Liars & Lunatics in Goose Pimple Junction Read online

  LIARS & LUNATICS

  in

  GOOSE PIMPLE

  JUNCTION

  AMY METZ

  This is a work of fiction. All names and characters are either invented or used fictionally. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is most likely coincidental.

  LIARS & LUNATICS IN GOOSE PIMPLE JUNCTION. Copyright © 2019 Amy Metz. All rights reserved. Published by Southern Ink Press.

  www.authoramymetz.com

  Names: Metz, Amy, author

  Title: Liars & Lunatics in Goose Pimple Junction / Amy Metz

  First Edition: September 2019

  Paperback ISBN-13: 978-1-0887218-6-5

  Printed in the United States of America

  Cover by Tamara Višković

  OTHER BOOKS IN THE SERIES

  Murder & Mayhem in Goose Pimple Junction

  Heroes & Hooligans in Goose Pimple Junction

  Short & Tall Tales in Goose Pimple Junction

  Rogues & Rascals in Goose Pimple Junction

  In memory of Sharon Vertetis Aguanno whose friendship, support, and encouragement meant the world to me. She was sweeter than a box of cupcakes and is surely missed.

  It is a basic truth of the human condition that everybody lies. The only variable is about what.

  – Hugh Laurie

  Prologue

  He entered the territory of lies without a passport for return.

  –Graham Greene

  Friday, November 2

  Fit to be tied, a fuming Caledonia Culpepper bounced the tennis ball twice and then sent it hurtling to the wall by way of her racket. She wished the ball were his head.

  Thwack. Ponk. The uninterrupted rhythm of tennis ball hitting racket hitting practice wall reverberated throughout the court. Sixteen, seventeen, eighteen . . . she was feeling strong tonight. She was in a groove. Twenty-four, twenty-five . . .

  Movement out of the corner of her eye caused a break in concentration, and her streak came to an abrupt halt. Thud. The ball hit at her feet and bounced past her.

  She pushed her hair off her sweaty neck and picked up a towel to wipe her face. That man has some gall showing up here after everything he’s put me through. Does he honestly think I’ll come running back to him? I’d just as soon bite a bug.

  “Looking good, Callie. Must be that racket I gave you. That was quite a streak you had going on.” Virgil Pepper flopped onto a nearby bench, laying his racket next to him.

  She glared at him. “Yeah. Until you ruined it. Like everything else.”

  “Now, darlin’, don’t be like that. Sit down here, and let’s talk.” He patted the bench next to him.

  “Don’t you be ‘darlinin’ me, you pond scum, you–” She marched toward him, and he jumped up, grabbing her around the waist, pulling her to him.

  “And you’re beautiful. Even more so when you’re angry.” He tried to kiss her.

  It called to mind how stupefying it felt to be in his arms. For a split second, she contemplated giving in to the moment. But remembering what a liar he was and all he had done, she came to her senses and pushed him away. She glared at him over the towel, wiping her lips as if to wipe away the bad memories.

  “I don’t know why you’re here or why you brought a racket. I’m not playing tennis with you, Virgil Pepper. I’m not doing anything with you ever again. I thought you understood we were through.”

  “I don’t know why you won’t answer my calls. And why do you have your panties in such an uproar?” he huffed. “I’m the one who should be mad.”

  “My undergarments are just fine, thank you. I guess now would be as good a time as any to tell you I’m seeing someone. So I’ll thank you kindly to keep your lips, your lies, and your pond scumin’ self away from me.” She wasn’t really seeing anyone but thought maybe if she said it he would stop relentlessly pursuing her.

  Virgil propped his hands on his hips. “Someone? Just who are you seeing?”

  “Whom,” Caledonia shot back.

  He ignored her rebuke and stared at her, waiting for an answer.

  She snatched a name out of the blue; someone she wished she were seeing. “If you must know, I’m seeing Snow Cooper.”

  He grunted. “Why are you wasting time with him? You can do better than that.”

  “No. I can do better than you. And that, Mr. Peacock, he is in spades.”

