Liars & Lunatics in Goose Pimple Junction Read online

  The daughter sat back as if to take a passive role in the conversation. Her mother said, “We’re from Florida.” As the boy started to interrupt she barreled on. “The Orlando area. And before that, Hollywood, California.” She smiled proudly. “My daughter is an actress.”

  Junebug propped an arm on a skinny hip. “An actress, you say. Been in anything I’d have heard of?”

  The mother took control of the conversation. “She starred in lots of plays in Hollywood as well as some commercials. But in Orlando she was Belle and Cinderella.”

  “Granny, she wasn’t–” the boy started to say, but his grandmother put her hand over his mouth.

  “She was the envy of every little girl who passed through Walt Disney World, don’t you know.”

  “I’ll just bet.” Junebug looked from woman to woman and settled on the younger one. “Whatcha gonna do in Goose Pimple Junction? Not much call for actressin’ around here.”

  “She coulda done worse,” Kaye interjected. “She coulda been an assassin or something.”

  “Mama!” Wynona gasped then mumbled, “I’m mulling over a few possibilities.”

  “Well, what can I gitcha while you’re mulling?” Junebug pulled out her pad from her front apron pocket and a pencil that was poked into the bun in her hair. She licked the end and poised it over the pad, looking expectantly from woman to woman, and then her eyes settled on the boy who was wearing a University of Kentucky basketball shirt.

  “I'll bet you want a cheeseburger, fries, and a strawberry shake.”

  The boy was surprised. “How’d you know that?”

  “Years of experience, darlin’. How about y’all?” She pointed to the mother. “You look like a blue plate special.” And then to the daughter. “And I’ll bet you want a fried cod sandwich. Sweet tea for both of y’all.”

  “Are you a witch or something?” the older woman’s voice rose to a pitch.

  “Nope.” Junebug tapped two fingers on the table. “Just an expert in my field. Back in a jiffy.”

  She stopped at Caledonia’s table on her way to place the order. “The younger woman remains a mystery, but the older one is every bit as crazy as her hairstyle.” When Caledonia looked at her skeptically, she added, “Certifiable, I tell you what.”

  Wynona thought she’d allow those small white lies. She supposed she was an actress of sorts. And she’d been glad to let slide the other two lies about where they were from. That busybody didn’t need to know everything about them. Sometimes having a liar for a mama was fortuitous. But she was starting to wonder if she’d done the right thing in bringing her mother with them. Or coming back here in the first place.

  She waited until the occupants of the table next to them had left, but still she lowered her voice. “Listen, y’all. I have something important to tell you.”

  The little boy looked up at his mother quizzically; Wynona’s mother stared out the window defiantly.

  “I’m changing my name to Daisy and absolutely under no circumstances are you to call me Wynona. You hear?”

  “Why, Mama?”

  Because I used to be a hitwoman and there are two unsolved mysteries in this town. Not to mention, I’m scared silly about anyone remembering me, particularly a certain handsome police officer. “I have my reasons. From now on, I’m Daisy Baxter.”

  “Can I change my name?”

  “No you may not. Charlie suits you just fine.”

  “I don’t know why you wanna throw out a perfectly good name,” Kaye huffed.

  Wynona/Daisy shrugged. “New life, new name.”

  “Then we all should get new names,” whined Charlie.

  “I don’t want a new name. I’ve been Kaye Bailey Baxter for sixty-two years; no need to change now.”

  “Well, I’m gonna call you Mama anyway. Makes no nevermind to me what you call yourself.” She turned to her son. “Charlie, if anyone should ask you what your mother’s name is, what are you gonna say?”

  He let out an exaggerated sigh. “Daisy Baxter.”

  “Good boy.”

  Once the meals had been devoured, Daisy was anxious to get going. “Now, let’s beat feet. I need to drop you two off at our new home, unload the car, and then get to a meeting. I’m looking at a shopfront for my new cupcake business.”

  “I like your cupcakes,” Charlie offered.

