Rogues & Rascals in Goose Pimple Junction (Goose Pimple Junction Mysteries Book 4) (33 page)

In the kitchen, she filled the teakettle with water and set the fire to high. She saw it when she turned to get out a cup and saucer: a bowler hat on her kitchen table.

When the root is deep, there’s no reason to fear the wind.

J
ohnny waited all day for the judge to get back to him about the search warrants. It was seven fifteen and well past the end of the business day. Still, he had not heard a word. He straightened his desk, picked up the phone, and called his wife.

“Hey, beautiful.”

“Hey yourself, handsome. Are we going to see you soon?”

No matter where he was, Martha Maye’s voice always made him feel better.

“Man, I sure hope so. I need to make one stop on the way home though. Are you hungry?”

“Yes, but we’ll wait for you.”

“I shouldn’t be too long. I just need to see the judge. I’ve been waiting to hear back from him all day, and I thought a personal visit might light a fire under him.”

“Of course. You do what you need to do. We’ll be here waiting.”

“Okay, darlin’. See you soon.”

Johnny turned off the office lights on his way out the door. Maybe the judge was sick, he thought as he climbed into his car, shaking off the rain. His secretary said she thought he was working from home today. He pulled out of the parking lot and accelerated down Court Street, windshield wipers working overtime to keep up with the storm.

The night before, when Melba Davis had been looking for the judge, came into his mind. His head tilted, and he drummed his fingers on the steering wheel.

He was already down the street from the station, so he pulled out his phone and called dispatch. “Moppy, can you get a number for Melba Davis for me?” He waited a moment, and then said, “Thanks a lot.”

He dialed, waited, then said, “Melba, quick question: did you ever find the judge last night?”

He listened, saying, “Oh,” and “Um hmm,” and “Well I’ll be darned.” He briefly made polite conversation, commiserating with the woman about her head cold.

“You just came down with it, huh? Well, you stay warm and take your medicine, drink your tea. You’ll be back to normal in no time. Call if you need anything. Uh huh. Bye-bye.” He hung up with a sense of dread in his belly.
Nobody had seen the judge since Friday?

He pulled into Judge Fletcher’s driveway and put the car in park. Pulling his GPJPD ball cap down over his forehead, he hurried to the covered front porch. The judge lived in a big, beautiful Victorian just a few blocks from the courthouse. There was a wreath with a huge red bow on the front door and a light on in the front room. He knocked. Nothing. Straining to listen, he finally acknowledged that it was futile. Something in him had known that but didn’t want to believe it. He wasn’t going to hear anything with the amount of rain that was coming down. He knocked again and rang the doorbell several times, and then he stepped over to the bay window and peered inside. His heart sank.

The judge was lying on the living room floor in an unnatural position. He called it in. “Moppy, tell Velveeta to get over to Judge Fletcher’s house, and send me another unit and a bus too.” He listened then said morosely, “No, no need for lights and sirens.”

Mama always said . . . Don’t cut a big old oak off at the base; you take if off limb by limb.

D
ee Dee’s eyes shot like laser beams across the kitchen to the bowler hat sitting ominously on the table. She took a sharp breath, hugged her arms to her, and scanned the kitchen. A black umbrella stood propped against the back door. Fear shot through her. She heard a small creak behind her and slowly turned, afraid of what she would find but more afraid not to look.

The man stood in the kitchen doorway in the same stance as he had in front of her house, except now, instead of holding an umbrella, he was holding a butcher knife.

Cold as a cucumber, Dee Dee said, “Y, I presume?”

The man slowly nodded.

Devoid of any emotion, Dee Dee intoned, “I was told you were a woman. I specifically wanted a woman.”

A woman’s voice came from the man. “Oh, I’m a woman. I’m also a master of disguise.” Her voice turned into one of a British man. “And I’m very good at dialects.”

Dee Dee harrumphed. “Good that you’re a master of something. You certainly don’t seem to know what you’re doing when it comes to killing people.”

Y shrugged. “I believe there’s a reason for everything.” The teakettle whistle blew urgently at first and then furiously. Y went to the stove and turned off the burner.

“Oh really? And what might be the reason for you failing
three times?”
Dee Dee shouted the last two words, finally showing some emotion. “And not only failing but killing an innocent woman.”

“I had the wrong mark,” she said matter-of-factly. “Caledonia was never meant to die.” She stroked the top of the knife and then looked up at the lawyer. Maybe I was never meant to be a killer. I don’t know. In any event, I came to tell you I quit.”

Dee Dee snickered. “I could care less. After three times, it was apparent you couldn’t get the job done.”

“Why not do it yourself?”

“Maybe I will. Now, get out.”

“I have some things to do first.”

“You don’t scare me. You should know that I’ve already called the police.” Her eyes darted around the kitchen. “They’re on their way.”

“Once a liar, always a liar, huh?” Y held up Dee Dee’s cell phone and waved it in the air. She dropped it in her coat pocket.

Dee Dee turned red. Intending to hide her embarrassment as well as to grab a knife from the butcher block, she whirled around, but the knives were gone. She did an about-face.

Y was back in the doorway, her arms folded and one foot cocked against the other ankle. “I know I have a tendency to be ditzy, but I’m pretty sure I thought of everything this time.”

“Get out of my house,” Dee Dee snarled, pointing to the door.

“I will. But first, answer me one thing: what did Caledonia ever do to you besides marry the man you wanted?”

“How—how—” Dee Dee stammered.

Y studied the knife, still nonchalantly leaning against the doorjamb. “I’ve been watching you. But I don’t get it.” Her eyes went from the knife to Dee Dee. “Did you honestly think Phil would be romantically interested in you? Is that why you wanted Caledonia out of the way?”

Dee Dee walked like a robot to the kitchen table and sat. She fingered the bowler hat for a long while, a faint smile on her lips. “At first, I wanted her dead so he wouldn’t have to go through the divorce process. Death is so much easier. A funeral, a few weeks of mourning, and you’re done.”

“Well, for someone who’s emotionally deficient,” Y said.

“But after your first two attempts failed, Phil finally came to his senses and left the bitch. That’s when I told you to leave town.”

“So why call me back? Phil was a free man. It wasn’t Caledonia’s fault he wasn’t into you.”

“No, but she was about to ruin everything. I requested you return because she was going to report me to the state bar association. I would have been ruined.”

“Hate to tell ya, sweets, but she’s done let the cat out of the bag.”

Her head snapped up. “Then she definitely deserves to die for what she did.”

“No, I think it’s lying, scheming scumbags who deserve to die. Would you happen to know anyone like that?”

“Okay, what do you want?” Dee Dee shifted in her seat. “You want money? I’ve got money. You can have it.” Dee Dee’s mouth was as dry as cotton.

“Because you only want one thing. Isn’t that right, Dee Dee?”

“What would you know?” Her head dropped into her hands.