  His mouth hung open in stunned silence. She reveled in the fact that she had rendered him speechless and decided to continue. “I don’t consider you a vulture, you know. I consider you something a vulture would eat.”

  Virgil finally found his voice. “You know, Caledonia, I’d slap you senseless, but I can’t spare the three seconds.”

  She gasped and propped her hands on her hips. “I’d rather pass a kidney stone than spend another minute with you.”

  Virgil’s tone grew shrill. His stance matched hers. “Oh yeah? Well, I’d tell you to have your head examined, but I don’t think the doctors would find anything there.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “You are living proof that manure can grow legs and walk.”

  A fanfare notification emanated from the iPhone in his pocket, breaking the tense moment. A knowing look came over her face. He sighed heavily, pulled out the phone from his pocket, and made a face when he saw the screen.

  “Prime example of why I don’t want to have anything to do with you. Which one of your women is it this time?” She hated the tone of her voice. It suggested she was jealous. She wasn’t. She was done.

  He stuffed the phone into his shorts’ pocket. “Nobody important. Come here.” He reached for her. “Let’s make up.”

  Caledonia backed away. “No. Let’s put this to rest. Who’s texting you?”

  He advanced on her. He wasn’t a big man, but he was bigger than she, and he looked menacing. She held both her ground and her hand, indicating she wanted him to give her his phone. After another heavy sigh, he silently handed it to her, hanging his head.

  Then it was her turn to sigh. “Scary Mary.” She tapped the phone screen to go back to the list of recent texts. Out of ten texts, only one was from a man. The others were from Ann, Clara, Kitty, Judy, Patty, Marcy, Grace, Gretchen, Robin . . . She stopped scrolling. As usual, there was a never-ending stream of women contacting him and vice versa. Returning the phone, she scooted around him and hurried to gather her things.

  “Most of those are work related,” he tried.

  “Yeah, I’ll bet,” she said over her shoulder.

  He followed. “I think you’re adorable. I told you there’s no one else. Don’t be such a baby.”

  She ignored the petty and ridiculous slight. “Then why are you texting all those women?” It was a rhetorical question. She already knew why. Some were exes, former flings, women he wanted but couldn’t seduce, or maybe even some he was currently seeing. He used all of them for entertainment, attention, and triangulation.

  He came up with his usual tired line. “They’re just friends. That’s all. I have zero interest in them. You’re the only one for me. I realize that now. It just took me longer than you to get there, but now I am. I realize what I had, and I want it back.”

  Caledonia kept her back to him as she picked up the racket cover. “That’s too bad. ‘Cause I realize you’re a no-good, lying, narcissistic toad and I have zero interest in you.”

  He grabbed for her left elbow. Instinctively, the racket in her right hand came up in a flash, and her daydream of his head being the ball became a reality. He dropped like a sack of potatoes.

  Her hands flew to her face. “Oh my goodness.” She knelt down and lightly smacked his face. He moaned. She let out her breath and leaned
over him to see the injury. She hadn’t broken the skin, but there was going to be a knot, that’s for sure. The side of the racket had hit his thick skull.

  “Excellent. Try explaining that to all your friends. And I hope you get a heck of a headache out of it too.” Caledonia stood and glared at the no-good lying cur dog. Making a face, she thought: Since he lies so well, he can lie here all night for all I care. In a perfect world, it would start to rain. She dropped the tennis racket beside the semi-conscious man before stomping off. You can keep your tennis racket, your lies, and your false promises, mister.

  She gathered her things, and with one last glance over her shoulder at her former boyfriend splayed out on the tennis court, it struck her how she preferred seeing him lying like that over his usual form of lying. She stalked off, only regretting all the time she’d wasted on him.

