Fred Dickerson certainly had been old school. It wouldn’t have surprised Daisy in the least if he had put arsenic on his corn. There were probably bags of it lying all over Fox Hollow. Then he had used that corn to make his ’shine. He had poisoned himself. And now—with the help of Rick—he had poisoned her too. It was so simple really. Arsenic was readily soluble in water. It was colorless and odorless. Poor Fred wouldn’t have even realized what had happened until it was already too late. Afterward the arsenic would be detectable in his hair and nails. Daisy knew that because a few years back there had been concerns about the safety of some wells in the area. Scientists from all over the state had descended on them to do tests. That must have been what old man Dickerson’s autopsy showed. That was why Special Agent Kinney was here. He came for corpses, and apparently Fred’s corpse contained arsenic and moonshine.
Daisy’s wobbly feet stepped onto the grass. The sun hit her cheeks, and she paused.
“If you’re waiting for me to turn my back so you can grab your Ruger and run, you can forget it,” Ethan spat at Rick. “You’re staying with me, and we’re going outside. Move!”
Rick complied without dispute. He left the barn first, followed closely by Ethan and the Glock. Daisy’s eyes met his. Rick’s gaze was utterly blank. There was no mocking laughter, no remorse, not even any sympathy.
“How are you?” Ethan asked Daisy anxiously.
She didn’t answer. She kept on looking at Rick. He looked straight back at her.
“We need to get you to a hospital,” Ethan said. “Do you know where the nearest emergency room is? One with a trauma unit would be preferable. They’re better equipped…”
Daisy stopped listening. She wasn’t thinking about emergency rooms or trauma units. She was thinking about Rick. His head, to be precise. Rick cocked his head to the side when he flirted and when he lied, always when he believed he had the upper hand. But his head wasn’t cocked now, and that was what brought the realization home to her. There were no yellow-tinted tears streaming from her eyes or foam gushing out of her mouth. No paralyzing convulsions forced her to the ground. She hadn’t drunk a bad batch of ’shine. Whatever strange symptoms she had felt were a result of the potent alcohol hitting her empty stomach. Rick hadn’t tried to poison her after all.
“Why didn’t you say something!” Daisy exploded in anger. “I thought I might be dying. I thought you had poisoned me. And you decided it would be a grand idea to let me go on thinking that?”
Rick frowned at her. “Don’t be stupid.”
“I guess I am stupid,” she hissed. “I’m stupid for believing any word that ever rolls off your lying tongue.”
“Are you…” Ethan squinted at her in confusion. “I don’t…”
“I’m fine,” Daisy told him. “I’m not sick. I don’t need to go to the hospital. But I appreciate your help and concern. Very much.” She turned to Rick with a bitter scowl. “I’ve known Ethan for two days, and he was worried enough to want to take me to the emergency room. I’ve known you for practically my whole life, and you couldn’t be bothered to spit out one simple sentence—No, I didn’t poison you, Daisy.”
“You’re being dramatic,” Rick replied coolly.
She glared at him. “And you’re being an ass. An even bigger ass than usual, which I seriously didn’t think was possible.”
He glared at her in return. “You’re right about one thing. You’ve known me for practically your whole life. So you should know I would never poison you. Although I’m beginning to wonder if I’ve been wrong about that all these years.”
Ethan waved his Glock in Rick’s direction. “I hope that’s not a threat.” Then to Daisy he said, “What I want to know is why you thought he had poisoned you.”
An hour earlier she would have debated how candid to be with Ethan, but after the appalling scare that Rick had just put her through—not to mention his infuriatingly cavalier attitude about it—she felt not the tiniest bit of loyalty toward him.
“I thought he had poisoned me,” she answered frankly, “because last week when I told him that George Lowell—the Pittsylvania County sheriff—might drive out to Fox Hollow sometime in the near future, Rick informed me that I needed to go with him. When I asked why, he responded that unless I wanted the sheriff to die like old man Dickerson, I had to make sure he didn’t drink any of Fred’s ’shine. I remembered what Rick had said just as I drank the ’shine, and I naturally assumed that now I was going to die like Fred.”
