Short & Tall Tales in Goose Pimple Junction

by Amy Metz

  “’Course she is and ‘course you are. Where are my manners? Jack, Tess, can I get y’all anything?”

  Jack gave Tess a one-armed hug and kissed her cheek, keeping his hand around her waist. “I’ve got all the sweetness I need, Louetta.” He looked at his watch. “I’m gonna feed Ezmerelda right quick. She gets cranky if her supper’s late.”

  “Speaking of eating, come on y’all. Trying times call for frying food.” Lou led the way back to the kitchen. She wrapped a big white apron with red flowers around her waist and pulled out her iron skillet, Crisco, and chicken thighs and legs. While she began preparing the chicken for frying, she asked why they’d called in a state trooper to find her sister.

  Johnny filled everybody in on his new position as police chief, and Jack related what they’d found out about Chester.

  “So you don’t believe this is an act of love? That he took her somewhere because he loves her?” Johnny asked.

  “If that was his reason, why’d he lie about having my permission, and why hasn’t he or she called to tell us she’s all right?” Martha Maye slapped her hand down on the table. “No, sir. That man is nothing but a waste of skin.”

  “I knew that ten-gallon mouth was full of hot air. All that talk about how much he cared for Ima Jean.” Lou scrunched her mouth into a scowl. “Then right under our noses, he swooped in and stole Imy. And I stood by like a bump on a log and let it happen.”

  “Lou, it’s all my fault, don’t blame yourself.” Tess flopped into a chair at the kitchen table. “I’m the one who told you to wait until today to warn her about that charlatan.”

  “Don’t you start talking like that, Tessie. I’ve been making my own decisions since I was knee-high to nothing. If anything happens to her, it’s all my fault.”

  “It’s nobody’s fault but the abductor’s, and when I’m done with him, he’s gonna be standing in the need of prayer.” Johnny pulled out a notebook and pen from his shirt pocket. “Now. Y’all tell me all y’all know about one Mr. Chester Hale.”

  “He’s been cashing her checks. I know that for a fact.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “I called up Ima Jean’s bank and pretended to be her.” She talked as she battered the chicken. “I know all her information, see. So I asked them to give me her balance—‘cept I said my – and they gave it to me. Then I asked what were the last checks to clear, and lo and behold, Mr. Chester Hale has cashed a bunch, totaling $2,500.”

  Lou put the chicken pieces into the hot oil, and it sizzled and popped. She washed and dried her hands, salt and peppered the chicken, and joined everyone at the table.

  “Johnny, have another cookie.” Martha Maye shoved the plate at him.

  “Do you think she wrote the checks on her own accord?” He took a cookie from the plate, nodded thanks to Martha Maye, and returned his attention to Lou.

  “No I don’t, Chief. The teller told me the signatures were different handwriting than the rest of the checks.”

  Around a bite of cookie, Johnny said, “I’ll put an alert out to all the banks in town to be on the lookout for any checks signed by Ima Jean Moxley. And I’ll get them to fax me the images of the checks.” He scribbled some notes and looked up at Louetta. “Have you thought of anywhere he might have taken her? Even a long shot is worth looking into.”

  Lou huffed. “I’m assuming he took her back to his lair.” She wrung her hands. “I just don’t know.”

  Johnny reached for her hand and gave it a squeeze. “We’re getting closer, Lou. I should be able to find out his address.” He winked at her and then flipped his notebook closed, placing it back in his pocket. “Okay, y’all hang tough, and I’ll get to work.” He put his hands on his knees, pushing up to stand. “We’ve already put a BOLO out for Chester. We’ll find him. Don’t you worry.”

  “I know you will, Johnny. I mean Chief.” Lou stood with him. “Well, we don’t want to keep you.”

  He laughed and looked at Martha Maye. “Oh, you can keep me.” But he stood and grabbed two more cookies on his way out.

  As they reached the door, Lou said, “You’re welcome here anytime for dinner or cookies. That’s an open invitation.”

  “I’ll remember that, Lou. Thank you.” He held up a cookie. “These are delicious.” Stepping outside, he said, “I’ll keep you informed of any developments. “I’ll be at the police station until we catch this yahoo. I’ll catnap on the cot in the back.”

