2 Heroes & Hooligans in Goose Pimple Junction (31 page)

Don’t blame the cow when the milk gets sour.

~Southern Proverb

“W
hat did you do with it?” Velveeta, over her momentary shock of the lost evidence, stood defiant in the chief’s doorway with fire in her eyes, her arms crossed in front of her.

“Have you lost all your mind?” Johnny stood up, propping both hands on his desk and leaning over them, his voice raised. “I didn’t do anything with it. What’re you talking about?”

“I’m talking about the evidence bag that should be over in the evidence locker except it isn’t. And I have to wonder. Who has access to said evidence? And who stands to gain the most if it’s lost?”

“Oh, for land’s sake. Now you’ve gone too far.” Johnny sank back into his chair. “I’m telling you flat-out I didn’t take it. If anything, that evidence would clear me.”

“But maybe it wouldn’t clear Martha Maye.” She was at his desk now, accusation on her face, stance, and voice.

“Teenie!” he bellowed.

She meekly peeked around the doorjamb. “Yes sir?”

“Put out an all-call. I want everybody in here in fifteen minutes. I mean
everybody
.”

Teenie disappeared without a word. Velveeta spun on her heel and followed her.

Fifteen minutes later, Johnny stood in front of his police force. “There’s only one thing that Officer Witherspoon has said to me today that makes any sense.” He slowly made eye contact with each of the seven officers. “She said you never can truly know a person. The first thing I thought when she told me the evidence was gone from the Lenny Applewhite case was that I don’t know my force like I thought I did, because I never would have imagined any one of you could have pulled a bonehead stunt like this.” Johnny began pacing back and forth in front of them, hands on his hips. He stopped in the center of the room and held up one finger.

“This is a one-time-only get-out-of-jail-free card. Whoever took that evidence has until midnight to get it back in that room, no questions asked. After that, when I find out who took it—and I will—I will arrest your sorry butt and throw it in the pokey. Friend or not. Understood?” He stopped pacing and glared at the officers.

They all mumbled, “Yes, Chief,” and “Roger that,” and one said, “Solid copy.”

Velveeta spoke up. “Chief, that evidence is corrupted now. We can’t be sure of what has been done to it or with it. Them’s tainted goods now.”

“But I’m confident it has something to tell us. It’s police property, and I want it back. Pronto.”

He looked at his watch. “I’m leaving for dinner. I’ll be back at twenty-four hundred hours. That stuff had better be back where it belongs, or heaven help the guilty party when I find him. Dismissed,” he barked.

Velveeta stood up.

Before she could say anything, he rolled his eyes and added, “Or her.”

“No, Chief. That’s not what I was going to say. Before everybody goes, I think there’s something we should discuss.”

Johnny sighed. “Of course you do.”

“If the evidence isn’t back by tonight at twenty-four hundred hours, I’d like to suggest that you take a leave of absence until the murder is solved.”

There was stunned silence at first, then everybody started talking at once.

Johnny held up his hands. “Pipe down,” he hollered over the roar. “Officer Witherspoon has effectively put a motion on the table. Is there any discussion?”

Someone said, “Aw, Chief, we know you didn’t do it.”

Velveeta shot back, “How? How do you know? And how do you know his girlfriend didn’t do it and he isn’t trying to protect her?”

“For the last time, Martha Maye is
not
my girlfriend.”

“You deny having feelings for her?”

Johnny stared at Velveeta, his jaw clenched tight. He was determined not to show his feelings. He intended to stay professional and unemotional. “Okay, let me make this easy for y’all. As of right now, I’m officially on a leave of absence. Effective immediately, Officer Beanblossom is in charge. When y’all realize I’m innocent, you let me know.” Walking toward the door, he stopped and turned around. “I’ll be around if anyone needs me. If something comes up, y’all call me, but I’ll not be accused of hindering an investigation.” He stalked out of the room to stunned silence. Hank and Skeeter got up and followed. Johnny turned around, put a hand in the air, and said firmly, “Stay.”

A few moments later, the back door slammed loud enough to rattle windows.

Johnny drove straight from the police station to Martha Maye’s house, and when the door opened, he was surprised to see a tall, skinny man with a mullet haircut standing in front of him. He didn’t know why, but he disliked the man on the spot, and not just because of his haircut.

“Oh, I-I didn’t mean to intrude. I just-I wanted to see how Martha Maye was doing. I’m sorry. I should have called first.” He looked past the man and saw Martha Maye coming to the door.

“Don’t be silly. Come on in, Johnny. I want you to meet Lenny’s brother, T. Harry. I didn’t expect him in town until tomorrow, but he surprised us this afternoon. T. Harry, this is Chief Johnny Butterfield.”

“Actually, it’s Chief-on-leave Butterfield,” Johnny said miserably, reaching his hand out to T. Harry.

“Nice to meetcha.” T. Harry shook Johnny’s hand with the strength of a dishrag. “But you don’t have to worry about Mayepie here, I’m gonna take good care of her. That’s why I came in early.” He put his arm around Martha Maye’s shoulders.

“What do you mean Chief-on-leave?” Martha Maye asked, ignoring her brother-in-law and moving out of his reach. She wore a red cashmere sweater and jeans that did all sorts of good things for her figure, Johnny thought. He couldn’t help but feel a surge of jealousy toward T. Harry’s slightly proprietary air.

“It’s a long story. I’ll fill you in later.” Johnny hitched his thumb over his shoulder. “I’ll just get going since you have company.”

“Oh, Johnny, don’t rush off. Why don’t you come in and let me fix you a plate? We just ate, but there’s plenty left.”

“I really don’t want to impose.”

“You’re not imposing, is he, T. Harry?” Martha Maye didn’t wait for an answer; she’d already started toward the kitchen.

“Actually,” T. Harry started to say.

