Moon Underfoot

by Cole, Bobby

  The doctor—with a high-powered rifle slung over one shoulder—was only 125 yards away and was walking in Moon Pie’s general direction. He was coming down the center of the ridge, completely silhouetted, while Moon Pie was hidden on the edge where the undergrowth was thick. Moon Pie scrunched up, making himself as small as possible, and pushed back against a tree.

  Moon Pie knew he could take the doctor in a fistfight. The guy was well over fifty and obviously out of shape. With his right thumb, Moon Pie silently slid off the safety, just in case. He hated rich doctors and businessmen who bought up the land he had freely hunted since he was a kid. They didn’t even know how to hunt. Most of them just sat in heated shooting houses on the edge of food plots or power lines and shot whatever walked out.

  When the doctor was at thirty yards, Moon Pie made a fist with his camouflage-gloved hand. He was covered head to toe in camo and coiled like a cottonmouth ready to strike as the doctor approached. At ten yards, he watched the doctor’s eyes. He seemed to be looking everywhere but directly at Moon Pie. Moon Pie was low but positioned to leap to his feet. If the doctor stayed his course, he would walk within five feet of Moon Pie.

  The doctor suddenly ducked under a large vine hanging at an odd slant. It was just enough to alter his course, which would now carry him close but not as close as before. Moon Pie held his breath. The doctor looked right through him as he walked within ten feet. Relief washed over Moon Pie as he watched the doctor walk down the ridge. Moon Pie knew he would not see any of his tracks, particularly when the doctor was looking off in the distance instead of paying attention to close details. Moon Pie mentally laughed at the doctor’s lack of woodsman’s skills.

  When the doctor stepped off the ridge and into a depression about ninety yards away, Moon Pie began a silent escape pace that took him in the opposite direction. Within moments, Moon Pie was clear of the doctor’s sight and hurried back toward his truck, which he had parked in a public hunting area. He carefully picked his cover and was soon off the doctor’s place. At that point, he squatted down and pulled on an orange vest and cap. He then stepped out onto a gravel road and walked casually but briskly to his truck. He looked at his watch. He had been pinned down for almost forty-five minutes. It was nearly time to make the trade. Feeling completely bulletproof, he called Levi to tell him that he was on the way and that he had a story to share.

  Moon Pie had driven less than half a mile when he saw the game warden’s dark-green pickup parked on the side of the road. It had been just as he suspected. His daddy had taught him well and emphasized one thing: never get caught on another man’s land. His daddy’s words rang in his ears: “You can hide or you can run, but don’t ever get caught.” He was taught to understand the woods and recognize nature’s alarms. Some were audible, but most times they were silent. But that was all before cell phones, handheld radios, surveillance cameras, high-dollar hunting clubs, and good deer-ground leasing for more than farming rights. It was much tougher being a successful poacher today, and so far Moon Pie had kept his promise to his dying daddy that he would never get caught.

  His satellite radio beeped an alert that his favorite song was coming on the country-outlaw channel. He clicked over and listened to Charlie Daniels sing “Uneasy Rider,” telling a story about a fight in Jackson, Mississippi, on a Saturday night. Moon Pie knew every word and sang along.

  CHAPTER 67

  AFTER ABOUT FOUR hours of being counted and recounted on Sunday morning, all of the money was stacked neatly on Lucille’s kitchen table. They had chosen her place because no matter how small the risk, they didn’t want to be at Walter’s if the police happened to drop by to question him about Kroger, and the policeman last night had seen only three old guys. Lucille was totally off the radar.

  There had been exactly $900,000 in the large black bag, and the boot boxes held a total of $332,876. With bleary eyes from little to no sleep the night before and the tedium of counting tens of thousands of bills multiple times, Walter and crew stared at the stacks of cash. It was more than any of them had ever seen or imagined they would ever see. Bailey, in her own world, quietly sat on her grandmother’s couch, intently listening and watching.

  Walter announced with satisfaction, “Okay, kids, it’s official: one million, two hundred thirty-two thousand, eight hundred and seventy-six dollars!”

  “I never thought I’d ever see a million dollars,” Bernard said in amazement.

  “Everybody wash your hands. That money’s nasty,” Lucille said, prompting everyone to look at their hands.

  Bernard’s hands looked like he had just changed a flat tire. “Now I know what they’re talking about on TV when they saylaunderin’ money.”

  Walter shook his head and looked at Bernard. “What?”

  “The reason for laundering money. I know why now. ’Cause it’s dirty.”

  Walter couldn’t stand it. “Bernard, they’re referring to unaccounted money, like drug money, and the need to run it through a legitimate business, thereby making it clean so it can be deposited into a bank and used for whatever they want after that. Since the dirty money is now clean, it’s considered to have been laundered.”

  “That’s what I mean; they’re cleaning it.”

  “Bernard, it’s a turn of phrase. It’s not literal.” Walter shook his head and then threw his hands up. Frustrated, he looked at Sebastian and Lucille for help.

  “I wonder if they put it in a washing machine,” he said as he washed his hands.

  “Probably,” Sebastian said sarcastically.

