by Cole, Bobby
Walter was sitting on the deck of Proffitt’s Porch, a remote “lakeside restaurant” between West Point and Columbus. He shook Tabasco on his gumbo before he even tasted it. He’d become addicted to the hot sauce since moving to Mississippi. He loved that it was on nearly every Southern table. He wished he had discovered it earlier in life. Each time a red drop splashed onto his food, he cussed the bland Northern cooking he had grown up eating.
He checked his watch, knowing Jake would be arriving soon. He scanned the parking lot for BMWs and Mercedeses—something appropriate for a stockbroker. Nothing fit the bill. Halfway through his cup of gumbo, he noticed a dirty Chevrolet four-wheel-drive pickup roll into the gravel parking lot. He watched a fortysomething-year-old guy wearing khaki pants and a dark-green button-down shirt get out and climb the eatery’s steps. He carried a camo fleece jacket in his left hand.
“Mr. Severson?”
Walter accepted that this was the man he was scheduled to meet. He had expected more, however, someone who looked a bit more like he actually worked in a financial institution. This guy’s demeanor, coupled with his dress and vehicle choice, was fitting for a sporting-goods-store manager, not a money manager.
“Yes, that’s me. Nice to meet you, young man,” Walter said as he stood and extended his hand.
“Jake Crosby. Pleasure to meet you, sir.”
“I really appreciate you coming on such short notice.”
“Not a problem. I had to move a few things around, but I got it done,” Jake lied. He didn’t want anyone to know he was starved for clients and that if he didn’t add a few soon, he’d be fired.
“Do you mind if we eat outside?” Walter didn’t want anyone overhearing their conversation.
“No, sir. I actually prefer that. I came prepared…just in case,” Jake said, holding up his jacket.
Walter chuckled to himself as his potential financial manager slipped on camouflage at a restaurant. Then he remembered that Mossy Oak Camo was based in West Point; consequently, practically the whole community wore camo as fashion.
“You’re not from around here, are you?” Jake asked with a smile, seeing the smile in Walter’s eyes as he watched him pull on the jacket.
“No, I’m not. I’m from Minnesota, but I retired to the area recently. Is that a bad thing?”
“No, sir,” Jake said with a grin. “After a while, you’ll have a new accent.”
Walter smiled. He liked Jake. He said, “I’ve become quite the fan of the hospitality and Southern idiosyncrasies.” He held up a bottle of Tabasco and said, “And this stuff. Can’t seem to get enough of it.”
A college-aged waitress arrived to take their orders. The two men exchanged pleasantries for a while. Jake was hoping to land a client, and Walter was hoping Jake would give him an opening so he could ask him about when he had killed the rednecks.
“Well, Mr. Severson, what specifically can I help you with?” Jake finally asked.
“Please call me Walter.”
“Okay, Mr. Walter. What can I help you with?” Jake’s Southern upbringing wouldn’t allow him to call him simply Walter just yet.
Walter smiled at the politeness. “Basically, I’m starting a foundation and have cash I’d like to invest for fast growth. I’m looking for a good broker, someone who can make me some money while protecting the principal.”
This was sounding like an account Jake needed. On Monday morning, he had endured a scathing lecture from his boss about growing his client base. Walter’s foundation may be an answer to his prayers. Jake wanted to know how much money he had but didn’t want to sound too eager, so he just said, “That’s what I do. I would love to help you. Our firm is one of the most trusted brokerage houses in the country. I must say—and I’m sure you already know this—that the market right now is not as…vibrant as it’s been in the recent past, so we need to discuss your expectations.”
“Growth is important.”
“We can grow it as much as anybody. I don’t mean to scare you, but the market’s just tougher these days. We have to work even harder and sometimes take more risks, but our offices have access to the best analysts in the world, and, well…basically, we have our finger on the pulse of global finance and trends.” Jake laid on the last line a little thick, but he had heard his boss use it successfully.
