Moonshine and Manslaughter

by Ellie Moses

  My mind shut out Aunt Dixie and her crying and before I knew it, we were back at PJ’s salon. I helped Aunt Dixie from the car and led her back inside, a helpless look on my face as PJ took her back to wash the mess of chemicals out of her hair.

  I hung around waiting while PJ put my aunt under the dryer. Her hair was going to have tighter curls than a piglet’s tail. PJ sidled up next to me, her hands fluffing her pretty red locks. “Jolene, I tried to keep her here but she just ran out like her house was on fire. It was the radio that did it.”

  I shook my head. “I knew they were coming to get him cause of Sheriff Quinn gloating about it earlier when I left Value Vintage. I should have gone out to her house instead of heading over to Granny Mack’s first.”

  “Now don’t go blaming yourself. If I’d have been done with Mrs. Hatfield on time, your Aunt Dixie would have been under the dryer when the news came over the radio.”

  I placed a hand on PJ’s shoulder. “None of us are to blame, hon. She was gonna find out one way or t'other. No use in hiding it. If Sheriff Quinn was swaggering around gloating so early in the morning, I’m sure everybody and their mother, except Aunt Dixie, knew about it.”

  The timer dinged for Aunt Dixie to come out from under the dryer and PJ scooted to her side. My aunt looked a mess so I wrinkled my nose and sent a spell toward her head since she couldn’t do it herself as bright magick is only to help others, not yourself. The curls loosened ever so slightly and I heard PJ sigh with relief clear across the shop.

  “See now, Mrs. Durham,” she said, her voice sugary sweet, “everything is gonna be just fine. The curl is perfect. Who knew racing out to Granny Mack’s would yield the perfect ‘do?”

  I jumped as Aunt Dixie’s nemesis, Melba Hoskins, spoke up behind me. I hadn’t seen her in the small waiting area near the front of the shop when we came in stirring up a ruckus. “I don’t see how a mother can make time to have her hair done whilst her only child is charged with murder. But it is Dixie Durham we’re talking about.”

  She lazily licked her thumb and turned the page of her gossip magazine while staring pointedly at my aunt.

  “You ought to have some idea how it feels, Melba,” my aunt said, coming up out of PJ’s salon chair, “since your son practically lives in the county jail.”

  Getting between the two women, I held up my hands as referee. “Come on you two. Can’t you keep your feuding for your baking contests and behave in public?”

  Melba strolled to the small counter and slapped down three dollars and change. “There’s your tip PJ. I’d appreciate it if you didn’t book my appointments the same day as that heifer comes in for hers.”

  Aunt Dixie rushed toward the woman, but I held her back as Melba laughed and walked on out the door. “I oughta hex her hiney good and be done with it!” My aunt yelled as I led her back to PJ.

  “Now you better try to kill her with kindness, Aunt Dixie. She is one of the county judges for the baking contests, you know.”

  I winked at PJ as I left and told Aunt Dixie I would call her later after my meeting. She shot me the evil eye, her dander still up over Melba. I blew her a kiss and ducked out of the salon before she could scold me.

  Back at Value Vintage, Genie was selling up a storm. So many people had come in to shop all at once, I knew something was up. I reached for my cell phone, but Mrs. Parker from the Mill & Feed store off Main Street took hold of my arm.

  “Jolene, we’ve all come out to spend some money in the hopes of helping with Billy Jack’s defense team. That boy is innocent as a newborn babe!”

  I looked around my little shop and tears threatened when I understood the kindness of my neighbors. I looked down and scuffed my boot across the old wooden floor. Mrs. Parker pulled me in for a tight hug and Ray materialized behind her.

  “Where you been, Jolene? I thought you would stay close to home today of all days.”

  Not thinking clearly in my emotional state, I answered him. “Aunt Dixie was at PJ’s when she heard the news. She drove clear out to Granny’s with her hair up in a perm. I had to get her back to the salon right quick.”

  Mrs. Parker shook her head, thinking I was talking to her. “Bless her heart! Dixie shouldn’t have to deal with such a burden. Why Billy Jack is the best boy I ever did see. Did you know he helps me get them grain sacks off the truck every Wednesday? Said he can’t let his old Sundy School teacher down.”

