by Amy Metz
Honey’s eyes fell to the rock on Tess’s hand, and her smile fell briefly, but she quickly recovered. “Bless your heart. When’s the date?”
“We haven’t set it for sure,” Tess said.
“Girl, you better snap this one up right quick, before someone steals him away,” Honey drawled.
“It’ll never happen. I found my dream girl.” Jack’s arm was still around Tess, and he squeezed her into him.
“Isn’t that just enough to make you sick?” Honey said.
“I think it’s sweet. I’m so glad y’all found each other,” Martha Maye said.
“We are, too.” Jack beamed at Tess. She beamed back. Martha Maye watched them enviously. Honey looked at them begrudgingly.
Junebug delivered three pieces of pie, but Martha Maye gave hers to Honey. Between bites she said, “So who’s going to the Oktoberfest on Saturday?”
“Just about everybody in town, I expect,” Jack said around a mouthful of pie. “It’s one of the biggest days in town, other than the Fourth of July and Apple Day.”
“Martha Maye, how about you and I take the girls together?” Honey said. “Or do you have a date?”
“No dates in my foreseeable future,” Martha Maye answered miserably. “At least not until after mid-November.”
“What’s mid-November?” Honey asked.
“It’s my court date. Lenny’s suing me for full custody.”
Honey gasped. “No! When did that happen?”
“Just yesterday.”
Jack patted her hand and said, “But we all know he’ll never win. He’s just doing it out of spite.”
“Well, of course he’ll never win. How dare he even try? You’re a fantastic mother.” Honey slapped the table. “Oh! The nerve of that man! Maybe my trusty little shotgun and I should pay him a courtesy visit.”
“Martha Maye told us about what happened that night,” Tess said.
Honey laughed and nudged Martha Maye. “I won’t soon forget the look on his face when he saw that shotgun pointed at him. He was so surprised, you could have knocked his eyes off with a stick.”
“I wish I could have seen his face,” Martha Maye said. “But I’ll never forget how fast he ran out of my house. He tried to act tough, but oohwee, he was scared to death.”
“He had good reason to be scared,” Honey said. “I wasn’t playing.”
Just as they all were laughing about Lenny, the object of their mirth walked into the diner.
“Well, bless him, here he comes.” Honey nodded toward the door.
Lenny glanced around the room, his eyes narrowed, and headed for their table.
Never argue with a fool; onlookers may not be able to tell the difference.
~Southern Proverb
“Lenny, what are you doing here?” Martha Maye asked when he stopped at their booth. Her tone didn’t hide the fact that she was less than happy to see him.
“It’s a free country, ain’t it? I came in to eat. Imagine my surprise to find my wife out on the town without our daughter. Again. This sure won’t look good to the judge.” He crossed his arms, a smug look on his face.
Jack started to say something, but Martha Maye put her hand on his arm. She said, “Bless your heart. If you weren’t so busy flapping your gums, you’d see our daughter over at that table.” She pointed to the four little girls. Lenny saw his daughter and his face reddened.
Jack stood up. He was about the same height as Lenny, and not as big, but somehow he made Lenny look small. Jack took his elbow, and as he walked him toward the door, he said in a low voice, “I have three speeds, buddy. On, off, and don’t push your luck. You’d best be on your way now.”
“And what if I don’t wanna be on my way? Is that lunatic gonna pull her weapon again?” Lenny tried to shake his arm free.
“I’ll see that you do wanna.”
They’d reached the door, and all eyes in the diner were on the two men. Lenny jerked his arm away from Jack’s grasp. “You don’t scare me, Jack Sprat. I could literally fix your dial to the permanent off position.”
“Last chance, Lenny. A gallant retreat is better than a bad stand.”
“I’m going,” he said, glaring at Jack. “But not because you want me to. I want to.” He turned around and yelled to Martha Maye, “You best enjoy your last few weeks with our daughter, wo-man. Purty soon she’s gonna be all mine.” He flung the door open and stalked off down the street.
Chief Butterfield and a beefy African American woman joined the group of officers assembled around the table in the break room. Coffee cups and Hostess cupcake wrappers littered the table and good-natured laughter filled the air.