  She ruffled her son’s blond hair. “Who doesn’t? Cupcakes are muffins that believed in miracles.”

  “Well, I still say it’s gonna take a miracle to make a living selling cupcakes,” Kaye said, following her daughter and grandson to the front of the diner. “Maybe we should sell weed out of the back or something to supplement our income.”

  “Hush it, Mama.”

  Three

  Lying is a thriving vocation. –Susanna Centlivre

  Early May, six months before Dead Virgil

  Wynona, well, Daisy, walked past the shops on Main Street. She looked at the torn ad in her hand: FOR LEASE: 115 HONEYSUCKLE STREET. As she approached Fern & Moody’s General Store, a yellow sign in the window caught her attention: HELP WANTED. She took note, in case the bakery didn’t pan out, so to speak. She liked the looks of the grocery store from the outside. Bins brimming with fresh flowers and produce sat in front of the store. The windows had advertisements and prices posted, and Daisy smiled at a sign: CHURCH HATS SOLD HERE. She cupped her hand over her eyes and peered through the window. It was a smallish store filled to the brim. The cut tulips for sale caught her eye, but she resisted the temptation.

  She turned off Main and onto Honeysuckle. The shops were smaller than on Main Street, but every bit as cute. Most of the stores were two-story brick structures. Some had painted woodwork over the first floor brick, and some were more time-worn than others. Right away she noticed the dress shop she’d been to on her last visit to town, although it had changed names since then. Instead of MISS PENNY’S DRESS SHOP, now it was simply DRESS ME. Looking at the shop made her feel a twinge of guilt, more than a twinge of guilt, actually, but she pushed it aside. Beautiful dresses were on display in the windows, and Daisy cringed when she saw some Jimmy Choo shoes. How her feet longed for a pair . . .

  Diagonally across the street from the dress shop was a florist called HONEYSUCKLE & MARIGOLD. The store had white woodwork over the brick and a black-and-white striped awning. There was one large picture window with a window box full of pansies. She scanned the street. Next to the dress shop was Harry’s hair salon, then a pizza shop, a barbecue joint with a sign in the window saying, THE BEST DANG BBQ YOU’LL EVER EAT, and an ice cream/candy shop called THE SCOOP. On the other side was a lingerie shop, a meat shop, a realty company, and . . . uh oh. She saw a store named MUFFIN MAN. She walked down and surveyed the menu in the window. She let out her breath. While they did sell muffins, they mostly sold breakfast foods and pastries. She would be selling cupcakes, with a few muffins, cakes, and the occasional pie. Muffin Man had tables and chairs for eat-in dining, and she planned to just have counters with display cases in hers. She didn’t want to fool with dirty dishes or hiring wait staff. 115 Honeysuckle Street was in between the florist and the butcher shop. She crossed the street and walked back up, stopping in front of the dress shop, which was directly across the street from the store for rent. The building at 115 had possibilities. Like the other stores, it was a two-story brick front, with woodwork covering the bottom half. The wood was painted black, and there was a black-and-white striped awning over the door. Most of the storefront was taken up by the large windows on either side of the door, and she envisioned a cupcake display in the windows with flowerpots out front, maybe a bench. Yes, it had definite possibilities. She crossed the street, looking at her watch. She’d arranged to meet the owner at three o’clock, and she was right on time. Opening the door, she stepped into the empty little shop with brick walls and a gleaming hardwood floor.

  The door to the back room swung open, and a tall man with a pencil-thin mustache came out. “Well, hello there, I was just checking out the kitchen. You said you were thinking of opening a bakery?”

  “Yes, I’m Daisy Baxter.” She stuck out her hand, and he shook it. “Mostly cupcakes, but a few other baked goods as well.”

  “Everett Hale.” He let go of her hand. “You’re in luck. This space used to belong to a lawyer, but when he moved, a sandwich shop came in. They redid everything and added a kitchen. But it didn’t take long for Slick & Junebug’s Diner to put ’em out of business. They left a state-of-the-art kitchen behind though. Come on back and look at your kitchen. I think you’re gonna like it.”