  After all had washed their hands and gotten something to drink, they stared like zombies at the stacks of money, as if it were magical. Just a few days ago none of them had had any extra cash, and they had slept like babies. Now they had serious cash, and not one of them had slept last night. They were so nervous they doubted they ever would again.

  “Wadda we do now?” Lucille asked.

  “Maybe we need to hire a security guard.”

  “We can’t keep this in our litter boxes,” Sebastian reminded them.

  “Where do you suggest we keep it?”

  “I don’t know. I’m thinking maybe a climate-controlled storage unit,” Walter said.

  “Who’ll keep the key?” Lucille asked quickly.

  Walter looked at everyone slowly and noticed their eyes flashing with distrust for each other. He realized that he too was having the same feelings toward them. Overnight this amount of money had changed the dynamics of their group.

  “Okay, let’s all calm down and talk this through. What do you guys think we should do?” he asked.

  “We should put it in the bank, in a safety-deposit box,” Sebastian said.

  “Again, who gets the key?” Lucille quickly asked. “And I think it’s too much to put in a safety-deposit box. They say you can’t put cash in ’em, although I don’t know how they would know.”

  “We could divide it four ways, and each person guards a fourth,” Bernard added.

  Bailey had a calculator on her phone and quickly did the math. “That’s $308,219 each.”

  “Is that what you guys want to do?” Walter asked, but nobody responded. “What’s happened to us? We’re acting like we don’t even trust each other anymore.” He continued, “Sebastian, do you trust me?”

  “Of course I trust you.”

  “It’s me he doesn’t trust,” Lucille said.

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “You didn’t have to.”

  “Okay, stop it.” Walter sighed and stared at the cash. “We started off wanting to do good. Help people. Start something positive. We can’t let a windfall like this turn us against each other.”

  “Walter, the good we can actually do is only a drop in a bucket compared to the needs. We can’t help that many people. There are just too many in need.” Lucille sighed and then hung her head.

  “So what are you saying?”

  “Maybe we should split it…pay back Kroger so you don’t get in trouble
and just split the rest. Each of us could do our own thing.”

  “Yeah, we definitely don’t want to get you in trouble,” Bernard added quickly.

  They alternated between looking at each other, their hands, and the money. They had known each other for only a few years, but during that time, they had learned each one’s true self. They knew each other’s fears, weaknesses, strengths, and talents. They knew each other’s idiosyncrasies. They knew each other’s values. They knew about sons and daughters who didn’t visit. They knew who couldn’t afford to eat at restaurants. But most importantly, they knew that each of their hearts was filled with compassion and a desire to help others. That was the principal reason they had chosen each other as friends. Prior to this million-dollar acquisition, these were people who made the right decisions and cared about doing the right things. After a long while, they each began to come to terms with their departure from their core value system, and the resulting shame.

  Sebastian broke the silence. “Look, I really don’t care anymore. I just want Bailey to get away from that monster.”

  Lucille’s eyes began to tear. Bailey smiled at him. “Thank you, Sebastian. And I want you to go to the best oncologist there is, wherever you need to go to get the best treatment.”

  Bernard tossed his hand towel into the sink. “I’ll do whatever y’all wanna do. All I ever wanted outta this deal was to fund a scholarship in my daddy’s name at my high school.”

  This was the first time that Bernard had spoken about his desires, so everyone listened intently. When he noticed, he continued, “I was the youngest of five brothers and sisters, and my momma died givin’ birth to me. My daddy, he never remarried. He’d only made it through the eighth grade. He worked two jobs so we all could go to college if we wanted. We all did. He put all five of us through college. The only time he ever saw a college was when he came to watch us graduate. He never took a vacation or a day off. He worked at the lumber mill and a dry cleaners, and he took care of us at home. The man worked seven days a week. Christmas Day was the only day he ever got off work, and that was because both the mill and the cleaners were closed at the same time.”

  “You must really be proud of your dad,” Walter said.

  Bernard covered his face. A tear fell to the floor through his fingers. The group looked at each other, confused. They had never seen him like this. Walter and Sebastian both put their hands on his shoulders in an effort to comfort him.

  “What’s wrong, big guy? Tell us.”

  “By the time I graduated from college, my daddy was all broken down from working so much. He was just pretty much worn down and give out. After graduation, there was this big shindig. All my class had their families there, and everybody was dressed up. It was all real fancy and everything. At that stage of my life, money, or the appearance of money, was way too important. I was ashamed of my dad, and I didn’t invite him to the party. I’ve always regretted that. I can’t believe I did that. He died a few days later…it was almost like he worked to get us all educated and out into the world better off than he was, and once he accomplished that, he was finished. He just collapsed.”

  Bernard took a deep breath. The guys nodded, heads down. Lucille blotted her eyes with a napkin. Bailey cried too.

  After a long moment of silence, Lucille said, “It sounds to me like your dad really accomplished a great deal. He must have been a really fine man.”

  “He was. He really was, and all he cared about was us kids gettin’ an education. That’s why I…I’ve always wanted to do a scholarship at my high school for a student that otherwise might not be able to afford to go to college and name it the Willie Washington Jefferson Memorial Scholarship.”

