“Make it a drink. That’s sexier.”

  “You’re right. And there will be more people around too.”

  “And make it for Saturday night. He asked me out for Saturday night. I bet he cancels so he can go out with Dolly.”

  “Done.”

  Saturday morning

  Caledonia, Tess, and Paprika met at the diner for coffee and to discuss their plans for Virgil’s date.

  Tess could hardly wait to ask Caledonia what Virgil had said about their date for that evening.

  “Well? Did he cancel on you?”

  Caledonia slapped her hand on the table. “He sure did. The poor baby isn’t feeling well today. He doesn’t want me to catch it, so we have to make it another night.”

  Tess pretended to be sad. “Oh, that is too bad.”

  Paprika jumped up and down in her seat a couple times. “So since you’re free, how about we arrange for a girls’ night out?”

  Caledonia leaned forward. “Where’s he meeting Dolly?”

  “She lives two towns over in Bugtussle, so he’s going to meet her halfway.”

  Tess rolled her eyes. “Always the gentleman.”

  “What’s out that way?” Tess asked.

  “I picked the Red Bud Inn. There’s a bar there, and it’s far enough away from here so he won’t be nervous about running into someone he knows.”

  “I love it.” Suddenly Caledonia’s eyes got big, and her mouth hung open.

  “Cal? Honey? Are you having a stroke or something?”

  A huge smile erupted on her face. “A stroke of genius.”

  “What is it this time?”

  “We—or rather, Dolly—messages him and says she’ll be the one wearing a hot pink blouse. Then we get Louetta to come with us—”

  Tess and Paprika said in unison, “Wearing a hot pink blouse.”

  Paprika gave Caledonia a high five over the table. “I love it.”

  Tess said, “Can I bring Jack? He’ll feel left out if everyone’s going but him. It’s not his fault he’s a male.”

  “Of course you can bring him. Just as long as he’s not going to be sympathetic to Virgil’s plight.”

  “Oh, I’ve filled him in on the lies and lunacy. He’ll be as happy to see Virgil humiliated as we will be. He says he’s a discredit to the male species.”

  “Besides, Martha Maye’s coming. Tell her Johnny can come with her and keep Jack company.”

  “In that case, I’m going to invite my new biker guy. He asked me if I wanted to meet. This will be the perfect opportunity. I’ll feel safer with y’all around.”

  Caledonia got a Cheshire grin. “I love it when a plan comes together.”

  Everyone got to the Red Bud Inn an hour early that night. They didn’t want to run the risk of crossing paths with Virgil on the way there. Taking an extra precaution, they parked on the side by the hotel rooms in case their cars were recognizable to Virgil.

  Jack sidled up to Louetta already in place sitting on a stool at the bar. “Ma’am, you’re looking lovely tonight. Do you come here often?”

  She pushed her nose up in the air. “I’m sorry. My dance card is full.”

  Jack laughed. “So I heard.”

  “Did you also hear right before the girls left the house, they switched Paprika’s cousin’s picture with mine on the dating site? I tell you what, these girls don’t mess around.”

  “Remind me not to do anything to tick them off. Look at the bright side, maybe you’ll get a date out of it.”

  “Or two,” Louetta added confidently.

  “We may get you hitched yet.” Jack looked around the bar. Since it was a Saturday night, it was pretty full.

  Martha Maye had volunteered to be the lookout, and at seven o’clock sharp, she came running into the bar with the news Virgil was here. “The alien has landed, y’all.”

  Caledonia put a quarter in the jukebox and punched the number for her planned selection: “You Can't Have Your Kate And Edith Too,” by the Statler Brothers.

  Paprika hugged her. “Cal, you’ve thought of everything.”

  Each woman patted Louetta on the back before joining Jack and Johnny at a table in a dark corner of the room. Sitting at the bar, Lou’s back would be to Virgil as he came in.

  Suddenly, Caledonia jumped up, ran up to the bar, and slapped a name tag on Louetta’s chest. Hurrying back to the table, she put one on herself.