  “Well, don’t you eat nothing to spoil your appetite. Just as soon as this chicken is done, Martha Maye will run some over to you.”

  Suddenly the cookie he’d been holding in his hand was no longer there. He looked down to see a Basset hound chewing and looking at him forlornly with big bloodshot eyes.

  “Ezzie! Ezzie, come here.” Jack came across the yard, scolding his dog. “I saw that. You owe the chief an apology. Man alive, I opened the door to let her out and she made a beeline for that cookie.”

  She wagged her tail and licked her lips. Martha Maye disappeared inside the house.

  “I’m so sorry, Johnny. She’s a Houdini and a thief. You gotta watch her.” Jack scooped her up in his arms.

  “I didn’t even know she was there. She’s a stealthy little thing.” Johnny reached out to pet her head.

  “Yeah, and she’s not going to be little much longer if she keeps eating cookies.”

  Martha Maye came back out with a baggie full of cookies. She looked sternly at Ezzie, who looked hopefully back at her. “Uh-uh. These are for the chief, you little cookie monster.”

  “I’m going to head to the station right now.” He looked at his watch. “I still have time to alert the banks. I’ll keep y’all posted.” He looked at Ezzie and pointed. “And you, you little thief. Don’t make me take you to the pokey for petty larceny.”

  Ezzie had the nerve to bark at him.

  He may be good-looking, but good-looking won’t put food on the table.

  ~Willa Jean Coomer

  Downtown Goose Pimple Junction was bustling the next morning when Johnny parked his car and walked a block to the diner. The yellow tickets that were stuck under windshield wipers on some of the cars vaguely registered with him because Ima Jean’s abduction was on his mind, and he didn’t have room to think of much else. Periodically, he thought about Martha Maye and how pretty she looked when she’d brought him fried chicken, home fries, macaroni salad, and a slice of apple pie. But he forced his mind back to Ima Jean and how he was going to go about finding her.

  The diner was crowded but went deadly silent when he walked in. Everyone stopped talking, and all heads turned his way. He met a few people’s eyes, nodded a hello, mumbled “Morning,” and sat down at the counter next to a man who looked older than Moses.

  “You’re mighty brave to bring yourself in here today, Chief. I myself don’t hold no ill will, but then again, I ain’t got a car, so it’s no skin off my nose.”

  “Come again—” Johnny started to say, but Willa Jean interrupted him.

  “What can I getcha, Chief?” She put an emphasis on “Chief” but the word was dripping with disdain.

  Johnny wondered if it was his imagination or was she glaring slightly at him? He put a hand to the back of his neck as he craned his head around, finding several other people giving him the same expression. Curious.

  “Coffee, a fried egg, and cheese grits, please.” He flashed her his best grin, but she didn’t seem to notice.

  She turned on her heel without another word, calling to Slick, “A deadeye and mystery in the alley, Slick.”

  Johnny noticed the old man cackling to himself and wondered what was so funny. He seemed to be a regular. Surely he was used to diner lingo. Moses turned to the man next to him and mumbled something that sounded like, “I haven’t had this much fun since the pigs ate my brother.”

  Willa Jean came back with a cup and saucer and a pot of coffee. As she poured the brown liquid into the cup, a good amount spilled into the saucer. She looked up a
t Johnny and deadpanned, “Oops,” but she walked away, making no attempt to clean it up.

  Conversation had started again in the diner, but it was in hushed tones, not the loud chatter that Johnny had heard when he first came in. Once again, he looked around the restaurant and noticed furtive glances coming at him. A few words and bits of sentences wafted his way: “a lot of gall, arrogant, outsider, amateur, dumb as a fencepost . . . ” He considered asking the gentleman next to him if this was normal townsfolk behavior, but Willa Jean came back and set a plate in front of him. His gaze went from the plate to her eyes, which seemed to hold a challenge.

  “Um . . . ma’am . . . this looks right tasty, but it also looks like poached eggs and hash.”

  Willa put all her weight on her right leg and propped her hand on her hip. “Least your eyes work.”