  She followed the man through the door, and it swung closed behind her as she gawked at the beautiful commercial kitchen. There was a large antique table that was counter-height, and its top had the soft worn wood look that indicated it had been used for years to prepare meals. It would be perfect for decorating her cupcakes. The kitchen had two large ovens, a commercial-grade refrigerator, a huge stainless-steel sink, and lots of counter space and open shelving for her ingredients. Baking racks with big steel trays stood by the back door and next to that she noticed a door, which she asked about.

  “It’s a pantry for more storage,” he explained.

  Perfect, she thought. Opening the drawers, she was surprised to see a lot of utensils left behind.

  “The previous occupant didn’t want to take these things with them?”

  “Naw. Said they was out of business. Had no need. They’re yours if y’ont ‘em.”

  “Let me look at the front room again.” She walked back through the door and took note of what she’d need to buy: glass-front display cases, a commercial glass reach-in refrigerator/cooler for cold drinks, and a table for the front window displays. Then again, she thought, maybe just shelving would work for the
windows. She turned, trying to take it all in. It gave her positive vibes, and she could picture a crowd of people clamoring to buy her cupcakes. She noticed a small alcove and walked to it, opened a door, and found a small bathroom.

  Walking back to Everett, she nodded. “I’ll take it.”

  The man slapped his hands together. “Wonderful. Let’s go back to the kitchen where I have the paperwork.” They started toward the back, but both stopped and turned when the bell sounded over the front door. A fifty-something slightly balding man in an expensive suit came in.

  “I’m Virgil Pepper. I’m a little early for our appointment. Sorry to interrupt.”

  “Ah, yes, Mr. Pepper. This space has just been rented, but the floor above is still available. Why don’t you go have a look-see, and I’ll join you in a moment? Just go back through the door and there are steps next to it that lead to the second floor.”

  “Oh?” He looked at Daisy. “What kind of business are you planning?”

  “Cupcakes,” Daisy replied curtly. She supposed she’d have to be friendlier if she wanted the business to be a success, but something about this guy bugged her. Her spidey senses were tingling.

  The man looked put out but nodded and turned on his heels.

  “If you need to go speak with him, I can wait. I really want a lawyer to look over the papers before I sign them anyway.”

  “All right. It’s a standard contract, but I’ll give you a copy. I’ll need the signed contract, a down payment, and the first month’s rent by close of business today. As you can see, this space is in high demand.”

  “I hope I can find a lawyer that fast,” Daisy said, wondering if the arrival of the second “looker” was planned for her benefit. Her mother’s voice rang in her ears, ‘You’re so cynical. Always thinking the worst of people.’

  “I certainly hope you can too. I can’t promise to hold it any longer than the end of the day.”

  She started for the door but turned when Everett had an idea.

  “Say, I believe the man who just went upstairs mentioned he’s a lawyer. He might be willing to take a look at the contract for you.”

  “That’s an excellent idea.” Daisy instantly regretted having been so short with the man.

  “Let’s go up and ask him.”

  Virgil walked up the narrow creaking steps with a cross expression on his face. This wasn’t what he envisioned as his new office/campaign headquarters. He walked through the door, and the first thing he noticed was the eight-foot by five-foot plate glass window at the front of the building. That did have possibilities, he thought, imagining a giant campaign banner hanging across the window. He went to it and looked out at the street. When he answered the ad, he hadn’t realized it was right across the street from Caledonia’s dress shop. That might prove to be inconvenient at times. “We’re not in Knoxville anymore,” he said out loud. Behind him, he heard the door open, and he turned to find both the man and woman from downstairs coming through it.

  “You’re interested in this space too?” Virgil said testily.

  “Actually, I wondered if I could pay you for an hour of your time.”

  “What did you have in mind, ma’am?” he said, imitating Grouch Marx.

  “Mr. Hale said you’re a lawyer? I just need someone to look over this contract. The catch is, I need it done like . . . right now.”

  “Or?”

  “Or I could lose the store.”

