Rogues & Rascals in Goose Pimple Junction (Goose Pimple Junction Mysteries Book 4) (27 page)

“I didn’t say anything about financial problems.”

“You indicated the second and final document was unfair to Ms. Culpepper. I assumed that meant less money for her. Isn’t that what you said? Or did I misunderstand you?”

“Oh no. You heard me loud and clear. I’m not commenting on the state of Ms. Culpepper’s finances though. I’m commenting on your lower than a snake’s belly in a wagon rut morals that caused you to switch documents on your client.”

“Oh for heaven’s sake. I’m not her keeper, Chief Butterfield. If she hasn’t learned by now that you never sign anything without reading it first, then maybe this was a valuable lesson for her.”

“Okay, ma’am. Let’s skip the appetizer and get to the main course.”

“I wish you would.”

“You sent this document,” he indicated the first folder, “and that is what she agreed to. You told her to come on down to your office and sign it. Now, however naive she may have been, she trusted you nonetheless. So when you presented her with a document to sign, never in her wildest dreams would she have thought that it wasn’t the same one which you’d just sent to her and to which she had agreed.”

“Is that or isn’t that Ms. Culpepper’s signature?” She pointed to the paper.

“You know it is.” Johnny returned her glare.

“Then we have nothing to discuss.” She handed him back the documents.

“All right then. I thought—hoped—you would see the injustice of the situation and set it right. I was offering you a chance to get out from under this bus before it rolls. But that’s all right. We’ll just build our case and take it to the state bar. ‘Cause I’ve got a hunch you’ve gotten greedy.” He stood and Hank followed him to the door. He turned back and said, “You might want to try to get in as many billable hours as you can. You’re gonna need the money to hire your own attorney pretty soon.”

“I didn’t know you hired the mute, Chief.” She indicated Officer Beanblossom with her hand. “Or does he actually talk?”

“Oh, he talks when I need him to.”

“So, what . . . you just brought him as a bodyguard? Afraid I’d do you bodily harm?”

“No, more like a corroborating witness. It’s always good to have one of those when dealing with a scheming, no-good, lying, dirty cur dog.”

“You’d better save your money, Chief. I may sue you for defamation of character.”

“Oh, you know better than that. A person only needs to worry about that if what they said isn’t true.”

As soon as the officers left, Dee Dee picked up her phone and began texting. She hit send and waited, not taking her eyes off the phone. Within a minute, a text bubble popped up, indicating the recipient was typing.

A smile returned to the lawyer’s face. She picked up the phone and punched in seven numbers.

“Judge Fletcher, it’s Dee Dee Petty. Do you have time to talk?”

She listened and then sat up straight. “Who’s been calling? Seriously? Can they prove it? Can you put a stop to it?” She listened for several seconds. “You’ve got to put a stop to it. Do whatever you usually do. Don’t you dare screw this up.”

She rolled her eyes as she listened again. Her hand on the desk fisted and her jaw set. She took several deep breaths and did her best to make her voice sound amiable. “Are you going to the Founder’s Day celebration? Maybe we can talk then.”

Dee Dee ended the call and punched in more numbers. “Louis? I think we should get together. We may have a problem.”

Louis went on one of his lecturing rants, and she listened. Finally, she said, “I know. But we can fix this. I have it handled. But I’m not sure about the judge. Okay. We can talk then.”

Dee Dee hung up and sat back. Looking out her window into the black night, she spoke to herself. “You’ll change your mind, Judge or I’ll change it for you.”

Mama always said . . . Knowledge is often mistaken for intelligence. This is like mistaking a cup of milk for a cow.

I
nstead of Jack and Tess going to all of the women’s houses, Caledonia invited the ladies on the list to her house under the guise of a divorce party. The women were a little taken aback when they arrived to see Jack there, but he soon charmed them and all doubts were forgotten.

Once everyone had arrived, Caledonia made sure they all had a beverage and then called the group to attention. “Y’all.” She held up her hands. “Y’all, can I have your attention, please?” Cal ran her hand down her thigh, smoothing her hot pink skirt.

The room grew quiet and Caledonia continued. “Take a seat. I have a little confession to make. In addition to this being a divorce party—”

“Here, here!” someone called out, followed by others repeating the phrase with glasses raised in the air.

“Yes, thank you.” She nodded. “But in addition to
that
, we’ve also invited you here because we’re on a fact-finding mission to uncover wrongdoing in Dee Dee Petty’s law office.”

