Murder and Moonshine: A Mystery

by Miller, Carol

  “I suggested to George that I go instead of him,” Sue continued, once again tugging at her earrings. “Break the ice, so to speak. Or at least try to break the ice. I don’t think Rick and Bobby hold any major grudges against me. But George said there’s only one person who he’s sure Rick won’t shoot on sight.” She looked at Daisy with some embarrassment and gave her an apologetic shrug.

  Hank grumbled a few incomprehensible syllables as he dug into a second scone. Daisy sighed. He was right. Sue was asking for a pair of kidneys. Or a mighty close equivalent.

  “So you want me to go to Rick and Bobby’s with you?” she said. “That’s the favor?”

  Sue’s face instantly brightened. “That would be great, Daisy. George and I’d both really appreciate it.”

  Daisy hesitated. There wasn’t even a teeny tiny fraction of her that wanted to pay a visit to the Balsam brothers. She saw more than enough of them already. But there was the diner to consider. The sooner the investigation into Fred Dickerson’s death ended, the sooner H & P’s could reopen.

  “Fine,” she agreed reluctantly. “I’ll go.” Daisy raised a shrewd eyebrow. “But the next time there’s any trouble here at the diner, I expect the sheriff’s office to take care of it lickety-split.”

  Sue laughed. “Of course.”

  “And can I also expect someone to stumble across an emergency slush fund to help cover the cost of the supposed sterilization of this place by the Danville hospital?”

  “Either that,” Sue promised, “or I’ll do my durnedest to talk the folks at the hospital out of coming at all.”

  “Fine,” Daisy said again, with a satisfied nod. “I’ll go.”

  Hank grinned and slapped her on the shoulder. “You’re a born negotiator, child. Just like your daddy.”

  She didn’t grin back. Her daddy wouldn’t have liked her going anywhere near Rick Balsam.

  CHAPTER

  6

  The ambulance bumped over the gravel like a woozy pack mule plodding along an old wagon trail. Back and forth. Up and down. It was enough to make even the most rugged country girl long for a smooth, paved boulevard. But the scenery was lovely. Pine stands as far as the eye could see. Endless rows of majestic, towering trees. It was a dark, almost ominous forest, with only an occasional sunburst breaking through the canopy where a windstorm or lightning strike had created a small natural clearing. Everywhere the ground was covered with a thick carpet of dried, rust-colored needles. And the smell was heavenly. It was fresh and clean, with a hint of sweetness to it, almost like a stick of peppermint candy.

  “This is a hundred times better than air-conditioning.” Daisy sighed, opening the window and inhaling deeply. “It always amazes me how you can be sweltering to death in ninety-plus degrees standing in the middle of some cornfield, then you take two steps in here and it feels like a completely different season. You can actually breathe again.”

  “Speaking of breathing,” Sue replied, “when we get to the trailers should I prepare myself for being accosted by any animals other than the dogs?”

  “I don’t think so. Lordy, I hope not, because I only brought goodies for the pups.” Daisy patted the bulging bag of ham bones that she had taken from the diner. “When was the last time you were at the trailers, Sue?”

  “I was just trying to figure that out myself.” She calculated a moment. “It must have been about two years ago. It was that time Rick had to call the rescue squad when Bobby accidentally skewered himself in the knee.”

  Daisy burst out laughing. “I remember that! He’d watched some old Robin Hood movie and was trying to make his own crossbow.”

  “A real genius idea that turned out to be.”

  “I must have teased him about it for a good six months whenever he and Rick came into the diner after that.”

  “Daisy,” Sue said, growing serious, “I want to thank you again for going with me today to talk to them. I was awfully worried about George coming out here all alone. I know it can’t be easy for you. I know there’s a lot of … er … history between you and Rick.”

  Her laughter promptly died, but she was saved from having to answer by the appearance of the Balsam brothers’ infamous signs. The first few were nothing out of the ordinary, merely the standard yellow postings ordering no hunting, no fishing, and no hiking. They were followed by a half dozen black-and-orange beware of dog and a similar half dozen black-and-white private property. Then came the serious signs, the ones that made Sue slow the ambulance and shift uncomfortably in her seat. Some were handmade. Others were professionally done. But they were all big and quite clear.