  She moved on, her hands folded in prayer as her lips petitioned God on my cousin’s behalf.

  Ray floated over beside me, his square ghostly jaw set firm. “I know what you have in your noggin, Jolene, and it ain’t gonna work. You can’t spring Billy Jack from that jail cell in Louisville.”

  I stomped my foot and stared him down. “I can do what I danged well please to help my cousin!”

  Cheers erupted around me and my cheeks grew hot. I had to remember Ray and I weren’t alone. I’d grown so accustomed to talking to him like he was still flesh and blood.

  Nodding towards the back for him to follow, I walked the gauntlet of hugs, slaps on the back, and all manner of advice for what needed to be done. Even Preacher Barton had taken time to visit in my family’s hour of need. “The Good Book says the Lord won’t give us more than we can handle, Jolene. We’ll be taking up an offering for Billy Jack this Sunday. Tell Dixie we’re planning a cake walk too, to help raise money for him.”

  I thanked the preacher and glanced at Genie who was still ringing up all manner of second-hand treasure. She smiled at me and shoo’d me towards the back room. “You go on, Jolene. I can see you need a minute.”

  Wishing I had something more substantial than the beaded curtain between myself and my shop full of friends and neighbors, I murmured a spell that would muffle my words as I needed to make the call to Harlan Covey.

  Smoothing the square of wrinkled paper from my skirt pocket, I pulled out my cell and dialed the number the mystery man had written for me.

  As the number rang and rang, I was sorely tempted to hang up and throw his number away. He had to be connected to the Covey brothers and nothing that involved the Coveys ever ended well. But Billy Jack needed my help. I waited two more rings and when I went to hang up, a loud, twangy voice called to me and stayed my finger.

  “Hello,” I called, placing the phone next to my ear again.

  “Who is this?” he asked, his voice inquisitive. He didn’t sound like the devil, but the skin on my arms broke out in goosebumps anyway.

  “This is Jolene Baker of Value Vintage. You were in earlier today and left your number for me.”

  “Oh, howdy Mizz Baker, I’m Harlan, Harlan Covey. Me and the missus was up from Texas and happened by your shop. I was wondering if you had more arrowheads for me?”

  My skin began to crawl, making the goosebumps worse and I didn’t even try to ignore that sign. He wanted my arrowheads for dark magick.

  “I would be willing to meet with you after my shop closes tonight at five. I picked up a few arrowheads the other day you might be happy to see.”

  The glee in his voice was unmistakable. “Well boy howdy, Mizz Baker! I’d, I mean we’d, be grateful to get our hands on a few more arrowheads. You said after five, right?”

  I breathed deeply to settle my nerves and answered sweetly, locking my thoughts up tight and throwing away the key. I didn’t know if anyone could read my mind over the phone. “Yes sir, be here after five and we can arrange something.”

  He hung up and I raced to dial up Granny Mack. Something told me him having my other arrowheads was a bad thing. If nothing else, I knew I couldn’t give him the ones I’d found while fishing with Granny.

  10

  Deputy Carter, Ray, and Granny Mack huddled in my office and waited for the clock to tick over to 5 p.m. Genie was cleaning up around the front room and straightening the shelves of kitschy hillbilly knick knacks I sold to tourists. I lured Delilah upstairs with her food dish and gave her some fresh salmon I’d found at the Piggly Wiggly grocery store two bl
ocks over from Main Street.

  “You get this yummy fish and in return, you promise to stay up here and not go painter on me no matter what happens down stairs. Deal?” I held out my hand for a paw and a blink of her pretty blue feline eyes that would register her agreement.

  The paw came slowly and the blink even slower, but in the end Delilah took the bait, so to speak. I hurried into the bathroom and washed the salmon odor off my hands. Looking into the mirror above the sink, I gave myself a pep talk by listing the things I needed to do during this meeting.

  “Lock your brain up tight and tease with the new arrowheads. Question why he wants them and whether he knows the Covey brothers in the next county over.” Running fingers through my hair, I gave myself a high five in the mirror. I could do this. My cousin, locked up in Louisville, depended on it.

  Way to up the stakes, Jolene, I told myself as I rushed out of the bathroom and then downstairs.