  Virgil walked through the door of the Red Bud Inn, taking in the throng of people inside the bar. The jukebox was booming, and the bar patrons had to talk loudly to be heard over the music. It was crowded, but he spotted a flash of hot pink blouse. He weaved through the groups of people talking, laughing, and dancing, and made his way toward the bar. As he got closer, he noticed the woman in pink was not exactly the size of the woman he was expecting, and her hair style was different. His step faltered, and he went around to the far side of the bar so he could see the woman’s face. Surely Dolly’s headshot hadn’t hidden the weight on the rest of her. Typical, he thought, they always weigh more in person than they look in their picture.

  He took the one bar stool left and ordered a bourbon on the rocks. “With a splash of water.” His eyes moved from the bartender to the woman in pink, who he recognized immediately as the bookstore owner, Louetta something or other. For Pete’s sake, for a minute he was worried she was Dolly.

  He felt a body press against his back and breath against his ear. “I just love this song, don’t you?”

  This must be Dolly. He quite liked her body pressed against him, so he didn’t turn around. He just listened as the chorus kicked up.

  “It’s called ‘You Can’t Have Your Kate And Edith Too.’ Catchy, isn’t it?”

  At that moment, Louetta, who’d been watching him, sat up straight, and he saw she was wearing a name tag that said Edith. Then he saw Caledonia appear right behind Louetta. She too had a name tag, but hers said Kate. It was at that moment that he got it. He whirled around to see who'd been whispering in his ear. It was Caledonia’s best friend, Paprika. When he turned back around, Martha Maye and Tess had joined Caledonia and Louetta. He realized he’d been had. His face flushed red, and his mouth dropped open.

  Louetta said, “The last time I saw a mouth that big it had a hook in it.”

  The bartender, who’d been watching the scene play out, put Virgil’s drink in front of him. “I figure you need this right about now, buddy. I made it a double.”

  The music stopped, and the five women began applauding.

  Caledonia stuck her drink in the air, shouting, “To Edith!”

  Louetta followed with, “To Kate.” They clinked glasses.

  Gradually, conversations stopped and hushed whispers spread through the room like a wave, until everyone was staring at Virgil, whose face was now almost purple.

  Virgil put on his best face and raised his glass in the air. “To all the girls I’ve loved before.” And then he downed the drink in one gulp and stood. “Well I can see I’m about as welcome as Michael Jordan at a Hair Club for Men convention.”

  He tried to walk out of the bar with as much dignity as he could muster. It wasn’t much, but it was even less when he heard the bartender call out, “You forgot to pay your tab, buddy.”

  He walked back to the bar, slapped down a ten, and turned again to leave. It was then that a new song began: “If I Can’t Be Number One in Your Life, Then Number Two On You,” by Roger Miller.

  The entire bar erupted in applause. As he walked out the door, everyone was singing the chorus.

  Virgil had left the building.

  About thirty minutes after Virgil left the bar, a woman rushed through the door with a look of panic on her face and her hands flailing. “Call the law! There’s a dead body out there in the lot.”

  Johnny jumped up from the table in the corner and made his way through the crowd as he yelled, “Consider the law called. Knock that noise off.”

  As soon as the jukebox had been shut off, he stood in front of the door and faced the bar patrons. “Everybody is to remain in this building until otherwise instructed. All y’all make yourselves comfortable. You’re gonna be here a while.” He turned to Jack. “Call it in to the Bugtussle PD. I think there’s at least two of them. And then call Bernadette and tell her to send me Hank and Velveeta. But have them call me first. I want them to question old Virgil. He left here mad enough to kill, and now look what we have in the parking lot.”

  “But y’all don’t have jurisdiction, Johnny.”

  “No, but I’m sure the BPD won’t mind some assistance. Can’t remember when they last had a murder.”

  Then he headed out to look at yet another murder scene.

  Twelve

  Intoxicated people, children, and leggings always tell the truth.

