2 Heroes & Hooligans in Goose Pimple Junction (45 page)

Johnny shook his head and rubbed Ezzie’s big velvety ears, both of them ignoring Jack’s command. “No, he told enough lies to ice a wedding cake, but his alibi holds up on that, although I did a bit of bluffing and told him nobody saw him there. The bartender over at Humdinger’s says he was there all night. Came in early and left late. Played pool and darts and drank himself purt near under the table. I’ll ask for a few more people to corroborate, but he didn’t do it.”

“So are you ever going to
tell me who you think
did
kill Lenny? You left a fool in suspense, you know.”

“Jack, I don’t see how I can prove it, but I’m more sure than ever that I’m right.” He sat up from petting Ezzie and leveled his gaze at Jack, radiating seriousness. “I think it was Estherlene Bumgarner.”

“No way.” Jack sat back as if he’d been slapped. “What kind of Halloween candy you been eating?”

“I’m as serious as a five-alarm fire, Jack.”

Jack’s eyes were huge as he let the theory settle in. “What on earth brought you to that conclusion? What did she have against Lenny?”

“A few things.” Johnny stood and began pacing the room. “First off, on the night of the murder, she said she didn’t see anyone or anything outside, but that doesn’t add up. You know how she sits in that front window and watches over the street like a sentinel. She knows everything that happens on Marigold Lane. How come that one night she didn’t see a thing? She was there, and she was awake. I don’t buy for one thin second that she was in the bath that long.”

“Okay, that’s a little odd—”

“Another thing,” Johnny interrupted, pacing to the doorway and back, “is the other day she suddenly remembered seeing a car the night of the murder and said it looked like T. Harry’s.”

“How can you be so sure it wasn’t?”

“At the time she told me that, I wasn’t sure. I was thinking it made sense. I could see how T. Harry must have lied about when he came to town—which he did—which suggested he killed Lenny. But it niggled at me, and it bothered me that she said she didn’t see anything that night but then all of a sudden remembered seeing T. Harry’s car.”

“People do remember things later—”

“And now we know for sure it couldn’t have been his car if he was at Humdinger’s all night.”

“So Estherlene was mistaken.” Jack shrugged.

“But she lied about something else.”

“What?”

“She told me she’d never been to the Mag Bar, but she fits the description Cash gave me for a woman who repeatedly tried to hit on Lenny. Cash said the woman was in her sixties, maybe older, about five-two, very tanned, big hair with a blond dye job, and she had big ears but wasn’t entirely unattractive. He said Lenny shot her down every time. Barely gave her the time of day.”

Jack shook his head. “Estherlene isn’t in her sixties. She’s older than that. She claims she’s middle-aged, but she’s been around since Jesus was a baby.”

“Yeah, but she doesn’t look it, you know? Nature’s been kind to that woman.”

Jack blew out a breath. “A person will go to Hell for lying just the same as stealing, but like you said, you don’t have proof she did anything more wrong than that. You got nothing other than a gut feeling and a few lies, about which she could just say she was mistaken. Sounds pretty flimsy to me. You don’t even have a motive.”

Johnny sat down and leaned toward Jack. “I agree, but I know I’m right. I just have to find evidence.”

“I hate to tell you, my friend, but that’s going be harder than baptizing a cat.”

Ezzie’s head popped up.

“Unit one, are you in place?” Johnny said into his two-way radio.

Velveeta’s voice came back, “Unit one, ready to roll.”

“Unit two? Ready?”

“Unit two, in place,” Hank answered.

“All right, everybody stay alert.” Holding the handset, Johnny paced the old farmhouse from the living room, to the kitchen, and back again. He couldn’t sit still. Velveeta was holding watch in the front and Hank was in the back. Johnny couldn’t see them, but he knew they were there.

He’d gotten a reluctant Charlotte to tell her grandfather that Louetta had baked a pan of lasagna and a key lime pie. She told him she would cut a portion from each and leave it in the back of the refrigerator, then leave the door to the house unlocked. No man in his right mind could say no to that. He felt bad about making Charlotte lie to her grandfather, but he’d managed to convince her it was the right thing to do.

The old Marshall house was never locked since Tank died a few months before. Johnny had the electric company turn on the power to the farmhouse. His officers were in place. All he could do was wait. And pace.

At 1:29 a.m., the radio burped. “Chief, suspect spotted coming through the backyard. Repeat. Suspect is coming to you.”

Johnny had finally stopped pacing. Now lying on the sofa, his thoughts had turned from John Ed to Martha Maye. When he got the call, he sprang up, instinctively put his hand to the revolver at his waist, and edged to the doorway of the kitchen. He flattened himself against the wall and waited.

The sound of the back door squeaking open was quiet but clear. The floorboard creaked, and then he saw the dim glow of a flashlight. He slowly stepped into the kitchen, pointed his revolver at the figure, and said, “Ernest Borgnine, I presume.”

John Ed whirled around, dropping the lasagna he’d been about to put on the kitchen table. Johnny heard the front door open and footsteps pounding toward him, just as the back door opened and Hank stepped in, holding a bright light and a video camera aimed at the former police chief.

