Southern Comfort (20 page)

Maybe it was just a mistake. Maybe it would end up being nothing. Maybe he just hadn’t seen them all in the dim light the other night. He mentally shook his head. That didn’t seem right somehow.

After an hour of listening to girl talk, Newland managed to excuse himself with promises that he would join them for church the next morning. He hadn’t been to church in … Well, he couldn’t remember how long it had been since he’d been to church, but he understood that it was a southern tradition with these ladies and somehow he just couldn’t tell them no.

He made his way through the house, out onto the back porch, and around the side of the house to the doors to the cellar. He just couldn’t get those crates out of his mind.

He eased down the steps and into the cellar, searching blindly around until he found the string connected to the light bulb he’d rigged. One swift pull and the place was filled with light.

And there they were, the mysterious crates. Suddenly his mouth went dry, and his hands got a little sweaty. Which was ridiculous. Why was he so anxious? They were just crates. But they were unknown crates that couldn’t be accounted for. How did they get here? Who brought them? And what did they contain?

That was one question he could answer. He picked his way across the cellar floor and hoisted one of the crates off the top of a stack. The stacks were only four or five high. They were solid-looking crates, wooden and sturdy. He set it on the ground at his feet, wishing he’d brought a crowbar or something down to pry off the lid. It was nailed tight. He looked around in the dark corners of the cellar, looking for something that might possibly help him get the lid off, but he didn’t see anything.

“What are you doing down there?”

Newland peered up at the entrance to the cellar to find Natalie standing there. She looked just as good as she had earlier when she marched into his room and told them what they had done was a mistake. And he wanted to kiss her as badly now as he had then.

He pushed those thoughts away. “Can you give me a crowbar or something? I want to open this up.”

She frowned, then gave a short nod. “Okay.” She returned a few minutes later with a hammer. Not exactly what he had asked for, but it would do.

“Toss it here,” he called, but she was already on her way down the steps.

It was ridiculously humorous, her standing there in a purple silk dress and her nude-colored heels. She looked so utterly beautiful and so utterly out of place that he wanted to laugh and kiss her at the same time.

She handed over the hammer. “Have you talked to my aunt about opening these?”

“Nope.” He wedged the backend of the hammer under the top board of the crates and pulled, using leverage to pop it off.

“Don’t you think you should? What if there’s something she wants hidden?”

Newland didn’t bother to stop as he replied. “She said she didn’t put anything down here and neither did the housekeeper. I know Aubie didn’t come down here, and you said you didn’t. I didn’t and that only leaves one alternative.”

“If you say ghost … ” She plopped her hands on her hips and eyed him coolly.

The lid gave away with a small groan. “No, not a ghost, but maybe somebody pretending.”

“You’re not making any sense.”

Newland removed the lid. As he suspected, the crate was filled with straw, but he knew it was there for cushioning. He dragged the crate a little closer to the light so he could see inside. Then he started to gently feel through the hay to find whatever treasure was hidden inside. He had dreams of priceless urns and vases from decades long past, but what he pulled out was the last thing he expected.

He held the Mason jar up to the light, frowning as he stared at it.

“Moonshine?”

Natalie shook her head. “What is my aunt doing with so much moonshine?”

Newland felt around inside the crate. There had to be at least a dozen jars in this one alone. Multiplied by all the crates, there was quite a bit of money sitting here in Bitty Duncan’s cellar.

“Your aunt doesn’t know this is here.”

“Then how did it get here?”

Newland pushed to his feet, brushing his hands off as he stood. “I’m not sure, but I think Gilbert and Darrell have something to do with it.”

Natalie frowned. “Gilbert and Darrell? Why would they put moonshine in my aunt’s cellar?”

“I think this might be like a halfway point for the moonshine. I don’t really know; I’ve never bootlegged before. But it seems to me that they stored this here because they know no one comes down to the cellar with any regularity.”

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Natalie said.

Newland picked up the lid and started hammering it back into place. “Of course it does. They bring the moonshine here, hide it out for a while, and then take it someplace else.”