“All right, everybody, listen up. I want to introduce a new hire, Officer Velveeta Witherspoon.”
Everyone’s eyes went to Velveeta, and she fanned her hand out in a wave.
“She’s joining the Goose Pimple Junction PD as of thirty minutes ago. She comes from over in Memphis and has done some training in investigative work. I think she’ll be a valuable addition to our force. So with that said, Velveeta, why don’t you tell everybody a little about yourself.”
Velveeta was a big woman, who stood five feet ten, with long, thick arms and beefy legs. If she lost twenty pounds, she might be considered top-heavy, but standing in front of the other officers she looked substantial, more than capable of taking care of herself and definitely capable of taking down a suspect.
“Hey, y’all. I’m real glad to be here. Okay, let’s see. About me. I have one son, Roscoe, and one daughter, Cinnamon. He’s six and she’s eight, both cuter ‘n a bug’s butt.” She paused while everyone laughed politely. “They got their daddy’s looks.” She curled her fat lips into a comedic grimace.
“My husband Roscoe senior, God rest his soul, left this world two years and five months ago. Me and the kids have been through Hell in gasoline pants.” She shook her head, shifted from one foot to another, crossed her meaty arms, and continued.
“Now I’m just trying to be a good mama and a good cop. I was on the Memphis PD for ten years but decided I wanted to get the youngins out of the big city and into a town where I can raise them right. I guess that’s about it.” She sat down, flashing a big white smile made brighter by her dark brown skin and huge, almost bulging brown eyes.
Johnny stood. “I want y’all to make sure you introduce yourselves and make Velveeta feel welcome.” The old refrigerator in the corner began to hum, and Johnny raised his voice over the noise. “She comes highly recommended. We’re glad to have you, Officer Witherspoon.” They exchanged nods.
Johnny looked at the six officers sitting around the beat-up rectangular wooden table and then pulled out a list from the papers in front of him.
“All right, moving on. As we previously discussed, I want Duke and Riley tailing Lenny Applewhite 24-7. Duke, you’ll take days; Riley, nights. One goes off, the other goes on. I don’t care if you have to sit outside his hotel all night. Stay with him.” The officers nodded.
“Northington, I want you and Woodson walking the town square. Northington is on days, and Woodson, you’re on nights. Keep an eye on the alley, and also the town green, where they’re starting to set up for the Oktoberfest. There’ll be lots of stuff our man—”
“Or woman,” Velveeta interjected. “Don’t be sexist.”
“Or woman,” Johnny nodded, “could decide to walk away with over there, so stay alert. If you see trouble, call for backup before moving in.”
“Yessir, Chief.”
“Witherspoon and Beanblossom, I want you in the cruiser. Beanblossom, days; Witherspoon, nights. I want a solid police presence in this town. Got it?”
“Yessir.”
“And on the night of the Oktoberfest, Bernadette’s filling in for Teenie, but everyone else is on duty. Stay on the move, with your eyes open. With all the folks up at the town square all night, there will be plenty of opportunity for mischief there and in quiet neighborhoods. Keep alert. Any questions?”
Pete
Riley raised his hand. “Yeah, why are we sitting on Applewhite so hard?”
“One”—Johnny held up a finger—”I like him for all the theft around town. I think he’s sneaky, and weird, and might just steal the town blind out of meanness. Two”—he held up two fingers—”all of these thefts started around the same time Mr. Applewhite came to town. I don’t like coincidences. And three”—he held up three fingers—”he’s harassing one of our citizens, and I want it stopped. Any other questions?”
“There’s just the seven of us, plus you, Chief,” Officer Victor Northington pointed out. “We could use some more manpower. How about we utilize the EMTs?”
“Yeah,” Officer Northington jumped in, “Nosmo King drives around all day or sits in the ambulance, so how about we get him to keep his eyes open, too?”
“Good idea. I’ll give the fire chief a call. If we put everyone on full alert, maybe we’ll get lucky and catch this guy.”
“Or girl,” Velveeta said.
“Or girl,” Johnny amended. “All right, everybody clear on the plan?”