  –Bill Murray

  August, three months before Dead Virgil

  With his feet propped on the desk in his office, Zoning Commissioner Buford Goodwin studied the list of names on the sheet of paper in front of him. Ever since Virgil gave him the directive to get the votes for the zoning change, he’d been stewing about how to go about approaching the commissioners. The Goose Pimple Junction councilmen were a varied lot: rich, poor, young, old, fat and skinny. His index finger and thumb rubbed the stubble on his chin. He’d have to approach them carefully.

  Five commissioners and the mayor served on the Goose Pimple Junction City Council. He picked up another sheet of paper that listed bribable offenses that might persuade the commissioners to come around to his and Virgil’s line of thinking. There wasn’t anything too salacious. This town was too boring for that. But human nature is human nature, thank goodness, and he’d found enough dirt to please him.

  Victim . . . ahem . . . commissioner number one: Louis P. Howe, attorney at law, father of Jimmy Dean Howe, ex-husband of Anne Howe, now living in Emerald Isle, North Carolina.

  Jimmy Dean has had a few brushes with the law in the recent past. But the most interesting piece of information was that Louis had quietly campaigned against the recent change in names for the high school. The townsfolk had been wildly in favor of the name change, with a small faction against it. Turns out Mr. Howe was the money behind that small faction, something he’d managed to keep quiet.

  Louis was also on the school board, and he had voted in favor of changing the name from Robert E. Lee High School to Goose Pimple Junction High. But the information Buford had dug up illustrated how, behind the scenes, Louis had been very much against the name change. Being a racist and hypocrite would not be acceptable for him if it became public knowledge.

  Buford swung his feet off the desk and picked up the phone in one swift move. Might as well get this done.

  “Attorney at Law Louis P. Howe,” came a voice on the other end of the line.

  “Counselor, this is Buford Goodwin. I wondered if I might buy you a drink?”

  “Not only will you be labeled a racist, but you’ll also be a known liar. Someone who worked behind the scenes to squelch the change you publicly claimed to be for, even going as far as to vote for it when it came before the school board. You’ll be ruined in this town. They’ll run you out on a rail.”

  Louis and Buford sat in the den of Buford’s house, each with a drink in their hand. Louis downed his in one gulp and then slammed it down on the coffee table.

  “That’s outrageous. You can’t prove any of that.”

  “Emails can be pretty damning evidence, Louis.”

  “What do you want?”

  “That farmland over off Gnaw Bone is gonna come up for a zoning change.”

  “To what?”

  “Commercial. You’re going to vote yes. And when another property across town comes up, you’re going to vote yes again.”

  “You want me to vote yes to something the whole town is against?”

  Buford nodded slowly. “You’re as smart as they say.”

  “One vote won’t change the outcome.” Louis’s face was deep red.

  “Just let me and my partner worry about that. You only need be concerned with your vote. Your yes vote.”

  “How dare you. How dare y’all take a town we all love and ruin it for your financial gain. I’m assuming it’s for your and Virgil’s gain? You got other investors?”

  Buford shrugged. “Money talks, Louis. It’s what makes the world go round. You, of anyone, should know that. You can either get onboard or be run over. You can’t stop it.”

  “We’ll see about that.”

  “And I’ll tell you what, Louis. You’ll not only vote yes, but you’ll keep your trap shut about it before and after the vote. You hear me? Not a word to anybody. And I strongly suggest you vote for Virgil for mayor and campaign for him too. You copy?” He threw a red campaign hat at him.

  Louis caught the cap midair but threw it on the ground. “Yeah, I copy. I copy a whole lot of things. Virgil Pepper’s behind this, isn’t he?”

  Buford stood while ignoring the question.

  Louis stood too and towered over Buford. “You won’t be able to keep that a secret. Hell, he’s campaigning on wanting to expand tourism. Word will come out that he’s behind this, and let me tell you, people will be up in arms.”

  Buford smirked. “Don’t make no nemmind.”

  Commissioner number two had embezzled more than $300,000 in public funds that was intended for youth sports programs–money he's accused of having spent on a luxury car and trips to golf resorts. He claimed he was just borrowing the money during tough times he was having. When his indiscretion was discovered, he reached a deal with the city to repay the money without admitting guilt. He’s staying on as commissioner until his term is up in a year, with a promise not to run for re-election. But neither he nor the city wants this bit of information to be leaked.

