by Amy Metz
“At the time she told me that, I wasn’t sure. I was thinking it made sense. I could see how T. Harry must have lied about when he came to town—which he did—which suggested he killed Lenny. But it niggled at me, and it bothered me that she said she didn’t see anything that night but then all of a sudden remembered seeing T. Harry’s car.”
“People do remember things later—”
“And now we know for sure it couldn’t have been his car if he was at Humdinger’s all night.”
“So Estherlene was mistaken.” Jack shrugged.
“But she lied about something else.”
“What?”
“She told me she’d never been to the Mag Bar, but she fits the description Cash gave me for a woman who repeatedly tried to hit on Lenny. Cash said the woman was in her sixties, maybe older, about five-two, very tanned, big hair with a blond dye job, and she had big ears but wasn’t entirely unattractive. He said Lenny shot her down every time. Barely gave her the time of day.”
Jack shook his head. “Estherlene isn’t in her sixties. She’s older than that. She claims she’s middle-aged, but she’s been around since Jesus was a baby.”
“Yeah, but she doesn’t look it, you know? Nature’s been kind to that woman.”
Jack blew out a breath. “A person will go to Hell for lying just the same as stealing, but like you said, you don’t have proof she did anything more wrong than that. You got nothing other than a gut feeling and a few lies, about which she could just say she was mistaken. Sounds pretty flimsy to me. You don’t even have a motive.”
Johnny sat down and leaned toward Jack. “I agree, but I know I’m right. I just have to find evidence.”
“I hate to tell you, my friend, but that’s going be harder than baptizing a cat.”
Ezzie’s head popped up.
“Unit one, are you in place?” Johnny said into his two-way radio.
Velveeta’s voice came back, “Unit one, ready to roll.”
“Unit two? Ready?”
“Unit two, in place,” Hank answered.
“All right, everybody stay alert.” Holding the handset, Johnny paced the old farmhouse from the living room, to the kitchen, and back again. He couldn’t sit still. Velveeta was holding watch in the front and Hank was in the back. Johnny couldn’t see them, but he knew they were there.
He’d gotten a reluctant Charlotte to tell her grandfather that Louetta had baked a pan of lasagna and a key lime pie. She told him she would cut a portion from each and leave it in the back of the refrigerator, then leave the door to the house unlocked. No man in his right mind could say no to that. He felt bad about making Charlotte lie to her grandfather, but he’d managed to convince her it was the right thing to do.
The old Marshall house was never locked since Tank died a few months before. Johnny had the electric company turn on the power to the farmhouse. His officers were in place. All he could do was wait. And pace.
At 1:29 a.m., the radio burped. “Chief, suspect spotted coming through the backyard. Repeat. Suspect is coming to you.”
Johnny had finally stopped pacing. Now lying on the sofa, his thoughts had turned from John Ed to Martha Maye. When he got the call, he sprang up, instinctively put his hand to the revolver at his waist, and edged to the doorway of the kitchen. He flattened himself against the wall and waited.
The sound of the back door squeaking open was quiet but clear. The floorboard creaked, and then he saw the dim glow of a flashlight. He slowly stepped into the kitchen, pointed his revolver at the figure, and said, “Ernest Borgnine, I presume.”
John Ed whirled around, dropping the lasagna he’d been about to put on the kitchen table. Johnny heard the front door open and footsteps pounding toward him, just as the back door opened and Hank stepped in, holding a bright light and a video camera aimed at the former police chief.
“Smile, you’re on candid camera,” Hank said, no hint of a smile on his face or in his voice.
“You know what to do, John Ed.” Johnny flicked the switch to turn on the lights. Everyone squinted a little, their eyes unaccustomed to the brightness.
“What are you—you ain’t—I didn’t—” John Ed looked from face to face.
“You’re wanted for questioning in a number of thefts around town, Mr. Price. Not to mention breaking and entering.” Johnny swept his gaze around the room, indicating the house.
When John Ed didn’t move, Johnny said sadly, “Turn around and assume the position.”
