Rogues & Rascals in Goose Pimple Junction (Goose Pimple Junction Mysteries Book 4) (4 page)

Mama always said . . . If it’s got tires or testicles, you’re going to have trouble with it.

A
little after 4:30 p.m., Caledonia walked down the hall of the primary wing of Robert E. Lee Elementary School finishing up her volunteer duties for the day. She ducked into room 120, but it was empty, so she walked to the teacher’s desk to leave a flyer. Caledonia abruptly stopped when she heard the sound of breaking glass. After looking all around—actually turning herself in a circle—she went to the wall of windows at the back of the classroom. She saw two teenagers out in the yard, and they were up to no good. One of them was swinging a baseball bat and systematically breaking all the windows of the classroom next door, while the other kid howled with laughter. Her first thought was to dash out the door leading from the classroom to the schoolyard and confront the vandals. Then she remembered it was Martha Maye’s room next door and instead, dashed through the small bathroom that separated the classrooms, hurrying into room 118.

Thankfully, that room was also empty. Just as she let out a sigh of relief that Martha Maye wasn’t harmed, a blow hit another window and sent glass flying into the classroom. Her arms flew up to protect her face and head. Then she crouched behind the big wooden desk and peeked around it.

It was early June and school had just let out for the summer. Teachers were still in the building cleaning their classrooms and finalizing the school year that had just passed. She figured at this late hour, most had gone home for the day if not for the entire summer.

Another crash sent glass raining down around her. She wrapped her arms around her legs and curled into a tight ball until the glass stopped falling. Then she pulled out her cell phone and dialed 911.

“Nine-one-one, what is your emergency?”

“Aunt Bea, this is Caledonia Culpepper. I’m over to the school, and”—another window exploded followed by more glass. She stopped talking to cover her head again.

“What in the world was that?” Bernadette, the police dispatcher, asked.

Caledonia peeked out again and this time caught a glimpse of the boy underneath the ball cap. “It’s Jimmy Dean Howe, and he’s behind Lee Elementary breaking the school windows with a baseball bat.”

“Good Lord, what’s he doing a fool thing like that for?”

“I don’t know, but he’s really going to town. You best get somebody over here pdq.”

“Hold on, Caledonia.” The phone went mute for a moment, and then Bernadette returned. “Hank’s on his way, hon.”

Caledonia watched as the boys took off running across the schoolyard. “Well, he better hurry or he’s gonna miss the little miscreants. They’re running away now.”

“They can run, but they can’t hide. We’ll need you to ID them, so you sit tight.”

“Of course.”

Caledonia was putting on Pink Passion, her favorite pink lipstick, when the doorbell rang. She thought about not answering it because she didn’t want to be late, but the bell sounded again. This time, it was accompanied by a powerful knock, and she thought whoever was there sounded persistent and insistent. She went to the door to find Louis P. Howe on her doorstep.

“Louis, I –”

“Good morning, Mrs. Culpepper, uh, Caledonia. I do hope I’m not interrupting. May I have the pleasure of your company for just a few minutes?” An ingratiating smile spread across his face.

“Well, I suppose, although I
wa
s getting ready to meet someone.”

“It’ll just take a minute.” He pushed past her into the house.

“Well, by all means, come on in.” In her head, the comment was made sarcastically, but she tried to be gracious in her outward demeanor.

He led her—instead of the other way around—to the sitting room, where they sat opposite one another. He leaned back on the sofa, splayed his arms on the top of the couch cushions, and propped his ankle on his knee.

“Can I get you some coffee? Perhaps a muffin?” She tried her best to put on a pleasant expression.

“Yes, you may. Coffee, please.”

Caledonia returned in a flash with a tray containing two glasses, an iced tea pitcher, and a dish of sliced lemon. She remembered he had said he wanted coffee, but she didn’t like the man, so she deliberately brought tea.

To his credit, he said nothing. Only his face gave away his displeasure. He balanced the glass on his knee and began to talk. “I’ll not take much of your time, although I do appreciate your hospitality. No, I’m here for one simple reason: I’d like to contribute to your son’s, uh . . . Pickle’s . . . college education.” He flashed an insincere smile again.

Confusion crossed her face. “What on earth for?” She picked up the plate of muffins and offered it to him. “Muffin?”

