Murder & Mayhem in Goose Pimple Junction

by Amy Metz

  He wanted to help her back to his car, but she refused. On shaky legs she paced back and forth next to her husband’s car, while Mrs. Baker ran to a nearby home to call the police. Bug Preston was on the scene within twenty minutes.

  This couldn’t be happening, Maye thought. Her husband couldn’t be dead. He wouldn’t leave her alone to raise their four children. Her boys needed a father. He was the love of her life. He wasn’t dead. He just wasn’t. She couldn’t stop pacing. Her hands, feet, nose, and ears were so cold they were hurting, yet her feet wouldn’t stop. The pain was a sign she was still alive. She couldn’t feel anything else. The reverend finally got her to stand still, and they prayed together, the car’s lights illuminating them along with the snowflakes. After the prayer, she slowly sank to her knees, and then to a sitting position on the ground, tears streaming down her face.

  Bug found three bullet holes in the front and driver’s side windows of the car, but discovered only one had struck Hobb.

  “It looks like he was hit rightchere.” Bug pointed behind Hobb’s right ear to his deputy, “with the bullet emerging rightchere.” He indicated the wound right behind John’s left temple. “I want fingerprints taken and bloodhounds out here right now. And that means ten minutes ago! And let’s do a spiral sweep.”

  John’s revolver was in his right hand and somebody suggested suicide. But that was quickly ruled out because the gun did not appear to have been fired.

  “This may not be the scene of the crime. He might have been murdered somewheres else, and his body was driven back here and left. I'd say they put his gun in his hand to make it look like suicide, but the dimwits forgot to fire it. Or he knew he was in danger and got his gun out but never got a chance to use it.”

  “Why’d they leave the car runnin’?” a deputy wondered aloud.

  “I reckon they’uz in a hurry,” Bug told him . “I want men goin’ door-ta-door. Let’s find out if anyone saw anything. I want prints, bloodhounds, and witnesses. And I want it fast as greased lightnin’.”

  The bloodhounds arrived and took off, with men following. Someone had found P.D., and he arrived to take Maye home. She sat in his car like a statue on the way back. She was cold. So cold. She didn’t think she’d ever be warm again. Inside or out.

  [ June 2010 ]

  The rain had stopped completely, and the sun was bright once again when Tess started out for work. After locking her door, she looked at the keys, specifically the one she'd found. It was still on the key ring, and she ran her fingers over it, as if it were a rabbit’s foot, before putting the keys in her purse. She walked, preoccupied, for about a block, until she noticed a jogger coming toward her. As he got closer she realized it was the mayor.

  Just wave and pass on by please. But he didn’t make it that easy for her. He slowed and came toward her with a huge smile.

  “Mornin’ Tess,” he said, doing a U-turn around her, and falling into step. “I see you got home last night without meltin’.”

  “Good morning, Mayor. Yes, thank you, I got home just fine.”

  “Aw, now you don’t have to be sa formal. Call me Buck, long’s I’m not on official bidness.”

  “Do you jog often . . . Buck?” she asked, wishing she could just call him Mayor.

  “At least five times a week. But I’m in trainin’ now for the Fourth a July mini that’s comin’ up. Have you heard about our town fair on the fourth? It’s a real shindig, let me tell you!”

  “I did hear something about it. It sounds like a lot of fun.”

  “Lou told me you’re a baker. You oughtta enter somethin’ in the bakin’ contest. They have purt near everything . . . pies, cakes, cookies . . . long as it’s homemade, you can enter it.”

  “Well, I just might do that. Don’t let me keep you from your run, now.”

  “Oh, you can keep me,” he said, looking sideways at her and smiling. “Shoot, I can run any ole time, but it ain’t often that I can accompany a purty lady to town.”

  Tess glanced in the window of the hardware store as they walked past, and saw Jack inside talking to Art, the owner. She waved, and he raised his chin in a nod, his eyes going to Buck.

  When they reached the bookstore Tess said, “Thank you for the escort, Mayor…” He gave her a look, so she said, “ . . . Buck. This is my stop. Have a good day.”