“Traitor,” Rick muttered.
Daisy raised a resentful eyebrow at him. “I’m the traitor? I don’t think so. Whose name is on the deed to this place? It certainly ain’t mine.”
“I tried to explain that to you—”
Ethan interrupted him brusquely. “How did you know there was a problem with Mr. Dickerson’s product?”
“How did you know?” Rick retorted.
“They sent us a copy of the autopsy report. The arsenic in the man was off the charts. When combined with the alcohol in his system, it wasn’t too difficult to figure out what had happened. We’ve seen it before.”
Rick grunted.
“So I’m going to ask you again.” Ethan’s voice was sharp and commanding. “How did you know there was a problem with Mr. Dickerson’s product?”
He didn’t immediately reply. Instead Rick clenched and unclenched his fists. Daisy understood why. He didn’t want to talk to Ethan. Ethan wasn’t just the law. He was federal. To Rick that was like mixing typhoid and cholera. You didn’t voluntarily help typhoid and cholera.
“Just tell him,” she said.
“Maybe I’ve got nothing to tell,” Rick returned.
Daisy wrinkled her nose. “Yes, you do. I saw it.”
“What did you see?”
“I saw you stare at him. Right after Sheriff Lowell arrived. You were staring at Fred’s body. I know you noticed something. And I’m willing to bet it’s the reason you thought he drank some bad ’shine.”
Rick grunted again.
“Just tell him,” she repeated. “He’s going to figure it out eventually anyway. It’s better if he hears the truth from you now. Then they can’t invent some ludicrous story later on. And we both know how the ATF loves to do that.”
“ATF!” Rick gaped at her. “He’s ATF?”
Her face reddened.
“You really are a traitor,” Rick snarled.
“Don’t you dare judge me!” Daisy snarled back at him. “I lost everything because of them. You lost nothing.”
“Does your momma know what you’re doing? How about Aunt Emily? Or Hank! You can’t honestly expect me to believe they’re all hunky-dory with you standing merrily next to him and acting like—” Rick halted midsentence as he glanced toward Ethan and saw his perplexed expression. He turned back to Daisy. “He doesn’t know, does he?”
She sighed. “I told you already. He didn’t read his file.”
“Huh.” Rick rubbed the stubble on his chin thoughtfully. “What game are you playing, darlin’?”
“I’m not playing any game,” she responded, more fatigued than offended. “I’m trying to get Ethan the information he needs so he can finish up his investigation into poor Fred’s death and go home.”
“And I’m grateful for it,” Ethan said.
Rick went on rubbing his chin.
Daisy shrugged. “Tell him. Don’t tell him. Do whatever you want, Rick. Just make up your mind—and be quick about it too—because it’s hotter than Hades standing out here in the sun.”
“I thought I was the only one melting,” Ethan agreed. He turned to Rick. “Since we’d all rather be somewhere with air-conditioning, let’s just cut to the chase. If you make it easier for me, I’ll make it easier for you. Don’t forget, I’m ATF and you’ve got a barn full of what I’m assuming is unregistered, untaxed, illegally distilled corn whiskey behind you. I’m sure you don’t need me to do the math for you.”
With a shrug of his own, Rick said, “He had
the lid to a canning jar.”
“Who did?” Ethan asked. “Mr. Dickerson?”
He nodded.
“When was this?”
“When he collapsed at the diner.”
“You were at H & P’s when Mr. Dickerson died?”
“I was. Right next to sweet li’l Daisy.”
Ethan looked at her. “You didn’t mention that.”
“You didn’t ask,” she replied.
“You seem to use that answer a lot.” He frowned.
“Maybe so, but it’s true.”
Although the frown continued, Ethan directed his attention back to Rick. “So when Mr. Dickerson died at the diner, he had the lid to a canning jar?”
Rick nodded a second time.
Daisy shook her head at him. “Fred wasn’t holding anything. I’m positive of that. I looked at his hands.”