John Ed sighed heavily and did as he was told, putting his hands against the refrigerator, and Johnny kicked at his left leg to widen his stance before frisking him.
“You have the right to remain silent.” Johnny patted him down, watching carefully where they stood because of the spilled lasagna on the floor.
“Anything you say or do can and will be used against you in a court of law.” He took handcuffs off his belt and brought John Ed’s hands behind his back.
“You have the right to speak to an attorney.” Johnny cuffed John Ed’s hands.
“If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be provided for you. Do you understand these rights as they’ve been read to you?” Johnny turned John Ed around so he was facing him.
“Yes,” John Ed said morosely.
“Put him in the car, Officer Witherspoon. Let’s get him to the station.”
Back at the police station, Velveeta said, “Can I question him about Lenny’s murder, Chief?”
In order to rule out John Ed as a suspect, Johnny allowed her to question him. He sat in the room and listened.
“We’ve got you for multiple counts of theft, Mr. Price, and I gotta tell you, I’m liking you for the murder of Lenny Applewhite—”
“That’s ridiculous!” He slapped his hand on the table.
“You were out sneaking around night after night, on the prowl. Maybe you were stealing something from Ms. Applewhite’s residence and Lenny found you out.”
“Look, I’ll admit I allowed the town to help me out in my time of need—that’s the least I could expect after all the years of service I gave to this community. But murder? You’re crazier than a run-over dog. I had nothing to do with that. I want a lawyer.”
“That’s the end of cheap talk.” Johnny opened the door and motioned Velveeta out. “Let the man call a lawyer.”
Two hours later, after John Ed had talked with a public defender, Louis P. Howe, they all reconvened in the interrogation (also known as the break room), and Velveeta continued her questioning.
“As you are undoubtedly aware, Mr. Howe, it’s pretty obvious your client is the one who’s been stealing the town blind.”
“They owed me, dabnamit,” John Ed said heatedly. “I’m as broke as the Ten Commandments—”
“Hush your mouth, John Ed,” Mr. Howe cut in, but John Ed couldn’t help himself.
“And all this town did was turn their backs and stick up their noses at me. It’s disgraceful.”
Velveeta cleared her throat and asked, “So the next question is, do you have an alibi for the night of October twenty-second, Mr. Price?”
“I do. I was with someone from eight o’clock on.”
“Who?”
“I’d rather not divulge that information.”
“So you don’t have an alibi, is that what you’re saying?”
John Ed glared at them, leaned in to confer with his lawyer, and finally mumbled, “I was with Christine White.”
“Teenie?” Johnny shot up, his face showing distrust.
John Ed’s expression went from defiant to sheepish. “Yeah. We been seeing each other for a while now. She didn’t care if folks knew, but I didn’t want anyone to know on account of how everybody felt about me. She’d just get dragged down with me. Didn’t your mama ever tell you that you are the company you keep?”
“Velveeta, go and invite Ms. White to join us, if you would. Get Skeeter to take over for her on dispatch.”
Velveeta left, and Johnny pulled a chair out ac
ross from John Ed. “You vandalized those gardens and took people’s pumpkins, too, didn’t you?”
John Ed snorted. “Do you know what it’s like to be shunned by the very people you served and protected for over thirty years?”
“Mr. Price,” the lawyer said, as Johnny stared sternly at John Ed.
“And none of it would have happened without that Miss Priss, Tess Tremaine. She deserved more than a few dead flowers,” he sneered.
Johnny stared at John Ed, his face full of disgust but also pity. “Trying to understand some folks is like guessing at the direction of a rathole underground,” he said more to himself than to John Ed.
“Mr. Price, please don’t divulge any more information without consulting with me first,” Mr. Howe huffed.
Teenie and Velveeta came into the room.
“John Ed,” Teenie said, her face tight. She swallowed hard.
“Now, Teenie, it’s all right—”
“Hush up, both a you. We’ll tell you when to talk,” Velveeta snapped. She led Teenie by the elbow to the seat next to the lawyer, with John Ed on his other side.