She seemed to think about it a minute. “So if it belongs to Darrell and Gilbert, then when do they come get it?”

Newland thought for a moment about how many more crates could be added between now and the pickup date. He shook his head. “I’m not sure, but I’m guessing the last Thursday of the month.”

Natalie sputtered. “You mean you think the ghost has something to do with this moonshine?”

“That’s exactly what I mean.”

Natalie shook her head. “I don’t understand.”

“I’m not sure I do either, but it seems too much of a coincidence not to hold some merit.”

“But—” she started but broke off. There wasn’t much else to say. In a town the size of Turtle Creek job opportunities were slim. As hard as Aubie and the city council worked to keep businesses alive and thriving in the small town, the lure of the larger cities pulled young people away. Those with degrees and college credits to their name left to seek other opportunities in places that had more to offer. Left behind were the people who had learned how to scrape out a living from practically nothing.

She had been one of the lucky ones. Her family had been well off from long ago and didn’t rely on the economy of Turtle Creek to support them. But she knew there were others …

Darrell and Gilbert to be sure. They had made a living out of making a living. They picked up cans, recycled wires and tires, and would haul off anything for the right to keep it, but would they bring moonshine into her aunt’s cellar? She shook her head.

“You don’t agree?”

“It’s just … ” She looked at the many crates stacked there. This was a small town operation that didn’t appear so small town. Not with days still left to go before the “ghost” appeared. Days left to cart more and more crates of contraband into the cellar.

“It seems like we’re reaching.”

Newland shook his head. “I know you love this town. I know you love these people. Something is going on here. You can’t deny that.”

He was right. She didn’t want anyone in her town to be running an illegal moonshine ring. But the evidence was sitting there, stacked neatly in crates in her aunt’s cellar. “Is it really that much moonshine?”

“Maybe not now.” He turned in a half circle. “But look at all the room they have to store crates between now and the end of the month.”

Natalie couldn’t believe it. “I’ll need to see that myself.”

“That’s not enough evidence.” Newland pointed to the crates stacked against the wall.

As naïve as Natalie felt she was being, she didn’t know what constituted a large haul of alcohol and she certainly didn’t feel good stepping on someone’s livelihood—illegal or not. Not for a few measly crates of liquor. Not when Gilbert and Darrell were just trying to make a living in a hard economy in a small town in Mississippi. Illegal or not, the southern girl in her just couldn’t do it.

“We’ll just have to see if they bring more,” Newland said.

“And how do you suppose we do that?”

“Come down here tomorrow and see.”

• • •

Newland waited until after dark before slipping into his darkest jeans and a black David Allen Coe t-shirt and making his way downstairs. He’d thought of nothing else during the afternoon but watching that cellar to see who came and put stuff in it. Somebody was using it as a halfway point for their moonshine business, and he intended to find out who it was. He still had a nagging feeling it had something to do with Bitty’s ghost. He wasn’t sure how, but the coincidence was too strong to ignore.

The southern night air was warm but not too thick as he made his way across the backyard. Katydids trilled and frogs chirped as he took up the position he had decided on earlier in the day. He could sit out of sight on the backside of the carriage house and still watch the cellar doors. And that’s what he planned on doing. Even if he had to stay awake all night. It was Saturday night, the end of the month was coming, and surely there would be more moonshine to deposit in the bootleggers’ little hidey-hole. He just wished he had an infrared camera set up so he could catch any activity whether he was awake or not and go over it in the morning. But for now he’d have to settle for his cell phone and staying awake to see who came. He rounded the corner of the carriage house and bumped into something soft and sweet smelling. “Natalie?”

“What are you doing out here?” she asked.

“I think I should be asking you that.”

She jerked away from his grasp as if his touch burned and crossed her arms. “I don’t think so.”

“I came out to watch for whoever is putting moonshine in your aunt’s cellar.”

She gave a swift nod. “Me too.”

Newland shook his head. “Go on back to bed, Natty Nat. I’ve got this.”

But she stubbornly refused to move. “Are you going to run the camera all night long? There’s no way.”