  Caledonia was resplendent in a hot pink sweater and black slacks as she walked into Slick & Junebug’s Diner the next morning after getting her boys, Pickle—a high school senior—off to work and Peanut—a sixth grader—off to a friend’s house. It was her habit to stop in every morning before she went to open up the dress shop she owned. Her day didn’t really get started until she’d had her morning gossip and cup of coffee. This morning, the place was buzzing. With a smile and a wave, she scooted past the regulars—two old men, Clive and Earl—at their usual place at the counter and joined her best friend, Paprika Parker, in a window booth. They liked that spot so they could see what was going on in the town square while they drank their coffee and talked about town happenings.

  Paprika could read Caledonia like a book. “What’s wrong?”

  “No good morning? You’re just gonna jump right in?” Caledonia uprighted her coffee cup on its saucer.

  “Might as well. I can see something’s up.”

  “Is it that obvious?” Caledonia’s brow furrowed.

  “Stop frowning. You’ll form wrinkles. And yes, to me it’s that obvious. Now for the last time, out with it.”

  “Oh for heaven’s sake. All right.” She let out a heavy sigh. “Virgil made another play for me last night.”

  “After all you’ve done to make it clear there will never be anything between you again? Why doesn’t the man ever give up?”

  Caledonia’s hand went up to stop her friend. “It’s a power play. He wants to be the dump-er instead of the dump-ee. Don’t worry. I didn’t give in. What I did give him was what for. You woulda been proud of me, Spice Girl.” Caledonia had long ago given the nickname to her friend, even though she was always tempted to call her Pippi because she resembled an adult Pippi Longstocking. Caledonia hunched her shoulders and leaned in, slightly sheepish but a touch defiant. She cupped her hand to the side of her mouth and whispered, “I hauled off and whacked him over the head with a tennis racket.”

  Paprika sat up straight, her eyes bugging out behind her glasses. “You did not.”

  “I most certainly did. Admittedly, it was a reflexive action, but upon reflection I’m glad I did it. Say, it didn’t by any chance rain last night, did it?” Caledonia wound some of her long blonde hair around a finger.

  “Not that I’m aware. What do you mean a reflexive action?”

  “I’d told him to take a hike and walked away from him. When he came up behind me and grabbed my left arm, my right arm reacted. I tell you what, he dropped like a bag of flour.”

  Paprika broke out in a huge grin. “I wish I’d been there to see that.”

  The women were laughing when owner, waitress, and half namesake of the diner, Junebug Calloway, came to the table. She had a crease in her septuagenarian forehead.

  “Junebug, don’t do that. It’ll make your forehead permanently wrinkled.” Caledonia held out her coffee cup.

  “I just thought you’d be a might subdued this morning, Caledonia, what with the news and all. I know that man did you wrong, but laughing at a time like this? I’m a might surprised is all.” She finished filling the cup and set the pot on the table, hands on her hips.

  The two women exchanged bewildered looks before directing their confusion toward Junebug. “What news?” they asked simultaneously.

  Junebug’s mouth dropped open, and she got a gleam in her eye. She loved to be the first one to pass on a bit of gossip. “You mean you haven’t heard?”

  Again, both women were in sync. “Heard what?”

  “‘Bout Virgil.”

  The women stared at her blankly.

  “He got stamped ‘return to sender.’”

  “Return to sender?” Caledonia’s hand went to her throat. “You don’t mean . . . ”

  Junebug nodded. “I do mean. He’s picking turnips with a stepladder now.”

  Caledonia’s head bobbed from side to side. “That’s ridiculous. I just saw him yesterday afternoon.”

  “You didn’t conk him over the head, did you?” Junebug chuckled but stopped when she saw the look that passed between the women.

  “What do you mean, Junebug?” Caledonia’s mouth had gone dry.

  “Well, somebody did. Bopped him on that thick noggin of his. Now they’re basting that turkey in formaldehyde.” As an afterthought, she added, “May he rest in peace.”

  Junebug’s eyes went from woman to woman. “Listen, I hate to deliver bad news and run, but I’m in the weeds. Look at this crowd. Nothing like a good murder to bring out the townsfolk.” She held up a finger to a man two booths away. “Be right there, Chet.” Returning her eyes to Caledonia, she said, “Anything besides coffee today, ladies?”

