Murder at Moonshiner Days

by Michelle Goff

  Maggie didn’t know what to think. She couldn’t understand why the killer would have, more or less, returned to the scene of the crime a year later. But she felt the two crimes had to be related. Just as she was beginning to feel the stress of the investigation settle in her shoulders, her dad Robert walked in, saving her from spending more time trying to find the connection.

  “Hey, Daddy,” she said. “What’s in the bag?”

  “Funnel cakes. I went to that booth you told me about, the one with the green and white roof.”

  Maggie giggled at his description of an awning. “What kind did you get?”

  Robert opened the bag, pulling out a Styrofoam container. “Let’s see. This one has powdered sugar, strawberries, and whipped cream on it. That’s for me and Mother.” He handed the box to Lena and removed another container. “And this one has powdered sugar and chocolate. It’s for you. I asked and they said it’s real chocolate fudge and not syrup.”

  The funnel cake challenged Maggie’s resolve to avoid Moonshiner Days food. But not only had it been made to her specifications, her dad had ordered it from her favorite vendor and brought it to her. How could she resist?

  “I didn’t know you would be here, Sylvie,” Robert said, “so I didn’t get one for you. But you can have some of Maggie’s.”

  Maggie frowned when she opened the box and saw that it contained only one plastic fork and no knife. “Hmm. It looks like one of us will have to eat with our hands.”

  “Mommy to the rescue,” Lena said as she pulled plastic utensils from her purse. “I always come prepared.”

  Although Sylvie made an obligatory opposition to sharing Maggie’s funnel cake, she quickly dug into her half. They ate in silence, with Robert, as usual, consuming his food with haste. When he finished his part of the strawberry funnel cake, he said, “It ain’t crowded at all this year.”

  “Did everybody leave?” Lena asked. “When we came in, it looked like there were enough people out there to fill that gymnasium where UK plays basketball.”

  “It’s not as crowded as it usually is. There was hardly anybody in the park. Maggie,” he pointed at his daughter, “there was a little four-year-old boy in the park clogging. That would make a good picture for the paper.”

  “Thanks, Daddy. I’ll head over there when I finish this delicious funnel cake. Thanks for buying it for me.”

  “Yeah, thank you, Robert, this really hits the spot,” Sylvie said.

  “Oh, I almost forgot. When I was walking over here, I saw the police arresting somebody,” Robert said.

  “Was it some drunk?” Lena asked.

  “I don’t know if she was drunk or not. The police were at one of those booths. It looked to me like they were shutting it down.”

  “What kind of booth, Daddy? What were they selling?”

  “Pocket books.”

  Robert’s words were still hanging in the air when Maggie’s phone rang. Picking it up, she saw it was the office. “Hello.”

  “Maggie,” Tyler said. “You’ll never guess what came over the scanner. Constance Williams has been arrested.”

  “Who?”

  She heard Tyler sighing and assumed he was also rolling his eyes. “Delphene Fugate’s daughter. Scootie.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  “I don’t know how this happened. I just don’t understand it.”

  Delphene Fugate had been repeating a variation of those two sentences for seven minutes, the entirety of Maggie’s visit. She had found Delphene slouched in a chair in her darkened house, staring blank-faced at nothing in particular. Except for squinting when Maggie turned on a lamp, she hadn’t acknowledged her.

  “Can I get you something, Delphene? Something to drink? I could make you some Kool-Aid.” When Delphene failed to answer, she said, “Or maybe something to eat? I could make some tater tots.”

  “Lord, I done lost my appetite. If I tried to eat, I’d choke on my own sorrow.”

  “Did you have a chance to talk to Scootie?”

  “Yeah, but I still don’t understand it.”

  Although Maggie hadn’t spoken with Scootie, she had a pretty good idea of how she had come into possession of a trunk-load of Jennifer Wagner’s designer purses and wallets. Not that she could comprehend why Scootie had thought she could get away with selling stolen goods on a Jasper side street during Moonshiner Days without a vendor permit and in a makeshift booth crafted out of an umbrella from patio furniture and a card table. She should have known she would have stood out among the professional booths and trailers. That somebody would have reported her and that the police would have taken one look at her merchandise and wondered why a woman named Constance “Scootie” Williams would be selling purses emblazoned with a J.

