Short & Tall Tales in Goose Pimple Junction Read online

  “Let’s drop off our masterpieces and then go meet up with Louetta at the VFW breakfast feast over at the Methodist church. She wants us to meet her sister.”

  “Her sister’s in town?”

  “Yep. Says she’s eighty-four going on fifty-four. She came in just for the Apple Day weekend.”

  Jack and Tess joined the line at the pie tent. There were nineteen ladies, each holding a pie, and they all turned to look at Jack and his pie.

  “Are you entering two pies, Tess?” Edna Earl looked disapprovingly over the top of her glasses.

  “She most certainly is not. What’s wrong with y’all? You act like you’ve never seen a man bake a pie before.”

  “That’s ‘cause we haven’t.” Edna Earl’s daughter, Shirleen, examined Jack’s pie, looking suspiciously at him. “You mean to tell us you made that pie?”

  “That’s exactly what I mean. And apparently none of y’all have bothered to look at the day’s schedule, or you’d know I’m giving the Praise the Lard & Pass the Apple Pie Workshop later this afternoon.” Jack’s look of satisfaction married the shocked expressions on the women’s faces, quieting everyone for a few moments. Finally, Tess found her voice.

  “You . . . you’re giving the cooking class?”

  “Does the Pope wear a funny hat?” Jack winked at Tess.

  Tess’s brow creased. “Aren’t you just full of surprises.”

  “Come on, I’ll tell you about it over pancakes.”

  For three dollars, you got biscuits and gravy, scrambled eggs, cinnamon rolls, pancakes, bacon, apple juice, and coffee at the VFW breakfast. Jack and Tess filled their plates and made their way to Louetta’s table.

  “Well, there you two are. We were about to send out a search party for you. Y’all, I want you to meet my older sister, Ima Jean.” Lou emphasized the words older sister. “Imy, this here is Jackson Wright and Tess Tremaine.”

  “Pleased to meet y’all. You know, she never has introduced me without calling me her older sister.”

  “Well you are my older sister. Lawzee, don’t be so touchy.”

  After the plates were empty, Tess leaned in. “Lou, we nearly caused a riot at the pie tent. Did you know Jack’s giving the cooking class this afternoon?”

  “’Course I did. Didn’t you? You two are engaged, aren’t you?”

  “It appears we need to work on communication.” Tess shook her head at both of them in mock disgust, but her scowl turned to a bright smile when she saw Martha Maye and Butterbean walking toward them.

  “Come on, y’all, they’re about to start the Apple Dumpling Pageant.”

  “Apple Dumpling?” Tess turned to Jack.

  “Sure. We have an Apple Day Queen, and an Apple Day Dumpling — kind of like the princess version — it’s for little girls four and under.”

  “Can we walk through the bank lot to see the antique cars on the w —”

  “Chester! Over here!” Ima Jean called out, interrupting Louetta and waving to a smarmy-looking man who appeared to be in his sixties. He wore a Hawaiian shirt untucked over baggy, wrinkled khaki pants.

  “Who’s that, Imy?” Lou put a hand on her sister’s shoulder and craned her neck to see the man Ima Jean was enthusiastically waving at.

  “That’s Chester,” Ima Jean said around a tube of lipstick that she was using to paint her lips bright red. Then she popped a peppermint into her mouth.

  “Well I gathered that. I’m not deaf. ‘Specially since you about busted my eardrum when you called him over here.” The women watched Chester as he weaved and bobbed his way through the crowd. “But who is he?”

  “He’s my new suitor. He asked if he could court me, and I graciously accepted.”

  “Your suitor?” Lou’s response came out louder than intended. She lowered her voice. “How did you meet him? How long have you known him? Who are his people?”

  “Good green lands, child, you ask too many questions. Now hush. Here he comes.”

  Chester approached the group with a forced smile and went straight to Ima Jean, planting a wet kiss on her cheek. “I’m sorry I’m so late, sugarplum. Did I miss breakfast?”

  Lou looked at Tess and Martha Maye and mouthed, “Sugarplum?”

  “We just finished, but I can stay back with you while you eat.” She turned to the group. “Y’all go on ahead to the pageant. We’ll be along directly.”