“Teenie, where were you on the night of October twenty-second?” Johnny asked.
“Well, uh . . .” she stammered.
“Tell them, Teenie,” John Ed said softly, looking at his folded hands on the table. “It’s okay.”
“I was at home all night,” she answered timidly.
“Were you alone?” Johnny asked.
She started to glance at John Ed, but Velveeta pointed her first two fingers at Teenie and then at herself. “Eyes right here, Teenie. Answer the question.”
“I was . . . I was with—” she cleared her throat, then said softly, “I was with John Ed.”
“All night?”
“Yessir. All night.” She looked everywhere but at Velveeta or Johnny.
“From when to when?” Velveeta asked. “And can anybody else verify?”
“He came over about nine o’clock, I guess.”
“Why do I have the feeling you had something to do with the missing evidence bag?” Johnny stood in front of Teenie with his arms folded. “You had access to the key and a shift when nobody else was around.”
When she said nothing, Velveeta said, “Did you take the evidence, Teenie?”
Teenie began to cry softly, her head bowed. She nodded.
“Why, Teenie? Why would you impede an investigation by stealing key evidence? Why would you risk losing your job?” Johnny stretched both arms wide. “All for a man?”
She sniffed and ran her hand under her nose. “Somebody convinced me John Ed might’ve had something to do with it. I just panicked. She told me to take the evidence so they couldn’t prove it was him.”
“But if he was with you that night, as you just said, how could he have been the killer?”
“Well, he was a little late,” she said. “And wouldn’t say where he’d been.” She pulled a tissue from under her rolled-up sleeve and dabbed at her nose. “She sounded so sure, and everyone knows she sees everything that happens on Marigold Lane. I guess I wasn’t thinking too straight.”
Johnny’s face stayed neutral, but his eyes lit up.
“That’s certainly stating the obvious. But who? Who is this ‘she’ who told you John Ed might be the killer?” Velveeta asked.
Simultaneously, Johnny and Teenie said, “Estherlene Bumgarner.”
“She did it, Jack.” Johnny arrived at Jack’s house bright and early Friday morning, after having been up most of the night dealing with John Ed and Teenie.
Jack scrubbed his sleepy face with his hand and said, “Come on back. I’ll get us some coffee.”
While Jack made coffee, Johnny sat at the table. “I’m sure of it, Jack.”
“Why?” Jack asked. “What happened?”
“She told Teenie White that she was sure John Ed was the killer.”
“How can you be sure he wasn’t?”
“Because he was at the diner swiping stuff between seven thirty and eight, then he went home to stash his goods, and then he showed up at Teenie’s around nine.” He ran his hand over his face, his whiskers sounding like sandpaper. “Turns out Estherlene convinced Teenie that John Ed was guilty, and she believed it since he was late to her house and wouldn’t tell her where he’d been.”
“Why was John Ed not getting fed by Teenie? Why’d he have to steal it?”
“You ever had Teenie’s cooking? Her cooking’s so bad you couldn’t poke a fork through the gravy.”
“That bad?”
“Yep. So Estherlene got her to take the evidence. Teenie said she never opened the bag, and she turned it over this morning. Velveeta and I went over it with a fine-toothed comb, and we found a few hairs we’re sending off to forensics now. Maybe we’ll get a match, maybe we won’t, but I want to move on this. I don’t want to wait. Once she hears we’ve talked to John Ed and Teenie, she could get nervous.”
“You could get a search warrant. Have a look around.” Jack got mugs from the cabinet and joined Johnny at the table.
“I tried,” Johnny said miserably. “Judge Shelby said we didn’t have enough to warrant one. No pun intended.”
“So why are you here? Why aren’t you getting the police force involved? Surely y’all can think of something.”
He leaned in across the table, so Jack could hear when he whispered, “I’m thinking of breaking in. I can’t involve the force in an illegal activity.”
“What for? If you find anything, it won’t be admissible. You could jeopardize the whole case.”
