A Highball and a Low Blow (Grumpy Chicken Irish Pub Series Book 3)

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A Highball and a Low Blow (Grumpy Chicken Irish Pub Series Book 3) Page 8

by Constance Barker


  Digger rubbed his chin. “Maybe. He knows ya. Knows I get the shine for you. So maybe. But the shiners are a pretty jittery bunch.”

  I nodded. “It’ll be alright. Gator watched me grow up here and it shouldn’t be a problem. See if you can set it up and let me know when. Thanks.” Digger nodded back instead of saying you are welcome. He then took out his phone and fiddled with it.

  Dog popped off. “Hey, you know what would be good right about now, some peach pie.”

  Guardrail waved him off. “No. We have work in the morning. That firewater puts you down for at least a day.”

  “Yeah, you’re right. Just hearing Digger talk about shine made me think, though. Haven’t had some in a while and Ginger’s peach pie is the only way I like to drink it.”

  “I know, but can we stay focused, partner.” Guardrail patted his business associate on the shoulder and took a seat at Lily and Edith’s table. “So, there a few parts to this mystery. Any other theories how they all fit together?”

  Piper added, “Everyone seems to think that Jake Belanger hired Rotgut to off Jacob. Then Belanger could collect the two million in insurance money. Rotgut is out of town, assumed to be hiding, which fits if he just attempted to murderer someone. So, this is the most plausible scenario.”

  Guardrail folded his arms. “That’s possible, but it doesn’t quite add up to me.”

  Lily jumped in. “I always say, suspect the lover. And you dismissed his bombshell girlfriend too quickly.”

  Edith added. “It seems that this insurance policy for two million dollars is a good motive. But why would a successful businessman need to risk his lucrative operation for an insurance scam? That doesn’t make sense?”

  I nodded. “We agree. We talked about that at dinner. With the operation we saw, this man must be living the good life. Why risk it all?”

  Guardrail said, “So there must be more to his story. Maybe he got into debt and is in trouble with a bank, or something.”

  Ida answered, “No, I looked for large debts. Not only does Jake Belanger seem to be good with business debt, he owns the business outright. No debt and no partners. Same with his home.”

  Digger grunted. “Well, that’s a mega mystery.”

  Dog Breath laughed. “Well, The Grumpy Gumshoes are good at solving the big mysteries.” Dog knew no one liked that name and he fell silent when Piper gave him the stink eye.

  I redirected, “Yes, there’s a few things to think about, but not much for us to do. But I’m too tired right now to do anything. We told you what we know and that’s enough for tonight.”

  Dad leaned over and whispered to me. “There’s one more thing we should talk about.”

  Bones burst through the swinging door from the kitchen and hollered. “Alright, all the dishes are clean and the prep station is empty and sanitized. Time for me to get in on things! Ginger, did you hear?”

  I threw my hands in the air. “Hear what? That Beth was gossiping?”

  Bones spoke rapidly. “No! Star came over to talk with you this afternoon. But you weren’t here so she had a brief chat with Dixie. While they were talking, Star fell into a trance and saw the grumpy chicken. When Dixie shook her out of it, Star told her about a weird vision. Then Dixie saw a strange rash, or more like a tattoo, form on Star’s palm. Dixie flipped out and Tom sent her home for the day.”

  I glanced around. “That makes no sense. But I was wondering where Dixie was.”

  Dad sighed. “I didn’t want you to hear it like that.” He glared at Bones for a second. “But Dixie was pretty upset. Or maybe it’s more like...”

  Bones jumped in. “It’s more like she was freaking out. Dixie was ranting and she said Star was so cold that she felt like ice.”

  Dad waved his hand at Bones. “The boy is exaggerating. Dixie was understandably excited and we’re still not sure what happened.”

  Bones continued. “I don’t know. Dixie was pretty shook up.”

  I sat up straight. “Seems the travel crew wasn’t the only ones that had an interesting day.” I looked at Dad. “So who made drinks when Dixie went home early?”

  Dad huffed. “You seem to forget I took care of this bar long before you were born. I can still pull a beer and shake a drink better than any man alive.”