  TRESPASSERS WILL BE SHOT ON SIGHT

  GOVERNMENT AGENTS WILL BE SHOT ON SIGHT

  GOVERNMENT VEHICLES WILL BE SHOT ON SIGHT

  SOLICITORS WILL BE SHOT ON SIGHT

  STRANGERS WILL BE SHOT ON SIGHT

  TURN AROUND NOW OR YOU WILL BE SHOT ON SIGHT

  “I think that last one is new,” Daisy remarked, half smothering a chortle.

  Sue looked at her in surprise. “You think they’re funny?”

  “No. Of course not. But you said it best when we were at the diner. The signs are crazy. They’ve always been crazy, and they’re always going to be crazy.” She shrugged. “So what’s the point of getting worked up about them?”

  “It’s easy for you to be calm. You’re not the government agent driving the government vehicle.”

  “There’s probably an unwritten exception for paramedics and ambulances,” Daisy joked. “There was when Bobby skewered himself with the crossbow, right?”

  A small smile crept over Sue’s otherwise tense face.

  “Don’t worry,” Daisy reassured her. “They won’t shoot us. So long as we identify ourselves as soon as possible—and the boys aren’t too drunk.”

  “That’s not really very comforting.”

  She shrugged once more. “Honestly, I think there’s a higher likelihood of getting mauled by the pups.”

  “Now I’m even happier George isn’t here. He doesn’t do so well with dogs, especially not the overly aggressive kind. He gets too many calls about roaming feral packs that shredded the favorite family hen. He has to put a lot of them down.”

  “The Balsam canines can get pretty aggressive if they feel threatened. Sometimes even Bobby has trouble controlling them. But they always obey Rick.”

  Sue gulped. “I guess we better hope Rick is home.”

  “If he’s not, the whole trip up here was for nothing. But,” Daisy added deprecatingly, glancing at her watch, “it’s only midafternoon. The boys are probably still sleeping off whatever depravity they participated in last night.”

  “How anyone can sleep over that racket is a mystery to me.”

  From a distance the collective howling, barking, and baying of dogs sounded like the rumble of thunder from an impending storm. As Daisy and Sue drove closer, it rose in pitch and ferocity until it became a din of gale-force intensity, completely deafening every other sound, even that of the ambulance motor.

  “Pull all the way into the clearing,” Daisy instructed as the gravel road began to widen. “The pups will start jumping at the tires, but don’t worry about them. They’re way too smart and agile to get trampled. If you stop too soon, it’ll be that much harder for us to make it to the trailers.”

  Sue pursed her lips nervously and nodded. She jumped when the first rottweiler crashed against the door on her side, snarling like it hadn’t eaten for a week and was planning on using her as its next meal.

  “Just ignore him,” Daisy said. “Keep going. Keep going.”

  Eyeing the snapping beast warily, Sue continued forward. Daisy had no doubt that if Sue had been just a little less worried about the safety of her husband, she would have instantly shifted the ambulance into reverse and squealed backward down the road, getting as far away from Balsam land as possible.

  Restraining a smile, Daisy turned to look at the dogs, counting them and seeing which ones she knew. “That’s Morgan.�
� She pointed first to the rottweiler clawing at the door and then to a second rottweiler hot on his sister’s heels. “The other is Captain.”

  A pack of yowling blueticks bounded over to join the fun.

  “There’s Gold—and Green—and Red—and Bl—”

  In spite of her anxiety, Sue laughed. “Do Rick and Bobby name all their dogs after liquor? Cuz if they do, Jack and Johnnie are going to have to come up with a few more label colors.”

  “Not the black and tans. They’ve got way too many to name them.”

  There were at least fifteen—maybe twenty—black-and-tan coonhounds racing around the ambulance as though they were trying to tree it. They were all heavy-boned and muscular, with long ears and heads.

  “Good God,” Sue muttered. “I knew the Balsam boys kept a lot of dogs, but I had no idea it was this many.”

  “Just think about how much kibble they go through in a week.” Daisy frowned at the bag of bones at her feet. “I hope I brought enough.”

  “What’s the plan? Throw the ham one way and we run the other?”

