Murder & Mayhem in Goose Pimple Junction (22 page)

“
I wonder why your mother reacted the way she did when I told her about the key,” Tess murmured.

“
. . . Then, when my great-grandma died, Grandma Maye put all her keepsakes in the trunk, and I don’t think it was touched until we sold the house.”

“
Where is it now?” Jack asked.

“
I 'spect it’s in Mama’s attic.”

“
When did your great grandmother die?” Tess asked, looking up to see Henry Clay.

“
Hey, y’all. What’s goin’ on?” Henry Clay asked. He and a teenage girl had entered the diner and walked up to their table without any of them being aware of it. She went on past their booth and joined Pickle at the table behind them.

“
Henry Clay! Hireyew?” Martha Maye reached out to touch his arm.

“
Happier than a pig in slop. Hire y’all?”

They
all mumbled they were fine, and then Tess asked if he’d like to join them.

“
I don’t want to interrupt anything.” But he squeezed in next to Martha, not looking like he cared if he interrupted anything or not. “What’re y’all talkin’ ‘bout?”

“
Oh, I’s just tellin’ ‘em some of our family history. Ya know, Henry Clay’s folks are—or were—Mama’s age, and they’ve lived here all their lives, too. Well, his mama’s passed, now. They were so young in ’35,
I don’t imagine his daddy would remember much. Do you think he would, Henry?”

“
Naw, I wouldn’t think so.”

“
Hey, Henry Clay, how’s the campaign goin’?” Jack asked.

“
Aw, I reckon it’s goin’ all right. I’m havin’ trouble convincin’ some parts of the state that I’m not as country as a turnip green. But even though it’s early in the game, I’m as busy as a cranberry merchant most days.”

“
Well nobody said the road to the top would be easy. But I’d rather wear out than rust out, wouldn’t you?” Jack said.

“
I hear ya, Jack.”

“
Say . . . I’ve got a little free time these days, you want me to come by your headquarters and help fold and stuff or somethin’?” asked Jack.

“
I’d be much obliged.”

“
I could come, too,” Tess offered.

“
Well count me in!” Martha Maye said.

“
That’s mighty kind of y’all. Anytime you can, I could use the help.”

“
Well,” Tess said, “I should be going home now. It’s been a long day.”

Jack
stood to let her out of the booth. “Why don’t I walk you home?”

“
Well, for one thing, it’s not on your way,” she said facetiously.

“
Oh, did you think I was really askin’?” He smiled down at her,
daring her with his eyes to challenge him. Tess’s sigh signaled her
surrender, and Martha Maye and Henry Clay laughed.

Jack
said, “Night y’all,” and followed Tess to the cash register.

“
You li’lac a dirty dog!” Clive yelled.

“
Oh yeah? Well you’re lyin’ and yer feet don’t match!” Earl shot back.

“
Earl! That don’t even make sense,” Clive told him.

“
May not make sense, but it’s true ‘bout you.” Earl jutted his chin in the air.

“
Junie, how do you put up with these two old coots?” Jack laughed.

“
Aw, I’m so used to ‘em, they’s just white noise now. I think they came with the place when Slick bought it, and I think they’ll be here when Slick really buys it, if you know what I mean!”

“
What does she mean?” Tess asked Jack, as he paid Junebug.

“
When he buys the farm . . . you know, Goes to Adios Park . . . “

“
When he goes to the Marble Orchard,” Earl added.

“
When he checks into the Wooden Waldorf,” Jack countered.

“
When he goes to the Dew Drop Dead Inn . . . “ Clive interjected. “When he’s no longer eligible for the census . . . “

“
When he moves into upper management. Or—hey! How ‘bout this one—when he goes to McCemetery!” Earl volunteered.

“
When he’s knock, knock, knockin’ on Heaven’s door . . . “ from Clive again.

“
When he’s promoted to Subterranean Truffle Inspector . . . “ from Earl.

“
When he gets the ultimate tax shelter,” Junebug threw in.

“
Okay! Okay! I get it!” Tess laughed, holding her hands up in
defeat. “They will still be here when Slick’s ‘out of business’, so to speak.” Everyone groaned.

“
Why’s Tess putting me out of bidness?” Slick came up behind
Junebug.

“
Oh, for Pete’s sake!” Tess threw up her arms. “See? You all are
getting me in trouble!”

“
You’d better watch your back, Slick. This woman’s trouble!” Jack joked.

“
Good night, all!” Tess said in exasperation.

“
Y’all come back,” Junebug called after them.

“
Count on it,” Jack said, as he stepped outside.

Tess
and Jack walked out into the sticky, humid night. The sun was just starting to go down, and the humidity was so thick you could almost wring out the air. After Lou asked her if she knew what she was doing with Jack, combined with her own mixed feelings, Tess had successfully avoided Jack’s advances on the night of the Fourth of July, but now she was beginning to worry about him walking her home. He would want to come in, and if he came in, he would want something to drink, and if he had something to drink, he would sit down, and if he sat down, he’d want to sit close to her, and if he sat close to her . . .
Oh crap
.

She
didn’t know what she wanted. Before meeting Jack, she thought she wouldn’t ever take a chance on being hurt again. She was just fine by herself, thank you very much. However, the more she was with Jack, the more she was losing her resolve and her self-control. But if he cheated on his wife, then he had a big stop sign on his forehead, as far as she was concerned. She was a jumble of confusion as they walked down the sidewalk.