  I sent Genie home with her day’s wages. “If you keep this up, I’m going to think you’re a better salesman than me.”

  Genie flashed me her pearly whites and laughed. “I’m just lucky I guess, Jolene. But honestly, look how many of your friends and neighbors came in today. It was mostly due to them. And that day with the arrowheads, if you’d have been here, they still would have sold out.”

  I gave her a quick hug and scooted her out the door before Mr. Harlan Covey and his wife returned. “Tell your mama I said hey and I’ll be by the flower shop to see her soon.”

  Genie blew me a kiss and waved before hopping into her two-seater. My mother hen came out and I stepped outside to tell her to drive carefully.

  Once she was out of sight, I turned and looked up and down Main Street. There was never much traffic in Devil’s Elbow and with the Mountain Laurel Festival at its end, the streets were near empty.

  I went back inside, flipped the OPEN sign to CLOSED and hurried to the beaded curtain dividing the front and back rooms of Value Vintage.

  Granny was speaking with Deputy Carter giving him the down low on Mr. Covey and his bride. “Jolene heard from our sources that this couple want out of town quick because of where they were the night in question.”

  My eyes rolled at Granny’s use of the word “sources”. It sounded like we were some big city, high falutin’ investigative team.

  “I’m only here because Aunt Dixie begged me to help y’all out. If Sheriff Quinn gets wind of this, he’ll have my badge for sure.”

  I leveled my gaze on the deputy. “You can walk right out that back door and be done with it, Carter. If watching an innocent man hang is your cup of tea, you have no business here anyway.”

  Crossing my arms, I stared him down and won that match. He hung his head and placed his hands on his knees. “I have my own magic if you recall, Jolene, and it’s been killing me not to use it to help Billy Jack. I’ll listen in, but you have to know for me to bring them in, I have to have a reason I can give Sheriff Quinn.”

  “Tell him you got a tip from some locals. We are locals.” The smile on my face spread as he laughed at my reply.

  “That you are. I guess it might be good enough, but Sheriff Quinn pretty much has it in for your cousin. I’d have to take them in tonight to have a shot at clearing Billy Jack.”

  I stuck my hand out and Granny grinned like a possum with a sweet potato. Deputy Carter leaned across and shook. We had a deal.

  Ray moved closer to me when Deputy Carter released my hand. “They’re here, Jolene. Just pulled up.”

  Stepping back and putting a finger over my lips as a warning to Granny and the deputy, I peeked through the beaded curtains to find headlights glaring into the shop.

  A chill ran up my spine, but I squared my shoulders and walked with purpose towards the front door. I pulled it wide open and stood waiting. If I had to deal with the devil to help my cousin, I might as well pretend my heart wasn’t racing a mile a minute.

  Mr. Harlan Covey, and the woman who had ignored me the first time I saw her in my shop, strolled in looking around like they expected a haint to jump out and get them any minute. Ray drifted behind me, but he wasn’t the kind of spectral being to scare folks for the fun of it. I wondered if they could see him. I hadn’t picked up any magickal vibes from them just yet. But some of our kind hid their magick well.

  The woman shivered a little, but Mr. Covey wiped sweat from his brow and his face was a dangerous shade of beet red. I stuck out my hand to the lady first. “How ya’ll doing? I’m Jolene Baker, the owner of Value Vintage. Come on in.”

  She glanced at my hand but didn’t stick hers out to shake. Instead, she smiled nervously and mumbled a howdy. I turned to the man and placed my hand in my back pocket. I didn’t particularly favor sweaty hands. His lips pulled back in a wide grin, but I got the feeling he was less than happy to be visiting my shop.

  “Thank you for seeing us on such short notice, Mizz Baker. We’re leaving town in the morning and I’m happy to see you before we go. You got them arrowheads?”

  I had to hand it to him, Harlan Covey didn’t beat around the bush. He seemed as antsy as a sinner in church on a Sunday morning so I shook my head to reassure him. “They’re right over here in a basket on the counter. I haven’t had time to clean them up yet, but you’re free to look at them.”

  He hurried over to my counter and thrust one hand into the basket, stirring the arrowheads around. The old artifacts squealed their protest at his handling. My eyes nearly bugged out and before I could caution him to take care with their sharp edges, he spoke up. “Oh, these will do just fine. Very fine, indeed. Marleen, come look!”

