Murder & Mayhem in Goose Pimple Junction (2 page)

[ 
1935  ]

Exhaust
billowed
into
the
air
as
the
black
1934
Ford
Tudor
idled
by
the
side
of
the
road
on
a
bitterly
cold
December
evening.
Snowflakes
danced
in
the
car’s
headlights
as
it
sat
just
past
Goose
Creek
Bridge,
four
miles
south
of
Goose
Pimple
Junction,
Tennessee.

Preoccupied
with
the
cold
night
air,
passersby
were
intent
on
getting
to
their
destinations.
While
everyone
who
passed
the
Ford
that
night
would
later
remember
seeing
it
sitting
on
the
side
of
the
road
with
its
headlights
burning
aimlessly
into
the
cold
night,
none
noticed
the
three
bullet
holes
in
the
windows
or
the
dead
man
slumped
over
the
steering
wheel,
a
bullet
through
his
head,
and
a
pistol
in
his
hand.

swan:
verb \swon\ to swear, deritive of swannee
I swan—raisin’ kids is like bein' pecked to death by a chicken.

[ 
May
2010  ]

“You are dumber ‘n a soup sandwich, Earl.”

“
Oh yeah? Well, you’re a hole in search of a doughnut, Clive.”

Tess
Tremaine walked into Slick & Junebug’s Diner, past the two gentlemen arguing at the counter, and slid into one of the red vinyl booths. The old men were arguing good-naturedly, and she imagined they were probably lifelong friends, passing the time of day.

Tess
smiled as she looked around the diner. She was happy with her decision to move to this friendly town. Everyone greeted her cheerfully and went out of their way to be nice. It was a pretty place to live, too. Every street in the small town was lined with decades-old trees in front of old, well-kept homes full of character, just like the citizens. She was confident she’d made the right choice. This was a good place to heal from her divorce and start a new life.

A
raised voice at the counter brought Tess out of her thoughts. One of the old men spoke loud enough for the whole diner to hear.

“
If I had a dog as ugly as you, I’d shave his butt and make him walk backwards,” he said, jabbing his index finger at the other man.

A
waitress appeared at the table. Tess hadn’t seen a beehive hairdo in person until she saw this waitress. With her pink uniform dress and white apron, she looked like she jumped out of a page from the sixties. Her name tag said, “Willa Jean.”

“
Don’t mind those two old coots.” Willa Jean hitched her head in their direction. “They’re about as dumb as a box a hair, but they’re
gentle souls underneath. Their problem is one of ‘em’s always tryin’ to one-up the other.”

She
got her pad and pencil out of her front apron pocket, ready to take Tess's order, but she stopped and cocked her head, staring hard at Tess, and smacking her gum.

“
Anybody ever tell you, you look like Princess Di? I just loved her, didn’t you?” She bent her head slightly to the side to look at Tess’s legs under the table. “'Cept you look a might shorter 'n Di was. How tall are you?”

“
Five-five.” Tess couldn’t help smiling at the compliment.

“
Yep. What we have here is a mini Diana. And your hair color is a reddish-blond instead of a blonde-blonde like my girl Di. Other 'n that, honey, you could be her clone.”

“
Thank you. You just earned a big tip.” Tess’s smile lit up her face.

The
waitress winked at Tess. “What can I gitcha?”

“
I think I’ll just have a Coke and a ham sandwich, please.”

“
Anything on that? Wanna run it through the garden?”

“
Run it through the . . . “ Tess’s brow furrowed.

“
Yeah, you know . . . lettuce, tomato, and onion. The works.”

“
Oh! Just mustard, please.”

Willa
Jean nodded and hollered the order to the cook as she went towards the kitchen. “Walkin’ in! A Co’Cola and Noah’s boy on bread with Mississippi mud.”

Tess
smiled and looked around the diner. The front counter was lined with cake plates full of pies covered in meringue piled six-inches high, cakes three and four layers tall, and two-inch thick brownies. Six chrome stools with red leather seats sat under the counter. The walls were packed with framed snapshots from as far back as the fifties. From the looks of it, they started taking pictures when poodle skirts were popular and never stopped. They were running out of wall space. The top half of the big picture window was covered with a “Henry Clay
Price For Governor” banner. Tess spotted similar signs throughout the restaurant, and she’d noticed the waitress was wearing a campaign
button.

The
diner was only half
full with about twenty people at various tables and booths. A few tables away, a mother was having trouble with her child. Tess heard the mother say, “I’m fixin’ to show you what a whoopin’ is all about!” When the little boy whined some more the mother added, “I mean it son, right now, I’d just as soon whoop ya as hug ya.” She looked up to see Tess watching them and said, “I’ll swan—raisin’ kids is like bein' pecked to death by a chicken.”

Tess
laughed. “I know what you mean. But you just wait. In ten years time, you’ll be wishing he were five again. The time goes by so fast.”

“
How many you got?”

“
Just one. My son's twenty-five now, but it doesn't seem possible.”

“
You married?” the woman asked boldly.

