Moonshine and Malice

by J Lee Mitchell

  Beecher cuddled the puppy closer and laughed.

  “I wonder where this little guy came from.”

  A few moments later a tall, lanky man carrying a small dog leash came running around the corner of the porch. He stopped when he saw them, then bent over to catch his breath.

  “Oh, thank God. You found him. You’ve literally saved my life.”

  “I’m assuming from the leash in your hand that you mean the puppy, and not my brother,” Q’Bita teased.

  The man looked confused for a second then smiled.

  “Yes, of course. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be so rude. It’s just that I was supposed to be walking him and he wriggled out of his collar and ran off after some chickens. Before I could catch up with him this huge cat came out of the garden and started chasing him. I’ve never seen such a thing.”

  “Sorry about that. Rolfie thinks he’s a puma and that the grounds here are his jungle. Neither man nor beast are safe when he’s on the prowl,” Beecher said, handing the puppy over the banister to Q’Bita.

  “Man, he’s adorable. What kind of dog is he?” Q’Bita asked, giving the puppy a quick snuggle before handing him over.

  The man set the puppy on the porch and reattached his collar.

  “Lagotto Romagnolo. They’re an Italian breed used for truffle hunting. His name is Allegro. He comes from a long line of champion truffle hunters. His father, Dante, is very famous.”

  “Will you teach him to hunt truffles too?” asked Evie.

  “Me? Oh no, he isn’t mine. He belongs to a business acquaintance of mine. I’m just walking him but I’m sure Mr. Marini will train him to be every bit the champion his father is. I’m also sure Mr. Marini wouldn’t be happy if he knew that I’d let Allegro give me the slip, so if we could just keep this between us, I’d be forever grateful.”

  His sheepish smile was immediately ingratiating. He stood and ran his hand through his hair and looked suddenly self-conscious.

  “Forgive me. Where are my manners? I’m Henri LeClair,” he said as he reached his hand out to Q’Bita.

  Q’Bita shook his hand and then introduced herself and the others.

  “I’m sorry about all the commotion. Rolfie is used to being the alpha predator around here. Even the alpacas are afraid of him.”

  “I only caught a glimpse of him, but he seems like quite the ferocious beast.”

  “You wouldn’t say that if you could see him and my husband in matching tank tops getting a mani-pedi.”

  Henri’s mouth dropped open for a second, but Q’Bita noticed that he regained his composure quickly. She heard a cell phone chirp and saw Henri reach into his pocket. He had a panicked look as he glanced at the screen.

  “It’s been a pleasure meeting you all, but I’m being summoned by Mr. Marini, and it’s not wise to keep him waiting.”

  “Is everything okay?” Q’Bita asked.

  “Just a minor shipping mix-up with some crates. I’m sure everything will be fine.”

  He bent down again, scoped up Allegro, and quickly said his goodbyes. While everyone else went back to chatting, Q’Bita watched Henri hurry across the lawn. He stopped in front of the barn and appeared to be having an intense discussion with two large, scary looking dudes she’d not seen before. She wasn’t sure why, but their exchange gave her an uneasy feeling. She made a mental note to ask Jamie what he knew about Henri, Mr. Marini, and these two men.

  ***

  The rest of the day flew by in a blur of activity. Q’Bita was exhausted by the time Andy arrived at her door. He’d brought pizza and her favorite wine. She briefly considered asking him if they could eat dinner lying down in bed, then realized that Andy was happiest when he was eating and would probably agree to anything if it involved eating. A fact that just reinforced why she was so attracted to him in the first place. The man loved food as much as she did.

  She settled for dinner on the couch and munched away as Andy told her about his day. He was swamped getting everything squared away for the big event. Andy hadn’t replaced Chance Holleran, so he was short a full-time deputy. He needed to bring in part-time help for crowd control and traffic and make sure there was still enough manpower to cover anything that might happen in Castle Creek.