  “Did Scootie say how she happened to get those purses?”

  Shaking her head, Delphene said, “She’s telling the police that Jennifer give them to her. She says she forgot she had them until a few days ago. I say to her, ‘Scootie, if that’s the case, why didn’t you tell me?’ She says, ‘Mommy, I tole you I forgot about having them. How could I tell you about something I forgot?’”

  Maggie had to hand it to Scootie. Her explanation contained a warped logic. “It doesn’t look good for her or for you, either.”

  “I know. Scootie’s in jail and I’m headed there. They’re gonna say we stole those pocketbooks just like they’re gonna keep saying I killed Jennifer. That ain’t right, though. I never would of hurt a hair on Jennifer’s head and I never stole nothing in my life.”

  Maggie noted that Delphene did not say Scootie wouldn’t have hurt Jennifer or stolen from her. “Delphene, how do you think Scootie got hold of those purses?”

  Delphene clutched her chest. “It hurts my heart to say this, but she took them out of the house that morning I found Jennifer.”

  “What?” Maggie wasn’t sure she had heard Delphene correctly. “Scootie was with you that morning?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Do the police know this?”

  Delphene shrugged. “I didn’t tell them. They reckoned I had walked to Jennifer’s. It’s only a mile and a half from here to there, and I was known to walk to work when we had mild weather. So, I let them think what they wanted.”

  “Did you see Scootie take the purses?”

  Showing spark, Delphene lifted her head. “I most certainly did not. Scootie is my child, but I will not condone a thief. And stealing off the dead.” Delphene breathed so deeply Maggie heard it from across the room. “I don’t understand it, but it don’t surprise me none. Scootie was with me, well, she was in the truck, that morning when I found Jennifer. I went running out of the house. I had done lost my mind. Scootie come back in the house with me and she says, ‘She’s dead, Mommy. We can’t help her now.’ And she walked over to Jennifer’s body and me telling her with every breath to stay away from her. I asked her what she was doing and she says, ‘Oh, just looking,” and I say, ‘Me wishing I ain’t never seen Jennifer like this and you wanting to look at her?’ And she says, ‘I’m just looking for that ring she wore.’ I say, ‘Scootie Sue, the devil will get you if you take something off a dead body.’ And she says, ‘It ain’t doing her no good now, Mommy.’”

  Delphene’s chest expanded with another deep breath, “So, no, it don’t surprise me that she carried off what rightly belonged to Blake.”

  “What about the ring?”

  “What about it?”

  “Did she find it?” Maggie asked.

  Delphene threw up her hands. “I never seen that ring on Jennifer’s finger that morning, but I wasn’t looking for it, neither. For all I know, it’s in the glove department of that car Scootie drives around.”

  Despite the gravity of the situation, Maggie smiled at Delphene’s malapropism. It reminded her of how her dad mixed up words. “Delphene, I don’t understand how she got the purses out of the house without you seeing her.”

  “Well, after I finally got her away from Jennifer, I told her I was going to
call the police. And she says, ‘Let me go to the bathroom first.’ Well, you know, she’s got that nervous stomach. I told you how she spent the night Jennifer died in the hospital. Jennifer was already gone, so I didn’t see no hurry in calling the police. Besides, it give me a few more minutes with Jennifer. Not that I looked at her. Lord, I wish I could get what I did see out of my mind.”

  “So, Scootie went to use the bathroom –”

  “And I reckon she sneaked those purses out of the house. They was in those plastic storage containers. I had seen them in Jennifer’s closet a million times. They wasn’t that heavy. Scottie wouldn’t of had no trouble packing them out.”

  Maggie estimated the amount of time it would take to cart a trunk load of purses out of the house. She wanted to ask how long it normally took Scootie to use the bathroom, but decided to let it go. “Did Scootie hide from the police that morning? How did they not see her?”