Johnny nodded miserably. “But at least I’ll know. It’s killing me to think Martha Maye and Butterbean might be living next door to a cold-blooded killer.”
They were silent for a minute, the only sound that of the coffee maker. Finally, Jack spoke.
“If a regular citizen were to search her house and found something suspicious, you would at least know you’re on the right track.”
“Of course I’d have to arrest said person for breaking and entering.” Johnny raised an eyebrow at his friend. Laughing, and making fun of T. Harry, he added, “I suppose I could give you immunization.”
But Jack wasn’t laughing. “If you’re sure about this, I’ll do it,” Jack offered. “I’ll go in.”
Every tub has to sit on its own bottom.
~Southern Proverb
“Estherlene goes grocery shopping every Saturday morning,” Martha Maye had said. “It’s senior citizens’ day at Piggly Wiggly.”
So armed with that information, Johnny and Jack had been in Martha Maye’s house for an hour Saturday morning, drinking coffee and waiting for Estherlene to leave for her weekly shopping excursion. Martha Maye didn’t know what was going on, and the suspense was killing her.
When the two men were practically floating from all the coffee, Estherlene finally left her house. The men waited for five minutes until Velveeta called to tell them Estherlene had arrived and was inside the store. Then Jack scurried next door, and Johnny paced in front of the window, where he could see out onto the street.
“Johnny, would you sit down? You’re making me a nervous wreck,” Martha Maye said.
“You’re sure Hector isn’t home?” Johnny asked for the third time, stopping to peer out the window.
“That’s what Estherlene told me over the phone. I called over there the other day to see if he wanted some of my leftover corn sticks. He likes to break them up into a glass of milk. Makes me sick to my stomach, but I didn’t have any—”
“So a fishing trip?” Johnny prodded.
“Oh. Yes. She said he’d gone on a fishing trip with some buddies. She hinted they were having some marital discord right before he left, and she didn’t sound like she planned on seeing him anytime soon. Why don’t you sit down for a bit?”
“I don’t want to take my eyes off the street. I can’t take the chance of Jack being discovered in that house.”
“You’ve had quite a week. Are you getting enough rest?�
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He turned from the window to look at her. “I got caught up on sleep last night. I’m healthy as a hog.”
“Did you have breakfast? I can fix you something.”
“Martha Maye, I’m fine, I promise. Tell me about your week. I haven’t seen you much with all that’s been going on.”
“I know. It seems like the town is overrun with hooligans. I still can’t believe T. Harry was the one leaving me all those disgraceful presents. And Mr. Price was stealing the town blind. Gosh, you just never do know about folks, do you?”
“Mama said there’d be days like this,” Johnny said wryly.
“You know what my mama says?” Martha Maye didn’t wait for a reply. “She says turnip tops don’t tell you the size of the turnips.”
“Your mama’s a wise woman.”
“So you had to fire Teenie?”
“‘Fraid so. I decided not to press charges, though. I think her real crime was stupidity, and you can’t jail someone for that.” He chuckled. “If you could, our prisons would be overflowing. It’s time she retired anyway.”
“What about John Ed?”
Johnny let out a long breath. “I expect he’ll get some jail time. Maybe he’ll get out after a few months. I don’t know. What I do know is every tub has to sit on its own bottom.”
“Mama used to tell me that, too. She’d say it when I wanted to blame someone else for my problems.”
“Your mama’s a remarkable wo—”
Johnny stopped talking when his cell phone rang. “Hold up, it’s Jack.” He swiped his finger across the phone’s screen and said, “Jack?”
As he listened, his eyes widened and his mouth formed an O. “Good golly, Miss Molly.” His hand flew to the top of his head as Jack continued to talk a blue streak. Martha Maye could hear the voice on the other end but couldn’t hear exactly Jack was saying. Johnny appeared to be frozen in place, then bolted for the door.
“What is it?” Martha Maye ran after him.
As Johnny punched some numbers into his phone, he said, “I gotta get over there. You stay here. I’ll explain soon’s I can.” He flew out of the house, holding his phone to his ear.