Moonshine and Malice

by J Lee Mitchell

  The sound of shouting from the side driveway drew everyone’s attention. A man in black slacks and a white chef coat was trying to push past two Castle Creek firemen, and things looked like they were getting heated.

  “Speaking of Lyle, looks like he’s not missing after all,” Jamie said.

  “One of us should go over there,” Beecher said looking at Q’Bita.

  “Fine, but you two owe me for this one.”

  As Q’Bita approached the threesome, Lyle Chalford tried to push past the two firemen again but was unsuccessful.

  “Sir, I’m not trying to be rude, but you can’t go in there until we’ve cleared the scene. There’s still a hot spot or two that we’re working, and it isn’t safe.”

  “Do either of you have any idea who I am? Of course, you don’t, or you’d step aside and allow me through.”

  “Excuse me, Mr. Chalford,” Q’Bita said.

  Lyle spun around and fixed her with a haughty look.

  “Miss, I don’t have time to sign autographs right now, but if you come find me after you’ve been cut from the pageant, I’d be glad to accommodate you.”

  Q’Bita felt the heat rising inside her and reminded herself that no matter how arrogant, Lyle Chalford was a guest and she needed to bite her tongue.

  “Mr. Chalford, I’m Q’Bita Block. I own the cooking school here at the Red Herring Inn. I understand that when you arrived last night you requested to speak with me. Perhaps we can have that conversation now, while we wait for the fire department to clear the scene.”

  “Ms. Block, was it? The only conversation you and I need to engage in is the name of your attorney. I have a small fortune invested in the ingredients stored in your walk-in, which I’m sure are now infused with smoke and utterly ruined. I expect to be fully compensated for the cost and to have replacements provided by 3 p.m. this afternoon. If this cannot be accomplished, you can expect that I will pursue this matter to the fullest extent legally possible. After all, I’m a world-class culinary competitor. I did not drag myself out of Napa Valley to this desolate corn field to lose the largest purse in culinary competition history because a pair of incompetent hillbillies didn’t know the difference between basting and flambéing.”

  Q’Bita was two breaths away from laying into this arrogant little man when a deep voice spoke from behind her.

  “Is there a problem here, folks?”

  The last time Q’Bita was this glad to see Andy, he’d just shot Cookie Dixon through a basement window as Cookie was about to kill her.

  “No, everything is fine here, Sheriff Hansen. Mr. Chalford and I were just discussing this weekend’s Social Proof Moonshine cooking competition.”

  Andy smiled and Q’Bita felt her anger subside slightly.

  “Ya, my pap is sure looking forward to competing. He’s been using his own hooch in recipes for as long as I can remember. He still won’t tell me what he and your father have planned but I bet it’s gonna be amazing.”

  Lyle Chalford had been tapping his foot impatiently and making huffing noises the entire time Andy was talking. When Andy finished, the impertinent little man cocked his balding head and glared at Q’Bita and Andy.

  “Ms. Block. Sheriff Hansen. I’ll leave the two of you to your inbred banter, but don’t dilly-dally, Ms. Block. Unless you have a purveyor of fine goods hidden somewhere in this two-donkey town, I suspect you’ll be making a trip into Charleston to replace my ingredients, and time is of the essence.”

  He turned and stomped away from them, muttering under his breath.

  “Do you think someone should tell him it’s a one-horse town?” Andy asked.

  Q’Bita let out a snort and tucked her arm through Andy’s.

  “Come on, let’s go get an update on the fire. The sooner we get these people back inside the better.”

  They took a few steps and Andy came to a stop.

  “Oh man, you don’t think the fire was so bad that you won’t be able to make pie, do you?”

  “It’s a good thing you’re handsome, because you’re not funny.”

  Chapter 3

  Liddy Lou Cormier dialed the Red Herring Inn and paced back and forth, waiting for someone to pick up. Her two previous calls had gone unanswered. The Red Herring Inn was staffed 24-7 and it was rare that someone wasn’t at the front desk. She’d tried calling Q’Bita and Kari’s cell phones and neither had picked up, which had her imagining all kinds of terrible scenarios. Finally, after the fifth ring, she was relieved to hear Jamie’s voice.