  She grinned. “Something like that.”

  “You think it’ll work?”

  “Sure. Captain and Morgan just need a good pat and their own set of bones, then they’ll be fine. And the hounds are all big babies. Take a look at those weepy eyes of theirs. They may sound loud, but it’s mostly bark and not much bite. They’re gonna give us a good sniff, then every ounce of their attention will be focused on the bones.”

  “I’m glad you’re so confident,” Sue responded dubiously, as the monstrous pair of rottweilers bared their teeth at her.

  “This is good. Stop here.”

  They had reached the center of the clearing. It wasn’t a pretty clearing with a white picket fence and manicured shrubs. It was a large, oval, man-made break in the forest filled with plenty of stumps and boulders. At some point gravel had been dumped there to make a sort of entranceway, but it had washed and worn away over the years, and now the ground was mostly red clay mixed with scruffy weeds.

  Rick and Bobby’s trailers stood side by side at the far end of the clearing. On first approach a stranger could have easily thought they were abandoned. There was no potted plant on the steps, no lawn chair sitting out front, not even a bag of trash waiting to be taken to the dump. Both trailers were ancient and covered in flaking rust. Their formerly white paint had turned dingy gray. The windows were streaked with dirt, and the screens were shredded. It all looked terribly tattered and pathetically forlorn.

  “He’s got plenty of money to buy Fox Hollow,” Daisy mumbled crossly, “but he still won’t spend a nickel to fix up this place.”

  “What was that?” Sue said, parking the ambulance.

  “Nothing. Ready?” She took a deep breath. She wasn’t any more eager to climb out of the vehicle than Sue, although for an entirely different reason. Sue dreaded the dogs. Daisy dreaded their owners.

  “Ready?” Sue echoed apprehensively, gazing at the growling collection of canines awaiting her. “I don’t know. You’re sure it’s all bark and not bite?”

  “Positive. Let me go first, and they’ll come around to my side. When I’ve got their attention with the ham, then you can go. They probably won’t even notice you once they’ve started in on the bones.”

  “Which trailer is Rick’s?” Sue asked.

  “The one on the right.” Daisy furrowed her brow as she looked back and forth between the two dented doors. There was no sign of either Rick or Bobby. “It’s strange they haven’t come out yet. Their trucks are both here.” She gestured at the two pickups parked toward the left in between a fire pit and a scorched charcoal grill.

  “Maybe I should keep the engine running,” Sue said, “just in case they don’t answer and we have to sprint back to the ambulance to avoid getting mangled.”

  “I think we’ll be okay.” Daisy suppressed a chuckle. For a robust woman, both in girth and personality, Sue was awfully timid when it came to pooches. Maybe she had gotten a set of razor teeth locked into her thigh once in the past and was now doubly shy. “Well, wish me luck.”

  Sue watched as Daisy scooped up her bag of bones and opened the door. As predicted, all the dogs immediately galloped around to her side. Before her feet even touched the ground, she was enveloped in a giant woofing, whining, yapping heap of fur and paws. Sue may have cringed in anticipation of the first savage bite, but it didn’t come. Tails were wagging. Tongues were drooling. Daisy acknowledged them in their self-determined pecking order. She scratched the thick backs of the rottweilers first, then rubbed the broad heads of the blueticks. The black-and-tan coonhounds came last, pushing their muzzles against her for their share of the affection. Finally she doled out the ham bones, smartly scattering them away from the ambulance and the trailers.

  “Okey-dokey,” she called to Sue when she had finished. “All clear.”

  Sue was visibly impressed. “You’re like a dog sorcerer.”

  Daisy laughed and shook her head. “No. It’s just basic doggie hierarchy. I’ve met Captain and Morgan before, so they know my scent. They’re the alphas. If they accept you, all the rest will too. Pack mentality. And a bit of meat bribery never hurts.”

  While Sue started toward the trailers, Daisy returned to the ambulance and pulled out a second bag.

  “More bones?” Sue asked.

  “No. This is for the boys. Bribery in the form of baked goods.”

  It was Sue’s turn to laugh. “What’s the old saying? The way to a man’s heart is through his stomach?”