  She took a deep breath and let it out as she disappeared inside her safe haven. In the back room, she found Pickle eating a jelly donut. A blob of jelly oozed out onto his shirt, right above the writing: “Runs With Scissors.”

  “Mornin’ Ms. Tess! Hireyew?”

  “I’m just fine, Pickle. How are you?” she said, reading his white t-shirt. “Do you really?” Her lips slowly curved at the corners.

  “Do I really what?” He gave her a blank look.

  “Run with scissors.” She pointed to his shirt.

  “Aw, ya got me! Good’un, Mizz Tess!”

  “You ought not to do that you know, it’s not safe,” she kidded him.

  “No, Mizz Tess, I don’t really run with scissors. It’s just a t-shirt.”

  * * *

  Tess didn’t know Willy had come into the bookstore until he sidled up a little too close to her and leaned over her shoulder saying, “What doin’, doll?”

  Tess jumped to her right, out of Willy’s personal space.

  “I’m working, and I’d appreciate it if you didn’t sneak up on me like that,” she said, hand over her heart.

  “Aw shucks, darlin’, don’t get cross on me. I’s only bein’ friendly.”

  “Can I help you, Willy?” Tess demanded.

  He looked her up and down and purred, “You’re lookin’ fine today, Ms. Tess. Do you by any chance have any raisins?”

  Confused, she said, “No. Why . . . “

  “Well then, how ‘bout a date?” He gave her a Cheshire grin.

  Tess briefly closed her eyes, then turned to walk away from him. “Excuse me, I need to do some things in the back room.”

  Willy called out, “Wait!” She stopped and turned, hands on her hips. “My apologies. I was blinded by your beauty. So, I'm going to need your name and number for insurance purposes!” He came too close again, into her personal space.

  “Willy, please stop.” Tess backed up, feeling uneasy. She didn’t want to be rude but couldn’t get over the audacity of the guy.

  “I know I don’t have a chance, but I just wanted to hear an angel talk,” Willy tried yet again, continuing to move toward her.

  She tried to catch Lou’s eye, but she was busy talking to Chief Price and his son, the candidate for governor, who had come into the store just before Willy.

  When Tess looked back at Willy, he startled her by being so close their clothes touched. She jumped again, knocking over a stack of books, along with a sign. Lou and the men looked over at the commotion. Tess gave her a pleading look before she bent down to gather the books, and Lou made a beeline for them.

  “My stars and garters, Willy! How’d you sneak in here ‘thout me knowin’ ‘bout it?”

  “Mornin’ Mizz Lou. I didn’t do no such thing. I walked in through the front door, big as daylight,” Willy defended himself. “Mornin’ Chief. Henry Clay,” he said, as they walked up.

  “Mo’nin’ Willy. Whatchew doin’ in here? You wouldn’t know a book if it hit you in the face.” John Ed laughed and turned back to share his joke with his son.

  “Hey now! I like ta read. You just don’t know me well ‘nuff.”

  “Don’t go givin’ him no store credit, Lou,” John Ed warned. “He doesn’t have a pot to pee in or a window to throw it out of.”

  Willy shot the chief an angry look. “Who licked the red off yer candy cane?”

  Lou said out of the side of her mouth, “He don’t cotton to your sarcasm, John Ed.” More loudly she said, “Are you sayin’ yer in here to do some bidness?”

  “I’d like to look around, if you don’t mind,” Willy said indignantly.

  “Hep yourself. Ju
st keep yer lookin’ ta the books and not my employees! You ain’t in a grocery, but I can see what you’re checkin’ out.”

  “Yeah, well, I feel like I’m in a grocery. There’s somthin’ in here I wanta bag,” Willy mumbled as he walked away.

  Henry Clay smirked at the remark. He turned toward Tess, held out his hand, and introduced himself. “’Scuse my manners, ma’am, I’m Henry Clay Price.”

  Tess shook his hand, saying, “I’m Tess Tremaine. I’ve seen your campaign signs, but I didn’t know you’re the chief’s son.”

  “Well, ever now and then he claims me.”

  “Find any more mysterious footprints lately, Ms. Tess?” John Ed looked smug.