“It wasn’t in his hands. It was in the pocket of his coveralls. I didn’t see it until he fell on the tile. Then it slipped partway out. That’s what I was staring at.”
“The lid to a canning jar doesn’t explain how you knew there was a problem with Mr. Dickerson’s product,” Ethan said.
“It was pink.”
“Pink?” Daisy and Ethan echoed in unison.
“I get that she wouldn’t know”—Rick gestured toward Daisy—“because the only wildcat she usually drinks is a polite glass of Emily Tosh’s gooseberry brandy after Sunday dinner. But you”—he curled his lips at Ethan with contempt—“are from the almighty, all-powerful, all-knowing ATF. You should understand what pink means.”
“Well, I don’t,” Ethan informed him sourly.
Rick’s contemptuous smile grew.
“So are you going to enlighten us?” Daisy asked, more for the sake of her own curiosity than to temper the rising hostility between the two men.
“I’ll show you,” Rick said. “It’s better that way.”
He started walking toward the house. Daisy promptly followed him. Ethan joined her but stayed carefully behind their leader, maintaining a clear shot in case Rick tried to pull something tricky. When Daisy realized that he was taking them around the far side of the house, she slowed to a shuffle.
Ethan glanced at her questioningly. “Is something wrong?”
“No.”
It was a lie, but Daisy didn’t care. She was too concerned with keeping her head down and her eyes glued to her feet.
“Are you sure?” he pressed her. “Because you look like you just saw a ghost.”
That was precisely why she had her eyes glued to her feet. She didn’t want to see a ghost. And they were getting close to one. Too close. They had already passed the far corner of the empty brick patio. It was just beyond that.
Suddenly Ethan stopped. “What the heck happened there?”
Daisy didn’t have to raise her gaze. She knew what he was referring to just the same as her own name. Like a brand, the image was seared permanently into her brain. It was a large circular burnt patch. Soulless black at the center, growing gradually lighter gray until it was almost violet at the edges. The earth was so deeply and violently scorched in that spot, no green would grow there for many years.
“That must have been a bad fire,” Ethan remarked.
“It was,” Rick responded solemnly. “It’s where Daisy’s daddy died.”
CHAPTER
15
“I’m sorry.”
“You should be.”
Ethan glowered at Rick. “I wasn’t speaking to you.”
“That’s good, because there’s no way in hell I’d ever forgive you.”
“Forgive me!” Ethan snorted. “Forgive me for what? I haven’t done a damn thing to you. Not yet anyway.”
“Maybe.” Rick shrugged. “Or maybe not. But there’s no arguing you’ve done plenty to Daisy and her family.”
“What are you talking about? I don’t even know her family.”
“You would—or at least you’d have a clue—if you had read that file of yours.”
“Enough with the blasted file already,” Ethan snapped. “Okay, I admit it. I didn’t do my homework like I should have. My boss handed me the case. It looked like a simple, straightforward, accidental hooch and arsenic combo. And I came here to do the obligatory follow-up before closing the file. It was supposed to be quick and easy. No background or research necessary. I see now I was wrong about that. So if you’ve got something to say to me, just say it. Don’t keep talking around it like I’m supposed to decode an ancient riddle, because I can’t.”
“Well?” Rick looked at Daisy. “It’s your call.”
She didn’t look back at him. Her gaze was locked on a desolate clump of white clover that was struggling to survive just beyond the violet edge of the charred circle. It seemed to her like a little flag of surrender. Only she wasn’t sure if it was the blackened earth that was capitulating or her.
“I don’t know what Daisy’s told you,” Rick said to Ethan. “It can’t be much if you didn’t know about her daddy.”
“He…” Ethan paused and glanced at her, but she didn’t look back at him either. “He died here? In a fire?”
Rick nodded.
“Was anybody else hurt?” He glanced at Daisy again.
“If you’re checking for burn marks,” Rick responded with crispness, “you won’t find them. She wasn’t here when it happened. But there was another person killed. Her daddy-in-law.”
“When was this?”