  “Thank you for calling the Red Herring Inn. This is Jamie. How can I make your day?”

  “You can tell me what the heck is going on there. I’ve been calling y’all for the last two hours and no one is answering. Please tell me that one of you didn’t burn the place down.”

  “I would, Little Mama, but that would be a lie, and I learned years ago not to lie to you or you’ll tan my hide.”

  Liddy Lou stopped pacing and took a seat on the edge of the bed.

  “I’m sure I’m going to regret asking, but what happened?”

  “Tom and Jock Hansen decided to get in a practice session for the cooking contest and managed to start a fire. It’s mostly smoke damage, not structural. The fire department says we don’t have to close the Red Herring, but we do have to keep Culinary Forensics closed until it’s cleaned, repaired, and passes codes and health inspections. In case you’re wondering, Q’Bita did cry, but she didn’t kill Tom or Jock… yet.”

  “Oh Lord, I knew I should have postponed this trip. Maybe I should come back.”

  “No, you should stay right where you are. Apart from Rene, we’re all adults here and we’ll be just fine until you get back. You went to Memphis for answers, and we don’t expect you to come back until you get them.”

  Liddy Lou let out the breath she’d been holding.

  “I appreciate the pep talk, Jamie, but I’m not sure I’ve got enough years left in these old bones to ever get to the bottom of what really happened back then. My husband seems to have had many secrets, and I’m afraid most of them went to the grave with him. If the folks here know anything, they sure aren’t talking.”

  “I’m sorry, Liddy Lou. I was hoping time would have loosened some lips. My offer is still on the table if you need me.”

  “Absolutely not, Jamie. I’d rather wait until I get to Heaven and ask Henry myself than risk you going to jail for hacking into places you don’t belong. Miles La Fontaine is even more powerful now than he was then, and I hear he isn’t happy that I’ve gone and stirred this all up again. He has a long reach. I don’t want any of you involved in this mess.”

  A few seconds of silence on the other end of the phone had Liddy Lou wondering if Jamie was still there. When he finally spoke, the concern in his voice broke her heart.

  “Promise me you’ll be careful, Little Mama. You and Q’Bita are the two most important people in the world to me. I’m still not over how close I came to losing both of you during that whole ordeal with Macie’s murder.”

  “Oh, baby, please don’t worry about me. When you showed up on my door step all those years ago, I promised you that you’d never be without a family again, and I meant that. I may be old, but I’m not a fool. If I think things are getting dangerous, I will pack my bags and head for home.”

  “Thank you, Little Mama. Now go get some answers and get back here. We miss you.”

  Liddy Lou said her goodbyes and sat a while longer wondering for the hundredth time since arriving in Memphis if she was wasting her time. She took a deep breath, said a short prayer for guidance, and decided it was time to go stir up more trouble.

  Chapter 4

  Henri LeClair mopped the sweat from his forehead and tucked the handkerchief into his pocket. He’d only been in the States for two days and he already hated the West Virginia heat. When he’d left, Lyon was cooler and less humid. It was only 7 a.m. and the temperature had climbed into the 80s. The humidity clung to him like a wet blanket. He’d been preparing
for his first solo mission for months and was beginning to worry that all this sweat made him appear nervous and weak. Gianni Marini was the biggest black-market truffle smuggler in Europe, and Henri needed to be on his A game if he hoped to pull this off.

  A shiny black limo with tinted windows rounded the corner and made its way toward him. For a split second he was overcome with a terror so fierce he thought he might spray the dashboard with his breakfast. He gripped the steering wheel so hard his knuckles popped and shot tingles of pain down the back of his hands. He took a deep breath in through his nose, held it a few seconds, and then exhaled. He did this two more times, then felt himself relax. “I am a trained professional. I am a chameleon. I can do this.”

