2 Heroes & Hooligans in Goose Pimple Junction (10 page)

Satan loads his cannons with big watermelons.

~Southern Proverb

L
enny walked into the Magnolia Bar, known to the locals as the Mag Bar, strutting his stuff. He’d started frequenting it because it wasn’t as seedy as Humdinger’s, the bar just outside of town, and it wasn’t as upscale as the Silly Goose, which was located on the town square. He thought Humdinger’s had too many ladies of the evening, and the Silly Goose had too many uppity women. He felt ladies of the evening were beneath him. As for the uppity women, he always had to make the first move, and none of them seemed to like his pickup lines, for some strange reason. The Mag Bar was just right for Lenny, and he had become a regular in the few weeks he’d lived in Goose Pimple Junction.

He walked past the bar, shouting his order to the bartender on his way to the jukebox. “The usual, Cash. My mouth is dry enough to spin cotton.”

Cash was bald as a billiard ball and big as a bear. He’d boxed in the past, which had left him with a wide nose that made his narrow eyes more noticeable. A couple or ten broken noses will do that to a face. He wasn’t exactly a champ, but at the Mag Bar, he was in his element. Cash served as owner, bartender, and bouncer at the Mag Bar, although he hardly ever had to put on his bouncer hat. For one, the bar was rarely that kind of place, and for another, people took one look at Cash and tended to toe the line.

Lenny sat in his usual seat at the bar as “She’s Actin’ Single, I’m Drinkin’ Doubles” wafted from the jukebox. Cash set a bottle of Colt 45 in front of him.

“You’re a little late tonight.”

“Been over to the wife’s place,” Lenny said out of the side of his mouth. “But keep that on the down low, okay? I wouldn’t want it to interfere with my love life.” The two men guffawed.

“Aw, you dog, Lenny. I don’t know how you do it, man. You got a different girl every night. And what’s this about a wife?”

“Yeah, she’s crazy about me.” He took a pull from his beer. “But I need my space, you know? I told her we need to separate a while and see what’s what. But she keeps whining for me to come over.” His voice changed to imitate a woman’s. “‘Lenny, come see me, Lenny, spend time with me.’ Shewee, that woman wears me out.”

Cash snorted. “You must got something left. You pick up enough women over here.” He wiped a glass dry, set it down, and reached for another wet glass.

“It’s always been that way, Cash. Women are drawn to me like flies to honey.”

“Yeah, well, it seems like some men are, too. Two of them have been in here looking for you the past few nights.”

Lenny had put the bottle up to his lips, but he pulled it away without drinking and set it on the bar. “What did you tell them?”

“They didn’t look like the friendly type, so I told them I didn’t know you, hadn’t seen you, couldn’t help them.”

“They hang around long?”

“Oh, an hour or so each time. Saw them talking to some others. What’s working in your favor is that not many folks know you. I haven’t seen the dudes around in a day or so.”

“Thanks, Cash. I owe you one.”

“One? Shoot, you owe me two or three.” Cash took the glasses he’d dried between his fingers and turned to put them away.

Lenny looked over his shoulder to check out the pickings for the night before sauntering to the jukebox again. He punched “I’ll Marry You Tomorrow, But Let’s Honeymoon Tonight” and walked to a table of four women.

“Ladies! Each of you dolls pick a number between one and twenty. The one closest to the number up here”—he tapped his temple—”wins a dance with the Lenmeister.”

All four women said in unison, “Zero.”

One of them smiled sweetly and said, “But thank you kindly.”

Walking back to his seat at the bar, Lenny’s eyes followed one of the waitresses as she weaved in between tables. She looked like Daisy Duke with her low-rider denim cutoff minishorts and her red blouse tied at her stomach. His eyes traveled up her body but pulled over to park when, from the toned, tanned skin between shirt and shorts, the glint of a diamond stud piercing caught his eye.

“Need a Maker’s Mark, Cash,” the waitress said, leaning on the bar.

Cash looked on the shelf behind the bar. “All out up here, Darlene. Go in the back and get me a bottle, would you?”

She sauntered away, and as Lenny leered at her tramp stamp, Cash shook his head and said, “She has two speeds. Slow and stop.”

“I bet I could rev her engine”. He looked around the room again. “Kinda slim pickins tonight.”

“You’ve missed some, coming in so late,” Cash said, nodding to someone who’d just come through the door.

Lenny looked at his watch. “It ain’t that late. S’only eleven o’clock.”

“Just sit tight. Knowing you, somebody’ll be along.”

“I don’t know. I got a mind to roll on over to Humdinger’s.”

Darlene came back with a bottle of Maker’s Mark, breaking the red seal as she walked. Handing it to Cash she said, “I thought we just got a case of this stuff in.”

“Did.”

“Then how come there are four bottles missing already? I didn’t think we went through the stuff that fast.”

“Don’t.” Cash looked at her blankly. “That is mighty strange.”

Lenny was on his fourth beer when somebody took the barstool next to him. He looked over and saw a woman who looked to be in her sixties, but who was fairly well preserved. She was dressed a little young for her age in tight jeans that accentuated considerable thighs, and a green shirt that looked painted on, highlighting a few rolls of fat around her middle. She wasn’t fat, just aged. He thought she looked familiar, but he couldn’t place her.

“Buy me a drink, sailor?”

“I ain’t no sailor, but why not.” Lenny lifted a finger to Cash, who came toward them. “Gin and tonic.” Cash nodded.

“You’re not from around here, are ya?” She batted her eyelashes at him. The wrinkles around her eyes, set on a leathery face, ruined the effect for him.

“Naw. I’m new in town.” Finished with her, he looked around the bar again.