Everyone nodded or mumbled in the affirmative.
“Then let’s go catch us a thief. Giddyup and get along.”
Big Darryl D picked up a set of keys to a 2005 Lexus, turned off the lights in the office and showroom, and walked outside, ready to go home for the day. He punched the key fob and heard the chirp-chirp of the locks unlocking. After opening the driver’s side door, he threw his coat across to the passenger seat and got in with a groan because of the ache in his knees and back.
Darryl started to put the key in the ignition but stopped. His head swiveled to the right, and he froze. Something was wrong. He wasn’t sure what, but something. He sniffed the air, strained to listen, and looked around. Then he turned his whole body around to the backseat and got the fright of his life. Somebody was lying down back there.
“Aaaaaaa!” Darryl screamed and jumped, bumping his head on the car ceiling. “What the--”
“Big Darryl, Big Darryl, it’s just me, just me.”
The figure in the backseat sat up, hands raised in an I surrender gesture. Darryl glared at Lenny before turning around in his seat and slumping in relief.
Darryl looked in the rear view mirror and addressed his employee. “Lenny Applewhite, you scared the living daylights out of me. What in tarnation are you doing back there? Are you sleeping in the cars? Are you homeless? How long have you been doing this? Man alive, you gave me a fright.”
“Which answer do you want first?”
“You choose.” Darryl’s tone made it clear he was not a happy man.
Lenny rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m sleeping. Or trying to. No, I’m not homeless. Uh, what were your other questions?
“How long have you been doing this?”
“Just tonight. I promise.”
“Boy, you got money problems?”
“Naw. I got people problems.”
“Come again?”
“I got a couple of people looking for me, and I’d rather not be found. So I decided to crash here for the night.”
“A jealous husband?”
“No.”
“Drug dealers?”
“Hell, no.”
“Gambling problems?”
“Maybe.” He looked past Darryl at an approaching car and dove onto the backseat again. “Darryl, just drive. I’ll literally owe you big, but can you just drive?”
A dark Chevy Suburban lurked at the entrance to the car lot. Darryl started the Lexus and put it in drive. As he approached the Suburban, he lowered his window and leaned out to holler to its occupants.
“We’re closed for the night, folks, but y’all come back in the morning and I’ll fix you right up.”
Both men in the SUV looked Darryl over and scanned the car lot without saying a word. He sat, breathing hard and watching and waiting. Finally the vehicle slowly began to move, and Darryl watched until the taillights disappeared. Lenny spoke up from the backseat.
“Are they gone?”
“For now.”
“Are you gonna turn me in?”
“No, I’m taking you home—my home—but you got to get your crap together, boy. This could be bad for bidness.”
Darryl sighed as he pulled out of the lot. “I thought I was hiring you. I didn’t plan on taking you to raise.”
You should dress for every occasion; there’s no sense in resembling a washwoman.
~Southern Proverb
The third Saturday in October, the day of Goose Pimple Junction’s forty-ninth annual Oktoberfest, was a picture-perfect day. At six o’clock in the evening, the sun was just starting its descent, bringing hints of a slight chill to the warm day. The trees were full of golden, red, and orange leaves. Every once in a while, a gust of wind sent them flying through the air like confetti.
Kids darted around the tables and booths of food and crafts for sale. The scents of spicy bratwurst, grease, and beer wafted over the cool grass while a group of girls talked and giggled, glancing covertly at a group of letter jackets and ball hats who were not so covertly looking back. Feedback from an amp brought all eyes toward the musicians preparing to play, as spectators gravitated toward festival activities. Along the pathway, some old men sat on a bench under the huge oaks and maples of the town green, smiling, nodding, and swapping tall tales.
Costumes were optional but favored at the festival. Most people in town wanted a chance to win the best costume prize—the use of a 1993 Mazda Miata for a year, courtesy of Big Darryl D’s Car Country.
Martha Maye and Butterbean’s feet crunched leaves as they walked down the color-laden sidewalk. Butterbean had to walk sideways at times to squeeze the cumbersome yellow horizontal cardboard cutout she was sandwiched into through the crowd. In the middle of the cutout, she had thin strips of red, orange, and green tissue paper sticking out from her brown turtleneck.