  “Actually, Chief, I did. Under my bedroom window.” Tess glared at him.

  “Well lands sakes, that coulda been anyone. I sure am glad you didn’t call me over for that one.”

  “Don’t mind him, Tessie,” Lou said of John Ed. “He’d gripe with a ham under each arm. But he has a good heart. He’s takin’ your case more seriously than he’s lettin’ on. I’ve known this man for forty-eleven years. He’s good people.”

  Lou pulled Tess with her toward the register desk, adding in a low voice, “But Willy? I suwan-ee, child. Jesus loves him, but he’s the only one. You best watch that booger.”

  * * *

  Tess walked home slowly, deep in thought. She enjoyed working at the bookstore but hadn’t planned on putting in as many hours as Lou was asking for. When she volunteered to lock up for her, she never realized how long of a day it would end up being. But with Lou’s daughter going through a divorce, she needed to be at home to help her daughter and granddaughter move in, and Tess was happy to help. Things would settle down again soon, she told herself.

  Her body was tired, her mind was preoccupied with thoughts of Lou’s family, and her eyes were enthralled with the streaks of red, pink, and blue in the early evening sky. Walking past Ernestine & Hazel’s Sundries, she waved at Ernestine, who was locking up for the night. She’d heard the woman’s name wasn’t really Ernestine, but they just called her that ever since she bought the store. Funny town, Tess thought. Next was Rhubarb’s, the fruit market named for its owner, Barbara Ruther; her store was already dark inside and locked up tight. As she crossed the street, her eyes went to the beautiful sky again.

  She stepped up on the curb and started toward The Silly Goose, an upscale bar and grill. Totally entranced by the unusual red color of the setting sun peeking through the buildings, she was caught completely by surprise when someone suddenly reached out and pulled her into the bar and grill’s dark doorway.

  Whatever Blows Your Dress Up

  hare: adverb hair here

  What’s he doing hare?

  [ 1937 ]

  “Trevor Hobb is the black sheep of the family,” Bug Preston told his deputy. “Always has been. I remember old Mrs. Cox in fifth grade sayin’ to him, ‘You certainly are not like your brother.’”

  “I know what you mean, Chief. Trevor ain’t smart, or charming, or particularly handsome like his brother was. John had it all, and poor Trevor barely had any.”

  “He wadn’t known for his honesty, neither,” Bug said.

  “Say . . . how come some people call him Blister?”

  The chief chuckled. “On account a him bein’ so lazy. Folks started callin’ him “Blister” because he never showed up until the work was finished.”

  “Whatta you make a him pointin’ fingers at Nate Hunter?”

  “He told me that, and I laughed in his face. Told him he was lyin’ like a no-legged dog. Told him to git on outta here and stop spoutin’ nonsense like that. Said not to breathe a word of it to Maye. Poor old widow woman, left to raise them kids all on her own. She don’t need that worry.”

  “I heard he’s been hangin’ ‘round her house a lot lately.”

  Bug tucked his chin and looked at the deputy over his glasses. “Well he is the kids’ uncle, ya know.”

  “But, Chief, you know Trevor’s always had a crush on Maye.”

  “That’s ‘zactly why I don’t think he’ll say no more ‘bout it. He don’t want her questionin’ his sanity. He knows it sounds like crazy talk.”

  * * *

  “Maye, you’ve always tolerated his flirtin’, and it seemed harmless since you were both married, and everybody knew you loved John more than life itself. But you ought not to encourage him now.” Maye and her sister-in-law talked while they did the dishes.

  “Oh, don’t be silly, Denise. Everybody knows I’m still in mourning.”

  “That may be, and don’t take this the wrong way, but I know you like the attention. It’s just that you’re unknowingly encouragin’ him. He seems to get bolder every time he comes over.”

  “Oh, it’s only harmless fun.”

  “Honey, you and I may know it’s all in fun, but does he?”

  [ June 2010 ]

  A hand reached out from the dark doorway of the Silly Goose, grabbed Tess by the wrist, and pulled her off the sidewalk. She froze, her whole body rigid.