  “Hmmm . . . ” thought Buford aloud.

  Otis Edwards was skinny as a beanpole and ugly as sin. But he didn’t seem to be cognizant of that fact. Brash and arrogant, he loved to hear the sound of his own voice.

  “I’m guessing you want to influence my vote on something or other. No other reason to see the likes of you darken my door,” he told Buford, who had just sat down opposite Otis sitting behind his desk.

  “Is that right?” Buford chewed gum and took his time.

  “Yep. You can’t get much done without a commissioner’s vote around here. But you’re gonna have to convince me why I should.”

  “Why you should what?”

  “Why I should support you in whatever it is that’s coming up for a vote.”

  Buford continued staring him down, looking him dead in the eye. “How about because you don’t want it becoming public knowledge that you’re an embezzler?”

  Otis did a double take, swallowed hard, and dropped his eyes. “I see.”

  “Do you? Do you see that I now own you? That you’ll vote yes when the issue of rezoning comes up?”

  “So the rumor about the big hotel is true.”

  Buford’s smile was wide. “But you didn’t hear it from me. In fact, you didn’t hear it at all. Once the vote comes up, you’ll vote yes. But not a word about it to anybody before or after. You got that? Shouldn’t be a problem for a professional liar like yourself.”

  Otis glared at Buford.

  “What? What are you looking at?”

  “Just trying to figure out if you’re a mosquito or a yellow jacket.”

  “What in the whole wide world are you talking about, Otis?”

  “Are you gonna suck the blood out of Goose Pimple Junction or just sting us until we’re miserable?”

  “Doesn’t much matter. Both can do a lot of damage when they’re in your clothes.” He stood and headed for the door but turned around, his index finger in the air. “And one more thing: vote for Virgil for mayor and campaign for him. Period. End of discussion.”

  Buford slammed the door on his way out. Seconds later, he opened the door, stuck his arm through, and tossed a red campaign hat at Otis.

  Buford hadn’t been able to find anything on the other three commissioners, so he would have to go on the offense to get the third vote he needed. The squeaky-clean school teacher was too clean. And maybe the suggestion of impropriety would be enough to change his vote.

  Virgil knocked on Les Bossy’s door with papers in his hand.

  The blood drained from Les’s round cherub face when Buford showed him the pictures he’d doctored up in Photoshop.

  “But that’s not me! That’s not me!”

  “You know that, Les. And I know that, but will everyone else believe it? A picture’s worth a thousand words. Seeing is believing.”

  Les stared at the pictures with his mouth wide open. “You’ll ruin me. Over what?”

  Buford spread out his arms. “Land, Les. Over land. I need you to vote yes to rezoning farmland to commercial land. And support Virgil for mayor. You hear?”

  “What if I’m deaf?”

  “Then I’ll email pictures like that and worse to your principal, your fellow teachers, and I’ll hand them out at a school board meeting.”

  “You’re the biggest liar this town ever saw. Mighty big coincidence you wanting this zoning change at the same time Virgil Pepper wants to be mayor.”

  Buford ignored the inference. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

  In the end, all three commissioners had been a piece of cake. And three against two along with the mayor’s vote—Virgil’s when he became the mayor—would be enough to pass the zoning ordinance. Hot dang, they’d just about pulled it off. Now they had to get that land.

  Virgil’s text notification sounded, and he saw Mary Alice’s picture on the screen. He rolled his eyes. Why won’t that woman get a clue? He’d ignored all her calls and texts for weeks. He’d pretended to not be home when she stopped by his house. She just wouldn’t give up. He probably shouldn’t have been so weak back in July, but with his pride being hurt at the Red Bud Inn, it was easy for temptation–and bourbon–to get the better of him, and he’d given in to a moment of weakness which had given her a boost of confidence, assertiveness, and outright audacity. Now she wouldn’t leave him alone.