2 Heroes & Hooligans in Goose Pimple Junction (30 page)

“She had motive, and she was alone for about thirty minutes, right around the time of the murder,” Velveeta pointed out.

Jack snorted on an exhale. “Martha Maye is a God-fearing, good Christian woman, Officer. She wouldn’t go back on her raising. Not in a million years.”

“A mama bear can be quite ferocious when her cub is threatened.”

“Martha Maye wouldn’t handle it that way. She just wouldn’t.”

“How long have you known her, Mr. Wright?”

“It’s Jack. And I guess I’ve known her for about four months now. Not a great quantity of time, but it has been quality time, and I know her.”

“What about Chief Butterfield? He’s got some unaccounted time and a motive, too. He’s new in town. Not many folks know much about him.”

“No, but my spidey sense says he’s not a killer, either. You’re grasping at straws, Officer.”

“Spidey senses aren’t admissible in court.” Her smile was condescending. “So who did it?” She crossed her beefy legs, staring intently at him.

He sat forward, putting his elbows on his knees, looking her in the eye. “I have no earthly idea.”

She studied him silently for a long moment, sizing him up. “What do you do for a living, Mr. Wright?”

“Jack. And I’m a writer.”

“What do you write?”

“Mysteries.” He sat back.

“Mysteries? Murder mysteries?” She made more notes in her book.

“Officer, I solve murders, I don’t commit them.”

“You don’t write your own murder scenes?”

“Sure I do, but last time I checked, it wasn’t against the law to
write
about killing someone.”

“But it might be good practice for the real thing, hmm?”

“Oh, for crying out loud, you can’t seriously think I killed Lenny Applewhite.” Ezzie had fallen asleep, but Jack’s tone of voice roused her. She looked up at him with her ears down.

Velveeta smiled sheepishly. “You’re right. I don’t. I’m just fishing.” She looked at the picture of Tess on the side table. “She’s pretty. Looks kind of like Princess Diana, doesn’t she?”

“She’s beautiful inside and out,” Jack said, beaming.

“Did I hear y’all met on account of a murder?”

“I guess you could say we fell in love during the course of an unofficial investigation.” Jack told the officer about the murder of Louetta’s father, about all of the mayhem that occurred because the killer’s family didn’t want the murder solved, and how he and Tess eventually figured it all out. “I’m writing a book about it right now. I think I’ll call it
Murder and Mayhem
.”

“So what you’re telling me is, you solve murders and write about murders, but you don’t commit murders. That about cover it?”

“Yep, cover to cover.” He flashed her his devilish smile, complete with dimples.

“So who do you like for this murder?”

He took a slow, deep breath, looking out the window and thinking about the question. Finally, he said, “I told you I don’t know, and I don’t, but I’d be game to help you figure it out.”

“I just might take you up on that.” She got to her feet.

“I could ask around the Mag Bar,” he offered. “Lenny picked up a lot of women over there. Could be somebody’s better half got wind of it and wanted revenge.”

“Okay, ask around unofficial-like. Maybe someone will tell you something as gossip they wouldn’t tell me as an officer of the law.”

“You got it.”

“But don’t go off half-cocked and do anything crazy on your own,” she warned.

“Gotcha. If I want to do anything crazy, I’ll call you first.”

Velveeta walked into the police chief’s office and sat opposite him, plopping her notebook on the edge of his desk.

“What’s up, Officer Witherspoon?” he asked, looking up from the reports he was working on.

“Truthfully, Chief, right now Martha Maye and you are my chief suspects. No pun intended.”

Johnny sat back in his chair and laced his fingers over his stomach. “Zat so.” He said it as a statement, not a question, propping a foot on his knee. “The truth’s out there. You just have to look past the obvious.”

“I know what you’re saying, Chief, but I have to wonder again if you’re being objective.” Her posture was ramrod straight, but she was a hefty woman, and fat bulged around her midsection.

“You can wonder all you want, but that won’t put yeast in the biscuits.” Johnny folded his hands on top of his desk and leaned toward Velveeta. “You’re new here and don’t know me all that well, but I’m telling you, you’re wasting daylight looking at me or Martha Maye for this.”

“Tell me again where you were for those unaccounted minutes?”

He took a drink from a bottle of Orange Crush on his desk, set it down, and looked her in the eye. “I had responded to a call from Slick and Junebug about a theft at the diner. I left there, took a swing around town, checked in with some of the other officers, and then got the call about a body on Marigold Lane.”

“You were alone in your car for much of that time, is that correct?” She scribbled in her notebook.

“Correct.”

“You responded pretty darn quick to the call, Chief. How’d you get there so fast?”

The innuendo sat in the air like a dirigible. Johnny took another swig from the Orange Crush bottle, his eyes never leaving Velveeta’s. She shifted in her seat but stayed silent, waiting for his answer.

Finally he set the bottle on his desk. “Officer, I’ve already answered that question. Now you can either believe me or not, but I’m telling you, I do not go to church on Sunday and steal chickens on Monday. You’re barking up the wrong tree, and in the meantime, those valuable first hours are slip sliding away along with the killer.”

“With all due respect, Chief—” She stood up, towering over him.

“Oh now, come on. It’s been my experience that when people say that, there isn’t any respect in the equation,” he cut in with a good-natured, but pointed, tone.