First the room was completely silent, then everyone started talking at once, and it took several minutes to get the room under control again. Caledonia began speaking about what Dee Dee had done to her. Her story was accompanied with a lot of head nodding and sympathetic murmurings from the others. When she was done with her story, she said, “And we just figure if there’s one rat you can see, there’s gonna be fifty you can’t. So, I’m going to turn the meeting over to Jackson Wright.”

Jack quickly got down to business. “What Caledonia said is true: If Dee Dee has done this before, she’ll do it again, and we’re betting she already has. We aim to stop her, but there is strength in numbers. So what we’re asking is, did this happen to any of you, and will you help us bring her to justice?”

The room was dead silent. Finally, Lorena Hodges, a slim fifty-seven-year-old, spoke up. “She didn’t do me like she did Caledonia, but she sure as heck screwed me over.”

“What do you mean?” Jack motioned for her to continue.

“She convinced me I couldn’t get more and I should settle. I figured I didn’t have a choice.”

“Well, you sure as heck did,” Jack said.

Snooky Tuttle, a short, sixty-five-year-old brilliant redhead, spoke up next. “That woman racked up so many billable hours, I was going broke paying her. I figured I’d better settle before she took it all. I was paying more out than I’d ever take in.”

“Which is what she wanted, I’m sure.” Caledonia refilled everyone’s tea glasses. “It seems like it would be more fair to pay lawyers in correlation to what kind of settlement they get for you. The more you get, the more they get. Just paying them for hours and hours and hours . . . For what? They’re not invested in the outcome. What do they care what you get? It sucks.”

Pauline Whitaker, forty-two, and tall and thin as a beanpole, sat forward on the couch. “She did the same thing to me as she did to Cal. I told Dee Dee I wouldn’t cave, so she made sure that’s what happened in the end. I just don’t understand why she picked on me. What did I do to her?”

“Oh, pea pod,” Caledonia gushed. “You know, Tweedle Dee’s a puzzle. But it seems like one thing we all have in common is we stay home with our kids. So, on one hand I feel like she hates stay-at-home-moms, but when we try to stand up for ourselves, she doesn’t like that either.”

Shirley May Shaw, a meek, African-American woman of fifty was next. “You’re spot on, Cal. After she got done convincing me I was a useless waste of a human being for being a stay-at-home mom, I figured I was fortunate to have anything. I mean, I didn’t think it was right, but she beat me down. I just didn’t feel like fighting.”

“Shirley May, you have done a stellar job of raising those boys. They are exceptional human beings and don’t you let anybody tell you that your life choice was a waste. Lawyers are a dime a dozen. Exceptional parents are the rare commodity these days.”

“Hold up, y’all.” Jack gestured to a lady with a long nose and small eyes. “I don’t know your name.”

“Sara. Sara Lee.”

A wry grin crossed Jack’s face. “No, seriously.”

Her face clouded. “I
am
being serious.”

“Your name is Sara Lee? You expect me to believe your name is
Sara Lee
?”

She grinned. “I do, ‘cause it is.”

“It is, Jack.” Caledonia piped up. “I’ve known nobody-doesn’t-like-Sara-Lee for eons. But she gets that a lot. People think she’s pulling their leg.”

Sara, a tall, thin, sixty-year-old with a nasally voice said, “Anyhow, I love how these men don’t have a problem with their wives staying at home and making their lives cushy as all get-out until we ask for our due. It doesn’t matter to them that we never get a day off or that we work every holiday. I can’t tell you how many Mother’s Days I had to host for his mother. Nobody gave a pea turkey squat about
me
being a mother. Then, when we dare ask for our fair share in a divorce settlement, all of a sudden our contribution to the marriage was nothing. It’s sickening.”

“You’re right,” Shirley May cut in. “We act as teacher, chef, chauffeur, nurse, psychiatrist, entertainer, volunteer—think of all the money saved by playing all those roles and more. And she looks down on us because we stay at home?”

“Why does society devalue a woman’s choice to take care of her family over earning a paycheck?” Caledonia did a slow burn. “It seems like a person’s only value is based on whether they earn money. How did we get to a point of money over meaning? No, we don’t earn a paycheck. The return on our work is the fine human beings we raise. When did caring for a family make you less valuable in a marriage than the wage earner?”

The room erupted with all the women talking at once. Finally, Tess brought the meeting back to order.