“I see.” Walter looked down. He really didn’t know what to ask.
“Tell me about the foundation,” Jake asked, and then he took a bite of the sandwich the waitress had placed before him a few moments earlier.
Walter glanced around and then gave Jake his prepared speech. He could tell that Jake was honestly impressed. Everyone who heard about it loved it. There was something appealing about grandparents assisting their grandkids. It felt good. The foundation would actually benefit two people at once; the old folks felt good about helping, and the younger folks got a needed boost in life.
“So how much capital do you need to fund it?”
“Right now we have about a hundred grand, but in the next few weeks, I expect it to be significantly more.”
Jake was disappointed but didn’t show it. The words significantly more sounded promising, though.
“Mr. Walter, I need this as much as you need this to grow. I promise I’ll bust my tail for you. We can talk every day if you like,” Jake said honestly.
Walter appreciated Jake’s openness. He liked Jake, and he especially liked his willingness to work hard at growing the investment. Walter knew the others would agree with his decision, but he wanted to know more about the young man, so he said, “To be honest with you, Jake, I Googled you to see what was out there, and it seems as though you had a rough go of it a few years back.”
“Yes, sir. That was a tough night,” Jake said, looking down at the table.
“I know it’s none of my business, but does it bother you now?”
Jake was accustomed to people asking questions about that night. It had been a living nightmare, and people were naturally curious.
“No, not really. My daughter and wife still have some side effects.”
“It doesn’t haunt you to have killed two people?”
“No, sir. Not in the least. I knew those men were gonna kill us—me, my daughter, and this teenage girl that we found. What does haunt me is that there are still two members of that gang out there somewhere.” Jake pointed, looked around indiscriminately, and then continued, “I really worried the first few months about some type of retaliation, but now I feel like I gotta get back to normal…wherever that is.”
“I’m sorry, son. I had to ask. I needed to know for the foundation.”
“I understand. That night…I…I just did what I had to do—what most anybody would’ve done.” Jake was growing a bit uncomfortable.
Walter sensed Jake’s change in demeanor. “Okay, Jake. So what do I do? Just bring the money to your office tomorrow?”
Jake’s disposition lifted. “Sure. You can come in today or tomorrow, if you like, to fill out the paperwork, and your bank can wire the money or you can bring by a cashier’s check.”
Walter said, “Um,” as he rubbed his face and looked around. “The money’s in cash.”
Jake was stunned, his eyes wide. “We can’t accept cash, Mr. Walter. Can’t you just write a check on the foundation’s account?”
“We don’t have an account just yet. We will soon, though.”
Jake was trying to think fast. Surely there’s a way to make this thing work.
“I just hired a lawyer named Samantha Owens in Columbus to set everything up,” Walter added, hoping to calm Jake’s obvious concerns.
“Oh, I see. So this is just being formed?” Jake was trying to think if he knew Samantha Owens. The name did not ring any bells.
“You betcha. Brand-new.”
“Well, you can’t just walk into the bank and deposit a hundred grand without having to fill out serious paperwork. Banks are now required to report any cash deposits over ten thousand dollars. They call
it suspicious-activity reports. It’s just the government’s way of making sure they get their cut if someone’s not reporting income or if it’s from illegal activities.”
“I didn’t realize that.”
“I mean, you’re legitimate, so there’s no worries, but the bank and even our offices would face hefty penalties, including jail time, if we didn’t file the reports. But I’m sure your lawyer will know what to do.” Jake paused for a brief moment, hoping to keep this deal alive, and said enthusiastically, “How about I call her to work on the details?”
Walter nodded and began looking through his notebook for Sam’s telephone number.
Jake took a deep breath and glanced out across the big lake at the foot of the restaurant and noticed something interesting.
“Mr. Walter, ever seen a bald eagle?”