  I laughed. “I know. But that’s why you were a little slow to come over. And this quiet demeanor is a bit out of character for you. You’re tired.”

  Dad stuck his nose in the air. “Maybe, but at my age, I have that right.” Then he huffed. I put my arm around his shoulder and gave him a sideways hug. He smiled back at me.

  Guardrail whispered to me. “Don’t let him tend bar again. He would only serve Guinness. We kept telling him we wanted a pilsner. But he said that’s not a proper beer and ignored us and gave us that thick, brown stuff.”

  I looked back at him. “I’m sorry, I’ll make it up to you.”

  Bones continued, “So what do you think that was all about with Dixie and Star?”

  I waved my hand in front of my face. “Not now. I’ll talk to Dixie and Star. Hear their versions of the story. But tomorrow. I’m tired just like Dad.”

  Bones insisted. “I just told you exactly what happened.”

  I forced a smile. “I know, Bones, I believe you. But I have some questions for Dixie and Star after hearing that story. It will just have to wait until morning, after I get some requisite sleep. I’m done for today, good night.” I kissed my Dad on the cheek, rose from my seat, and made a beeline for the apartment. I was dog-tired and it was painfully obvious that I had another long day ahead of me tomorrow.

  Chapter Twelve

  SIX A.M. CAME FAST and the cell phone demanded attention. I woke from my sound sleep but let it ring to voice mail. After a brief pause, it rang again. I picked up my flip-phone and opened it. I moved my mouth but nothing came out, so I cleared my throat. “Hello, who is this? It better be important.” The gravely voice that came out of the earpiece surprised me.

  “Ginger, it’s Digger. You didn’t respond to the text I sent late last night so I had to call you this morning. Gator can meet you at the old church at seven. Get up and get dressed, you don’t want to be late. He doesn’t like to wait.”

  “Thanks, I think. I didn’t expect to meet Gator on such short notice, but okay. I want to talk to him.”

  “I understand. I’m surprised, too. I sent him a text last night when we were talking. I was surprised when he responded late last night. He doesn’t usually do that and he must want to talk to you, too.”

  “Great, well I need to go then so I can get ready. I’ll meet you at the old church at seven. See ya then, bye Digger.” I closed my phone.

  I knew Gator, but while showering I could feel some nerves forming. He is a Potter's Mill native but he keeps a low profile and I rarely saw him in the pub. Moonshiners are a private lot and the number of actual conversations I had with the man could be counted on two hands. Now he wanted to talk to me.

  I threw on the same bluejeans from yesterday and a clean t-shirt. Then I added a green long-sleeved button-down shirt for warmth. The morning dew would make things feel cool down at Bear’s Paw Hill.

  I put my red hair back in a pony tail, no time for anything fancy, and grabbed my cell phone. Then I tiptoed to the back door to keep from waking Dad, eased the door open and closed it gently, then I was off.

  It was chilly. But the cool air and the walk to Bear’s Paw Hill woke me fully. I was aware and thinking clearly now. I loved this beautiful walk. The old church was built on the hilltop next to Bear’s Paw swamp. You could see it from quite a distance as you approached and the white building with it’s big steeple was picturesque. In fact, it was snapped by the shutter bug tourists as much as the old mill on the river. I even think the general store sells post cards with the church’s image.

  My mind wandered to Jacob. As I hiked up the hill I made a mental note to visit him later in the day. My old beat up Volkswagen Beetle was on it’s last legs, but it should be a
ble to get me out to the regional hospital, and then back, one more time.

  My thoughts then jumped to the mystery of why would a successful businessman set up an insurance scam that risked everything. And what is the connection between Brown and Belanger? We assumed the insurance guy, Brown, was paid off, but he was taking a big risk, too. Then there was the question of the link between Belanger and Rotgut. And how did Jacob fit into all of this? I realized that pieces to this puzzle did not fit well because we were still missing too many parts. My racing mind kept me engrossed and I lost track of where I was. I knew because I stood in front of the old church in what seemed like no time at all. Somehow I was early, maybe I power walked while lost in thought.

  The raspy voice came from the corner of the church. “Ginger, over here.” It was Digger.

