Free 2 Heroes & Hooligans in Goose Pimple Junction by Amy Metz Page B

answering to that name. I told them the only Applewhite I know in town is Martha Maye. And Butterbean, of course. So technically, that would make t—”
    Johnny slapped his hand on his desk. “You don’t give out information on our residents to total strangers,” he bellowed. “Who were these clowns? Did they show some ID?”
    Bernadette’s face lost all color. “Shucks, Chief. I’m sorry.” She looked like she was going to cry. “They flashed a badge, but I didn’t look at it carefully. I just assumed—”
    Johnny got up and went to Bernadette, taking her by the elbow and leading her to the chair in front of his desk.
    “All right, Bernadette. I’m sorry I raised my voice. Start from the beginning. How long ago were they here? What did they look like? What did they say?”
    “Geez Louise, Chief. What are you getting all exercised for?”
    Johnny perched on the edge of his desk in front of her and rubbed his hand over his face. “I’m not worked up. Just tell me the whole thing from the beginning.”
    “Well, two men came in, they’s dressed real nice, but they reminded me of Mutt and Jeff—you know, one real tall and the other one . . . not. They said they were detectives from”—she took a tissue from the box on Johnny’s desk—”I can’t remember where from, but they showed me a shiny badge, and the tall one said he liked my hair.” She looked up at Johnny, who folded his arms across his chest and stared at her.
    In a small voice, she said, “They seemed real nice.”
    Hank said, “That’s about as useful as a prefabricated post hole.”
    “I see that now. But at the time. . .” She stopped to wipe her nose.
    “Go ahead, Bernadette.”
    “Well, let’s see. They said something like, ‘We’re here to inquire about one Leonard Applewhite, also goes by the name of Lenny. Do you know of this person?’ I said no I did not. I said we have a Martha Maye Applewhite and a Butterbean Applewhite, but no Lenny Applewhite.” She fidgeted with the tissue in her hands. “And that was about it.”
    “They didn’t ask where Martha Maye lived?” Johnny wanted to know. The look on her face was answer enough.
    “I . . . I . . .”
    “Good heavenly days, Bernadette, you told them where Martha Maye lives?”
    “No, I may have had a temporary stupidity attack, but it wasn’t fatal.” She looked down at her lap, and her voice softened. “I may have told them she taught up at the school.”
    Johnny let out a deep breath and ran his hand through his hair. He stomped around the desk and dropped into his chair.
    “Have we learned a lesson today, Bernadette?”
    “Yessir,” she said timidly, pulling at the tissue still in her hands.
    “Next time someone you don’t know comes in asking questions, you direct them to an officer or to me.”
    “Yessir.”
    “What else? You said there were two things.”
    “Skeeter was just over to the diner. He says Slick told him a box of ‘nanas is gone. Says he ain’t never had a box of food stolen in all his born days.” She stood up, shaking her head. “Pumpkins and ‘nanas. This town is going to Hell in a hand basket.” She left the office muttering, “Hell in a hand basket, Hell in a hand basket …”
    “What in the Sam Hill is going on? Who’s asking about Lenny, and what kind of bandit steals pumpkins and ‘nanas?”
    “A hungry one?” Hank shrugged his right shoulder.
    Johnny dropped his chin and looked under raised eyebrows at Hank. “What’re you doing standing around, Officer? Get out there and catch us a thief, and I want every officer on duty looking for these two mystery men.”

    The box was sitting on Martha Maye’s back step. She nearly stepped on it when she went out to take a bag of trash to the garbage can. This one was a white box with a huge red bow and had a tag on it that simply said, MARTHA MAYE .
    It was late on a Saturday night, and Butterbean had been in bed for hours. A shiver passed through Martha Maye when she picked up