  “So I could refuse, and you might not find another lawyer today, and I could come in and sweep the first floor out from under you, so to speak?”

  “I certainly hope you wouldn’t do that.”

  “Look,” Everett broke in, “I’s hoping maybe you’d want this place, and you’d have to look over the contract anyways, and you could do your new neighbor a favor by looking at it for her. Ain’t nothing wrong with it. Won’t take no time at all. I didn’t plan on starting World War III. But I will tell you that should you resort to those tactics, I won’t rent either space to you, and me and you are gonna go to fist city. I won’t tolerate unscrupulous people in my buildings.”

  Virgil looked uncomfortable after being chastised, and his eyes went toward the back of the room. “This floor has multiple rooms? I want to set up my law office but also have room for campaign business for the first six months.”

  “Sure. G’won back and look for yourself. Nice big room back there. Could make a mighty fine office, you ask me.”

  “I don’t know how I’d get in tables and a big desk. That staircase is awfully narrow.”

  “That’s why they built a second door in the back with a fire escape. Nice big door back there. It opens onto an alley and a small parking lot.”

  Virgil walked to the back and returned a few minutes later. “All right. Let me think about it. Can I have first right of refusal?”

  Everett scrunched up his face. “First of what?”

  “First right of refusal. Means if someone else wants this space, you’ll call me and let me decide whether I want it. You won’t rent it out from under me while I’m deciding.”

  “Oh. You and your fancy lawyer talk. Sure. Sure. First refusal of . . .”

  “First right of refusal. Now let me look at the contract.” He looked Daisy up and down and then amended his statement. “Why don’t we walk down to Muffin Man and sit down while I take a look.”

  She turned to Everett. “Then hopefully I can come right back and give you the contract and the money. Does that work for you, Mr. Hale?”

  “I guess so. Didn’t really plan on hanging around a big empty building all day, but whatever. Just so you know, there isn’t another open space in downtown Goose Pimple Junction.”

  Caledonia was redressing a mannequin when something caught the corner of her eye. She looked across the street and saw Virgil come out of the empty building with that woman she’d seen in the diner. What was he doing with her? And who was she? And why did she seem so familiar? Both were absorbed in conversation, and neither one noticed her. She watched as they walked to Muffin Man and disappeared inside.

  “Well, hell’s bells,” Caledonia said out loud. She remembered when she first met him. She could tell he was smitten, but he wasn’t particularly handsome, and she remembered looking at his face and trying to imagine kissing him. She’d felt no attraction for him whatsoever. But he’d kept flirting with her and calling her, and when he kissed her in a way she’d never been kissed before, she changed her opinion right quick. There’s something very powerful about being wanted.

  “But maybe I’m not the only one he wants.” She took her hands off her hips and resumed working with the dress. “But that’s for the birds.”

  Four

  The sad truth is, truth is sad. –Lemony Snicket

  Mid-May, five and a half months before Dead Virgil

  Caledonia, Tess, and Paprika met at the diner the next day. Without being asked, Junebug brought the ladies sweet tea—two with lemon, one without. As she set down the glasses, she said, “Did y’all hear the news?”

  In unison, the ladies said, “What news?”

  “They’re talking about shutting down The Mag Bar. Apparently two of their customers almost died.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  “I kid you not. At first, they thought it was just the flu. They had the usual symptoms—tummy pain, nausea, vomiting—but when one of ‘em had breathing difficulty, and the other had blurred vision, they knew something else was up. Bartender admitted to supplementing the drinks with Goose Juice to cut down on costs. Word is, they’re gonna cut down on him instead. He’s history; they’re just hoping they can keep the bar open.”

  Tess looked confused. “What’s Goose Juice?”

  “Moonshine.” Paprika tossed her hands and sighed. “Some people love it. I say stay away from the stuff. Think my point’s been proven now. Those poor people coulda died.”

  “Are they all right?” Caledonia asked.

  “I think they are now. It was close. Y’all let me know if y’ont anything else.” Junebug was gone in a flash, off to tell another table about her latest piece of news.