2 Heroes & Hooligans in Goose Pimple Junction (14 page)

It was almost completely dark when he turned into the Mag Bar’s gravel lot. He parked his car and hummed the song “If I Can’t Be Number One in Your Life, Then Number Two on You” while he walked across the parking lot. He heard the crunch of gravel behind him and turned around just as a punch hit his kidneys. He let out a loud “oomph,” and another blow landed on his lower jaw.

“Remember us?” Eyebrows said, shaking the pain out of his hand.

Lenny moaned, but a fist landed in his midsection, knocking the air out of him.

“You thought you could run from Solly? Solly gives you a loan outta the goodness of his heart, and you skip out on him?” Eyebrows stood over Lenny. “Ha,” he said as he kicked him in the ribs.

“Ha!” Joey echoed.

“Listen, listen, listen, dude, I can make a payment. I been gainfully employed,” Lenny rasped.

“Yeah,
dude
, we’re gonna take your payment. But first we’re gonna take a chunk outta your hide.”

“A chunk,” Joey said.

They were between cars, but Lenny could hear voices as people came out of the bar. He opened his mouth to yell, but Eyebrows stepped on his stomach, and he couldn’t breathe, let alone speak.

The couple passed, got into their car, and drove away. Eyebrows, finally lifting his foot off of Lenny, turned to Joey and said, “Scalpel, please, nurse.”

“Scalpel,” Joey said, handing him a Louisville Slugger.

Lenny began begging. “Wait, wait! I’m trying to tell y’all, I can literally give y’all two thousand right now. You d—”

“Give it,” the man grunted.

Lenny dug in his pocket and came up with a wad of bills.

Eyebrows quickly counted the cash. “That’s just a drop in the bucket, Len. Sol said to give you a message you wouldn’t soon forget.” He softly tapped the bat against his leg. “So here it is: You run again, and you’re a dead man. You skip a payment again, and I’ma break both your legs.”

“Both your legs.” Joey stepped forward and nodded once to emphasize the threat.

“And here’s some punctuation on that there statement.”

As Eyebrows brought the bat up over his head, some people came out of the bar. Lenny made his move. He rolled under the car and began screaming his head off. Eyebrows swore and said, “We’re not done with you, Applewhite,” then they beat feet to get away from the onlookers.

The next day, Johnny pulled in front of the school right at dismissal time. He parked, put on his GPJPD baseball cap, and walked through the crowd of kids and parents outside, speaking to everyone he could. But instead of the usual “Howdy, Chief,” today he was met with “Chief, did you catch that good-for-nothin’ so-and-so who’s taking our punkins?” and “Chief, someone picked all the apples off my apple tree. Whatchew gonna do about that?” And so on.

Johnny saw Martha Maye hand over her last student to his parent and turn to go inside. He quickly followed, excusing himself as he squeezed past people.

“Martha Maye!” he called down the hall, hurrying inside. She was halfway down the long hallway but turned when she heard his voice.

“Johnny! What are you doing here?”

“I was in the neighborhood. Thought I’d drop by and see if you and Butterbean needed a ride home.”

“Johnny.” She crossed her arms. “You promised you wouldn’t worry about me.”

“And you promised you wouldn’t walk to school, but I don’t see your car in the parking lot.” She had a guilty look on her face, and he smiled as he pointed his finger at her. “Busted.”

“You’re not gonna arrest me, are you, Chief?”

They laughed, but Johnny raised his eyebrows and waited for an answer.

“Oh, all right. Come on back to my room with me and let me get my stuff. But hey, aren’t you on duty? You don’t have time to be taking women home for no good reason.” She looked over at him and narrowed her eyes. “Or is this kinda like helping an old lady across the street? Is it your good deed for the day?” She led him into her room, then immediately stopped her babbling and froze.

The row of windows that lined the back wall of her classroom caught her eye. The bottom pane of each one had a newly spray-painted heart. Something had smashed into the middle of each heart, causing cracks to emanate from the point of impact.

Johnny drew his service revolver from its holster and stormed through the room, looking into every nook and cranny.

Martha Maye lifted her arms and then dropped them. “Johnny, for heaven’s sake.”

When your heart speaks, take good notes.

~Southern Proverb

J
ohnny strode with purpose toward the door leading directly outside and barreled through it with Martha Maye at his heels, but the schoolyard was empty. He scanned the houses that backed up to the school to see if anyone was outside, anyone who might have seen someone vandalizing the classroom windows. He saw no one. He put his gun back in its holster, and they both walked back into the classroom in silence.

“Were you going to actually shoot a vandal? He was probably only armed with a can of spray paint.”

“Just a cop-ly reflex, as Jesse Stone would say. Can’t help it. Besides, he could very well have been carrying.” He smiled sheepishly. “I’m assuming the windows didn’t look like that when you left the room. Ten to one it’s Lenny’s work, and the way I’m feeling toward him right now, it wouldn’t take much for me to shoot first and ask questions later.”

“I don’t believe that for a minute. You wouldn’t hurt a fly on purpose.”

“Maybe not a fly, but certainly a roach.”