  Caledonia shook her head with a vacant expression on her face.

  “Bring us two chocolate iced donuts, Junebug,” Paprika said.

  Junebug nodded. “It looks like y’all could use a pick-me-up. Two life preservers, coming up.”

  When Junebug left, the women stared at each other, both instinctively closing their mouths when they saw the other’s wide open. Caledonia swallowed hard. Paprika covered her mouth with her hand.

  Finally, Caledonia leaned in and whispered, “You don’t think I killed him, do you?” Sitting back, she answered her own question, “I killed him. I sent the man to be with Jesus.”

  “Now, Caledonia, don’t go getting ahead of yourself. And I doubt it’s Jesus he’s keeping company with if you ask me.”

  “You heard her. Someone conked him over the head. That someone was me.” Caledonia poked her chest with a finger. “I offed a man. I’m a stone-cold killer. What will happen to the children?”

  Paprika grabbed her friend’s hand. “Hush it. Not another word until we find out more. And talk to a lawyer.”

  “I don’t know if a lawyer will talk to me. After all, I just killed my last one.”

  “Caledonia Culpepper, get ahold of yourself.”

  Caledonia stared blankly and muttered, “You take care of the boys until Mother can get here.”

  “Take care of the boys? What are you talking about?”

  Caledonia slid out of the booth.

  “Where are you going?”

  “I reckon to jail.” She walked to the counter where Johnny Butterfield, the chief of police, sat. Offering him her wrists, she said, “Lock me up, Chief. I’m a murderer.”

  One

  I have a higher and grander standard of principle than George Washington. He could not lie; I can, but I won't.–Mark Twain

  Early May, six months before Dead Virgil

  “I think he’s a player, Spice Girl.” Caledonia wasted no time in getting to the point with her best friend. Paprika had barely slid into the diner booth when Caledonia began relating her concerns over her new relationship.

  “What makes you say that?” Paprika glanced up, saw the day waitress, Willa Jean, approaching, and mouthed, “Sweet tea, please,” while Caledonia answered her question.

  Her body slumped down farther into the booth seat, an outward reflection of her mood. “It’s just intuition. You know Mama used to say ‘Don’t shush your gut.’ I don’t know what to do.”

  “S
tart from the beginning. Y’all have been dating for how long?”

  Just then, Tess Tremaine dropped into the booth next to Paprika.

  “Sorry I’m late. What’d I miss?”

  Paprika, never gifted with the grace of tact, filled in Tess: “Caledonia thinks Virgil’s a player. She’s about to tell us why her gut’s talking to her like a rooster at dawn.” She turned to Caledonia. “Now, I repeat. How long y’all been dating?”

  “About a month.” Caledonia bobbled her head from side to side. “Give or take a week. You know he was my lawyer in the divorce. We were spending so much time trying to get a settlement ironed out, we grew close, you know, discovered we enjoyed each other’s company. He’s divorced too. He let some time pass after my divorce then he up and contacted me out of the blue.”

  Paprika put her hands up. “The upshot is, you like him, right?”

  Caledonia nodded. “I do, Spice Girl. It’s so nice to have an adult conversation, I mean really talk to someone. And I’d forgotten how exciting the beginning of a relationship can be. He makes me feel wanted. He makes me feel pretty and desirable–”

  Tess raised an eyebrow. “He’s not the only man who can make you feel that way, you know. And no offense, but I know you can find a better looking man.”

  Caledonia shrugged. “Maybe, maybe not. Men aren’t exactly beating down my door.”

  “Callie girl, this is a small town where everyone knows everyone else’s business. People have to tread lightly.”

  Willa Jean brought Paprika’s tea and set down one with a lemon wedge propped on the glass for Tess. “I figured you’d want one, and I didn’t forget the sour.”

  Tess flashed a smile before squeezing the lemon into the tea. “You figured right. Thank you.”

  After Willa Jean took their breakfast orders, Paprika picked up the conversation again. “Now get on with it. Why do you think he’s a player? And don’t say it’s women’s intuition. I want particulars.”