Velveeta wrote the symptoms on her note pad. “You said you began treatment?”

  “Yes. Methanol poisoning can be treated successfully if diagnosed within 10-30 hours of ingestion. We didn’t have Fomepizole, the most effective drug which is used to inhibit methanol metabolism, so we began treatment with high doses of ethanol.” The doctor pushed his hands in his lab coat pockets.

  Hank stopped the doctor. “Excuse me. You got her drunk?”

  The doctor smiled. “Yes, in a way. It can be whisky or vodka, anything like that. I believe we used whisky. We got it into her immediately. Well, as immediately as we could once we got the results. The liver processes ethanol first instead of methanol, so if the onset of methanol poisoning is delayed, the patient has more time to process methanol out of her system. We were poised to put her on dialysis, which would ensure the most comprehensive removal of methanol from her system, but we didn’t need to. She was very fortunate.”

  “Have you determined the cause of the poisoning?”

  “We believe so. She admitted to drinking Goose Juice and subsequently brought us the remainder in her jar. We tested it, and sure enough, the results were positive for high content of methanol.”

  “Did she say where she got it?”

  “That, she declined to do. Methanol poisonings by direct consumption can occur when unscrupulous individuals add industrial methanol into alcoholic beverages, so she could have gotten it at a bar like the other patients a few weeks ago. In that case, the bartender was using bootleg alcohol to cheaply pad out their liquor supply.” The doctor stopped briefly to sign a document handed to him by a nurse. He handed the document back and continued.

  “Poisoning can also be caused through improper brewing of homemade alcohol, when methanol is produced instead of ethanol. Or it could come from moldy grain that contaminated the whole lot of it, in which case we’ll be seeing more poisonings.”

  “Is there any type of warning we could put out to the public?”

  “Other than don’t buy moonshine? No. There are no really safe ways of differentiating methanol from ethanol in a homemade brew.”

  “Thanks, doc. You’ve been very helpful.”

  As they walked down the hall, Velveeta suggested they go talk to the woman. Hank disagreed.

  “It would be a waste of time, Vel. She won’t snitch.”

  “Even if it’s the cause of someone’s death? She could be a witness. She could testify.”

  “I just think she’ll play dumb, assuming she even knows who she got it from.”

  “We still have to try.”

  “I guess you’re right.”

  But in the end, Hank was the one who was right. Even though the Goose Juice made her sick, and even though it most likely was the cause of someone’s death, the Helechawa woman still claimed not to know where she got it.

  So and so gave it to so and so who gave it to whatchacallit who gave it to me, she claimed. Hank lost track of who was so and so and who was whatchacallit.

  The officers got back to the station to report what they’d found out right after Johnny had talked with the Coroner.

  “What’s up?” Johnny asked, putting the phone down.

  “Gas prices,” Hank answered.

  Johnny hitched his chin in recognition of the joke. “I just got off the phone with Coroner Corn.”

  “And?”

  “The bloodwork showed a high amount of methanol in the victim’s system.”

  “Well I’ll be,” Velveeta said, making it sound like, L I B. “Has his identity been confirmed?”

  “Yes. He was an out-of-work electrician who’d fallen on hard times. He had a drinking problem–”

  Velveeta snorted. “Moonshine killed the man. I’d say that was a definite problem.”

  Johnny shot her a look and continued. “His drinking kept him out of work and caused his marriage to fail. He was about to lose his house. He probably bought the Goose Juice because it was cheap. And he probably drank a lot of it because he was . . . well . . . a drunk.”

  “I have another scenario for you, Chief.”

  “What’s that, Hank?”

  “Considering his body was found near the still and there was a campsite not far from there, maybe he was the one running the still. He consumed his own product, not knowing it was deadly. Since he had no job and no family, nobody missed him.”

  Johnny drew in a deep breath and let it out. “It’s possible. Go over the parts for fingerprints. See if we get a match. Maybe we’re dealing with an accidental death and not homicidal poisoning.”