  Henri opened the car door and stepped out into the oppressive heat. The limo came to a stop and the front doors opened. The two large men walking towards him looked like the bone-breaking bodyguards in every mob movie he’d ever seen. He took notice that the one on the left had a slight limp and the one of the right had a scar from forehead to check that compromised the vision in his right eye. He’d been trained to assess people quickly and identify any weaknesses that could be used to his advantage if things turned ugly.

  As they approached, the man with the scar eyed him appraisingly while the man with the limp scanned the surrounding area as if looking for hidden enemies. They stopped a few feet in front of Henri and gave each other a glace that seemed to convey an entire conversation between them. The man with the limp grunted and then the man with the scar spoke.

  “Why come Victor send you? Why he no come himself?”

  Victor was the alias used by Henri’s boss. As far as these gentlemen—or Gianni Marini—were concerned, Victor Cortez was an American who had a special talent for being able to move goods of a sensitive nature in and out of Europe. They had no idea that Henri or his boss were with Interpol and that their whole distribution network was under surveillance.

  When his boss first mentioned an undercover mission in America, Henri was elated. He’d worked hard for this and jumped at the chance to take the assignment. He was even more excited when his boss told him that he’d be going to Castle Creek, WV, to meet with Gianni Marini. He’d been monitoring this little town, and some of its citizens, for a few months now as a favor for his boss. Except for a recent murder, it seemed like a nice little town, and he was excited to see it in person and to try to figure out what about these people had prompted his boss to want to keep tabs on them in the first place. It didn’t seem like the kind of place that would attract international smugglers. Now that he was face to face with these men, he was beginning to wonder if he, and tiny Castle Creek, West Virginia, might be in over their heads. If these two apes were underlings, then Henri deduced that Gianni Marini must be terrifying.

  Henri cleared his throat and then spoke with a flawless American accent.

  “Gentlemen, thank you for coming. Unfortunately, my employer has been called away on a matter of utmost importance and has sent me in his place. I do hope Mr. Marini will not be too offended by this last-minute change of plans.”

  “No, I’m not offended. Personally, I find Victor to be a bit of an ass, so it’s refreshing to deal with someone who shows some respect.”

  Henri whirled in the direction the voice had come from. He was shocked to see a diminutive, well-dressed man who looked more like a Keebler elf than a crime lord. He was even more shocked to see that the man was cradling a curly brown puppy in his arms.

  “Sorry to sneak up on you like that, but one can never be too careful in my line of business. You’d be surprised how many times one of my cars has been ambushed at a meeting like this.”

  Gianni stroked the small dog as he spoke, and the puppy nipped playfully at his fingers. Henri hadn’t realized he’d been staring, but Gianni must have taken notice because he extended the puppy towards Henri and motioned for him to hold it.

  “This beautiful boy is Allegro, son of Dante. Are you familiar with Dante?”

  One of the most important parts of preparing for an undercover role was to absorb everything you could about the mark. It was often the smallest mistaken detail that blew one’s cover. Fortunately, Henri had gone over and above in his preparation and knew exactly who Dante was.

  “Of course. Anyone familiar with truffles knows that the Lagotto Romagnolo is the best of the scent-hunting breeds, and Dante is the most famous of the breed. I have no doubt that little Allegro here will grow to be every bit the hunter his father is.”

  “You, I like. Victor, not so much. If I didn’t need to move my truffles through this hideous country, I would have these two snatch him off the street and toss him to the hogs. Now that my hogs can no longer be used for truffle hunting in Italy, they earn their keep disposing of bodies. They’re surprisingly efficient at the task.”

  Henri forced a smile as the wave a terror rolled over him again. Gianni Marini may have a soft spot for puppies, but he was still a ruthless criminal. Henri reminded himself to not let his guard down with this man. He also made a mental note to stop eating pork.

  “Come, walk with me while we discuss the details of our arrangement,” Gianni said.

  Henri handed the puppy back to Gianni and fell in step beside him. The two bodyguards trailed close behind.