  “After she come back in and I called the police, she said the truck would be in the way of the police cars, so she’d just take it home. She said I could get a ride home from the police. I should of known right then and there that something wasn’t right, but I wasn’t thinking straight and then I forgot all about it.”

  “The police searched your house after naming you a person of interest. Right? So, where did Scootie keep the purses?”

  “I reckon she kept them at that little apartment she rents. That’s a waste of money. She don’t stay there half the time. She’s usually here with me. She’d be here tonight, but I couldn’t get the money together to go her bail. I don’t know how she’ll get through tonight without me.”

  “I guess the police questioned you today.”

  “They shore did. And they said what you did. That it don’t look good for me or my girl.”

  “What did you tell them?”

  “I didn’t have nothing to tell them. What I’ve told you is just what I imagine happened. I don’t have no facts. Well, except about Scootie going to the bathroom and taking the truck home. I can’t prove any of this in a court of law. But I told Scootie I won’t lie for her, and I didn’t. Those police said Scootie told them I could back her up. They said she told them I was there the day Jennifer give her them pocketbooks. I told them Scootie must be mistaken. They don’t believe nothing I got to say, though.”

  Delphene slumped farther into the couch. She looked so sad, that Maggie asked, “Is there somebody I can call? Is there something I can do for you?”

  “No. Just visit me in jail.”

  Standing to leave, Maggie said, “Scootie’s real name is Constance?”

  “Yeah. I heard the name Constance Suzanne on the radio before I ever met Scootie’s daddy. I knowed right then and there that that’s the name I’d give a baby girl. It was the prettiest name I ever heard. And that’s what we named her. Constance Suzanne. Now, everybody in the family tried to call her Connie Sue, but I wouldn’t have it. I’d tell them, ‘Her name is Constance.’”

  “Where did the name Scootie come from?”

  “That was her daddy’s doing. He called her that cause she wouldn’t walk. She’d scoot around the house on her rear end. So, he called her Scootie. Pretty soon, that become her name.” Delphene shrugged. “There wasn’t nothing I could do. She wasn’t Constance no more. She was Scootie.”

  “Has she been married?”

  “Scootie? Married?” Delphene grunted. “She won’t leave her mommy long enough to go on a date. I can count on my two hands the number of dates that girl has had. Her getting married is out of the question.”

  “If she’s never been married then why does she have a different last name?”

  Delphene pulled a two-tone brown afghan to her chest. “I remarried after Scootie’s daddy died.”

  “Where’s your husband?”

  “He ain’t around no more.”

  Maggie stood at the door, hesitant to leave. She looked at the frail-looking woman who had buried two husbands, discovered the dead body of the woman she had thought of as a daughter, and now grieved in a different way for her biological daughter who was spending the night behind bars. She wondered what would happen to Delphene and if she would indeed need to visit her in jail. Although she knew no one could predict the future, she did know somebody who could probably shed some light on the present.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Maggie sat on a park bench, eating a pulled pork sandwich and fries and listening to the bluegrass music blaring from the speakers set up around the park. The tinge of guilt she felt for once again – and twice in one day – abandoning the promise she had made to herself to steer clear of Moonshiner Days food was mitigated by the pleasure she derived from every bite she took. Besides, it’s not as if she had planned to break her promise either time. As she left Delphene’s house, the hunger pangs rumbling from her stomach had reminded her that she hadn’t eaten since midday, when she had shared half a funnel cake with Sylvie. Pulled pork had been on her mind since she had stepped out of her car the previous morning, and she had to return to downtown anyway, so she figured she might as well give in to temptation. The sandwich did not disappoint her. She also appreciated the golden crinkle fries that accompanied the meal, but wasn’t sold on the coleslaw. Not only could she not grasp the connection between pork and cabbage, she also couldn’t understand what prompted any cook to opine that a handful of shredded carrots would perfect what Maggie considered an already faultless creamy, cabbage-based side.