Johnny cut him off with a hard stare and quickly said, “Well, if you’re sure.” He followed Martha Maye, while T. Harry lagged behind, mumbling something about more pie.

“Where’s Butterbean?” Johnny asked, looking around the bright yellow kitchen. He saw a big Dutch oven and a black pot on the stove and a pie plate full of homemade rolls on the counter. A cake plate holding a pound cake sat next to the sink.

“What’s all this Butterbean talk?” T. Harry leaned against the counter, sounding annoyed. “Her name is Carrie.”

“She’s upstairs doing homework. And T. Harry, around here we call her Butterbean. You’ll just have to get used to that.”

Johnny looked down so they wouldn’t see him smile at her directness.

“Well, aren’t you a little spitfire?” T. Harry sidled up a little too close to Martha Maye. “I’d say you’ve changed for the better since you left my brother, God rest his soul. You always had spirit, but now you got spunk. Spunkiness is next to Godliness.” He winked at her, but Martha Maye ignored him.

“Here you go, Johnny. Come sit down.” On the table she set a plate loaded rim to rim with pork chops, new potatoes, green beans, fried apples, and hot rolls. “Now you be a clean plater, and you can have some of Mama’s pound cake for dessert,” she teased, sitting down at the table with him. “Or apple pie. Your pick.”

“Humph. Looks like he’s a practiced and accomplished clean plater,” T. Harry mumbled. When he saw Johnny’s glare, he held his hands up in a placating gesture. “I’m not saying you’re fat or nothing, but I’ll bet when you get on the scale to be weighed, it says ‘to be continued.’” T. Harry slapped Johnny on the back in what would have been taken as good-natured ribbing if he hadn’t put so much force behind the slap. Johnny didn’t acknowledge the sting the man’s hand had left behind. Martha Maye missed the gesture because she’d gotten up to pour some tea.

T. Harry sat down at the table. “Martha Maye, that apple pie sure was goood. I believe I could eat another piece. Reckon you could get me some?”

Martha Maye gave him a hard look, but she unwrapped the pie and cut a slice for him. She set it down in front of him and joined the men at the table.

“Mayepie, honey, I need another fork,” T. Harry whined.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” Martha Maye’s voice suggested she wasn’t sorry at all. “Help yourself, you know where they are.” She turned to Johnny before T. Harry could argue.

“Can I get you anything else, Johnny?”

“I’m good. This is, too,” Johnny said with his mouth half-full. “Mmm, mmm, that’ll make a Chihuahua break a chain.”

“Say, you know what I saw on the way in today?” T. Harry asked.

“What?” Martha Maye said.

“You know those farmer stands out on the highway? The ones that sell on the honor system?”

“Yeah,” Martha Maye said, while Johnny nodded. His mouth was too full to talk.

“Well, I saw this dude trying to carry too many watermelons to his car, and he had them stacked precariously-like, and yep, sure enough, one dropped and went splat all over the ground.”

“Oh no.” Martha Maye sounded uninterested.

“Yep, and what do you want to bet he didn’t pay for that’n? I’ll tell you what else. Driving in today, I saw a man walking down the road with snakes coiled all over his arms. Can you imagine that?”

“Yeah, that’s just Roddey McClansky.” Martha Maye answered T. Harry, but she looked at Johnny with amusement in her eyes.

“And guess what else I saw?” T. Harry asked, hardly stopping to take a breath.

Does the man ever shut up?
Johnny wondered.

“What?” Martha Maye said.

“The old Marshall farm is for sale. It’s a beaut, too. I wonder how much they want for it.” T. Harry continued to monopolize the conversation as Johnny ate. Martha Maye got in an “Oh,” a “Mmm-hmm,” and a “you don’t say,” but T. Henry was on a roll, while she and Johnny had a meaningful conversation with their eyes.

Finally, Martha Maye said, “I called over to the Stay A Spell Hotel and got you a room, T. Harry. How about you gwon over and get settled in. You must be tired after that long trip, and tomorrow will be another long day what with the funeral and all.”

T. Harry frowned. “I’m not that tired, and what’d you get me a room for? I thought I could just stay with y’all.”

“I thought it would be better this way, since the house is so small and all.” Martha Maye stared back at T. Harry as an uncomfortable silence fell over the kitchen.

T. Harry must have realized Martha Maye had her mind made up, because he didn’t argue. “All right. You the boss. Nice meeting you, John,” he said, again clasping Johnny too hard on the shoulder as he walked past him toward the front door.

“Nice meeting you, too,” Johnny called with a wave T. Harry didn’t see.
Even nicer seeing you leave. Shewee, my ears are bleeding.

A while later, Johnny and Martha Maye sat together on the couch, and Johnny told her what had happened at the police station.

“Oh, Johnny, I’m so sorry. I’m nothing but trouble for you.” She reached out and held both his hands in hers, her eyes sympathetic and apologetic.

“Now, you stop that right now.” She looked startled and started to pull her hands back. Johnny held them tighter and said, “No, don’t stop
that
. I mean stop blaming yourself. This isn’t your fault, and I guess now that I’ve calmed down a little, I have to admit it does make sense. Velveeta’s right. I can’t be objective about this. Until they’re sure you and I weren’t involved, I
should
step aside. I should have seen it before she made it an issue in front of the entire force.”

“What if they never find the killer? What happens to your job then?” she asked.

“We’ll jump that bridge when we get to it.” He ran his hand up and down her arm in a comforting way.

“You know what I think we should do?”

That brought all sorts of ideas to Johnny’s mind, but he said simply, “What?”

“Let’s go over and talk to Jack and Tess. They’re good at sniffing out bad guys. Maybe you can team up with them, and just like with my granddaddy’s murder, they can get to the bottom of this. And I want to help, too.”