“Smile, you’re on candid camera,” Hank said, no hint of a smile on his face or in his voice.

“You know what to do, John Ed.” Johnny flicked the switch to turn on the lights. Everyone squinted a little, their eyes unaccustomed to the brightness.

“What are you—you ain’t—I didn’t—” John Ed looked from face to face.

“You’re wanted for questioning in a number of thefts around town, Mr. Price. Not to mention breaking and entering.” Johnny swept his gaze around the room, indicating the house.

When John Ed didn’t move, Johnny said sadly, “Turn around and assume the position.”

John Ed sighed heavily and did as he was told, putting his hands against the refrigerator, and Johnny kicked at his left leg to widen his stance before frisking him.

“You have the right to remain silent.” Johnny patted him down, watching carefully where they stood because of the spilled lasagna on the floor.

“Anything you say or do can and will be used against you in a court of law.” He took handcuffs off his belt and brought John Ed’s hands behind his back.

“You have the right to speak to an attorney.” Johnny cuffed John Ed’s hands.

“If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be provided for you. Do you understand these rights as they’ve been read to you?” Johnny turned John Ed around so he was facing him.

“Yes,” John Ed said morosely.

“Put him in the car, Officer Witherspoon. Let’s get him to the station.”

Back at the police station, Velveeta said, “Can I question him about Lenny’s murder, Chief?”

In order to rule out John Ed as a suspect, Johnny allowed her to question him. He sat in the room and listened.

“We’ve got you for multiple counts of theft, Mr. Price, and I gotta tell you, I’m liking you for the murder of Lenny Applewhite—”

“That’s ridiculous!” He slapped his hand on the table.

“You were out sneaking around night after night, on the prowl. Maybe you were stealing something from Ms. Applewhite’s residence and Lenny found you out.”

“Look, I’ll admit I allowed the town to help me out in my time of need—that’s the least I could expect after all the years of service I gave to this community. But murder? You’re crazier than a run-over dog. I had nothing to do with that. I want a lawyer.”

“That’s the end of cheap talk.” Johnny opened the door and motioned Velveeta out. “Let the man call a lawyer.”

Two hours later, after John Ed had talked with a public defender, Louis P. Howe, they all reconvened in the interrogation (also known as the break room), and Velveeta continued her questioning.

“As you are undoubtedly aware, Mr. Howe, it’s pretty obvious your client is the one who’s been stealing the town blind.”

“They owed me, dabnamit,” John Ed said heatedly. “I’m as broke as the Ten Commandments—”

“Hush your mouth, John Ed,” Mr. Howe cut in, but John Ed couldn’t help himself.

“And all this town did was turn their backs and stick up their noses at me. It’s disgraceful.”

Velveeta cleared her throat and asked, “So the next question is, do you have an alibi for the night of October twenty-second, Mr. Price?”

“I do. I was with someone from eight o’clock on.”

“Who?”

“I’d rather not divulge that information.”

“So you
don’t
have an alibi, is that what you’re saying?”

John Ed glared at them, leaned in to confer with his lawyer, and finally mumbled, “I was with Christine White.”

“Teenie?” Johnny shot up, his face showing distrust.

John Ed’s expression went from defiant to sheepish. “Yeah. We been seeing each other for a while now. She didn’t care if folks knew, but I didn’t want anyone to know on account of how everybody felt about me. She’d just get dragged down with me. Didn’t your mama ever tell you that you are the company you keep?”

“Velveeta, go and invite Ms. White to join us, if you would. Get Skeeter to take over for her on dispatch.”

Velveeta left, and Johnny pulled a chair out across from John Ed. “You vandalized those gardens and took people’s pumpkins, too, didn’t you?”

John Ed snorted. “Do you know what it’s like to be shunned by the very people you served and protected for over thirty years?”

“Mr. Price,” the lawyer said, as Johnny stared sternly at John Ed.

“And none of it would have happened without that Miss Priss, Tess Tremaine. She deserved more than a few dead flowers,” he sneered.

Johnny stared at John Ed, his face full of disgust but also pity. “Trying to understand some folks is like guessing at the direction of a rathole underground,” he said more to himself than to John Ed.

“Mr. Price, please don’t divulge any more information without consulting with me first,” Mr. Howe huffed.

Teenie and Velveeta came into the room.

“John Ed,” Teenie said, her face tight. She swallowed hard.

“Now, Teenie, it’s all right—”

“Hush up, both a you. We’ll tell you when to talk,” Velveeta snapped. She led Teenie by the elbow to the seat next to the lawyer, with John Ed on his other side.

“Teenie, where were you on the night of October twenty-second?” Johnny asked.

“Well, uh . . .” she stammered.

“Tell them, Teenie,” John Ed said softly, looking at his folded hands on the table. “It’s okay.”

“I was at home all night,” she answered timidly.

“Were you alone?” Johnny asked.

She started to glance at John Ed, but Velveeta pointed her first two fingers at Teenie and then at herself. “Eyes right here, Teenie. Answer the question.”

“I was . . . I was with—” she cleared her throat, then said softly, “I was with John Ed.”

“All night?”

“Yessir. All night.” She looked everywhere but at Velveeta or Johnny.