  After work, Hank drove by Killer Cupcakes. The storefront was beginning to look more and more like a bakery. The name of the business hung over the door and was also etched in the large front windows. Shelves were put up in the windows with small cupcake stands sitting on the shelves waiting for cupcakes, and a JOE TEA SOLD HERE sign graced the door. Two large pots of flowers sat in front of the store. He saw activity inside, so he parked and went in. Kaye was behind the counter wearing an apron that said, MAKING THE WORLD A BETTER PLACE ONE CUPCAKE AT A TIME.

  “Officer!” She came rushing around the display case with her arms outstretched. When she reached him, she wrapped them around him. “Did you come to save me?”

  “Save you? You being held against your will again?” he said sarcastically.

  “Don’t you know it. I have half a mind to go back to life before Goose Pimple Junction.”

  His ears perked up. “And where would that be?”

  “Hollywood, of course. I’m an actress, you know.” She walked back behind the counter.

  “No, I did not know. What did you act in?”

  Kaye propped her elbows on the top of the display case and leaned toward Hank. “Mostly plays, some commercials. I was up for a movie role when we moved. I coulda been a star.” She raised and dropped her arms. “But look where I am now.”

  “What did Daisy do in Hollywood?”

  Kaye waved her hand in the air. “A little of this, a little of that. Why the twenty questions?”

  Hank casually shrugged. “Trying to get to know y’all.”

  Kaye studied him. “Well, if you must know, we lived in New York for a while too. I had lots of gigs. Daisy doesn’t fall far from the tree.”

  “Oh? She was an actress too?”

  “Well, not as successful as me, but yeah, she dabbled.”

  Daisy came out of the back room saying, “Are you about finished, Moth–” she faltered briefly when she saw Hank. “Officer Beanblossom. I didn’t know you were here.”

  Hank stuffed his hands in his pockets and shuffled a bit. “Yeah, just jawing with your mother. I really stopped by to see if y’all wanted that tour. And it’s past dinnertime. I’d be happy to treat y’all at the diner.”

  Kaye took off her apron and threw it on the counter. “We accept. I knew he was here to save me.”

  Daisy sputtered, “Well, now . . . I don’t know.”

  “What’s to know? You just asked if I was about through. Go get Charlie, and let’s go.”

  She put her arm through Hank’s and looked up adoringly at him. “It’s not polite to turn down such a nice invitation.”

  Nine

  Time discovers truth. –Lucius Annaeus Seneca

  June, five months before Dead Virgil

  Virgil was having a late lunch at Slick & Junebug’s Diner when he looked up at the door and saw a woman making a beeline toward him.

  Uh oh. What in the world is she doing here? He was surprised to see her and couldn’t guess a reason for her to even be in town.

  The woman walked up and set a large brown paper sack in front of him. Then she slid in opposite him in the booth.

  “Mary Alice Larue. Do join me, won’t you?” His tone was forced friendly, and his smile was tight. He picked up the bag. “What’s this?”

  “Just a little something that reminded me of you.” She smiled sweetly at him.

  He unfolded the top of the bag and peered down into it. The contents were dark, making it hard to see what was inside, but the odor immediately gave it away. He quickly wrapped the bag back up and shoved it at her.

  “You come in here and give me a big reeking bag of dog doo? What’s got into you?”

  “I just wanted to tell you that I know the real Virgil, that’s what.” She leaned over the table as she spat out, “Besides the Virgil who’s full of poop and who’s a poop head, I’ve seen the Virgil who’s a cowardly, lily-livered, gutless, yellow-bellied liar.”

  “Now hold it right there, Mary Alice. You don’t have a right to come in here and start calling names. You and I were never married. We may have lived together—for way too long, I might add—but you have no right to be upset. I gave you the gallderned house, after all.”

  Mary Alice got up and stalked toward the door. He nodded curtly to Mayor Buck who was sitting a few booths away. Just as Virgil thought he’d gotten rid of Mary Alice, she came back, and he noticed she no longer had the bag of dog doo.