  “So, listen to this shit. You’ll never believe who stopped by the station today. Freaking Chance. All decked out in a suit like some big-baller shot-caller. He’s Red Dixon’s head of security now, and Red somehow managed to convince the owner of Social Proof Moonshine to let Chance handle the security for the Miss Moonshine contest. He had the balls to ask me if we could go over my public safety plan to ensure it was going to meet the needs of their client. Can you believe that shit?”

  Q’Bita almost choked on a bite of pizza.

  “Get out. What did you say to him?”

  “I told him to go get bent with a chainsaw. I swear to you, Q’Bita, I wouldn’t have thought it possible, but he’s even more arrogant now than when he worked for me.”

  “Unbelievable. If this book launch party wasn’t so important to my family, I’d actually pray that this whole thing blew up in his face. Does that make me a terrible person?”

  Andy stopped chewing long enough to smile at her.

  “Not at all. I already made that wish and have been trying to take it back all afternoon. Don’t worry, though. I promise Mikey and I have this weekend under control and we won’t let anything go wrong.”

  Q’Bita nodded her head and stifled a yawn but she hadn’t fooled Andy.

  “You’re tired, aren’t you?”

  “No, I’m fine. Probably just ate too much, is all.”

  “Nice try. I’ll just down this last piece and we can get some sleep, okay?”

  “You mean go to bed without eating pie? Will you make it through the night?”

  “Honestly, I was going to let you use the bathroom first. I was going to sneak a piece while you brushed your teeth.”

  “You enjoy your pizza and I’ll get your pie ready, so you don’t even have to sneak it.”

  “You’re a good woman, Q’Bita Block. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

  Q’Bita smiled all the way to the kitchen and said a silent thank you to Cupid for sending this pie-loving man her way.

  Chapter 9

  “Henri, I’m a reasonable man, and I like you, but you’ve placed me in a terrible position. Do you agree that as Victor’s representative you were responsible to facilitate the arrival and departure of my merchandise without issue?”

  Henri tried to sound calm, but his words tumbled out in a panicked falsetto.

  “Mr. Marini, I understand your frustration, but I assure you, I personally inspected your crates when they arrived, and everything was in order. I’m sure this is just a slight mix-up. I’ll locate your missing crate before the end of the day.”

  Gianni said something to his goons in Italian and they grunted in agreement.

  “You have until 5 p.m. this evening to procure my missing crate. My men will assist you, and you will provide me with an hourly progress report. If these terms are not to your liking, feel free to object, but if you do, the consequences will be painful and likely fatal.”

  Henri attempted to eat his fear, but his tongue was thick, and his mouth too dry to swallow.

  “I will take your silence as acceptance then.”

  Henri stood and waited for Mr. Marini to leave. When they were alone, the goon with the scar said something to the one with the limp and they busted out laughing. Henri had no idea what they’d said but he was sure he was the butt of their joke.

  “Ya, ya, I’m sure this is amusing to you two, but can we cut the crap and go find this crate?” Much to Henri’s surprise, he got no pushback from either goon.

  As they exited the Red Herring Inn, Henri couldn’t believe how many people were already on site. Victor had been right when he said there’d be so many shipping containers coming and going that no one would notice a few crates leaving the Inn. While this provided ex
cellent cover for moving black-market truffles, it also presented a problem. Henri was staring at a sea of shipping containers spread all over the grounds with no way to narrow down which one might be Gianni’s missing crate. He had just five hours to find the missing morsels before Gianni’s goons made good on their boss’s threat.

  He took a deep breath and let it out as he stepped off the porch.

  “Okay, the last time I saw the crates they were in the far corner of the barn. I think we should start there.”

  The walk to the barn seemed to take forever, and Henri felt a sharp pain in his chest when they arrived and found the barn almost empty. A young man in a Social Proof Moonshine t-shirt was loading the last two crates onto a hand truck.

  “Excuse me,” Henri said. “Can you direct me to the person in charge? There seems to have been a mix-up with some of the crates. My associate received someone else’s crate. We’d like to return it to its owner and locate our missing crate.”