“About five years ago.”
“Five years ago? Isn’t that around the same time her husband left? Was Matt involved?”
Rick’s body stiffened. “How do you know about Matt?”
“Daisy told me.” Ethan smiled at him with condescension. “I have spent the last two days with her. She has shared a few things.”
“She might seem friendly to you now, but make no mistake about it, Daisy ain’t your friend.”
The smile grew. “Does she blame you?”
“What in God’s name would she blame me for?” Rick retorted.
“Isn’t it obvious? It’s your property. Her father and father-in-law died here. It sounds to me like you’d be the perfect person to blame.”
“That just shows how little you understand. It wasn’t my property then. It belonged to Daisy’s family.”
“If that’s true,” Ethan said, frowning, “why did they decide to sell it? Too many bad memories?”
“Sell it?” Rick laughed. His tone was harsh and cynical. “To get away from bad memories? That’s a good joke.”
Ethan’s face hardened. “Do I really have to remind you about the gallons of unlawful liquor you’re producing on this land?”
The laughter promptly died.
“Because the potential consequences—”
“You don’t need to threaten me.” Rick cut him off sullenly. “I know all about your consequences. Everyone around here does. We understand what happens when you boys at the ATF get mad or feel like teaching somebody a lesson. We’ve seen it before. Daisy and her momma have felt your wrath.”
There was a slight pause, then Ethan replied with frosty composure. “I’m not threatening you, and I don’t teach people lessons. I meant what I said earlier. If you make it easier for me, I’ll make it easier for you.”
“And how exactly do I make it easier for you?”
“You can start by explaining to me what happened the last time someone was here from my office.”
“Okay. But don’t blame me afterward. You’ll have to deal with these consequences, not me.” Rick gestured toward the burnt patch in front of them. “The last time someone was here from your office, they had been sent to investigate that.”
“The fire?” Ethan showed mild astonishment. “The fire that killed Daisy’s father and father-in-law?”
“Yes,” Daisy said. “The fire that killed my daddy and Matt’s daddy.”
As she spoke, both men turned to her. Her eyes met Rick’s first. If he expected tears, there were no
ne.
“Daisy…” he began.
She shook her head at him, and her gaze moved to Ethan. Her face bore no anger or grief. Her expression was entirely void of feeling.
“It was an accident,” she told him. “A terrible accident with a large propane tank. But for some inexplicable reason—known only to the ATF and the Almighty above—you decided differently. You called it a felony. A whole long list of felonies actually. Everything you could possibly imagine involving the manufacture, use, and storage of explosives. All illegal, of course. And as a penalty for that supposed illegal manufacture, use, and storage of explosives, you chose forfeiture. The house. The land. The crops. You took them. You took everything. It was all forfeit. The bank holding the mortgages eventually worked out some sort of a deal with you. Old man Dickerson in turn leased it from them. And then earlier this year, Rick bought the property free and clear. So that’s what happened the last time someone was here from your office. My momma and I buried my daddy—who you branded as a criminal—and we lost Fox Hollow.”
Ethan gurgled. He was clearly too staggered for any other response. Daisy found herself almost smiling because of it. He had probably seen a lot during his time with the bureau. Ethan probably already knew from past experience that still waters could sometimes run remarkably deep. But he obviously hadn’t imagined anything like this. That sleepy, bucolic Fox Hollow was quietly a nest of arsenic, moonshine, explosives, and deadly fires.
To her own surprise, Daisy felt a very welcome sense of relief. Now that she had told him, she could stop dreading having to tell him. She turned to Rick.
“Could we go back to you explaining the pink canning jar lid in Fred’s coveralls?”
He blinked at her for a long moment. Then he drawled, “I think we can do that, darlin’.”
“Good. And please tell me that wherever you’re taking us, it’s in the shade. Because it’s positively roasting out here today. With this humidity I would swear a storm must be coming, except there’s not a cloud in the sky. It’s as blue as blue gets.”
“Do you remember what we used to do on days like this?”
Murder and Moonshine: A Mystery Page 13