Rogues & Rascals in Goose Pimple Junction (Goose Pimple Junction Mysteries Book 4) (20 page)

C
aledonia brushed pieces of broken glass off her lap, vaguely aware that her head hurt, her ears rung, and her hands shook. She saw Tess leaning hard into the door, but it wouldn’t open due to the angle of the car sitting in the ditch. Suddenly, she felt another jolt and heard the sound of metal rubbing on metal.

“Oh my Lord, Betty. Someone wants to turn this car into an accordion. We gotta get out of here.” Both women attacked their doors, but neither would budge; the sides of the ditch pinned them in. Fear and panic shot through Caledonia.

Tess lay on the horn. “Maybe someone will hear us and come help,” she hollered over the sound of the horn.

Caledonia’s panic turned into frenzy when headlights filled the car again followed by another huge impact as they were rammed from behind for a third time.

“Oh my word, we’re in a heap of trouble,” Caledonia screamed, nearing hysteria. The sound of spinning tires on gravel, the smell of earth, and bright headlights filled Tess’s Mini Cooper. The SUV behind them was no longer ramming their car; it was now slowly crunching it like a trash compactor.

Caledonia snapped into action. She twisted around to reach the baseball bat in the backseat of the car. “Try to crawl out your window, Tess.” Caledonia was thankful they’d rolled the windows down as they left the restaurant and grateful for Tess’s paranoia with the bat.

She threw the bat into the ditch and put her hands at either end of the window’s opening, stuck her head out of the car, and pushed. With a little extra help from Tess, her knees cleared the door, and she fell hard onto the dirt. Using the bat as a cane, she climbed the side of the ditch, scratching her legs on the weeds as she charged like a bull for the SUV. She reached the road and began swinging.

The loud crack of her bat colliding with the windshield of the SUV amplified in the quiet stillness of the countryside. The driver yanked the car in reverse and started straight for Caledonia, who darted to the side and swung the bat with a wallop. It connected with the driver’s side door, emitting another loud crack.

The vehicle lurched, backed up, and sped off down the road. Caledonia raised the bat in the air, screaming at the car, “That’s right. You run away like a coward.” She scrambled down into the ditch to Tess’s window.

“Are you okay?” She pulled at the door, but it wouldn’t budge.

“I think I am, but I can hardly move with this steering wheel in my way. Are they gone?”

“You better believe it. I got in a few good licks before it scurried off back into the hole it crawled out of. Lousy no-good son of a biscuit. And I got the license plate too.”

“I think I can reach my cell phone; I’ll call for help. You keep a lookout. Make sure they don’t return.”

Tess called 911 and then Jack. Jack’s car arrived first. He scrambled down the ditch, his face a mask of terror. “Tess! Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, Jack. I’m fine. But I’m pinned in.”

Two police cruisers, lights and sirens blazing, lurched to the side of the road about two minutes later.

Johnny and Hank went to Caledonia, who was standing at the top of the ditch. Johnny was out of the car before it stopped. He rushed up to her. “What in the world happened, Callie?”

Jack interrupted. “Let’s worry about the details after we free my wife.”

Hank scrambled down the embankment and put a reassuring hand on Jack’s shoulder. “I got a tow truck and a bus on the way, ETA five minutes. Hang tight, Jack. Tess, you okay?”

Tess craned her neck to look over her shoulder at them. “I don’t think I need an ambulance, Hank. I’ll be fine if I can just get out of here.”

Jack talked soothingly to his wife, while Hank climbed out of the ditch, and Caledonia explained to him and Johnny what had happened.

“Did you see the perp? “What kind of vehicle was it?”

“It was a big honking car.” Caledonia shook her head. “But it was too dark, and the headlights blinded me. I couldn’t see hardly anything.”

“Do you know if there was more than one person in the vehicle?”

“I’m sorry. I don’t. It all happened so fast, and I was petrified.”

“Did you at least get the license plate?” Hank brushed the weeds and dirt off his pant legs.

“You better believe I did. It wasn’t hard to remember, considering it was one of those vanity plates.”

“What was it?” Johnny pressed.

“S-H-A-R-K.” Caledonia spelled it out then pronounced it. “Shark.”

“Holy smokes! That’s Louis P. Howe’s vehicle,” Hank said.

“Well I’ll be darned.” Johnny stood with his hands on his hips and stared off angrily into the dark night. “Louis has some ‘splaining to do.”

Back at the police station, Johnny was met by an irate Louis P. Howe.

“I was just getting ready to call you, sir.” Johnny was a big man, and he walked with authority. His approach caused a momentary shift in Louis’s otherwise superior demeanor.

“Me? Does that mean you found my car?” He stepped aside, intending to let the chief pass him, but Johnny stopped abruptly in front of him.

“In a manner of speaking. Did you lose it?”

“Hell no. I’m here to report it stolen. It was in my parking lot, and now it’s not.”