  I moved toward the sound of his voice to find him and Gator waiting for me in the shadow of the church. They were early too. I nodded and said, “Good morning gentlemen. I appreciate you getting up so early to meet.”

  Gator was what most people think of as a stereotypical Southerner. He always wore old-fashioned overalls and chewed tobacco. The receding gray hair did not go well with the large belly and the round face sporting a long gray beard, like a ZZ Top band member. And then there was the drawl. It was so thick that even I, a girl born and raised in Georgia, could not understand him at times. Moonshiners were hardened by working illegal stills in the dark of night, deep in the woods, and the demands of this work showed on Gator’s face. His smooth, deep voice did not match the crusty exterior. “Ginger, I got Digger’s text last night and wanted to speak to you immediately after learning you're poking into Rotgut’s business.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Don’t thank me. Listen. You need to stop. I’m hearing rumors that Rotgut has gone off the rails. That he got stiffed on a deal and lost wheelbarrows of money. He’s fighting mad and will stop at nothing to get his own form of justice.” He put a wad of chewing tobacco in his cheek.

  I nodded in agreement. “We think he’s the one to wire Jacob’s car in an attempt to kill him.”

  “That’s what this man does. He leaves a path of destruction wherever and whenever he feels threatened. He’ll not flinch to kill you and everyone in that pub of yours if he thinks you’re messing with his business.”

  “So I hear.”

  Gator spit on the ground and glared at me. “You need to be quiet and listen hard to what I’m saying. Me and the other shiners are keeping clear of the man. Too dangerous for our business since every cop in the state is looking for him. To boot, we’re afraid of what he might do if he panics. If me and my pals are afraid, you need to be too. Stay clear of the man. I’ve seen you grow from a girl to a woman. I would hate to see ya get hurt. So listen to what I’m telling you.” Gator had a look of sadness as he finished talking. Then he added, “I hate that Rotgut is part of the white lightening business.” He spit at the thought. “We got enough problems keeping the stills hidden and producing quality hooch without a madman making us look worse.”

  “I get it. Thanks for the warning. I have a question for you.”

  Digger was keeping watch while we talked, but he turned to look at me when heard my question. “Ginger, keep it short.”

  “I will Digger. Gator, I saw lots of copper on the electrical device wired into Jacob’s Mustang. The shiners use lots of copper, right?”

  “Copper is used for the boilers, condensers, piping, all kinds of parts, yes. Doesn’t corrode and it’s soft enough to work with. We can cut it, shape it with basic tools out in the woods.”

  “So a moonshiner would have copper laying around?”

  “Of course. Copper is used all the time.”

  “How about electrical things, like switches and relays?”

  “I don’t use that stuff, but some of the more modern stills are getting automated. But only the ones that have electricity. My stills are deep in the woods. There’s no electricity, so no reason for me to worry about electrical gadgets. But I heard Rotgut pays off the cops in Savannah and has some stills in remote warehouses that do run on electricity. So if your asking if he uses gadgets like that, maybe. Now stop asking questions and forget about all this. It’s more dangerous than you can imagine. Open your pub, enjoy your customers. You’re a good girl and I hate the thought of you crossing paths with Rotgut.”

  Digger pleaded with his eyes. “Listen to Gator. He’s trying to help you.”

  Gator spit again. “Digger was my best friend growing up. And he always gave me good advice. I suggest you listen to both of us. Stay out of this. It you don’t, not just you will get hurt, but so will those you love like Tom.”

  I pinched my lips, and sighed. “I know you came here promptly out of concern or worry and it was not easy or convenient to get out here this early. So thanks. Digger is a good friend to both of us for setting this up, and I appreciate both of you taking this time.”

  Gator chuckled. “I’m worried, yes. But that’s ‘cause I don’t want to give the police any reason to start scouring the woods for Rotgut. So I have my own concerns about the fallout of your meddling. Don’t read too much into this. It’s just business.”

  I nodded and kept quiet. Digger smiled too then asked. “Are we done?”

  Gator held his hand up. “No, one more thing. I need to get that recipe for your peach pie. I keep hearing the boys like what you do with my shine. How you dress it up.”