“
Divorced,” Tess answered.

“
Here’s yer Co’cola, hon,” Willa Jean said. “It’ll be just a minute more on the sandwich. You visitin’ or are ya new in town?” She propped a hand on her waist.

“
Brand new as of a week ago. I've been unpacking boxes for days.
I guess you could say this is my debut in Goose Pimple Junction.”

“
Well, all Southern Belles have to have a debut. And we're mighty glad to have ya, sugar. Lessee . . . did you buy the old Hobb house on Walnut?”

“
My house is on Walnut, but I believe the previous owner’s name was York.”

“
Yep, that’s the one I’m thinkin’ of. Houses ‘roundcheer are known for the families that lived in ‘em the longest. Them Hobbs had the house for over seventy years, up until old Maye Hobb Carter died a few years back. It was her late huband's family home and then hers, even when she remarried. She was a sweet old soul, bless her heart. We all hated to lose her, but it was her time. She had a hard life, and I reckon she was ready to meet her maker. Her daughter still lives in town
,
but she and an older sister are all that’s left of the Hobbs ‘round here. Mmm-mmm—the things that family went through.”

“
Willa!” the cook behind the counter yelled. “Order up!”

“
Hold yer pants on, Slick,” she yelled and then turned to Tess. “Be right back.” Willa hurried off to get the order and came bustling back with Tess’s sandwich. “It was nice talkin’ with ya, hon. I’ll leave ya to eat in peace. Holler if ya need anything else.”

A
few minutes later the door to the diner opened, and almost every head turned to see who came in. Tess noticed everybody, except for her, raised a hand up in greeting, and a few said, “Hidee, Jackson.” The man’s eyes caught Tess’s and held them a little longer than normal. He sat down at the counter with his back to her and ordered iced tea. Willa waited on him, and Tess heard her say, “You don’t need ta be any
sweeter than ya already are, Jackson. I’ma give
you
unsweetened tea.” She leaned across the counter looking up at him adoringly.

“
Don’t you dare Willa Jean or I will take my bidness elsewhere!” he said with a big smile.

Big
flirt
, Tess thought.

He
was a good-looking man who looked to be in his early to mid-fifties, Tess guessed, but she wasn’t in the market. Being newly divorced, the last thing she needed was to get involved with another man.

As
far as I'm concerned, they're all Martians and are to be avoided at all cost
.
“Men Are From Mars, And Women Are From Venus
”
wasn’t a best seller for nothing,
she thought.

The
door to the diner opened and a middle-aged man of medium height, dressed in a conservative suit and tie stuck his head in. “Vote for Henry Clay Price for governor, folks,” he said, with a wide politician’s smile.

“
You know it, Henry Clay. You’re our man. We’re proud as punch to have you runnin’,” Willa Jean said.

Other
than the smile, Henry Clay didn’t look like a politician. He had thinning auburn hair that was almost brown, and he wore round wire-rimmed eyeglasses on a round face. He reminded Tess a little of an absentminded professor.

“
You gonna let out all the bought air?” Slick grumped, and Henry Clay waved and closed the door, then ambled on down the sidewalk.

Tess
finished eating and walked to the counter to pay her bill. Willa gave her change and said, “Nice meetin’ ya, hon. Don’t be a stranger, now!”

As
she closed the door she heard one of the men at the counter
tell the other, “Yer so slow, it would take you two hours to watch
60 Minutes
!”

“
I love this town,” she whispered to herself.

* * *

A few weeks later, Tess was sitting in The Muffin Man coffee shop, laptop open, fingers flying over the keys, when she sensed someone sitting down at the table across from her. She glanced up. It was
him
. The Martian she’d been exchanging glances with for over two weeks. With her concentration broken, her fingers came to a rest. They made eye contact, and she looked away, following their pattern of the last few weeks.

Oh
yeah, it was him alright. Talk about Mr. Muffin—stud muffin. She'd seen him at the post office, the grocery store, the hardware
store . . . everywhere she went, it seemed Mr. Martian-Muffin was there. They’d only spoken to each other with their eyes, and she was always the one to look away first. Their silent flirting game was fun, and always did funny things to the pit of her stomach, but flirting was as far as she wanted it to go. Whenever she ran into him,
she made sure to leave quickly in order to squelch any chance of conversation.

She
looked back down at her computer but could still feel his eyes
on her. Putting her fingers back in place on the keyboard, she couldn’t think of a thing to write. Her mind was blank. She couldn’t concentrate. His stare was unnerving.

Tess
felt very self-conscious and couldn’t help but look back at him a few minutes later. He, too, had opened a laptop, but just as she chanced another glance, he looked up and caught her eye again. He smiled.

She
took a sip from her drink and tried to look nonchalantly around the store, but her eyes wandered back to Mr. Muffin.
Mr. Martian
, the scorned woman's voice in her head corrected. He was dressed casually, in jeans and a crisp light pink button-down shirt with a hint of white
t-shirt underneath. He had on topsiders, no socks. She looked at her computer screen and tried to think about her book.