“You really think Lenny did this?”

“Don’t you?”

She thought for a minute while she moved around the room straightening desks. “I really don’t think so. But I could be wrong. It just doesn’t seem his style. If he has something to say, he says it. Like I told you, if he gives a gift, I’ve never known him to do it anonymously. Now the last little present that was left in my kitchen. . .” She blushed thinking about the skimpy lingerie someone had left on her kitchen table, “ . . . that could be him, but I think if he were going to insult me or try to scare me, he’d do it in person.” She went to her desk and shuffled papers, putting things in her tote bag to take home. “It’s like he feeds off the reaction. If I’m pleased, then he feels like a hero. If I’m mad, then he revels in the fact that he can punch my buttons. I just don’t see this as Lenny.”

“Then who’s doing this crap?” Johnny brought a handful of crayons that had been left on a table to Martha Maye.

“Thanks, Johnny.” She took the crayons and put them in the orphaned crayon basket. “If I knew, I’d tell you, believe you me.”

She sat down in her desk chair and saw an apple on her desk. It had a bite out of it, and a small note underneath.

I’d like to take a bite out of you
.

Martha Maye pointed at it as if it were a snake, and Johnny examined it and carefully put it inside his notebook.

“Evidence,” he said. “You got a paper bag anywhere? I’ll take that apple, too. Send them both to a lab.”

She carefully pulled a lunch bag from her desk and dropped the apple inside by the stem, while he looked around for a chair he could sit in. The only chairs in the room were for little people. She sensed his dilemma.

“Here, Johnny, you take my seat. I’m happy to say I can fit into these little seats just fine now.”

“Thank you. If I managed to somehow get my butt into one of those, I don’t think I’d get out of it without a surgical procedure. Assuming I didn’t break it into toothpicks first.”

Butterbean came into the classroom just then, and while she gaped at the broken windows, Martha Maye gave the bag with the apple to Johnny.

“Who did this, Mama?”

“That’s what I’d like to know. I should call the office and tell them what’s going on, or maybe I’ll speak to them on the way out. They’ll have to get someone to fix the windows.”

“Is that why the chief’s here?” Butterbean walked up to Johnny, studying the sack. “What’s that?”

“Just a snack, nosy Rosey.” Martha Maye turned her daughter toward the blackboard, kissing the top of her head. “Now get going on your chore.”

“Can I have a snack?” Butterbean asked, turning to start her daily chore.

“After while.”

Butterbean started on her job of erasing the blackboard and washing it with a wet rag.

Martha Maye turned to Johnny. “Since you’re here, could I ask a favor?”

“Anything.”

“Can you help me hang these paper witches the students made? You’re tall and can reach up high better than Butterbean or me. I can hand them to you, and it’ll get done in a jiffy.”

While Butterbean worked on the chalkboard, Johnny and Martha Maye hung the construction paper witches on strings from the ceiling lights. When they were done, they stood back and looked at all of the colorful witches on broomsticks. They looked like they were flying around the room.

“I love it! Doesn’t it look wonderful?” Martha Maye said gleefully. “Thank you, Johnny. That took just a fraction of the time it would have taken Butterbean and me to do it. Handing me the artwork while I hop on and off of chairs isn’t her idea of a fun afternoon.”

“I’m happy as all get out to help, Mart.”

She cleared her throat and looked around the room. “All right then, I’m ready to go if y’all are. I just need to stop in the office and report the windows.”

They walked to the front of the school, and Martha Maye turned for the office, while Butterbean and Johnny went outside to wait.

When Martha Maye came out of the building a few minutes later, she saw Johnny and Butterbean on the sidewalk talking to someone. It took her about two seconds to realize who it was. She hadn’t laid eyes on him since the day of the kidnapping. An older man, he was short and fat, and looked kind of like a bulldog.

“Mr. Price. Hello. I didn’t expect to see you here,” she said haltingly to John Ed, the former police chief. “Are you back in town for good?” she asked, trying to be tactful, and trying to hide the anxiety she felt.

“Yep. Never really left. I just moved out to the country. I try to keep to myself. Folks around here don’t cotton to me much.”

Martha Maye made a sympathetic sound, and she
was
empathetic to his plight, but a part of her felt he deserved the treatment he was getting, and then she felt guilty for thinking that.

“‘Course I can’t say I blame them,” John Ed continued. “I let everybody down by trying to protect my boy. I was derelecting my duty, I know that, although it does seem like some people would have a Christian attitude and forgiveness in their heart.”

“That’s all water under the bridge now, Mr. Price. Folks will come around. Just give them some time.”

He looked at the ground for a moment and then up at Martha Maye. “How’s my granddaughter?”

“Charlotte’s real fine, Mr. Price. She’s getting along real nice.”

“Yeah,” Butterbean piped up. “She plays with me sometimes. I like her living with Granny.”

“Do you . . . do you think she’d see me?” he asked, the hurt evident on his face.

“I think she’d like that. You’re still kin, no matter what. Why don’t you give her a call? Ask her to meet you at the diner or something? It’s probably best not to go to Mama’s house, at least for a while.”