  “Well, see . . . I could be mistaken, but I thought I ordered fried eggs and grits.”

  “You’re mistaken.” She flung a towel over her shoulder and walked away.

  Johnny looked at Moses and said, “I’m late to the party. Wanna tell me what’s going on?”

  “Oooh, law,” the man drawled. “That was almost as ugly as Uncle Moody’s divorce.” He swiveled off his stool, saying, “’Scuse me. I have to see a man about a horse,” and he made his way to the restrooms.

  Johnny came in the back door of the police department and immediately detected a problem. Raised, angry voices came from the front reception area. He followed the racket and found the room full of an angry mob, facing down a cowed Bernadette and Officers Beanblossom and Duke. He briefly wondered if the department had riot gear.

  Putting two fingers in his mouth, he whistled loudly and then held up his hands in the air. Some folks stopped talking, but he had to say, “Now, now, folks, simmer down” before the room got completely quiet. “Someone wanna tell me what in the world is going on?”

  Choruses of “I’ll tell you what’s going on” rang out from the crowd, and he held up his hands again.

  “Bernadette, you first.”

  “Well, Chief,” she began.

  “Acting Chief,” someone corrected.

  “Chief,” she said again, shooting a look at the rude person, “these here folks are riled up on account of getting parking tickets that carry a fine of $100.”

  Everyone in the crowd held up yellow tickets, accompanied by shouts of “In all my born days,” and “This is a travesty.”

  The front door opened and the crowd parted to let Caledonia Culpepper through. She was dressed in a bright pink sundress and had pearls around her neck. She too held a yellow ticket and walked right up to Johnny.

  “Not you too,” Johnny groaned.

  “Chief, it’s lovely to see you again.” The crowd grunted and sent out objections, but she was undeterred. “I wondered if I might have a moment of your time.” She flashed a brilliant smile.

  “Well, Ms. Culpepper, I’m kinda busy at the moment — ”

  “Caledonia.”

  “Caledonia. I’m kind of in the middle of something — ”

  “I can see that, Chief. But I believe I have something that might clear all this up. Just a moment of your time,” she repeated.

  His gaze leveled on her, but he finally relented. “Officers, keep the peace out here while I have a word with Ms. — um . . . Caledonia. Folks, form a line, please, and Bernadette will issue receipts one at a time as you pay your fine.”

  Renewed choruses of “I’m not paying one red dime,” and “Don’t unpack your things,” rang out, as he ushered Caledonia to his office.

  “And I was told this was a friendly town.” He sank into the chair behind the empty desk.

  “It is. But there’s something funny going on. You see, I had a parking ticket a while ago — ” She sat down and crossed her long legs.

  “Yes, I remember you were on your way to pay it when I ran into you and Martha Maye. The first one didn’t deter you from parking illegally again?”

  She gave him another hundred-watt smile. “See, here’s the thing. This ticket is different than the first one.” She handed him a yellow ticket. “When I first looked at it, I thought it was some kind of a joke. I even tossed it into the waste can in my car because I was so sure it wasn’t real.”

  “What made you think that?”

  She handed him the ticket. “They’re not the same.”

  He studied the ticket and was immediately surprised to see his name signed as the ticketing officer. “That isn’t my signature.”

  “I was over to the school when I heard about half the town being ticketed. I hightailed it right over, and from the looks of things, I didn’t get here a moment too soon.”

  Johnny read over the ticket and then called for Officer Beanblossom, who appeared in the doorway within seconds.

  “Officer, do you have a parking ticket on you?”

  Hank reached into his back pocket and pulled out some yellow tickets that resembled the one in Johnny’s hand.

  “See, Chief? Someone’s playing a practical joke on either you or the town.” She held out Hank’s ticket. “See how this one has ‘Goose Pimple Junction Police Department’ at the top, and this one,” she pointed to the fake ticket, “it doesn’t have anything but ‘Parking Violation’ on it. This one,” she pointed back at Hank’s ticket, “has a number at the top, it asks for a lot more information on the offending car, and it lists the potential offenses. This one,” back to the fake, “just has a paragraph of mumbo jumbo stating the fine and what will happen if it’s not paid in seven days.”