  “Oh, I’m not upset.” She slid back into the booth. “I’m here to forgive you.” She looked out the window onto Main Street. “Because I also know the Virgil who’s kind, charming, affectionate, and insecure. You need me in your life, and that’s where I intend to be. Here. In your life. In Goose Pimple Junction. I like what I see in you and in the town. Think I’ll just move here. Nothing to keep me in Knoxville now that you aren’t there.”

  “What about your job?”

  Mary Alice got a strange look on her face. She thrust her chin in the air and said, “I retired.”

  “You’re old, but you’re not that old.”

  She shot him a look.

  Virgil scowled back. “I’m trying to maintain my law practice and run for and hopefully become mayor of Goose Pimple Junction. I won’t have time to date.”

  “We’ll see about that.” She smiled mysteriously at him.

  “Look, Mary Alice. My circumstances have changed, and I’ve moved on. You should too.”

  “Oh, I am. I’m moving right on to Goose Pimple Junction. And I’m gonna show you that we’re meant to be together.”

  Junebug sidled up just then. “Hidee. What can I getcha?”

  “I heard you place an order for old maids the other day. I think that’s the perfect thing for Mary Alice here.” Then he mumbled, “On account of that’s all she’ll ever be.”

  “I don’t want a bowl of prunes, thank you very much. I’ll have what he is–an ice cream soda.”

  Virgil looked confused, but a big smile came over Junebug’s face. “Where’d you learn diner lingo, hon?”

  “I worked at a diner in my teens.” The women shared conspiratorial grins.

  “That the best you can do? Call me a soda?” Virgil’s lip curled up.

  “Oh, honey. You’re so much more than a soda.” Junebug walked away, shouting to Slick, “Give me a Jerk.” Then in a softer voice, she said, “For the woman sitting with one.”

  Virgil glared at his ex-girlfriend, and Mary Alice patted his hand and returned his stare with wide-eyed innocence. “Oh, you’re my little jerk. Besides, I could have asked for a ham sandwich.” She waited a beat and added, “That’s a pig between the sheets.”

  “There’s no reason for you to get hateful. Accept that we’re through, and we can both move on.”

  “I’ll tell you who’s through. You and my best friend are through. And you and my cousin are through. You and that old girlfriend are through. Did I leave anyone out?”

  He looked everywhere but at her while she glared at him. He shook his head. “Mary Alice, if you ran like your mouth, you’d be in great shape.”

  Mary Alice pushed into his side of the booth and sat next to him. “I know your insults are just a defensive mechanism, and I know you were just acting out of a sense of deep insecurity when you cheated on me. Virgil and Mary Alice part two are gonna be better than ever.”

  He took her hand from around his shoulder and placed it in her lap. “No, we’re not, Mary Alice. We’re not gonna be anything. And anytime you happen to pass my house, I’d sure appreciate it.”

  Mary Alice stood like she’d been sitting on hot coals. She towered over him and proudly proclaimed, “Am I still your life insurance beneficiary? Because right now I’d just as soon kill you as look at you. And getting money for it would just be a bonus, you skunk.”

  Virgil’s face flushed red as he looked around the diner and saw that in addition to Buck a few booths away, Junebug had joined Tess and Jack in another nearby booth, and they were all staring at him, apparently having overheard the entire conversation. Junebug had her head propped on her hand like she was enthralled while watching a movie. And when he heard Tess say she couldn’t wait to tell Caledonia about what she’d overheard, his face flushed to a deep purple.

  The weather on opening day of Killer Cupcakes was warm and sunny. Temperatures in the afternoon were in the high eighties but with low humidity, making the townsfolk come out in droves for the opening of the new bakery on this June day. Daisy had coated the town with flyers and coupons, and business had been brisk since opening at 11:00 that morning. The offer of a free mini cupcake might have had something to do with the crowd. Virgil was taking advantage of the flood of people to campaign, and his wit and charm were working wonders—most of the time.