  Then she screamed, even as she saw Jack standing in front of her, his right hand in the air as a sign of surrender, his left hand still wrapped around her wrist. Her self-defense reflexes hadn’t yet gotten the memo to cease and desist. Her knee became a groin-seeking missile as she wrenched her arm free. Fortunately, he anticipated her reaction and leapt out of kicking range.

  “It’s just me, for pity's sake!” Jack said. “It’s just me! It’s just me!” He repeated, hands out in front of him, until she dropped her knee and slumped back against the brick wall.

  Glaring at him, with one hand on her chest and the other on her forehead, she tried to catch her breath. She was furious with him for scaring her like that. She took her purse off of her shoulder and whacked him on the arm with it.

  “Hey!” he yelped.

  Another whack.

  “Hey!”

  Whack.

  “HEY!”

  “Jack! How could you?” she screamed.

  “I’m sorry! I really am—I saw you comin’ and thought it would be fun to surprise you. I didn’t think that it would scare you like that. I’msorryI’msorryI’msorry!” She glared at him. “Let me make it up to you by buying your dinner.” He tried to reach out and touch her arm.

  Putting her purse straps back over her shoulder, she stepped out of the darkened doorway, onto the sidewalk, and out of his reach. Her heart was still doing the rumba, and her adrenaline was doing push-ups. She sat on a bench in front of the restaurant to try to calm down. Jack cautiously sat next to her.

  “Please, Tess. I really am sorry I scared you. I was only playing around. Have dinner with me. Please?” He looked at her as if she’d hurt his feelings. She sat glaring at him, trying to return her stomach to its rightful place. He touched her hand and added another “Please?”

  She acquiesced. Tucking her hair behind her ears, she eyed him suspiciously. At the end of a deep sigh, she grumpily said, “Oh . . . all right. But don't you dare ever pull a stupid stunt like that on me again!”

  “Never ever. I promise.” Jack held up his scout's honor fingers.

  Once they were seated at a table on the patio, Jack said, “Let’s start with a drink to calm your nerves.”

  “Jack, did you do that on purpose?” Tess asked, narrowing her eyes at him for the second time that night.

  “Do what on purpose?”

  “You wouldn’t have scared me in order to offer me a drink and try to get me drunk, would you?” She looked at him suspiciously.

  “Well, I have to admit this is working out better than planned.”

  “Aha! You admit you planned this!”

  “Now don’t go putting words in my mouth!” He sat up straight and leaned forward. “I don’t think you could define planning as the fleeting thought I had between the time I first saw you walking toward me, to when I grabbed you. But if you insist, then okay, you’re right. In that short span of time, I hatched the diabolical p
lan to make you have dinner with me. But I did not plan to get you drunk. That would just be a bonus.”

  “After you all but attacked me?”

  “I did not attack you! I merely tugged on your arm.”

  “Mmm hmmm.” Tess looked up at the waiter who had arrived at their table. She pasted on a smile and said, “I’ll have a martini, please.”

  After Jack ordered a Newcastle Brown Ale, and the waiter had gone, he said, “So you decided to get drunk with me, after all!”

  “One drink. One drink, Jack. That will not make me drunk. What is with you?”

  “You’re just so darn fun to mess with, Mary T.” Jack’s eyes sparkled mischievously.

  He was spared a retort because Tess spied Willy entering the restaurant. “Oh no,” she groaned.

  Jack followed the direction of her eyes, through the big glass windows, inside to the bar, where he spotted Willy, resplendent in full cowboy regalia. He was sporting a black western shirt with pearl snaps and a skull embroidered on each side of his chest. Each skull held a rose stem in its mouth, with the embroidered rose snaking its way up the shoulder. He had on a bolo tie with black leather cords that held a large silver arrowhead slide. His denim jeans looked painted on, and the cowboy boots and a black cowboy hat completed the ensemble.

  “He’s dressed to impress. In his own mind,” Tess said.

  “What in the world?” Jack gaped, as Willy settled into a seat at the bar. “If he weren’t so ridiculous lookin’, I’d say he was tryin’ to catch the eye of a certain pretty lady.”