“No, thank you.”

Peanut stuck his head in just then and said, “Can I have one, Mama?”

She handed him the plate. “Go see if your brother wants one too. Then get your shoes. We’re going out in just a bit.” She turned to Louis.

“The details aren’t important. The point is, I’m here to make you an offer you can’t refuse.”

“Whatever for?” Her hand flew to the pearls around her neck.

“Well, frankly, for your silence. You see, the police really have no evidence against my son. All they have is your word.”

“So you want me to lie?”

“Yes. You can just say you were mistaken. And we’ll keep this little transaction between us. You understand?” His smile remained in place as he put the glass back on the tray and pulled out his checkbook.

“That won’t be necessary, Louis.” She took a sip of tea. “There will be no transaction.”

His smile turned to a scowl when she finished her thought. “Excuse me?” His voice was taut.

She spoke slowly and distinctly. “There. Will. Be. No. Transaction.” Now it was her turn to flash a false smile.

He sat forward. “I haven’t even made you an offer yet.” Whether intended or not, his tone was condescending.

“No need. I won’t lie. That is what you want me to do, right?”

“I wouldn’t put it in such crude terms—”

“Oh, Louis, if it walks like a duck and talks like a duck, it’s a duck. What you are suggesting is out of the realm of possibility. I will not lie to the law or anyone else. I suspect that’s a lesson Jimmy Dean needs to learn as well.” She stood and walked to the doorway giving him a look that suggested he should follow her. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I really do have to meet someone.”

Louis’s face turned bright red with anger as he returned his checkbook to his pocket and grabbed his briefcase. He sprang to his feet and leveled his gaze on her. “You’re making a mistake.”

“No, sir. Jimmy Dean made a mistake when he broke those windows. And you’re making a mistake by trying to take care of it for your boy. I’m not a judge or jury or an expert on parenting, but I don’t think he should get off that easily.”

“I’ll thank you to leave the parenting of my son to my wife and me.” He shifted the briefcase from hand to hand. “My influence carries far and wide in this town. You just remember that.”

“I don’t like your tone, Louis.”

“I didn’t mean for you to.” He spun on his foot and stormed out the door, slamming it so hard the windows rattled.

“Well I never—”

Jackson Wright sat in his home office with his cell phone to his ear, one foot propped on the other knee. “I feel for you, Oren, I really do. When your wife’s interested in work more than in her husband, that can make for a lonely life. My only advice would be to talk to her. Tell her how you feel. I’d bet she’s unaware of your unhappiness.”

“I’ve talked until I’m blue in the face,” the voice said over the phone.

“Well, talk some more. And dote on her. Women want to be appreciated. When they feel appreciated, they’ll do more. Give that a try. Okay? Talk later.”

He punched off and saw his wife leaning in the doorway with a sour expression on her face.

“Uh-oh. What has made that beautiful face scowl like an ogre? What did Ezzie do now?”

“How do you know it was Ezzie? Maybe
you
did something.”

“Nope. We’ve only been married a few months, but I know that look of yours. That’s an Ezzie-did-it-again look.”

“Well, you’re right. She did. I’m at my wit’s end with that dog.”

Jack went to Tess and wrapped her in his arms. He hugged her tight, swaying slightly. He kissed her and said, “Love me, love my dog?”

She took his hand and led him to the kitchen where the Basset hound sat under the table, her pleading eyes moving from Tess to Jack. Any question of her guilt was now moot.

Jack bent at the waist to peer at her under the table. “Ezmerelda, what did you do?”

Her ears dropped, and her eyes drooped.

Jack stood and looked at his wife. “What did she do?”

Tess picked up a bread wrapper off the counter and held it out to him. “I found this on the floor. If you’ll notice, there is a tear down the center, and the bread is gone. I just bought this loaf this morning. I set it on the table while I was unpacking the groceries. I turned my back no more than two minutes, and she sucked the bread right out of the wrapper. That dog is unbelievable.”

Jack couldn’t help it. A huge smile crept onto his face. “That is freaking awesome! I own the smartest dog, and I’m married to the most beautiful woman in the world.”

Tess stared at Ezzie for a moment and then at Jack. She began to laugh. “Don’t encourage her. And don’t use flattery to get your dog out of trouble.”