  Marleen Covey came to life then, spry as a junebug on a string, and rushed to his side. I went behind the register ready to ring them up. I tried to act naturally, but I needed to get some information before they made off with the stash from my fishing trip with Granny.

  “I’ve never seen someone so excited over a few arrowheads. Are you a collector? There’s lots of these up in the mountains. If you just pay attention, you could find plenty on your own.”

  He looked up at me, his eyes conveying the true glee he felt. Dropping the arrowheads he’d cupped in one hand, Harlan Covey reached around and pulled out his wallet. He pulled out ten, crisp one-hundred-dollar bills and slapped them on the counter in front of me. “I couldn’t find any like these if I hunted day and night, Mizz Baker, I assure you of that fact. You might call me a collector of sorts. I favor relics that call to me.”

  I felt bad for a minute like I was taking him for a ride. But not bad enough not to push the bills back his way. I had to figure out what my arrowheads meant to him and why they squealed at his touch. Crossing my arms, I tipped my chin up and played hard to get. “I can’t sell you the lot, but you can pick out three or four you fancy.”

  Harlan looked at his wife and she reached into her pocketbook and came out with a fat stack of bills and slammed them onto the counter. She pushed it at me grudgingly, her face screwed up in a fierce scowl. “You drive a hard bargain, Mizz Baker, but this here’s all we got. I reckon it oughta be enough for a country bumpkin like you.”

  Besides the fact that Mrs. Covey had hardly put two words together until this point, her attitude did not sit well with my rebellious nature. “Maybe I want something more than money from the two of you,” I said as I pushed her bills back at her.

  Mr. Covey placed one of his pudgy, sweaty hands on the money and nodded his head towards the door of my shop. Mrs. Covey made a face and hightailed it right on out the door. Never in my life had I met such a vicious woman. The vibes she gave off were still strong in the shop even after she made her exit.

  “Forgive my wife, she’s eager to get back home to Sulphur Springs. She was right, though. We only have this here money on us,” he said, motioning to all the bills on my counter, “Surely that’s more than enough for your arrowheads.”

  “From anyone else fool enough to pay me that sum, I’d agree. Now, tell me why these here arrowheads are so all fired importan
t to you.” I pulled the basket of relics closer, my connection to them growing stronger.

  “We’ve got a favor we promised a good friend and she doesn’t like to be disappointed. Those arrowheads would help her rest easier.”

  Mr. Covey’s forthcoming manner was sudden, but I seized on it. “I can’t imagine what a handful of regular arrowheads could mean to somebody, but they’re yours long as you answer my questions. Why these arrowheads Mr. Covey? And I’ll know if you’re lying, so don’t try me.”

  He shuffled his feet and cleared his throat before leaning in, his eyes darting around as if he expected the FBI to bust in on us. “I need to clear out some dark magick. My life,” he said and jerked his thumb toward the door his wife had just gone through, “and hers depend on it.”

  “So you’re both supernatural beings, is that what you’re telling me?”

  Sweat began to bead across his forehead again and I stopped beating around the bush. “Is this dark magick the kind that’s been stirred up in the hills near the still site where my cousin supposedly murdered a man?”

  Granny Mack came through the curtain then sending the beaded panels clattering against the wall. “Don’t you give him nary one of them arrowheads, Jolene. He wants those because your power rests inside them. Enough to help him work some spell. Plus, he’s a Covey and if it weren’t for Billy Jack, I’d not let him cross my doorstep.”

  I’d hoped Deputy Carter stayed put until I could get Mr. Covey to confess to something, but Granny had just severely damaged my chances of pinning him down. Mr. Covey backed away from Granny like she was a monster. I heard growling coming from the man and moved closer to Granny Mack. Ray came in hot from my other side blasting the man’s face with icy rage.

  “What the devil?” I whispered as his lips twisted and he pointed at my grandmother and spit in Ray’s direction.

  A thin tendril of smoke curled up from the top of his head and sweat rolled off him worse than before. He was chanting some unintelligible speech and his face began to change shape. I smelled the wolf in him as Granny wove a barrier between us. Delilah had finagled the doorknob upstairs and now came sailing downstairs in her full painter glory.