“You think you can do better?”

She smiled and he felt a little bit of his heart melt. “We can do better.”

The last thing he wanted to do was team up with Natalie on anything not sex-related, but he found himself nodding in agreement. “Okay, we do this as a team.”

• • •

Sometime around two a.m. the wind turned a little cold and Natalie found herself snuggled up against Newland. He hadn’t moved in hours. She wasn’t sure if he was asleep or merely one of those people who could sit still for hours on end. If he was asleep, she didn’t want to take the chance to wake him, so she kept her mouth shut and just scooted a little bit closer to gain more of his warmth for her own.

He growled low and under his breath. “If you move any closer, I’ll be forced to forget all about my promise.”

Natalie jumped at the sound of his voice, but didn’t move away. “What promise was that?”

“To keep my hands to myself.”

Her heart jumped in her chest. Her mouth went dry. “I see.”

He rolled his head over to stare at her, though she couldn’t read his expression in the dark. “I don’t think you do. Or else you would’ve moved by now.”

“Oh.” Natalie moved back away from him, suddenly cold since he was no longer pressed to her side. “Do you think anyone is coming?”

“I don’t know. I thought they would have been here by now.”

“Shhh … ”

Just then the cellar door opened and a shadowy figure stepped out into the night.

“You’re seeing this too, right?” Newland asked.

Natalie nodded. “How did he get it there?” she asked as another shadow moved across the yard pushing what looked to be a wheelbarrow.

“What kind of ghost uses a wheelbarrow?” Newland asked.

“That’s no ghost,” Natalie whispered. “That looks like … the Hughes brothers.”

“Gilbert and Darrell?”

“Turtle Creek is small, but there aren’t any more Hughes brothers than Gilbert and Darrell.”

“How can you tell it’s them?” he asked. “I can’t see two feet in front of my face out here.”

“You’ve been to the town meeting. Did you see anybody else that large in this town?”

“Good point.”

“What do we do?” Natalie asked. Adrenaline flooded her. These men that she had known since she was in grade school were using her aunt’s cellar as storage for their bootleg business.

“Nothing.”

Natalie gasped. “Are you kidding? You dragged me out here to do nothing?”

“First of all, I didn’t drag you anywhere. You came out here of your own accord. And second of all, those guys are enormous. I can’t take them on. They’d kill me.”

“Good point.”

• • •

Newland started to protest, his male ego suffering with her ready agreement. But those guys were big, and he wasn’t about to be pounded tonight.

“Why aren’t they coming back out?” he asked.

“Did we miss them?”

Newland shook his head. “Couldn’t have. I haven’t taken my eyes off that spot since they went inside.” Except for the times when he was sucked up in her presence.

“So we just wait for them to come back out?”

How long could they sit there and wait for the two mountainous men to climb out of the cellar? Then again, was it safe to walk back across the yard and into the house?

“We have to wait a little while longer.” He had no idea what the Hughes twins would do if they caught Newland and Natalie watching them.

“Fine.” She settled back next to him, and Newland was glad for her warmth. Only because it was cool sitting in the shadows watching for small-time criminals to exit their makeshift contraband storage facility.

But the longer he waited, the longer he realized they weren’t coming back out. But why? They couldn’t stay in the cellar all night and the next day. They had to come out sometime.

As Newland watched nothing, Natalie relaxed against him. Her breaths became long and even, and he knew she had fallen asleep. He wrapped one arm around her to give her neck a little more support. Poor thing. Bossing everyone around must really take it out of a person. But in sleep, she lost that frown she wore during the day. Her features softened, and she was even more beautiful.

Not that it mattered to him. So they’d had one fantastic encounter. He couldn’t even say they’d had a night together. She had already told him it was a mistake. And though his ego wanted to show her just how much it was
not
a mistake, that in itself would be a mistake.

He shook his head as his thoughts went around in circles. Now she had him doing it. He leaned his head back against the side of the carriage house, still keeping an eye open for the Hughes brothers. But he had the strangest feeling they were already gone.