Rogues & Rascals in Goose Pimple Junction (Goose Pimple Junction Mysteries Book 4) Read Free Page B

been lovely. But let’s go home now, Philetus.”
    In their bedroom that night, she took her time getting undressed, waiting for him to notice her new lacy lingerie.
    “Is that new?” he finally asked, just when she was ready to give in and put on her cotton pj’s.
    “Yes,” she said hopefully, turning quickly to him, an instant smile on her face. But it was frozen in place after his next comment.
    “How much did that set me back?”
    Caledonia couldn’t figure out where she’d gone wrong. She was a good cook and provided carefully thought-out meals for her family. She took care of the kids and the house without the aid of a maid or a nanny. She made life at home easy for Philetus so all he had to do was go to work and come home. She thought of interesting things for them to do, places to go, and things to see. She never blew her nose in public or said a cuss word worse than “goshdarnit” or “dagnabbit.” She didn’t smoke, drink, or chew, and she didn’t associate with those who do . . . well, she maybe sipped—a lot—but she was never drunk in public.
    And she never, ever, ever wore white shoes before Easter or after Labor Day.
    She thought her mother would have been proud of the Southern woman she had become. Why wasn’t her husband proud?
    She lay in bed that night, wondering what to do. She’d used her feminine wiles to her utmost power but to no avail. It was as if she were invisible to him.
    Her mind went to the night of a Christmas party they’d attended. Beforehand, she’d coiffed, buffed, puffed, and readied herself until she glowed. Philetus didn’t take notice. But she did overhear him noticing a coworker.
    It had hurt her to the core when she overheard him tell the woman, “You look great tonight, by the way.” It wasn’t just the words he’d said, but the way he said them that hurt. He was tender, sincere, genuine, and flirty. He’d never said anything like that, or in that way, to her—ever.
    She’d cried herself to sleep that night, just as she did tonight.

Mama always said . . . If it’s got tires or testicles, you’re going to have trouble with it.

A little after 4:30 p.m., Caledonia walked down the hall of the primary wing of Robert E. Lee Elementary School finishing up her volunteer duties for the day. She ducked into room 120, but it was empty, so she walked to the teacher’s desk to leave a flyer. Caledonia abruptly stopped when she heard the sound of breaking glass. After looking all around—actually turning herself in a circle—she went to the wall of windows at the back of the classroom. She saw two teenagers out in the yard, and they were up to no good. One of them was swinging a baseball bat and systematically breaking all the windows of the classroom next door, while the other kid howled with laughter. Her first thought was to dash out the door leading from the classroom to the schoolyard and confront the vandals. Then she remembered it was Martha Maye’s room next door and instead, dashed through the small bathroom that separated the classrooms, hurrying into room 118.
    Thankfully, that room was also empty. Just as she let out a sigh of relief that Martha Maye wasn’t harmed, a blow hit another window and sent glass flying into the classroom. Her arms flew up to protect her face and head. Then she crouched behind the big wooden desk and peeked around it.
    It was early June and school had just let out for the summer. Teachers were still in the building cleaning their classrooms and finalizing the school year that had just passed. She figured at this late hour, most had gone home for the day if not for the entire summer.
    Another crash sent glass raining down around her. She wrapped her arms around her legs and curled into a tight ball until the glass stopped falling. Then she pulled out her cell phone and dialed 911.
    “Nine-one-one, what is your emergency?”
    “Aunt Bea, this is Caledonia Culpepper. I’m over to the school, and”—another window