  Butch Lowery looked up from the hand truck and shook his head.

  “Sorry about that. There’s been too many people in and out of here this week. The crates are a mess. You should go up to the front desk and ask to talk to Tom Block. He’s been trying to keep the crates all sorted out but it’s a full-time job for sure. If someone’s reported receiving a wrong crate, Tom will know about it.”

  “Ha, your luck not so good, skinny boy,” said the goon with the limp.

  Henri glared at the two henchmen then turned and started towards the Red Herring Inn. He thought about calling Victor but decided against it. If he lived past 5 p.m., it wouldn’t do to have his boss thinking he couldn’t cut it in the field. He reminded himself again that he was a trained professional and he was perfectly capable of handling things like this. He looked back over his shoulder and saw the goons still standing there, staring at him.

  “Hello? Don’t just stand there waiting for an invitation. We need to track down Tom Block and find Mr. Marini’s crate.” Henri hesitated for a moment then had a better idea.

  “On second thought, why don’t you two go snoop around and see what you can find? We might be able to resolve this faster if we split up.”

  “Ha! No way, skinny boy. You talk tough, but you look kind of like a slippery weasel. You’re not leaving our sight until we find the crate, or Mr. Marini gets tired of waiting and lets us hurt you. It would be very bad for us if we split up and you gave us the slip. Consider us your new best friends… for now.”

  Henri tried to look unfazed by the goon’s remarks as he turned and walked away, but inside, he was trembling at the thought of what would happen if they were unable to find the truffles soon. As they moved through the crowd, he watched people unpacking crates, looking for anyone who appeared surprised or upset, but there were so many people it was impossible to watch them all.

  ***

  The bell over the front door chimed and Q’Bita poked her head out of the office. Henri was making his way to the front desk with the two men she’d seen him talking to at the barn, and the trio didn’t look happy.

  “Is there someone at the front desk?” Jamie asked.

  “Ya, but finish your lunch. I’ll take care of them.”

  Henri gave her a half smile as he approached.

  “Hello, Miss Block. Do you remember me from the other day?”

  “Of course. I never forget a man with a cute puppy.”

  Henri appeared to relax for a second but then one of the men coughed loudly. Henri glanced over his shoulder and the other man spoke.

  “We hate to interrupt your girl talk, but the clock is ticking, and you have a crate to find. Maybe you should get to the point and ask for Tom Block.”

  Q’Bita didn’t like the man’s tone.

  “Is something wrong, Henri?”

  “It appears that one of our crates has been misplaced and we’ve been told that Tom Block should be able to assist us track it down. Is Mr. Block available?”

  “Last time I saw him, he and Jock were headed into town to pick up their brisket for the cooking contest,” Jamie yelled from inside the office.

  “Oh, dear. When you say into town, is that far? When do you expect him back? Can we possibly reach him by phone?”

  Henri’s voice grew shriller with each question. Q’Bita noticed he kept balling and flexing his fingers as he spoke. The two men behind him seemed to take a perverse pleasure in Henri’s discomfort and Q’Bita had a sinking feeling that these two were not nice men.

  “I’d be glad to call him and see if he can help.”

  “Oh, excellent. Can you do it now?” Henri asked, then immediately apologized for being so impolite.

  “Sure, no problem.”

  Q’Bita grabbed her cell phone from the office and returned to the front desk. Henri was beginning to sweat and looked kind of pale. Her father’s phone rang three times and then went to voicemail.”

  “Hey, Dad, can you give me a call as soon as you get this message? One of our guests is missing a shipping crate and was hoping you’d be able to help him track it down.”

  Q’Bita hung up and saw the look of frustration on Henri’s face.

  “I hate to be a pest, but could you try ringing him again? I assure you it’s quite urgent that we locate this crate.”

  Normally, Q’Bita didn’t mind going over and above for a guest but this whole situation was starting to seem odd and her curiosity was getting the best of her.