  Daisy grinned. “Hey, you want cooperation. This is the best way I know to get Rick and Bobby to cooperate.”

  “I’ll have to remember that.” Sue stopped for a moment and listened. “Gosh, it’s awfully nice in here when it’s quiet, isn’t it?”

  In comparison to their former hullabaloo, the dogs were now silent, only breaking into an occasional tussle over an unclaimed bone. A soft Appalachian breeze rustled the crowns of the pines. A woodpecker pounded the bark in search of an insect. On some distant branch a squirrel chattered.

  “This is the best part of not having any neighbors,” Daisy remarked. “No car doors slamming. No lawn mowers firing up first thing Saturday morning. Not having to hear everybody else’s conversation out on the patio.”

  “There sure is something to be said for isolation,” Sue agreed. “But this,” she wrinkled her nose at the ramshackle trailers, “is a little too isolated for my taste.”

  “If they ever try to sell ’em, I know the perfect way to phrase the advertisement. Peaceful rural retreat. Needs minor work.”

  “That’s hilarious!” Sue chortled. “The poor girl who marries either of them one day. She’s going to have her hands full.”

  “Brenda always says the same thing.”

  But Daisy knew that it wasn’t entirely true anymore, at least not in regard to the elder brother and the family homestead. Now Rick and a future Mrs. Balsam could move to Fox Hollow and ruin the beautiful old farmhouse there, which would be a thousand times worse than ruining a pair of inconsequential trailers here. It was a depressing thought.

  Sue climbed the two short steps to Rick’s battered door. She squinted at it, then turned to Daisy, who was a couple of paces behind her. “I don’t see a bell. Should I just knock?” She leaned her ear close to the peeling paint. “I don’t hear anything inside. Maybe he—”

  Her jaw froze midsentence. Through the tranquil stillness came the unmistakable sound of a bolt driving a round into the chamber of a rifle.

  CHAPTER

  7

  Like a doe catching the crack of a twig beneath the paw of an approaching mountain lion, Sue’s body went rigid. Only her eyes moved. They dashed from Daisy to Rick’s door to the scraggy bushes behind the trailer. Daisy studied the bushes too. She saw nothing. No bending branch. No track in the dirt. Not even a fluttering leaf. She knew they had to be there, concealed somewhere in the undergrowth. But she couldn’t find them, neither the rifl
e nor the man who was presumably holding it.

  “Daisy—” Sue choked in a barely audible whisper.

  Daisy understood her panic. There was a very specific feeling of fright that came with a gun pointed in your direction, visible or not. It was a basic, instinctive desire to survive. And it wasn’t lessened in the least by the fact that one half of your brain realized you probably wouldn’t actually be shot. The other half of your brain took priority and screamed at you to flee.

  “Where…” Sue stammered. “I don’t—”

  With a frown and slight shake of her head, Daisy silenced her. Logic told her that it had to be one or both of the Balsam brothers hidden in the bushes. The most likely scenario was that they had been out in the forest when she and Sue first arrived. They might have heard the ambulance engine and its tires on the gravel. They would have definitely heard the dogs. And they had come home to investigate. They had caught voices and seen people wandering around their trailers, except they didn’t catch or see enough to identify them. Which meant that she had better identify herself. And quick. Daisy wasn’t sure how Rick and Bobby felt about Sue dropping in unannounced for a visit, but she was pretty confident that they wouldn’t knowingly play target practice with her.

  “It’s me,” she cried, raising her hands in half-mocking surrender. “Daisy. Not a stranger, government agent, or unwanted solicitor. Just lil’ ol’ Daisy McGovern. Your favorite waitress over at H & P’s.”

  Sticks snapped, and a shrub parted. A figure appeared dressed in full camouflage. Hat, shirt, vest, gloves, pants, and boots. Even his face was painted.

  “Aw hell, Daisy,” he complained. “I almost took your leg clean off.”

  Daisy heaved a sigh of relief and lowered her arms. It was Bobby, and he sounded sober. That was especially good considering he had a loaded rifle slung over his back. Sue exhaled so hard, she coughed.

  Bobby immediately paused. “Who’s that with you, Daisy?”

  “Sue,” she answered hastily. “Sue Lowell. We came in her ambulance.”