Murder & Mayhem in Goose Pimple Junction (13 page)

“
Good save, Miss Tess. You may have knocked the books off the table, but you saved the important thing—that plate a cookies.”

“
I’m glad you like them,” she said, reading his shirt, which said in large letters, “FEDERAL WITNESS PROTECTION PROGRAM” and underneath that, in smaller lettering, said, “You Don’t Know Me.”

“
So is that how you got the name ‘Pickle’? It’s your Witness
Protection name?” she said jokingly.

“
Uh . . . no ma’am,” he said in all seriousness, grabbing another cookie. “This is just a t-shirt. I’m not really in the Witness Protection Program.”

He’s
either really clueless or really good at acting
. Tess patted his arm and took the cookies to the back room, where she also put her purse away. After a quick chat with Lou, she went out to fix the table of books on which she’d wreaked havoc.

The
morning went by quickly, due to the steady flow of traffic in the store. Lou had been on the phone in her office for most of the morning; when she came out she was not her usual jovial self.

“
Is everything all right, Lou?” Tess could see the worry lines on her face. They didn’t match the cheerful hot pink dress she had on.

“
What?” she said, distractedly.

“
Is everything all right?”

“
Oh, yeah, honey, everythin’s all right. I’ve been talkin’ to my
daughter. She gave me a little bad news.”

“
Oh.” Tess didn’t want to pry, but didn’t want to appear apathetic, either.

“
She’s gettin’ a divorce, so she and my granddaughter are gonna come live with me. Least fer awhile.”

“
Oh Lou, I’m so sorry. How old is your granddaughter?”

“
She’s nine. Ya know, selfishly, I think it might be nice ta have them around the house. I mean, I wish she weren’t gettin’ a divorce— that’s just awful—but it’ll be nice ta see ‘em everyday. Nothin’s more important than family. Martha Maye knew all she’d have ta do was ask, and I’d say come on.”

“
Lou, do you mind me asking how long you’ve been a widow?”

“
Course not, honey. It’s been eleven years now since Vince has been gone, bless his soul. He was a keeper, and I miss ‘im everyday.”

Lou
drifted off into the store as another customer came up to the register.

Tess
was arranging a book display in the store’s big picture window later that morning, when she glanced outside and did a double take.
A very striking woman was walking down the sidewalk
with Jack
. She watched as they stopped to talk to someone.

“
She’s his ex-wife.” Lou sidled up next to her.

“
Esmerelda?”

“
Ezzie? Lord, that’s funny!” Lou laughed, smacking her hand down on the table. Tess looked back out the window. She wondered what was so funny. “No, her name is Corrine.”

The
woman was tall and slim, with jet-black hair that she’d combed back into a chignon. She was dressed in a beautiful knee-length yellow linen dress and two-inch mules. Her legs were tanned and toned. Every man who passed by took a second look.

“
She’s a knock-out,” Tess said.

“
Oh . . . she’s hotter than the sun, but not as bright.” Lou was still standing next to Tess, with her arms crossed in front of her. They both stared out the window.

Tess
moved to get back to work when she realized she'd been
staring, but when she turned she sent two stacks of books flying to the floor. She and Lou picked them up and Tess quickly got back to
work, saying, “I didn’t mean to stare . . . she’s just so . . . so . . . sleek and beautiful.”

Tess
tried to inconspicuously look out at Jack and his ex-wife, who were still standing across the street, chatting. She wondered if Corrine was the reason she hadn’t seen Jack lately.

Another
man joined them on the sidewalk. Finally, Lou spoke, and Tess realized that Lou had probably been watching her, while she'd been watching Jack.

“
Don’t worry. That’s her boyfriend. Them two ate supper before they said grace,” Lou whispered.

Tess
didn’t have the foggiest idea what she was talking about, since it was only mid-day. “I’m not worried. Um . . . supper? Are you talking about last night, or—”

“
Living in sin, a course,” Lou broke in. “Them two ate supper
before they said grace. Ain’t you ever heard that expression bafore?”

Tess
laughed. “I’ve heard a lot since moving here, but that one
I have not heard before.”

“
Ya know, I don’t see why Jack ever married her in the first place. They’re like two cheeks on a big butt . . . “ Tess furrowed her eye-
brows in an, ‘No, I don’t know’ expression, and Lou finished her thought. “ . . . the only thing they have in common is a fart.”

Tess
laughed and playfully hit Lou’s arm. “Oh,
you
. . . “

“
What’s so funny?” Pickle came up behind them. His hair was sticking up from the cowlick at the back of his head, and he had chocolate on the side of his mouth.

“
Oh, Peekal, never you mind!” Lou took him by the arm and led him away. “You better go and get yerself some more a Tess’s cookies for fortification. I’m expectin’ a delivery any minute, and I’ll need your help. With any luck, we’ll get ten big boxes today.”

They
walked off toward the back room, and Tess turned back to the window. Jack and Corrine had moved on. She looked down at the table and then quickly back out the window. How long had
he
been there? The would-be handy man. She didn’t remember seeing him when Jack was standing there, but there he was—sitting on a bench across the street and looking directly at the bookstore, one denim-clad leg propped on the other knee while he drew on a cigarette. He saw her through the window and slowly raised a hand to tip his hat in greeting. She waved quickly and finished up her work at the table. She was arranging a display; she had no intention of
being
the display.