  “Why don’t you introduce us to your gentleman friend first, Imy?” Lou’s lips pressed together, and her tone suggested she wasn’t asking but telling.

  “Land sakes, where are my manners? Chester Hale, I’d like you to meet everybody.” She went through the introductions and Chester shook hands with Jack and kissed the ladies’ hands, including Butterbean, who giggled. When he turned back toward Ima Jean, Lou wiped her hand on the side of her bright red pants, making a face like she wanted to throw up at Tess and Martha Maye.

  Ima Jean shooed the group with her hands. “Now y’all g’won, don’t let us hold you up, or you’re likely to miss the Apple Dumpling Pageant.” She waved her fingers in the air.

  Lou shot a worried look at her sister but motioned for the group to follow her. “All right, Imy. You join us soon, okay?” Ima Jean waved them on.

  Martha Maye saw her mother’s furrowed brow and pursed lips. “What’s the matter, Mama?”

  “You know I have a gift when it comes to reading people. My read on Chester is something ain’t right.”

  “He seems nice enough to me,” Martha Maye said. “I think it’s nice Aunt Imy has a beau.”

  “Yeah, well, unfortunately you didn’t inherit my gift for reading people, bless your heart.” Lou patted Martha Maye on the back. “Everyone you’ve ever picked turned out to be — ”

  “Mama, hush,” Martha Maye whispered to her mother. “Lenny’s still Butterbean’s daddy. Don’t talk about him that way in front of her.”

  “Anyway,” Lou continued, “the way Imy’s been acting lately, I’m worried about her judgment.”

  “Mama’s afraid Imy has the start of that Old Timer’s disease,” Martha Maye explained to Jack and Tess.

  “What’s Old Timer’s disease, Mama?” Butterbean tugged on her mother’s hand.

  “Little pitchers have big ears,” Lou said. She turned to her granddaughter. “It means she’d forget her head if it wasn’t attached. She’s been acting squirrelly lately. Why, she tried to pay the bill twice yesterday at the diner. Good thing Junebug’s good people and didn’t take advantage of her.”

  Talk of Ima Jean and her beau were put on hold as the group watched the Apple Dumpling Pageant followed by the Apple Day Parade. Sitting on Jack’s wide front porch, watching the Shriner’s antics in the parade, Lou’s brow was furrowed in worry now; Ima Jean never had rejoined them.

  “I wonder whatever happened to them.”

  “Maybe they went to the Silent Auction.”

  “Or the Hard Cider Workshop.”

  “Or the Senior Citizen Craft Fair.”

  Lou was quiet throughout the rest of the parade. The group hooted and hollered when Pickle passed by in the marching band; they clapped for the politicians, except for Mayor Buck Lyons. They merely politely waved at him, while they oohed and ahhed at the floats.

  After the last car in the parade passed by, the group was getting ready to go inside for refreshments when a squad car dashed up the road. Hank pulled into the driveway and stopped with a lurch. He jumped out of his car and hurried to the front porch with a serious expression on his face.

  “Officer Beanblossom,” Jack said, “what’s the matter?”

  Hank looked at Lou. “It’s Ima Jean, Louetta. She’s been taken to the hospital.”

  He’s as useless as a blind man’s driver’s license.

  ~Louetta Stafford

  Martha Maye rushed down the hospital corridor, holding Butterbean’s hand and practically pulling her daughter along. She stopped at the end of one hall and looked left and then right. When she saw her mother, Tess, and Jack,
she quickly went to them.

  “How is she? What on earth happened? ” she asked as she rushed up to them.

  Lou went to her, wrapping her into a hug. “It was a stroke, honey. It was a pretty bad one, but she’s hanging on.”

  Martha Maye’s hand went to her cheek. “Lord have mercy. I can’t believe it. She was just with us, fine as day, and now . . . ” she looked into the room through the open door, “now she’s laying in there hanging on for dear life.”

  “Don’t you worry, hon. Imy’s a tough old bird. She’s gonna pull through. It — ” Lou abruptly stopped talking. Her eyes narrowed at a figure coming toward them.

  Chester Hale, looking unconcerned, joined the group. “How is she?”

  Stiffly, Louetta said, “She’s alive.”

  Jack took Chester by the arm. “Why don’t you come with me, and let’s get us a cup a joe?”