  “Can I ask what’s in this crate? It might help us to track it down.”

  Henri cast a nervous glance at the two men before answering. Q’Bita saw the one with the scar shake his head, which seemed to rattle Henri even more than he already was.

  “Um, it’s just freight. You know, normal import-export kind of merchandise. My associate prides himself on delivering on time and is concerned that this will adversely impact his reputation.”

  Henri was babbling now and Q’Bita didn’t believe a word he was saying. She was just getting ready to call her father again when Tom and Jock Hansen entered the lobby from the dining room.

  Tom smiled as they approached the front desk while Jock seemed more interested in checking out the goons with Henri. Before Q’Bita could say anything, Henri practically tumbled forward and started babbling again to her father.

  A mixture of desperation and despair fluttered across Henri’s face as her father explained that the earlier shipping issues had been resolved and no one had approached him about receiving a crate that wasn’t theirs. Q’Bita couldn’t help feeling sorry for Henri and wondered how he’d managed to find himself in business with such rough looking people.

  “I’ll do some asking around. Leave your contact information with Q’Bita. I’ll call you if anything turns up.”

  Henri glanced at his companions and they glared back.

  “Thank you, Mr. Block, you’re very kind. If it isn’t too much trouble, would you be able to start your inquiry immediately? We’re on a tight time schedule.”

  “I sure am sorry for your dilemma, fellas, but the launch party is kicking off in a few hours and we still have a ton of work to get done. We’ll get the word out, but I can’t make any promises.”

  The man with the limp snorted at Henri and said, “Tick tock, skinny boy, tick tock.”

  Q’Bita watched as Henri seemed to crumple in defeat.

  “Henri, I have a little time before I need to get back to the kitchen. I’d be glad to help you look around.”

  Jock had been quietly observing but finally spoke up. “I need to check on my brisket but after that I’ll see what I can find out, as well. What was the name on the packing slip?”

  Henri turned to his companions and the man with the scar nodded his approval.

  “Cortez Shipping LLC.”

  “Are you sure?” Tom asked. “I was over the receiving list about a hundred times the last few days and I don’t remember seeing that name.”

  Henri shifted nervously and Q’Bita could hear his voice tremble as he spoke.r />
  “I’m not surprised. There was an accident a few miles from here and some of our crates came off the truck. It possible the label was lost or damaged during the accident.”

  “He’s right. I brought those crates here earlier this week. They were pretty banged up. Wouldn’t surprise me if the shipping labels were lost or damaged,” Jock said. “Those crates were all in the back of the barn, near mine.”

  “Yes, and everything was in order when I inspected them, but one has gone missing and it’s imperative that we locate it.”

  The ringing of a cell phone interrupted the conversation. The guy with the scar reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. He looked at the screen, smirked, then pushed the phone towards Henri.

  “Looks like your first hour is up, skinny boy. It’s status report time.”

  “If you’ll excuse me, I need to take this call.”

  Henri walked several steps away but Q’Bita could still see him. He looked nervous and his call didn’t appear to go well. When he returned, he thanked them for their offer to help look for the crate but said that he and his associates would be fine continuing on their own. As the trio walked away, Henri glanced back over his shoulder at Q’Bita. His attempt at a smile read more like panic to Q’Bita.

  “Is it just me or did that whole conversation seem odd? I get a very bad vibe off Henri’s friends and I think there’s way more to this than Henri’s saying. He seems scared.”

  Tom shook his head and sighed.

  “Ya, I agree with you, Q’Bita. Something isn’t on the up and up there, but we’re also in a time crunch, and I’m not sure they really wanted our help.”

  “I think Henri wanted our help, but I agree that the other two definitely didn’t. I think Henri may be in trouble and just can’t say so.”

  “I didn’t like the looks of those two fellas either, but I’ll be out on the grounds getting my station set up for the cooking contest and I’ll keep an eye on them. Besides, Andy should be here soon. If anything gets stirred up, he’ll handle it,” Jock added.