talk is easily understood. If anyone ever has a problem with me, you come to me first. I want to be the first to hear about it. And I’ll afford you the same courtesy.” Everyone nodded.

  The phone rang, and Bernadette went around the desk to answer it. In a moment, she hung up and turned to Johnny. “Chief, we got us another situation. That was a call from Jackson Wright reporting Lou’s sister is missing.”

  “Missing? Whatta you mean missing?”

  “I mean missing. Gone. Absent. Misplaced. Nobody’s seen her. Apparently, some ne’er do well told the hospital Louetta gave him authorization to check out Ima Jean. That was the last anybody’s seen her. ”

  “Don’t that beat all.” Johnny slapped his cap against his thigh.

  “Yeah. It sure does. Jack and Tess went to Abingdon where Ima Jean lives, but no one has seen hide nor hair of her or Chester.” She pushed a pencil through her helmet-like hair. “I just can’t believe she’s been kidnapped.” Bernadette rested her hand over her heart as if to calm its beating.

  “Now, now. Nobody said anything about abduction yet.”

  “What would you call it? She’s AWOL. Unaccounted for. Vanished into thin air. And she was last seen with that man.”

  “Put out a BOLO. Then get me whoever’s in charge of law enforcement over in Abingdon.”

  Bernadette whirled around to get to work. Johnny headed for his new office.

  Johnny was surveying his new office when Bernadette appeared in the doorway. “Chief, that was a weird one.”

  He turned toward her. “How so?”

  “Soon’s I got off the horn with the BOLO, old Mr. Hornaday called in.” She leaned a hip into the doorjamb and crossed her arms as if she were settling in. “He’s over eighty if he’s a day. Still driving that big old Cadillac around. His wife passed a few years back. I think he’s still got all his faculties, though. Why, I
— ”

  “Bernadette!”

  She stopped talking and jerked from leaning to standing.

  “Skip the salad and get to the main course.”

  “Oh.” She blushed and shifted from foot to foot. “What I was gonna say is he’s old, but he still knows what’s what, and he says somebody stopped him over on Tyringham Road.”

  “And that would be cause to call the police station because . . . ” Johnny held out his hand in the air.

  “He wanted to know if we had a new police officer.”

  “News travels fast.”

  “Around here it travels at the speed of light. But I mean . . . unless you’ve been stopping citizens and giving out lectures, I don’t think he was talking about you.”

  “Go on.”

  “We only got six officers on the force, you know, and he says the man who pulled him over ain’t one of them. He was calling to complain on account of the guy being a blow-hard. Said he lectured him on the danger of speed, yada yada yada. Mr. Hornaday demanded that the officer be let go. You know – fired, axed, unemployed, out of action.” She ran a finger over her throat.

  “You’re kidding me. Is this some kind of let’s-test-the-new-guy sort of thing?”

  Her hand went up in the air. “Chief, I kid you not.” She crossed her heart with her index finger.

  “What did he want?” Johnny slumped into his office chair.

  “Who? Mr. Hornaday?”

  Johnny took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “No, Bernadette, what did the supposed officer want when he pulled the gentleman over?”

  “Oh. Said he was speeding. Didn’t give him a ticket or anything, just a lecture and a warning.”

  “Did he show him a badge?”

  “He flashed one right quick, but Hornaday didn’t get a good look at it. His eyes ain’t what they used to be, you know.”

  “Tell me he wasn’t in a cruiser.”

  “Nope. He was in an unmarked sedan. No lights up top except for a cherry.”

  “Anyone can buy one of those. Did he give a description?”

  “Nope. Said he didn’t think much about it until he got home. Then he got good and mad about the lecture and decided to call it in.”

  “That is mighty odd. Tell everyone to be on the lookout.”

  She’s about as bright as a burnt out light bulb in a dark room with no windows.

  ~Charles Kittedge

  Johnny was headed to Louetta’s house when Bernadette came over the radio.

  “Chief, we got a report of a vehicle stopping at all the mailboxes on Sweetwater. You anywhere nearby and could take a look-see?”

  “Roger that, Bernadette.” Johnny did a U-turn and headed for the street. As soon as he turned the corner onto Sweetwater Lane, he saw the car and turned on the cruiser’s flashing lights. The man’s car was pointed in the wrong direction so the driver’s side was next to the mailboxes. Johnny pulled up nose-to-nose with the car and got out.

  “Z’er a problem, Officer?” The man stuck his long neck out the window.

  “Chief. I’m Chief Butterfield and just wondering what it is you’re doing.” Johnny looked over the top of his sunglasses with the sternest look he had.

  The man started stuttering. “W-well, I’m d-delivering the mail, of c-course.”

  Johnny folded his arms in front of him. “Come again?”

  “The mail. I’m a p-postal worker. Charles K-kittedge.” The man’s Adam’s apple bobbed up and down as he extended his hand out the window to shake Johnny’s.

  Johnny scratched his head and furrowed his brow. “Why are you using a personal vehicle, Mr. Kittedge?”

  “The t-truck’s in the shop, Chief. I got an identifying t-tag on the back of the car.” He hitched his thumb over his shoulder.

  Johnny hadn’t had a chance to see the back of the man’s car since he’d approached him head-on. He walked to the back of the car and saw that, sure enough, the tag identified the car as contracted by the United States Postal Service. Just as he walked back to the driver’s window, a woman who looked to be in her mid-seventies came out of her house and walked toward them, pointing her finger at the postal worker.