“When’s the last time you remember seeing it?”

Louis thought a moment. “I’d say it was lunchtime. I thought—hoped—one of you yokels had impounded it for some lamebrain reason.”

“No, sir. We don’t do anything lamebrained without a good reason.” Johnny smiled congenially at the man, which only made him more indignant.

“Are you mocking me? You think a stolen car is funny?” He stepped back, his hands balled into fists.

“Can you account for your and your son’s activities tonight, sir?” Johnny remained calm.

“What’s my son got to do with it?”

“Just answer the question, please.”

“I was working. Jimmy Dean got dropped off at the movies and was supposed to walk to my office when his movie was over. We were gonna ride home together. Except we couldn’t because there was no car. Why are my and my boy’s whereabouts relevant to my car being stolen?”

“They’re relevant because your car was used in the execution of a crime tonight.” Johnny crossed his arms and watched Louis’s reaction.

Louis’s hands came up to rest on his hips. “A crime? What kind of crime?”

“The illegal kind.” The chief set his mouth in a thin line and narrowed his eyes.

“Chief, I do not appreciate your attitude here. This is a serious matter.”

“I’m serious as a heart attack. Do you have anyone who can verify that you were at work and your son was in the theater tonight?”

“I don’t know if Jimmy Dean still has his ticket stub, but I’m sure plenty of people were there who can vouch for his whereabouts. As for me, I was alone from about four o’clock on.”

“Did you speak with anyone? Write any emails?” Johnny pursed his lips.

“I did not. I was doing research the entire night.” Louis lifted his chin and pushed out his chest.

“Convenient.” The chief’s eyebrows rose. “What kind of research?”

“The none-of-your-business kind. The client/attorney privileged information kind. I don’t appreciate your innuendoes.”

“You didn’t go out for dinner?”

“My secretary brought a sandwich in for me before she left.” Louis pushed his hands in his pockets.

“I see,” Johnny said, sounding skeptical.

“Just what is that supposed to mean?” He widened his stance. “You think I’m lying about where I was?”

“I didn’t say that. But it is mighty unfortunate that nobody can account for your whereabouts. And earlier today you verbally threatened one of the victims.”

“Oh, hogwash. I didn’t threaten anyone.” The man’s face became red. “I’ll sue for slander!”

Johnny turned to the new night dispatcher, Martha Jane Shaw—most folks called her “Moppy”—and asked if she’d filled out an incident report with Mr. Howe.

“No, sir. He’d just gotten here a few minutes before you walked in.”

“How ‘bout you take his report of a stolen vehicle now? Call in Officer Northington to sit with Mr. Howe until further notice.”

“Until further notice?” Louis huffed. “You can’t keep me here.”

“I can, and I will.” Johnny winked at the man. “Sit tight. I’ll get back to you.” He turned to Moppy. “And send Officers Duke, Witherspoon, and Beanblossom into my office when they come in. Everybody’s working overtime tonight.”

“Yessir, Chief.”

Fifteen minutes later, Officer Witherspoon came into the chief’s office. “Found the car, Chief.”

Johnny raised his head. “Where?”

She slumped into a chair in front of his desk. “Over on Shinbone Valley Road. I pulled some prints off the car. I’ll bring them in and have them run.”

Johnny stroked his chin, saying nothing.

“What?” Velveeta sat forward. “What are you thinking? I see the smoke coming out your ears.”

“We’ve been looking at who would want
Penny
dead, but think about it.” Johnny cocked his head and raised his eyebrows.

“Why was she shot at the Culpepper’s house?” Velveeta was catching on.

“Exactly. Maybe that bullet wasn’t meant for Penny after all. She was just in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“That poor woman.” She touched her hand to her heart.

“So if we start looking at who might want to harm Caledonia, we have to remember she’s the only witness to Jimmy Dean’s vandalism of the school.”

“Yeah. Whatever happened to that?” Velveeta jiggled her foot.

“The wheels of justice grind slowly. We’re waiting for a court date.” His pencil bopped softly on the blotter in front of him. “Pickle has damaging information pertinent to Jimmy Dean’s shenanigans, and Caledonia reported earlier today that Louis verbally threatened her. Now Caledonia is run off the road in a car both Jimmy Dean and Louis had access to.” He made some notes.

“Oh, Lord.” Velveeta reared her head back.

Johnny jumped to his feet and paced up and down his office. “A shooting and someone trying to make a car and its occupants flat as a fritter is a might step-up from vandalism. But if someone
did
want to shut someone up, that would be an awful good way to go about it.” Johnny’s hand covered a yawn.

“Well, slap my sister and call her ugly.” Velveeta’s mouth hung open.

Johnny ignored her, deep in thought. “We need to confirm both alibis.” He sat at his desk and picked up the phone.

Mama always said . . . Age is like underwear; it creeps up on you.