  “I assure you, Mr. Marini, everything has been attended to. Between the cooking contest and the launch party, there are so many crates arriving at the Red Herring Inn that no one will even notice a few extra. Victor saw to it that they were labeled as you requested so they should be easy for your men to identify. As long as the crates are removed before the end of the weekend, everything should go smoothly.”

  They continued to discuss a few minor details until Gianni was satisfied. Henri returned to his car and waited for the limo to leave before retrieving the cell phone he’d hidden under the passenger seat. He swiped right, and the screen came to life showing an unopened text message from his boss.

  “Bon jour, Henri. If you’re reading this, then I will assume you are alive and mostly intact, which means I’ve lost the office pool on how long you’d survive. Sorry, I couldn’t resist. If everything is as planned, then continue. Contact me only if things go off track.”

  As much as he admired his boss, this was one time Henri agreed with Gianni Marini. Victor could be an ass.

  Chapter 5

  The bell above the front door of the Castle Creek Sheriff’s Department tinkled, and Maggie Lorson looked up from the reception desk to see her father in the doorway.

  “Hello, Daddy. This is a nice surprise. What brings you into town?”

  Jock Hansen walked around the side of the desk and planted a kiss on his daughter’s check.

  “Hello, baby girl. You look nice today. Peach is a good color on you.”

  “Okay, Daddy, what’s with all the sweet talk? You get a parking ticket or something?”

  Jock laughed and put his hands up in surrender.

  “I should have known you’d see right through me. I guess I shouldn’t have laid it on quite so thick. I have something I need to discuss with my grandson and I was hoping you’d be able to track him down for me.”

  “Well, you’re in luck. He just got back and he’s in his office.”

  Jock gave Maggie a pat on the shoulder and made his way back the hall to Andy’s office. The bull pen was empty and the door to Andy’s office was open. Jock rapped on the door frame to get Andy’s attention.

  “Hey, Pap, this is a nice surprise.”

  “Funny, your Aunt Maggie said the same thing. I guess I should stop by here more often.”

  Andy got up and cleared a pile of files off the chair.

  “Can I get you anything? Coffee? Sweet tea?”

  As if she’d read Andy’s mind, Maggie appeared in the doorway with two glasses of sweet tea and handed them to Andy.

  “Thought you fellas might like something cold to drink. Daddy, I made yours extra sweet.”

  Andy didn’t have to ask which one Jock’s w
as; it was obvious from the half inch of sugar lying in the bottom of the glass. He handed it to his grandfather and shook his head.

  “I have no idea how you can drink it that sweet, still have your own teeth, and not have diabetes.”

  Before Jock could answer Maggie put her two cents in.

  “The same way you can down two or three of Q’Bita’s pies per day and not get fat or get diabetes.”

  “We all have our vices, son,” Jock added.

  “Yes, we do, and if you two will excuse me, I’m going to head over to the diner and grab some lunch while Daddy tells you which of his vices has him in trouble this time.”

  Jock waited until he was sure Maggie had left and asked Andy if they were alone.

  “Ya, we’re alone. I sent Mikey over to Bishop to interview a witness and I still haven’t found a replacement for Chance yet. Been pretty peaceful around here lately.”

  Jock took off his cap and hung it on his knee, then scratched the back of his head before speaking.

  “I’m assuming you’re going to be around the Red Herring Inn this weekend. Any chance you’ve arranged for some extra security for the event?”

  “I have Billy Jarvis pulling some hours. Thought it might be a good idea given the likelihood that some of the guests might get a little carried away with the Moonshine tasting. Why, what’s up?”

  “I’ve been getting some flack about sharing information with Tom and Kari Block. Some of the boys are worried that I shared too much and aren’t happy about it coming out in the book this weekend. I’m concerned some of them might have the poor judgement to show up during the party and make a ruckus.”

  Andy leaned back in his chair and locked eyes with his grandfather.

  “Any chance you want to tell me which boys and what information they’re worried about getting out?”

  Jock averted his gaze.