  “I’m coming too, Jack.” Tess turned toward her friend. “Martha Maye, Lou, can I get you all anything?”

  “No darlin’. We’re just fine.” Louetta answered for both of them, shooting a hard look at Chester as he rounded a corner. “We’re better now that he’s gone. Tell Jack thanks for getting him the heck outta here.”

  Tess nodded and looked down at Butterbean. “How about you, sweetie?” Butterbean shook her head no, her little face full of worry.

  Tess found Jack and Chester in the hospital’s small cafe. The men got coffee, and Tess got a Coke. They settled down at a table.

  “So, Chester. How long have you known Ima Jean?”

  “Aw, about five years, I expect. Long enough to be close friends. I care about what happens to her.”

  Tess muttered, “More likely you care about what happens to her money.”

  Jack shot her a look and forged on. “How did you meet?”

  “Now there’s a funny story. I met her through my friend, Possum.”

  Jack and Tess gave him a strange look.

  “Well, that wasn’t his given name, of course. His friends call him Possum. I don’t know how he came to be called that. His mama named him Kevin. But I can’t call him that. He’s Possum to me and always will be Possum to me.”

  Jack and Tess raised eyebrows.

  Chester cleared his throat. “Anyway, he introduced us. At the time, he was sweet on her, and he could tell I took a liking to her myself, but he forbade me to go out with her. Well, he’s been my friend for forty-eleven years, and you just don’t spit in the face of a friendship that old.”

  “No. I guess you don’t,” Jack said over his coffee cup.

  “But Possum is in poor health. He doesn’t get out much anymore, so Ima Jean and I do. Get out, I mean.” He looked from Jack to Tess. “What he don’t know won’t hurt him. When two people are drawn to each other, you just can’t fight the feeling. You know what I mean?”

  “So you’ve been dating Ima Jean without your friend knowing it?”

  “Yep. That’s about the size of things.”

  Under his breath, Jack said, “So much for not spitting.” He clasped his hands on the table and leaned in, saying in a louder voice, “And just what are your intentions, Mr. Hale?”

  “Aw, call me Chester. And I got nothing but good intentions.” Chester ignored Jack and turned to Tess. “Don’t you worry your pretty little head about that, lil’ lady. Ima Jean’s good to me, and I’m good to her.”

  “How so?” Jack cocked an eyebrow.

  “You know, I’ve always wanted to do that.” He gestured at Jack’s eyebrow. “How do you do it?” His forehead moved up and down and all around, but he couldn’t raise one eyebrow without raising the other one too.

  “It’s a gift.” Jack rolled his eyes.

  “What sorts of things do you two do — if you don’t mind me asking.” Tess poured more Coke into her cup.

  “Aw, we go out to dinner, and lunch, and . . . ” He scratched his head and then chuckled. “I guess those are the main activities. Least the ones I can recount in polite company.” He flashed a “you know what I mean” look at Jack. Tess stiffened and blushed.

  Jack ignored him. “Who pays for these lunches and dinners?”

  “Aw, sometimes I do. Sometimes she does. She’s a very generous person.”

  “I’ll bet.”

  Martha Maye, Butterbean, and Louetta came into the cafeteria just then. Walking up to the table, Lou said, “The doctor said she needs to rest and shouldn’t have visitors, so we’re going home. You leave her be, Mr. Hale. You hear?” She crossed her arms.

  “Yes, ma’am. I was just telling Jack and Tess here what good friends Ima Jean and I’ve become.” He put his hand over his heart. “I do care for her an awful lot.”

  “And her money,” Lou boldly said.

  Chester pretended not to hear. “If there’s anything I can do, you just call me. I’m staying up at the motel.”

  “I’ll be sure to do that,” Lou said stiffly. “I wouldn’t wait by the phone if I were you.” Lou turned on her heel and marched off.

  In the car, as Jack drove everyone home, Martha Maye asked what Lou had against Chester Hale.

  “I took an instant dislike to the man. I don’t trust him, and I don’t like him. And I do trust my sixth sense. It’s never wrong.”

  Martha Maye leaned toward the front seat where her mother sat. “But he hasn’t done a thing.”

  “Doesn’t have to. He just exudes a spurious nature.”