  Standing in front of one of the store’s large picture windows with different varieties of cupcakes on little white, green, and blue cupcake stands, a man said, “You’re the yay-hoo that wants to bring in big business?”

  Virgil stuffed his hands in his pockets and shuffled his feet. “Aw, I’m just a plain country lawyer who’s decided to give back by becoming a public servant. If that makes me a yahoo–”

  Another man, who was with a woman two inches taller, said, “I hear tell you want one of them big box companies to come to town. I tell you what, you bring that to town and we’ll stuff you in one of them big boxes.”

  “Say, Ralph, is this your lovely wife? I don’t believe we’ve met.”

  The woman beamed and took a campaign button from Virgil.

  Virgil said, “I’ve always, always wanted to meet a saint. And if you’ve been married to Ralph for any amount of time, I’d say you qualify.”

  Ralph laughed, forgetting his complaint, and the woman had stars in her eyes.

  Virgil moved down the line on the sidewalk and encountered another grieved constituent. “Why do you want to change Goose Pimple Junction? We like it just the way it is.”

  Virgil put up his hands in surrender. “Folks, folks, I love Goose Pimple Junction too. All I’m proposing is we entertain a little change that will stimulate the economy of this little town.”

  “Oh yeah? We have all the stimulation we need. If you don’t like it, go pick another town to ruin.”

  Virgil clapped the man on the shoulder. “Listen. This here cupcake shop is new to town.” He spread his arms out, “And look at the business it’s creating. I tell you what, if you try one of those cupcakes and don’t like it and don’t think a new business like Killer Cupcakes is a good idea for Goose Pimple Junction, then you come see me, and we’ll talk. But I believe you’ll change your mind. That’s all I’m trying to do: change people’s minds, not their town.”

  Some folks applauded, and Virgil decided he’d had all the campaigning he could take for a while and thought he should get while the gettin’ was good. He climbed the stairs to his office feeling put through the wringer.

  At his desk, he picked up the phone and punched in some numbers. When his call was answered, he said, “Buford Goodwin, how’s things in the zoning commission? We got everything all sewn up for that land out off Gnaw Bone Lane?”

  “It’s all going according to plan. I had to accelerate things, and we hit a small snag, but it’ll work itself out.”

  “What kind of snag?” Virgil drug out the word “snag” with a displeased tone.

  “He doesn’t want to sell. Says it has sentimental value.”

  “That’s not a snag. That’s a giant rip right through the middle of the deal. What am I paying you for anyway?”

  “I know, Virgil. But don’t worry. I had anticipated this problem. Steps one and two are complete, now I just need some time to carry out a few more steps.”

  “Good. I need some more time myself. I want to have the election over and done with before folks get wind I’m about to be bring a world-class resort to town.”

  Buford took a deep breath and let it out. “Once I have the land condemned, we can swoop in and buy it for a song. You’ll still need to have the commissioners pass the new zoning for the land though.”

  Virgil looked out his window at the crowd still in line for cupcakes below. “That shouldn’t be a problem. You can handle it. Keep me out of it so’s I can have what you call plausible deniability if it should ever come up. Won’t do any good to buy farmland if I can’t turn it into commercial land. Let’s shoot for closing on the property at the end of October.”

  “Excellent. I’ll square it good with the commissioners. Now you just need some voters.”

  “I’m working on that.” Virgil felt confident his charisma and intellect, combined with a little deceitfulness, would make him a shoe-in for mayor of Goose Pimple Junction.

  He was about to end the call when he had a terrible thought. He decided it was best to ask Buford about it. “What few more steps do you have in mind to get Jackson Wright to change his mind?”

  Buford sounded irritated. “I thought you didn’t want to know.”

  “I don’t really. But I do want to know you’re not going to physically hurt Jack or cause bodily harm.”

  “Oh, no. I wouldn’t do that to Jack.”

  Virgil let out a deep breath.