  Although she had enjoyed her late supper, she felt a growing sense of irritation gnawing at her. She was tired and sleepy, the investigation wasn’t making sense, and the young lady attempting to sing “I Never Will Marry” was getting on her nerves. Maggie didn’t hold local singers, especially youngsters, to the same measure she did professionals. But she couldn’t stand to hear people talk or sing through their noses. The girl’s nasally rendition of the bluegrass standard irritated her so much that she considered dialing Seth and asking if they could change their meeting locale.

  She didn’t make the call. But when she spied a leering, lanky man staggering toward her, she did pick up her phone and pretend to be talking to her mom. She was still engaged in the imaginary phone call a few minutes later when Seth joined her on the bench.

  When she put down her phone, Seth said, “You didn’t have to cut short your call on my account.”

  “Oh, I wasn’t talking to anybody. That was for,” Maggie nudged her head toward the man, who was now retreating farther into the park, “his benefit.”

  Seth winced. “I guess in hindsight it wasn’t a good idea to ask you to meet me here.”

  “Seriously, Seth? There are hundreds of people in this park. And most of them are too old to be out this late. Heck, I’m too old to be out this late.”

  “You’re not so old. But this is just the park. The town is crawling with drunks of every age and ilk.” Seth rubbed his forehead. “And if the rumors are to be believed, there’s a killer on every corner.”

  Recalling the coleslaw at her side, Maggie handed the container to Seth, saying, “If memory serves, you prefer your coleslaw contaminated by carrots.”

  “Thanks. I think there are some crackers in my desk. I’ll have this for my midnight snack.”

  “You’re welcome. Back to the rumors, do you all have a suspect for last night’s burglary?”

  “Nope.”

  “So, it could be a Moonshiner Days worker?”

  “It could be. We have no idea who broke into that house.” Seth regarded the coleslaw in his hands as if it were an oracle. “It goes without saying, but this conversation is off the record.”

  “If it goes without saying, why are you saying it?”

  “Whoa,” drawing back from Maggie, Seth said, “somebody needs a nap.”

  “I’m sorry. Not that it’s an excuse, but I am sleepy. And this music is terrible. And this investigation just keeps going in circles.”

  “I forgive you, but only because you gave me coleslaw.”

>   Maggie pulled her hand down her face, “Gosh, I don’t know where to start.”

  “Well, there’s nothing new on the burglary.”

  “Other than being on the same street and occurring during Moonshiner Days, does it have anything in common with the break-in at Jennifer’s house?”

  “There was no forced entry either time,” he said.

  “Really? How did the burglar gain entry to the second house?”

  Shaking his head, Seth said, “We don’t know. The lady watching the house swears she locked the door the day before, but maybe she didn’t. Lots of valuables were left, so it looks like the burglar was interrupted. But who knows? Maybe it was a quick grab and go. They probably didn’t know the homeowners were out of town. They were probably afraid they’d come home and catch them.”

  “Speaking of robberies, what’s up with Scootie?”

  “Can you believe that? Not that she was caught selling Jennifer’s purses. Anybody should have seen that coming. But that setup she had. An umbrella and a card table? Criminals are a stupid lot, but eastern Kentucky produces a special breed of stupid criminals.”

  “I talked to Delphene earlier. She said Scootie claims Jennifer gave her those purses.”

  “I don’t even think Delphene believes that lie.”

  “She doesn’t, but she’s sticking by her daughter.” Maggie paused. “Did you know that Scootie’s real name is Constance?”

  “I’ve logged the name Constance Suzanne ‘Scootie’ Williams into my notebook enough that I can spell it in my sleep.”

  “Does that mean Scootie has a record?”

  “Seriously?”

  “Crime is not my beat. And I can’t remember every name I’ve seen in the crime log. What’s she been arrested for?”

  “Let’s see,” Seth relaxed on the bench and stretched out his legs, “receiving stolen goods, selling stolen goods, writing bad checks, shoplifting, impersonating a peace officer.”

  “One of those doesn’t seem like the others.”

  “She was just suspected of impersonating a cop. We couldn’t prove anything.”