  “What’s supurious mean, Granny?”

  “Spurious. It means phony. Fake. A charlatan. A pretender.” Lou looked out the window and then turned her face back toward Martha Maye. “Imy’s been telling me about a man, but I didn’t pay it much attention.” She twisted in the seat toward the back of the car. “She never named names, but some of the things she told me made me wonder if he wasn’t just shining her on.”

  “Shining her on?” Butterbean’s voice went up in question.

  Lou nodded. “I think he’s been taking advantage of her and her generous nature. She told me she’s been giving cash to someone who’s down on his luck right now.”

  Tess spoke up. “He said they go out to eat a lot. Jack asked him who pays, and he said both of them do.”

  “Maybe I’m old fashioned, but I say a man who lets a woman pay for his meals isn’t a man,” Lou harrumphed.

  He’s about as crooked as a snake.

  ~Martha Maye Applewhite

  Ima Jean improved over the next few days, while Lou ran herself ragged, dividing her time between hovering over her sister at the hospital and keeping the bookstore open. Tess and Jack decided to do some investigating on their own in Ima Jean’s town, forty-five minutes north of Goose Pimple Junction. After moseying around town asking questions, they went to the Butler County Sheriff’s Office.

  “Chester Hale, Chester Hale . . . ” a Detective Galen Rose repeated the name as he searched his computer for any mention of one Chester Hale. Jack and Tess sat on the other side of the desk. “Nothing in the database about him. What’s his address?”

  “We don’t know. Nobody seems to know.” Tess raised her hands up helplessly.

  “Let me check some other places.” His fingers flew over the keyboard, and then he stopped to read. “Do you know of a Betty Ann Holdaway?” The detective looked up from his computer.

  Tess sat up straight. “No. Why?”

  “Says here they were married once.” Galen Rose twirled a pencil between his fingers as he worked.

  “Interesting.” Jack got up and looked over the detective’s shoulder at the computer screen.

  The detective looked up. “Have you ever seen him drive a Lexus?”

  “We were under the impression he was practically destitute. At least that appears to be the story he’s told Ima Jean, and she’s told her sister.”

  “Yeah, and I’ll bet he has cancer too.”

  “Excuse me?” Tess cocked her right ear in his direction.

  Galen turned only his face to her. “That’s a common line with these con men. They
prey on the sympathy of kind people.” His eyes went from Tess to his computer screen, which he continued to look at while he talked. “His last known address was 121 Beacher Street. That’s what’s listed on his driver’s license. Says here he owns a 2010 Lexus.”

  “Oh, my gosh. He really is conning her.”

  “Looks like. Let me do some investigating, and I’ll get back with y’all.”

  As soon as they left the police station, they drove to 121 Beacher Street. A man in his thirties, who was tossing a ball with a boy in the front yard, said he’d never heard of a Chester Hale. Tess called Lou. She told her what they’d found out so far.

  “Well, bite my butt and call me an apple. I’ve got to warn her. Lessee . . . it’s almost five o’clock. I can’t leave the store yet. Pickle’s the only other one here. Imy’s supposed to come home tomorrow. Do you think it would be all right to wait until then to talk to her? After I leave here, I have to go home and get her room ready. Martha Maye’s sitting with her now.”

  “I don’t see what it would hurt,” Tess said. “What could he do overnight? Besides, he’s a con man, not a murderer. Just do what you have to do. This news will keep until tomorrow.”

  Louetta held the cordless phone between her cheek and her shoulder while she wrote down a list of things her sister wanted at the grocery store.

  “I’d like some peanuts to snack on and some of that popcorn I can cook.”

  Lou’s forehead scrunched up. “You mean microwave popcorn?”

  “Yes. That’s it. And I need some peanut butter. I get Jif, and see if you can find some with little bitty peanuts chopped up in it.”

  “You want chunky peanut butter?”

  “Yeah! Chunky. That’s what I want. And some cherry jelly — ”

  Lou interrupted her sister. “You want jam or jelly?”

  “Well, whatever. I suppose jam is fruitier. Or preserves. And some thin-sliced white bread too.”

  “Okay, what else, hon?”

  “Some of those Hershey bars. The little bitty ones. A big package of them.”