Honey and Maddy Mack were waiting at the edge of the town green. “Aw, look at you!” Honey said. “You look good enough to eat.”
“I’m a taco!” Butterbean said, spreading her arms out wide.
“And you’re the best gosh darn taco I’ve ever seen.”
Maddy Mack was dressed as the Energizer Bunny, and Butterbean reached up to touch the big pink ears attached to the top of her pink hoodie. She wore pink sweatpants, pink thong sandals, a bass drum strapped to her chest, and sunglasses.
Maddy Mack began moving in a circle, beating the drum. “What about me? How do I look?” she yelled over the drumming.
“Maddy Mack, you look like the real thing!” Butterbean said, clapping.
Martha Maye, in a white floor-length dress, with rows and rows of frilly layers draped over a hoop skirt, looked like Scarlett O’Hara.
Her hands rested on top of the wide skirt. “I don’t know how women wore these things.” She took in Honey’s costume and said, “I do declare, Elvira, you look stunning! And more comfortable than I am.”
Honey’s blond hair was covered with a black wig—bouffant at the top, cascading into long straight tresses. Her full-length black dress plunged at the overflowing bustline, nearly exposing her entire chest. With a slit in the skirt all the way up her right thigh, the dress hugged her hips and thin waist. There wasn’t much of Honey’s hourglass figure left to the imagination. Six-inch black heels at the end of long, shapely legs finished the look.
“You put the va in va va va voom.” Martha Maye hugged her friend’s shoulders.
Quoting Elvira, Honey said, “If they ever ask about me, tell them I was more than just a great set of boobs. I was also an incredible pair of legs.” She parted her long skirt, flashing her entire leg, as well as a huge smile.
“Honey, you’re too much.” She looked around the town square. “Oh look! There’s Tess and Jack! Aren’t they adorable?” Martha Maye waved to the couple.
“They’re just two pumpkins,” Honey said disdainfully.
“Not just any old pumpkins,” Martha Maye said. “He’s a Jack-o
’-lantern, and she’s a Jill-o’-lantern. Get it?”
“No, I don’t. Her name’s not Jill.” Honey frowned.
“Oh, you. C’mon, let’s go watch the parade with them.”
As a pack of dachshunds and their owners walked down the middle of Main Street, Jack was explaining to Tess about the parade.
“For some reason nobody seems to know, Goose Pimple Junction has had an above average number of dachshunds for years. So a while back, somebody got the bright idea to have a wiener dog race and parade,” Jack explained.
“Just so long as they don’t mingle the parade with the bratwurst grilling,” Tess said. Then she noticed Martha Maye. “Aw, look at you! Don’t you make a beautiful Southern belle!”
“I’m not just any ol’ Southern belle, I’m Scarlett.” Martha Maye smiled and swept her skirt side to side in a half-circle to show it off, bumping some people, who turned to stare.
“And I’m a taco.” Butterbean jumped up and down.
“I see you are.” Tess reached out to fluff the cheese and lettuce—the green and orange tissue paper.
“You’re making me hungry for Mexican food,” Jack told Butterbean.
“And you, little lady, you look good enough to beat the band,” he said to Maddy Mack.
“Badum ching,” Tess said.
“Well hellooooo,” Honey said. “I feel like a pork chop at a bar mitzvah over here.”
“We were saving the best for last, Elvira. Don’t you poor-mouth yourself,” Tess said consolingly. “You look mahvalous, darling,” she said.
“Mama! Look at Ms. Schottenstein’s Oscar.” Butterbean pointed to a dachshund in the parade dressed as a taco. “She stole my idea.”
There was also a dachshund dressed as a hot dog, one as a dinosaur, one as a cheerleader. Two dogs being walked by the same owner were dressed like ketchup and mustard bottles. Behind them was one dressed as a skunk, another as a banana split.
“They have just about everything here,” Tess said, laughing at a dog dressed as Elvis.
“Oh, this is serious business,” Jack said. “Some of the owners will start planning next year’s costume tomorrow.”