* * *

Tess didn’t realize the time until she overheard Pickle ask if it was all right if he went home for the day. She left for the day too, but stopped in the diner for a quick bite to eat before going home. She’d just sat down in the red vinyl booth at the front window when Buck slid in across from her.

“
Evenin’ Mizz Tess. Would you allow me to join you?”

“
Oh. Hello, Mayor . . . I suppose so. How are you?”

“
I’m exemplary, thank you! I saw you come in the restrunt, and thought it would be a good time to stop and catch my breath.” He squinted his eyes at the chalkboard list of daily specials. “What looks good today?” Buck looked back at Tess for a brief moment, giving her a leer, and added, “Besides the obvious.” He winked at her before returning his attention to the menu board. Tess cringed.

“
The lemon meringue pie looks good to me, but I suppose I can’t have that for dinner,” she said, trying to fill the silence but not babble, too.

Just
then, Junebug appeared at the table. She was a pretty woman, even in her seventies, with long white hair that she always kept up in a bun. Thin, and genteel, she always wore just the right amount of makeup, and she wore casual, stylish clothes underneath her apron. The only deviation in her appearance was whether the bun was on top of her head or at the back of it. Slick liked to joke that she was feeling frisky when she put it on top.

“
Hireya’ll?” She plopped her order pad on the table so she could use both hands to fix the knot on the back of her head.

“
Junie, if I was doin’ any better, I’d have ta hire somebody to help me enjoy it!”

“
Aw, gwon, Buck, nobody can be doin’
that
good.” Junebug lightly pushed his shoulder. “’Specially in this weather. It was hotter’n blazes all day, and now it's comin' up a bad cloud out there.”

“
We shore do need the rain,” Buck said. “It’s sa dry, the trees are startin’ to bribe the dogs.”

“
That it is.” She ducked her head down for a better look outside, then stood up straight. “Okay, enough chit-chat, Chet. I got other customers to wait on. What kin I gitch y’all?”

Tess
said, “I’ll have the tomato soup, a corn muffin, and sweet tea with lemon, please.”

“
And I’ll have some a Slick’s liver’n onions, please, ma’am,” Buck said, adding, “Oh, and some coffee, too, please, Junie.”

“
Okeedokee,” Junebug said, writing on her pad. She looked up at him over her reading glasses. “You don’t usually order coffee, Buck. By gonnies, the whole town’s turnin’ upside down. Would you like a little cream with your coffee, or do you want it unadulterated?”

“
Unadulterated,” Buck said, decisively, without a hint of a smile. Tess propped her elbow on the table, and her chin on her fist, partially covering her mouth to mask her smile. She worked some multiplication problems in her head to keep from giggling at the southern vocabulary. A boom of thunder directed her attention outside, and she noticed the rain coming down hard.

Junebug
started off toward the kitchen, and Buck started to talk, but Tess didn’t hear him; she was listening to Junebug give the order to Slick.

“
Walkin’ in! Gimme a splash a red noise. Put the lights out and cry. Mud and a sweetie, and sour it. The sweetie, not the mud.”

“
Sorry.”
She
realized
Buck
had
said
something
to
her.
“Say
that
again?”

“
I asked how the renovatin’s comin’ along.” Buck sat back, folding his hands on the table.

“
Slow but sure. It’ll take me a while to do everything I want to do. But I’m enjoying it.”

“
Good, good. Do ya need any hep?”

“
Oh gosh, no . . . thanks, I’m doing fine.”

“
I used to play in that house as a boy. My mama was friends with Lou’s mama and she’d go over thar for coffee and take me along. It’s some house.”

“
I hear you’ve lived here all your life, and your family’s been here for how long?”

“
Ya know, I don’t rightly know exactly when my kin first came here, but I know they at least go back to my great great-grandparents.”

“
This is certainly an interesting town.”

Junebug
came over with the coffee and iced tea and set them on the table. She pointed out the window. “There goes Peekal, bless his heart. He dudn’t have the sense ta get outta the rain. My stars and garters, he couldn’t find his rear with his hands in his back pockets.”

It
was still pouring down rain, but Pickle didn’t seem to be in a
hurry; he was sauntering down the sidewalk, hands in his front pockets, rain pelting his red baseball cap. Junebug shook her head. “That boy’s just like his daddy. Neither one of ‘em have the good sense God gave ‘em.”

“
That kid’s a good’un, Junie, you know that,” Buck said, watching Pickle.

“
Yeah, you’re right. Food’ll be out in a New York minute.” Junebug walked back toward the kitchen.

“
All right. Back to the subject at hand,” Buck said. “Your house.”

“
What about it?”

“
I used to love to play down in the basement. And the backyard. Man alive, you’ve got a great backyard. Of course, I never could bring myself to play on the back porch. In the eighties they glassed it in and made it the pretty sun room that it is today, but back when I was a boy, there were so many wild stories floatin’ ‘round, I was convinced there were ghosts back there.”

“
Ghosts?”

“
Oh yeah, if those walls could talk. Mmm, mmm. That house has seen some tragedy.”

“
Oh. I had no idea.”

“
Well, I reckon you should know, it bein’ part of the history of your house, and you bein’ Lou’s employee and all. She dudn’t like ta talk ‘bout her family much, but . . . her grandmama was murdered on that back porch, only two short years after her daddy had been murdered . . . “

mill
: noun \mil\ meal

Enjoy your mill.

[  1935  ]