“I could show you around if you’d like.” She wiggled in her chair.

“It ain’t that big a place.” His eyes continued to scan the bar.

“I bet I could show you a thing or two.”

A woman in her mid-thirties with blond hair cut Farrah Fawcett style and jeans that fit her
exceptionally
well sat down on the other side of Lenny. She wore black boots with four-inch heels, and a bright red silky blouse with the top three buttons unbuttoned. She smiled shyly at Lenny and asked Cash for a strawberry daiquiri.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Lenny said, turning on the stool so his knees brushed her thigh.

“Hireyew?” she said, her eyes checking out the ring finger on his left hand.

A vast file of pickup lines ran through Lenny’s mind. “I hope you know CPR, ‘cause, baby, you take my breath away.”

She giggled and brushed her hair off her shoulder with a flick of her wrist.

“Allow me.” His attention now totally on the younger woman, he peeled off some dollar bills and handed them to Cash.

The older woman sighed and got up. She ran her hand across Lenny’s back as she walked away, saying, “See you around, sailor.”

He bought Farrah two more daiquiris while he chatted her up. Thirty minutes later, he said she was in no shape to drive, and he insisted on taking her home.

Officer Hank Beanblossom walked into the chief’s office Monday morning and plopped a bag of greasy donuts onto his desk.

“We got an issue, Chief.”

“Oh yeah? A donut crisis? Is Jefferson hitting the sauce again and burning the donuts?”

Hank shot him a look. “No. Bernadette says this morning the phone’s been ringing off the hook with reports of pumpkins being snatched off front porches.”

“Pumpkins?”

“Yeah, you know, big round orange things with a stem? They’re especially prominent in October. Some make pies out of them, some make muffins, or you can turn them into jack-o-”

“I know what a punkin is, goldernit,” Johnny interrupted. “But why would anyone be stealing them?”

“I got no earthly idea. It takes all kinds, you know?”

“Are they smushed out on the roads?”

“Nope. They’re just gone. Poof.” Hank made a hand motion as if he were a magician making something disappear out of thin air.

“Okay. Call up the
Gazette
. Tell them to print a warning for people to bring in their pumpkins at night. Tell them to ask folks to be on the lookout for a pumpkin-stealing perp. Y’all warn folks when you’re patrolling, and keep your eyes out for a pile of pumpkins stashed somewhere.”

“Gee, Chief, it’s not like a felony has been committed.”

“No, but these things can get folks fired up. Let’s try to nip it in the bud.”

Hank reached in the sack for a donut. “Goose Pimple Junction: a hotbed of crime.”

The men were laughing when Bernadette showed up in the doorway, arms crossed in front of her, a stern look on her face. “Two things.” She held up two fingers in front of her. “A couple of bozos were in here asking about one”—she looked at a piece of paper in her hand—”Leonard Applewhite.”

Johnny was biting into a powdered sugar donut but gasped slightly at the mention of Lenny’s name. He breathed in powdered sugar and began choking and coughing.

“Chief, you all right?” Hank got up, looking like he intended to thump the chief on his back.

“Don’t you dare.” He held up a hand. “I’m fine,” he croaked, through powdered sugar-covered lips. He looked at Bernadette. “What did they want with him?” He coughed twice more.

Bernadette motioned for Johnny to wipe his lips. “They just wanted to know if we had a resident by the name of Leonard or Lenny Applewhite, or if there were any arrest reports on someone answering to that name. I told them the only Applewhite I know in town is Martha Maye. And Butterbean, of course. So technically, that would make t—”

Johnny slapped his hand on his desk. “You don’t give out information on our residents to total strangers,” he bellowed. “Who were these clowns? Did they show some ID?”

Bernadette’s face lost all color. “Shucks, Chief. I’m sorry.” She looked like she was going to cry. “They flashed a badge, but I didn’t look at it carefully. I just assumed—”

Johnny got up and went to Bernadette, taking her by the elbow and leading her to the chair in front of his desk.

“All right, Bernadette. I’m sorry I raised my voice. Start from the beginning. How long ago were they here? What did they look like? What did they say?”

“Geez Louise, Chief. What are you getting all exercised for?”

Johnny perched on the edge of his desk in front of her and rubbed his hand over his face. “I’m not worked up. Just tell me the whole thing from the beginning.”

“Well, two men came in, they’s dressed real nice, but they reminded me of Mutt and Jeff—you know, one real tall and the other one . . . not. They said they were detectives from”—she took a tissue from the box on Johnny’s desk—”I can’t remember where from, but they showed me a shiny badge, and the tall one said he liked my hair.” She looked up at Johnny, who folded his arms across his chest and stared at her.

In a small voice, she said, “They seemed real nice.”

Hank said, “That’s about as useful as a prefabricated post hole.”

“I see that now. But at the time. . .” She stopped to wipe her nose.

“Go ahead, Bernadette.”

“Well, let’s see. They said something like, ‘We’re here to inquire about one Leonard Applewhite, also goes by the name of Lenny. Do you know of this person?’ I said no I did not. I said we have a Martha Maye Applewhite and a Butterbean Applewhite, but no Lenny Applewhite.” She fidgeted with the tissue in her hands. “And that was about it.”

“They didn’t ask where Martha Maye lived?” Johnny wanted to know. The look on her face was answer enough.

“I . . . I . . .”

“Good heavenly days, Bernadette, you told them where Martha Maye lives?”

“No, I may have had a temporary stupidity attack, but it wasn’t fatal.” She looked down at her lap, and her voice softened. “I may have told them she taught up at the school.”

Johnny let out a deep breath and ran his hand through his hair. He stomped around the desk and dropped into his chair.