  I laughed. “It’s pretty easy to do. Takes the bite out of the raw ruckus juice. Makes it go down easier.”

  Gator cocked his head. “My shine is as smooth as it gets! But I understand, I guess. The liquor most people buy these days is so weak in comparison. They’re not used to it. It's why I whip up some peach or apple pie of my own from time to time. Some of my customers prefer it that way, but they tell me your peach pie is the best.”

  I wanted to ask so many more questions about Rotgut and was frustrated that Gator was talking to me about liquor recipes. I suppressed the urge to ask for more information. “I can ask Dixie to write it down. It’s actually her recipe. I think she will share it. But you know Dixie.”

  Gator laughed. “Yes, I do. Everyone who grew up here knows Dixie is, let’s say, a little excitable. But she knows me and tell her I’ll make it worth her while.”

  I smiled at the two men. They did not have to do this. But both knew it is what we do, the right thing to do, in our small town. We protected each other. I reached my hand out to Gator. “I won’t forget you took this time and your show of consideration. Come by the pub sometime, I’ll get you the recipe and a glass of my peach pie to try.”

  Digger scanned the area. I realized for the first time how jumpy he was acting. Gator must have seen me studying our lookout and he ignored the handshake I tried to initiate. He said, “See, Digger gets it. Rotgut on the warpath means we all have to be on our toes, all the time. Till this blows over.”

  I put my hand back at my side and pressed my luck. “Do you have any idea where Rotgut is?”

  Gator frowned. “If I did, I would turn him in to the cops myself. Like I said, men like him are bad for men like me working with covert stills.”

  I think my cheeks blushed a little. “Sorry, had to ask. It would eat at me all day if I didn’t.”

  “It’s okay. I understand. You were always a curious little girl. But make that the last time you wonder about where he is. It will get you killed if you don’t.” Gator turned and made his way towards the swamp. Apparently, he did not like to repeat himself.

  I raised my voice a little so he could hear. “Can you let me know if you hear Rotgut is seen in the area.” Gator shook his head no and kept walking. He didn’t even turn to look back. We were done.

  Chapter Thirteen

  I WAS FULL OF ENERGY after the early morning walk and clandestine meeting. On returning to The Grumpy Chicken, I jumped right into the days work and completed much of my to do list. At around nine o’clock, I started prepping twenty pounds of beef for
the day’s special, shaved steak sandwiches. While chopping the meat with my well worn chef’s knife, I mulled the upcoming talk with Dixie and Star. What were the right questions to ask about the odd incident?

  The knock on the front door was firm and loud. Someone desired in to The Grumpy Chicken early, so I went to the front entrance and flipped the deadbolt. I found Sheriff Morrison waiting on the other side. “Hey! Good morning, Ginger. Can I come in? I have something to talk to you about.”

  “Good morning to you, too. Sure.”

  We made our way through the dining room and back into the kitchen. We made small talk on the short walk, then I picked up the knife and went back to work while the Sheriff said, “Ginger, there’s news concerning Jacob. He came out of the coma.”

  I put the knife down and rested both hands on the cutting board. “What? When?”

  “About three-thirty this morning.”

  “Is he okay?”

  “The doctors are doing tests to figure that out. But he talked a little. So I went out to the regional hospital, to question him while he was awake.”

  “That’s kind of harsh. Poor guy comes out of a coma in the middle of the night and you questioned him first thing?”

  “I hate it too, honest. But I couldn’t risk him lapsing back into a coma without getting some answers.”

  “So, did you?”

  “Yeah, it’s why I am here, to let you know.”

  “I don’t like the sound of that.”

  The Sheriff smiled. “No, it’s fine. I’m actually doing you a favor, not bringing bad news.”

  “That's good.”

  “Look, I asked him about the policy that named you as a beneficiary. He said he had no idea what it was or who bought it. He knew no more than you do.”

  “Well, that’s interesting.”

  “See. I’m trying to be more of a friend, not the Sheriff right now.”

  “I appreciate that and now I feel bad you got a call in the middle of the night to go all the way out there.”

 

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