They
left the busy town square, and began walking past houses on the way to Tess’s. It was a quiet night; everyone was indoors in the air conditioning seeking reprieve from the heat. Tess felt a bead of sweat trickle down her back.

“
So, Mary T. What did you think of what Martha Maye told us?”

“
I think Lou’s mother had a tragic life. When I first came to town, Willa Jean, at Slick’s, told me Maye’s mother had a hard life, but
I couldn’t begin to fathom what she meant. It’s truly . . . “

Crack!

Jack was on the ground before Tess could blink, and then someone shoved her hard, while ripping her purse from her arm, twisting it, and throwing her onto the sidewalk next to Jack.

ideal: noun \ ahy-dee-uhl, \ idea

Do y’all have any ideal who it was?

[  1937  ]

July 7, 1937 was a scorcher. The thermometer was inching north of
one hundred that afternoon, as Maye Hobb and her mother, Nellie
Lawrence, ironed clothes. Bringing their work onto the back porch and hoping to catch whatever breeze was in the air, they talked, as they worked, about the upcoming birthday celebration for P.D.—Maye’s brother and Nellie’s son. He and his wife had a baby on the way, and they wanted this birthday to be special.

“
Let’s make ice cream,” Nellie suggested.

“
But P.D. is the one who usually does the cranking. Is it fair to make him work on his birthday?” Maye worked the iron over a shirt while she talked.

“
It is if he wants ice cream. And Johnny and Samuel can help, too. At least until close to the end, when it gets so hard to crank.”

“
Aw, you know P.D. will be plumb tickled to death with whatever we do. We’ll have to have fried chicken and half runner green beans. But, Ma, will you do the ringin’? John always killed the chickens for me, and now . . . well, it’s just not my favorite chore.”

“
Sure, honey, I don’t mind. I’ll pluck and cut it for you, too.” She wiped the sweat from her face and neck with a dishtowel. “Whew . . . It’s so hot I b’lieve you could pull a baked potato right outta the ground.”

“
That’s entirely possible.” Trevor stood in the doorway, mopping his brow with a handkerchief.

“
Trevor,” Maye said, startled, “I wasn’t expecting you this afternoon.” She immediately was unnerved because of the look in his eye and the charged air around him.

“
I’ma ask you one more time, Maye. Will you marry me?”

Nellie
gasped and took a step back. Maye put the iron down and answered calmly, “No, Trevor. I told you no, and I meant no.”

“
Well if I can’t have you, nobody will!”

Maye
saw the gun for a brief moment before Trevor lifted his right hand, aimed, and fired. She saw a flash just before a bullet hit her in the upper chest, under her right shoulder, and she went down like a bag
of flour.

“
Lord have mercy!” Nellie said, staring at Trevor in shock and disbelief. Trevor aimed and fired again, this time hitting Nellie in the
neck. Maye, still conscious as she lay there, felt the floor tremble as her mother fell to the ground. The sound of her mother’s body hitting
the floor would remain with her for the rest of her life. Maye decided to play dead, praying he would stop shooting and leave.
Lord, protect us,
save us . . .

Trevor
turned and ran down the creek bank behind the house.

As
soon as she heard him run, Maye began crawling to the front of the house. Her neighbor, Sam Happenay, heard the shots and ran to Maye’s house, where he found her lying on the front lawn covered
in blood. He carried her into her house where he found Nellie, barely alive. Maye regained consciousness briefly, uttering, “Trevor . . . it was
Trevor.”

While
word spread about the shooting, and help raced to the Hobb house, men from all over the county were already in hot pursuit of
Trevor. Some thought he was insane. Armed with guns, clubs and any other form of weapon they could find, they set out meaning to capture him dead or alive.

Daniel
LeMaster raced to the filling station the minute he heard the news. P.D. was out front sweeping when he pulled up.

“
Hop in, Psalmist David, I need to talk to you for a minute.”

P.D.
saw the serious expression on his father-in-law’s face and didn’t hesitate. He stepped inside to tell his employee to mind the store until he came back. As they headed out of town, they passed a group of men heading into the hills with baseball bats and guns.

“
What in tarnation is goin’ on?”

“
There was a shootin’ today.” Daniel’s eyes were fixed on the road, his hands gripped the steering wheel tightly.

“
Who?”

“
Let’s drive up yonder and we’ll talk.”

“
Why are we goin’ all the way up the mountain just to talk?”

“
Cause I’m afraid of what you might do when have that talk.”

“
Denise?” P.D. whispered.

“
Denise is fine.” Daniel drove up the side of the mountain, on a winding, twisting dirt road. They reached the top, and when he was
satisfied they were far enough away from town, he parked. Daniel turned to look at P.D and said quietly, “Yer ma and Maye were shot this afternoon. It was Trevor.”

It
took a few minutes for the news to sink in. P.D. stared at his
father-in-law, stunned, murmuring, “Maye…Mama?” Then he didn’t say anything, he just turned, got out of the car, and with balled fists, began to walk down the mountain.

Daniel ran to P.D., pulled him back, and held on to him with both hands.

“
I have to find Trevor,” P.D. said through his teeth. Daniel held his son-in-law’s shoulders and pushed him back toward the car, which was no easy task. The two men struggled on the dirt road, Daniel struggling to restrain P.D.

Breathing
hard, Daniel said, “P.D., you’re a God-fearin’ man. You’re a kind-hearted, decent, gentle soul. You don’t want to go after Trevor. Think of Denise and the baby on the way.”