  “That’s the man I called about. He’s been up and down this street, stopping at every box . . . ” She finally saw it was Mr. Kittedge sitting in the car and her face dropped. “Oh, Mr. Kittedge, I didn’t mean to call the law on you. I had no idea it was you in there. You’re always in your mail truck. I, I, I — ”

  Johnny stepped in and saved her. “No harm done, right, Mr. Kittedge? Better safe than sorry. You did the right thing. Now why don’t we let Mr. Kittedge get on with his work? Sorry to have held you up, sir. You have a real good day now.”

  The woman cupped her hand over her mouth and shouted, “I’m gonna make you a cake, Mr. Kittedge, you hear? I’m awful sorry.”

  Johnny got back in his cruiser, turned the light off, and called into the station. “Bernadette, you know that strange car stopping at mailboxes on Sweetwater?”

  “Yessir.”

  “It was the postal carrier. Crisis averted.”

  “Well, if that don’t beat all,” Bernadette’s voice came back.

  “We don’t air our dirty laundry out in public.”

  ~Martha Maye Applewhite

  “Ima Jean, are you comfortable?” Chester brought a cup of coffee laced with two mg of Xanax into the bedroom and set it on the bedside table next to Ima Jean.

  “Need more Calgon!”

  Chester gave her a funny look and felt her forehead for fever. “Okay . . . I’ll get some when I go to the store. Right now, you need some coffee.” He held up the cup to her lips and tipped it so she could drink. “That’s a girl.” He set the coffee back on the table and patted the outside of his trouser pockets. “But um . . . I’m a little short right now. Do you think you could loan me a few bucks just to tide me over? I can get some food to cook for you while you’re convalescing.”

  Ima Jean nodded, and he produced her checkbook along with a peppermint. “Look what I brought you, sugarplum.” He unwrapped the candy and gave it to Ima Jean.

  “Listen, sugar, since I know you’re not feeling up to snuff, no need to write out the check. All’s you have to do is put your John Henry right there. I’ll do the rest.” He pointed to the line where she should sign her name. She did so without question.

  “Good. Good. Now, I’ll be gone for just a bit. When I get back, I’ll cook up some supper for my love.”

  Ima Jean looked at him for a long while. Then she spoke. “I wish I were an Oscar Meyer weiner . . . ”

  “I do too, sugar.” He touched the tip of her nose and followed it up with a kiss. “You’ve made me very happy by coming here with me, darlin’. I’m going to do everything in my power to make you a happy woman.” He picked up the coffee cup. “Here. Drink some more.” He made sure she’d drunk all of it before setting it back on the tray. “Now you just rest. Be back in a flash.” He patted her arm.

  Chester went out to the kitchen and filled out the check for two hundred dollars. He didn’t want to raise any eyebrows with a higher number. He wasn’t sure how impaired the stroke had made her, but she sure was talking funny. He figured as long as she stayed confused, his plan was good as gold. He smiled to himself at the pun.

  “Betty.” He wondered where she’d gone off to. “Betty!” he said louder.

  A woman with a light dye job, about ten pounds overweight, and in her early sixties, came in through the back door.

  “There you are. I’ve been looking all over for you.” He looked her up and down. She was wearing white shorts and a V-neck top that showed a lot of cleavage. “Now let me look at you all over.” Instead of looking, he leered.

  “Oh, stop,” she giggled. Then she saw the car keys in his hand. “You going somewhere?”

  “Yep. I’m going to test the waters. If I don’t come back within an hour, you get the heck outta Dodge, you hear?”

  “Yeah, yeah. We’ve been over this a mi
llion times.”

  Before he left the house, he made sure Ima Jean was sound asleep. He tapped her forehead and with a wry grin said, “This is your brain. This is your brain on drugs.”

  Martha Maye brushed her hair with her fingers and straightened her sweater on the way to answer the door. “Johnny. What a nice surprise. Come on in.” She stood aside, and Johnny walked in past her, stopping in the hallway.

  “I’d like to say this is a social call, but I’m here on official police business.” He looked down at her, as he was a good foot taller than she was.

  Her eyebrows made a V, and her forehead wrinkled. “Official business?”

  “Since I am the acting police chief of Goose Pimple Junction, my first assignment is, sadly, finding your missing aunt. I take it she hasn’t surfaced yet?”

  Martha Maye shook her head. “Not yet. Come on back to the kitchen, and I’ll fix you up with some sweet tea and cookies. Mama, Tess, and Jack should be back soon.”

  Johnny sat down at the table and noticed a huge bowl full of peppermint candies. “Someone around here like peppermint?” he laughed as he studied the bowl.

  “Yeah, Aunt Imy does. She’s always got one in her mouth. We bought up a blue million of them just for her. And now she’s not here.” Martha Maye looked like she was about to cry.

  “Don’t fret, Martha Maye. I’m gonna find her. Or die trying.”

  “Oh, I hope not the latter.” She had just set down a glass of tea in front of Johnny when they heard voices at the front door. “There they are.” Martha Maye hurried to meet them with Johnny close behind. “Didja find her? You did find her, didn’t you?”

  Lou placed her pocketbook on the hall table and patted her hair into place, shaking her head. Her worried expression changed to one of surprise when she saw Johnny. “Oh! I didn’t know you were entertaining, Martha Maye.”

  “I’m not. I mean — ” Martha Maye twisted a ring on her finger and shifted from foot to foot.

  Johnny swallowed a bite of cookie, still holding a good portion of it. “She means I’m here on account of Ima Jean.” He watched Lou, as her eyes went from the cookie in his hand back to his face. “She’s being hospitable.” He held up the cookie. “We’re allowed to eat on duty.”