  “It’s easy to procure fake tickets online, Chief,” Hank offered.

  “Who would do this?” Johnny asked, sitting back in his chair, slightly slump-shouldered.

  “Nobody on the force, Chief. I can guarantee you that.”

  Johnny swiped his hand over his face, took a deep breath, squared his shoulders, and went to tell the angry mob that they were not going to be paying any fines today.

  I’ve been to two goat ropings and a county fair, and I ain’t seen nothing like this.

  ~Pickle Culpepper

  Word spread fast about the bogus tickets. Johnny sent his officers out to collect as many as they could and to stop into the businesses in town to relate the situation to folks in case gossip took a wrong turn.

  “The only thing that spreads faster than small-town gossip is kudzu,” Johnny said, “and sometimes it’s a wash.”

  The police department was finally getting back to normal when a call came in about Chester Hale.

  “Chief, this here’s Officer Hurley over in Butler County. I think I got a bead on your BOLO.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Affirmative. I spotted somebody fitting the description coming out of the Piggly Wiggly. I’ve detained him, pending your instructions.”

  “Good work, Officer. I’ll send one of my men to pick him up momentarily. Sit tight.”

  “Will do, Chief.”

  Johnny had just dispatched Officers Northington and Woodson to pick up the suspect when Bernadette appeared at his door. Johnny raised his eyebrows, waiting for what she would say.

  “Chief, it’s another Culpepper here to see you.” She blew a bubble with her gum.

  “Another one?” Johnny cocked his head.

  She pulled the bubble back into her mouth. “Yessir. It’s Pickle this time.”

  “Well, send the boy back.” Johnny got up and walked to the office door. Pickle appeared moments later with a worried look on his face and a T-shirt that said: DONUT WHISPERER.

  “Pickle, I hope you’re not in any trouble, son.” Johnny offered his hand to the teenager.

  “Uh . . . no sir. But I think you might be.” Pickle’s Adam’s apple bobbed.

  Johnny motioned for Pickle to have a seat, and as both of them sat in chairs on either side of the desk, the chief said, “Oh?”

  “Well, first of all, I might as well tell you.” Pickle puffed out his cheeks. “I was speeding.”

  Johnny merely raised
his eyebrows and waited for the boy to continue.

  Pickle scooted to the edge of his seat. “See, I was driving over on George Cannon Road when an unmarked car with a light up top came up behind me.” He scratched his nose. “I pulled over to the side of the road, and this man I’ve never seen got out and came up to my window. Said I was speeding and he was gonna have to write me a ticket. I was suspicious right off, ‘cause like I said, I never seen him before. I asked to see his badge, and he flashed me one.”

  “Were you able to get a good look at it?” Johnny rested his arms on the desk and leaned toward Pickle.

  “Yessir. It was a gold badge with an eagle at the top. The word ‘Chief’ was right under that and ‘Goose Pimple Junction’ was right under that. A blue circle thingy was under that in the middle of the badge with a picture of something . . . I’m not sure what . . . I didn’t get a good enough look before he put it away.”

  “You say it had the word ‘Chief’ on it?”

  “Yessir. And I knew that wasn’t right. But I didn’t say anything.”

  “Smart boy.”

  “Yessir. So he started writing me out a ticket, and while he went around to the back of my car to take down my license plate number, I pulled up the picture app on my phone.”

  Johnny momentarily went slack-jawed. “You’re not as dumb as you look.” He held out a hand. “No offense.”

  “Yessir. None taken. I get that a lot.” He offered a weak smile. “Anyhoo, I put my phone on mute and snapped a picture.” He took out his phone and pulled up the picture, giving the phone to Johnny. “And here it is. There’s a good bit of distance and the back windshield between us, and it’s pretty dirty, but it’s something, right?”

  “Quick thinking and excellent work, Pickle. I’m real proud of you.”

  Pickle blushed. “It’s not that big a deal.” He looked at his shoes.

  “It certainly is. Thanks to you, we now have a picture . . . of sorts . . . of this perp, which is bound to help us apprehend him a whole lot faster. Good work, son.”