“Sure,” Walter said, looking at Jake, who was pointing out over the lake. “But it’s been a while.” He followed Jake’s gaze to see a majestic bald eagle floating a few feet above the water’s surface and said, “Oh, wow!”
“There’s a huge nest at the back of the lake. That’s the male hunting for fish. We might get lucky and see him catch something.”
“I had no idea there were nesting eagles here.”
“There used to be a lot more, but apparently use of DDT in the sixties and seventies really took a toll on the population. It’s building back now, and federal protection really helps.”
“Sounds like something that interests you,” Walter said, noting that Jake seemed more enthusiastic when talking about the eagles than investments.
“Oh yes, sir. I love wildlife. My wife and I eat here regularly, just hoping to see the eagles.”
“That’s remarkable,” Walter said reverently as he watched the big bird. “Your wife likes eagles?”
“She likes salads,” Jake said.
Walter quietly chuckled. Jake sensed a tiny connection with Mr. Walter Severson falling into place. So far, he actually liked him, which was more than he could say for over half of his clients.
“I’ll talk with your lawyer to see if we can’t work out how to quietly handle the funding issues. How does that sound?” Jake figured the lawyer surely had a plan.
“That sounds good. I’ll let her know today to expect your call and to discuss specifics with you in confidence.”
Jake was relieved to get the lawyer’s contact information, since his career depended on this working out. He appreciatively shook Walter’s hand and then glanced to Walter’s right as the eagle landed in a giant pine tree.
* * *
CHAPTER 15
MORGAN CLEARED THE supper table as Jake slowly rubbed his forehead, thinking of ways to increase their income. They had just discussed the upcoming pregnancy expenses. Morgan had already created a new family budget forecasting the next two years. It looked dismal. All she could really focus on, however, was turning their guest bedroom into a nursery.
“Why can’t you just ask for a raise?” she asked while loading the dishwasher. “I can’t remember the last time you got one.”
“It’s not that simple. I’m a commissioned broker. Their position is that I can improve my income by signing more clients.”
“Well?”
“Well, it’s not easy, Morgan,” Jake said defensively. “The economy is in the shitter, and nobody wants to get into the market or move any money. Plus, West Point’s lost a lot of jobs these last few years. It’s tough out there.”
“Our family is growing. Our expenses are growing. What are we going to do? What are you gonna do?”
“I don’t know. I’ll think of something.” Jake ran his hands through his hair.
“Jake, you always say that, and this time it’s not good enough. We both agreed that I should be a stay-at-home mom, but do I need to get a job?”
Jake sat motionless. He wanted what was best for his family. He clearly saw the benefits of Morgan staying home to take care of Katy and knew it would be the same with the new baby. It was worth the sacrifice.
“No.”
Morgan exhaled deeply and looked over Jake’s head.
“If we have to, we could sell the river camp.” Morgan knew this solution would not be well received.
Jake grunted. As a young man, Jake’s grandfather had built the camp house. It wasn’t much, but it had been in his family for years. It was an old-growth cypress A-frame on pylons overlooking the old river channel. Jake had grown up there fishing, tubing, boat riding, and just hanging out with friends and family. He had to find a way to keep it.
“I know.”
Morgan sat down at the table and looked straight at Jake. “Look, I know you don’t want to sell it…I get that. But we gotta keep all our options open. This baby is going to be expensive, and it won’t be long before Katy’s driving and then going off to college. But we don’t have to do it tomorrow.”
“Just give me a little while to work this out. I swear I’ll think of something.”
“Maybe I could start selling Arbonne. I hear some women in town are doing really well selling cosmetics and accessories.”
“You’ll love the pink Cadillac,” Jake said with a hint of sarcasm.
“They drive Mercedeses.”
“Really?”
Jake looked around at his home. He could hear Katy taking a shower upstairs. In a few years she’d be driving. Morgan had that expectant-mother glow, with a baby due in seven months or so. He was beginning to feel like he was failing as a provider. Morgan wanted more. His boss wanted more. Somewhere he had to find the more that everyone demanded. His thoughts turned to the cash that Walter Severson had stashed somewhere.