“With all due respect,” she repeated, “you hired me to do a job. I’m doing it the best way I know how. These are the facts: you have some time you can’t account for; your girlfriend’s soon-to-be-ex-husband was a burr in your butt; you were heard threatening the man. That gives you means and motive.”

“Oh, good heavenly days, you can hardly call her my girlfriend.” He stood now too, meeting her eyes.

“And Martha Maye has at least thirty minutes she can’t account for.” Velveeta ignored the interruption. “She was involved in a nasty divorce, and her husband was threatening to take her child away. That gives
her
means and motive. So you’ll have to excuse me saying, but you and Martha Maye are the two most likely suspects. There’s no way I can sugarcoat that just because you’re my boss and just because you say y’all didn’t do it.”

“Officer, you’re right. You shouldn’t take my word for it. But think about it. Why would Martha Maye or I go against our character and risk losing everything over a pipsqueak like Lenny? He wasn’t a threat. He wasn’t gonna win custody. He wasn’t my rival for Martha Maye’s affections. He wasn’t anything but a nuisance, and you may swat at a gnat, but there’s no need to kill it. This was either premeditated, or a heat-of-the-moment thing, or a robbery, and none of those scenarios fit Martha Maye or me. I wish to high heaven I knew who they did fit, but it isn’t either of us.”

“I take your point about the premeditation, but the heat of the moment is just that. How can I be sure of what anyone would do in a moment of rage? You never know what’s on the inside of a person. That’s my philosophy.”

“Besides the fact that we’re both Christians and could never mur—”

“Are you gonna try and tell me there ain’t never been a Christian who committed murder?”

“Of course not, but there are some Christians with a faith deep enough and a soul pure enough that committing murder is so far out of the realm of possibility, it’s in a different county. I’m telling you Martha Maye and I are those souls.”

“You know I still just can’t take your word for it.” Velveeta didn’t really know why she was pushing so hard on the idea of the chief or Martha Maye being the killer. In her heart, she believed him, but she was a by-the-book kind of person, and she needed solid reasoning to eliminate a suspect, not a feeling.

As if the chief read her mind, he said, “What’s going on with forensics?”

“Nothing back yet, Chief.”

“Keep me informed,” he said curtly, dismissing her and sitting back in his desk chair.

Velveeta walked through the building looking for Hank Beanblossom. She found him sitting in the break room with a small bag of Cheetos in his hand and a Mtn Dew on the table in front of him.

“Hank, you got a minute?”

“Sure, Vel. What’s up?” He chewed a handful of Cheetos and licked his orange fingertips. “You don’t look too good. I’ve seen better heads in a cabbage patch.”

She grabbed a heavy plastic chair, dragged it away screeching from the table, and dropped into it with a
thud
. “I can’t clear the chief and/or his girlfriend for Lenny.”

Hank swallowed a mouthful of Cheetos too fast and began coughing. He fisted his orange-fingertipped hand over his mouth. When he finally recovered, he croaked, “You got evidence?”

“No. Not yet, at least.” She sat with her head propped on her fist, feeling completely dejected. “But they both have means and motive. They were both close to the suspect. How can I ignore that?”

“Don’t suppose you can. You talk to the chief about it?” He licked the orange residue off his fingers.

She nodded miserably and handed him a napkin. “Just got through. He denied it, of course. Said I was wasting valuable time.”

“Well, Velveeta, I gotta agree with him. I just don’t see either one of them as capable of murder.” He wiped his fingers on the napkin and wadded it up along with the snack bag.

“The thing is, all y’all are too close to the subjects. I’m the only objective one in the bunch. People always say they know someone, but the only one who
truly
knows a person is hisself. I’m looking at the facts and not the person. I can’t let emotions get in the way of finding a killer.”

He raised his arm and shot the handful of trash in a high arch into the garbage can, grinning when it made it in. “Maybe that’s your problem. Seems to me a good detective takes all kinds of things into account, but it sounds like there isn’t enough to even take to a prosecutor on the chief or Martha Maye, so all I’m saying is look around. There’s something you’re not seeing yet.” He took a sip from the soda can. “Take my word for it. There’s something else.”

“To tell you the truth”—she looked over her shoulder to see if anyone else was around, then continued—”in my heart of hearts, I don’t think either one of them did it, but I don’t see how I can rule them out just because people vouch for them, or because I think they’re too nice to be murderers. I gotta be objective.”

“Then do what you gotta do, but while you’re doing it, be thorough. And hold on to common sense.” He winked at her.

After talking with Hank, Velveeta went out to the front desk where Teenie had taken over for Bernadette.

“Teenie, let me have the key to the evidence locker. I’m going to go take a look at what we got. Maybe just staring at the clothes will give me an idea. A clue of some sort.”

Velveeta disappeared to the back room but returned a few moments later.

“Teenie, where is the evidence?”

“It’s back there in the locker.” Teenie gestured with her thumb toward the evidence room. Then she turned and saw Velveeta’s face. “Isn’t it?”

Velveeta stalked to Johnny’s office and stopped in the doorway, hands on her hips. “Chief, where is the evidence?”

Without looking up from his papers he said, “Wherever you locked it up, I assume.” His head snapped up. “Isn’t it?”

Velveeta sank against the doorframe and rubbed her forehead. “Negative. It is not.”