  Walter looked at everyone and saw the nods of agreement. “Bernard, consider it done. Only let’s do two. We’ll do two annually—one in your daddy’s name and one in your name.”

  Bernard looked around at the nodding heads and said, “Are y’all serious?”

  “Absolutely!” exclaimed Sebastian.

  “We’ll get Samantha on it tomorrow. She’ll know how to set it up. Where did you go to high school?”

  “Macon, Mississippi.”

  “Well, two young ’uns in Macon, Mississippi, don’t know it yet, but their road to a higher education just got a lot easier.”

  Bernard smiled, and the members of the group felt better about themselves.

  “Thank y’all so much. This means the world to me.”

  Sebastian poured himself another cup of coffee and then looked at Walter. “What about you, Walter? Besides wantin’ to keep the Prairie Home Companion radio show on the air, wadda you wanna do? I haven’t ever heard you say specifically.”

  Walter swallowed hard as he held up his cup, indicating that he needed more coffee. He thought about what to say. He knew he hadn’t been perfectly honest with them, and his true motivation had been buried—completely hidden. “My wife and I had a daughter. She was our life. We adored her. She married this guy right out of college, and looking back now, we weren’t crazy about him, but she loved him and her happiness was all that really mattered. They lived nearby and came over a coupla times a week, and we were close. She taught kindergarten. He was computer nerd and worked for a software company that designed games, and he didn’t make squat but got stock options. After about two years of us havin’ to feed ’em twice a week and slipping her money to help make ends meet, the company he worked for went public, and shit, suddenly he’s rich.”

  The group was hanging on Walter’s every word.

  “That’s when things started gettin’ weird. They bought a big house on the other side of town and started havin’ lots of excuses why they couldn’t come and see us. She wanted to have a kid and he didn’t, and that got ugly. Then he didn’t want her comin’ to see us. She wanted to start a family, put down roots, and he was suddenly interested in nothing but being around other people that had lots of money. He was designin’ these really violent video games, and I think it started having an effect on him.

  “Anyway, the company’s stock went sky-high, and he was selling it every chance he got. He quit working and started day trading and I think probably doin’ drugs too. He also made my daughter quit working, but he got so that he wouldn’t let her outta the house. She became like a slave to him. When we tried to go over, he’d just lock us out. He cut us out of their lives. We could tell she was miserable. She’d slip away and call us, but we really couldn’t do anything. I talked to the police, and there just wasn’t anything we could do. They even advised that we stay out of it. Their house had a huge fence and was gated, so we couldn’t just show up and see her. It was killing us. We knew something was wrong.

  “After a while, when we’d see her, she wouldn’t take off her sunglasses. We didn’t know how bad things actually were. Then one night, my wife got a call from a friend of hers that’s a nurse, saying that our daughter was in the ER. She’d been beaten up bad—I mean really bad—and was in a coma. She stayed that way for about four weeks, and the bastard never once came to see her. His parents came to the hospital, and when he found out, he threatened them. They were scared to death of him. My little girl died from that beating. My wife and I were both there when she passed. You should never have to watch your kid die. That’s as tough as it gets.”

  “Oh my God! That’s so sad,” Lucille said as she rubbed her arms and looked at Bailey, who was crying.

  “Is he still alive?” Sebastian asked.

  “Hang on, Sebastian, let me finish. So I went to his house with a baseball bat and climbed the gate, and I busted out a door with windows, but before I could find him, the police arrived and I got into all kinds of trouble. Restraining orders and you name it, court-ordered counseling. I couldn’t get within five hundred feet of him or I’d go to jail. Hell, I had a wife to take care of, and believe me, she was a mess by now.”

  “What about him? Was he arrested?” Bernard asked.

  “Yes, the police were all over him, and he confessed to th
e beating. He said she refused to have sex with him and she got what she deserved. But at the trial, because of some damn legal technicality, he got off scot-free. It was a nightmare. The judge knew he was guilty, but they couldn’t violate his civil rights. Both the judge and the prosecutor resigned. They said they couldn’t continue to enforce laws after such a travesty. So, he’s free as you and me today.

  “The police begged me not to do anything. They were worried that I’d do something crazy, and believe me, I wanted to. Irene had a nervous breakdown, so I had to take care of her. I had to focus all of my hate and desire for revenge into love and compassion for my wife. We went through all of our savings pretty quick, and our quality of life tanked. That son of a bitch now lives down in Tampa, Florida. I keep up with him as best I can, and I’ve been biding my time. One day, soon, I’m gonna kill him. That’s the real reason why I wanted the money. I wanted to make sure I could kill him, have a solid alibi, and get away with it.”

  Silence once again filled the room. Coffees had gone cold. Everyone was wide-eyed. Walter bared the palms of his hands as if to say, “That’s my story.”

  “I’ll help you do it,” Sebastian said with complete sincerity. “It would be my absolute pleasure.”

  “That’s how come you know so much about spousal abuse,” Lucille stated with an understanding nod. “Is that where you were headin’ when your wife died?”

  “Not exactly, but we were getting closer. It’s a long way from Minnesota to Florida. But Fairhope, Alabama, is within a day’s drive of the Tampa suburb where he lives.”