CHAPTER 16
MOON PIE HEARD the locks click in place on the front door as the last customer left. It had been a good day at the Gold Mine. He studied the newest shiny gold pieces while the two employees quickly straightened up and prepared to leave. His employees never worked a moment longer than they had to. Today’s haul included a dozen rings, bracelets, chains, medallions, and four gold teeth. He weighed the items collectively and instantly knew he had netted more than $5,000 today. Not bad. The economy’s not shitty for everybody, he thought.
The Gold Mine was notorious for paying less than the other gold business in town, but most of the customers were desperate and didn’t consider comparing prices. They typically needed quick cash, and Moon Pie was happy to exploit their desperation. He knew that once someone walked in, he or she was ready to sell, and some money was better than nothing. But not all were down on their luck. Many wealthy wives cashed in jewelry for mad money, and divorces always created a general abandonment of sentimentality.
Through the one-way mirror built into his office wall, Moon Pie watched his favorite employee, Bailey, walk toward his door. She wasn’t the most productive, but she was the best looking. Moon Pie had his sights set on her the day she applied. Bailey was twenty-four years old and had been forced to drop out of college to take care of her sick mother, who had just recently passed away. A three-year battle against leukemia with no health or life insurance had left Bailey broke. Moon Pie had tempted Bailey with all sorts of side offers for financial assistance, but she never took the bait. Her redneck boyfriend was jealous of anyone who looked at her, and he had threatened Moon Pie early on. That wasn’t smart, and the boyfriend soon realized it.
Bailey didn’t know everything Moon Pie was into, but she knew he was of no account. She planned to leave the first chance she got. She had applications out all over town, but things just weren’t happening for her. She felt like she was stuck in the mud and couldn’t get out.
“Do you need anything else?” Bailey asked as she stuck her head inside his office door.
“Wanna go to dinner tonight?” he asked as he bagged the gold jewelry.
“You know I can’t.”
“I’m thinking sushi,” he said, ignoring her rebuff. He squirted antibacterial spray on his left palm and then vigorously rubbed together both hands. Moon Pie left the gold tee
th on his desk. They gave him the willies, so he decided to see how other people would react. He arranged them into a smile.
Bailey was hungry, and ramen noodles were most likely on her menu.
“Sounds good, but you know I can’t. I’m leaving, if there’s nothin’ else for me to do.”
“I got sump’n for you to do.”
“Ethan, please.” Bailey used his real name to emphasize her displeasure.
“When you gonna dump that piece-a-shit loser and go out with a real man—someone who knows how to treat a lady?”
Bailey wanted to say, “I’ve already broken up with him, but I can’t get rid of his sorry ass,” but she knew it would be harder to explain than that. He had promised her severe pain if she didn’t come back to him.
“Look, babe, I’m going to North Alabama in a few days to pick somethin’ up. I may need you to drive me so I can work on the way. Strictly business, and it’s important,” Moon Pie said.
“What about Levi? Can’t he go?” she asked.
Levi Jenkins was Moon Pie’s half brother from another mother. His desire was to be Moon Pie’s right hand, but he hadn’t proven himself capable so far.
“That peckerhead got arrested yesterday in Tuscaloosa. I don’t know how quick I can get his sorry ass out…or even if I really wanna get him out,” he said with a glint of anger in his voice. It was just a quick glimpse of his well-known two-foot-wide mean streak, but it was unmistakable.
Bailey knew she had to get out of this toxic environment. She regretted having borrowed money from Moon Pie to pay her mother’s funeral expenses, but she’d had nowhere else to turn. She exhaled deeply. The only thing she liked about the Gold Mine was Levi. He treated her with respect, and he made her laugh.
“I’ll pay you double,” Moon Pie said, leaning back in his chair.