Southern Comfort (26 page)

“So what makes you think that it’s all going to disappear tomorrow?”

Newland immediately perked up. “That’s the beauty of it. Don’t you see? The ghost. Whoever’s behind this is using the ghost as a decoy, a distraction.”

“That’s brilliant,” Natalie said.

“And now you know why I think somebody else is behind it.”

Natalie couldn’t stop her laugh. “Absolutely.” She stopped for a minute then turned back to him. “So what do we do now? Get the sheriff?”

“I don’t think the sheriff is the answer. If he’s one of the best customers for the bootleggers, I’m not sure he’ll care too much about this. And if I’m wrong … ”

“Right,” Natalie said. “So what’s our answer? Leave it alone? Tell Aunt Bitty that her ghost is a fake?”

Newland couldn’t have that. He needed this story. This story was going to get him back in business.

Suddenly that didn’t seem quite as important as it did a week ago. But that was before … Natalie. “I say we stake it out.”

Her eyes grew wide. “Are you serious?”

“As a heart attack. If we stake it out, take some pictures, get some video, maybe even some audio. Then we have something to go to the higher authorities with.” And he would have a story. Otherwise it was just a Scooby-Doo ghost in a county-run moonshine ring.

“This sounds dangerous.” She took a step closer to him and suddenly Newland was more aware of her presence than ever before.

“Are you worried about me?” He leaned back against one of the crates, testing its sturdiness.

“Maybe a little.” She came closer still until he could reach out with ease, snake one arm around her, and pull her into the V of his thighs.

“Does that mean you’ll protect me?” he asked.

She gasped as he buried his face in the crook of her neck. “With my life.”

He kissed the line from the hollow of her throat to her waiting mouth. “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”

“Can I go too?” Aubie asked at nine-fifteen Thursday night.

As darkness had fallen, Natalie’s heart began to pound. What if this was dangerous? Where would they turn for help? Contacting the sheriff wouldn’t do much good if he was the one behind it all.

She shook her head to clear that thought. Whoever masterminded this plan was extremely intelligent. She had gone to school with Buster Riley, and though he had a good heart, as good as anybody, he was not an evil genius.

“No,” she and Newland said at the same time.

“It is exciting though, you have to admit.” Aunt Bitty’s eyes sparkled. “Though I don’t think the ghost has anything to do with this moonshine business.”

Natalie refused to roll her eyes at her favorite aunt. But if she wanted to believe in the ghost, there was nothing Natalie could do to stop her.

“Aww, why not?” Aubie protested.

“Aside from the fact that it’s a school night, you are the mayor and the mayor should not be involved directly in moonshine stings,” Natalie said.

Newland frowned at her. “You can’t go because she said you can’t go.”

Aubie seemed stunned for a moment, blinking as if trying to put everything into focus. “Yeah. Okay.”

It was Natalie’s turn to blink. What had just happened here? Why had she never tried that? She made a mental note to add “because I said so” to the list of reasons why Aubie couldn’t do something and pulled the black ski cap from her back pocket.

“You’re not really going to wear that are you?” Newland asked.

“Isn’t this what people wear to a sting operation?”

“This is not a sting operation, it’s a stakeout. We’re going to get information, which we will turn over to the authorities. I’m loving life just a little too much to try and take down moonshiners all on my own,” Newland said.

“He’s a smart man, dear,” Aunt Bitty said. “You should listen to him.”

“I can’t go to a stakeout without being camouflaged. My hair is not as dark as yours and my skin isn’t as dark as yours. I’m afraid I’ll stand out more than the ghost.”

“Suit yourself. It’s just ninety-five degrees out there.”

“You should probably use the lint brush before you go. You have cat hair all over you.” She nodded to where Newland cradled Mr. Piddles in his arms as usual. She wasn’t sure what the cat was going to do when Newland finally left.

That makes two of us.

“Again, this is a stakeout. Not the Governor’s Ball.”

Aunt Bitty clapped her hands in excitement. “Should I pack you some snacks?”

Natalie and Newland turned to her in unison. “No,” they both said.

“Are you ready to go?” Newland asked.

Natalie’s heart gave a hard pound. Was she ready? She wasn’t, she decided. But not because they were headed into a potentially dangerous situation if they got caught observing this moonshine run. But because this was the end. After tonight, after Newland proved that the ghost was the product of a distraction to keep people from noticing that moonshine was being carted out by the crate full, then he wouldn’t have a reason to stay in Turtle Creek. She wasn’t prepared for that. Not by far.

“Let’s go,” she said.

They walked out the door to the wishes of ‘good luck’ and ‘be careful’ from both Aubie and Aunt Bitty.

Newland stopped on the porch and turned back to both of them, a stern look on his face. “Stay away from the cellar, and don’t come to the cemetery. We’ll be back in a little while. Got it?” He looked at each of them in turn.

They nodded in unison, then smiled and patted him on the back once again.

“Now remember,” Newland started, “we’re just two young lovers out for an evening stroll.”

Natalie ignored the way the word “lovers” made her heart pound a bit faster. “And we just so happen to be wearing all black.”

“It would help if you would take off the ski mask.”

Natalie pulled the knit hat from her head and stuffed it into her back pocket, shaking her hair out and trying to rub down some of the static electricity.

“You remember the plan?” he asked. He took her hand into his, and Natalie tried not to read too much into the situation. They’d had three very sexy encounters in three very odd places—not counting the night in his room—and though she knew his body intimately, holding hands with him somehow seemed special.

“We’re going to cut across Selma’s yard to the side of the cemetery opposite the big mound of dirt.”

“Right. Everyone says that the ghost appears on that side of the graveyard. If my theory is correct the ghost is there to keep everybody’s eyes trained to that side of the cemetery while they unload all the moonshine into a truck on the other side.”

“And if your theory isn’t right?”

“It has to be. There are too many factors in place. A ghost where there is no body, secret tunnels, and stashed moonshine. I just wish I knew who was in charge of it all.”

Natalie swallowed hard. “I think we’re going to find that out soon enough.”

As they had planned, they cut across Selma’s yard going around the back side and heading along the far cemetery fence.

They jumped the fence and duck-walked to the second row of gravestones.

“I think your ghost should be showing up anytime now.”

Despite the fact that she knew the ghost was a projected image, a chill ran through her. She didn’t like ghosts of any sort. Not even holographic ones. “Have I ever told you I don’t like to be in cemeteries after dark?”

He shot her a look that clearly said ‛be quiet.’ “Nobody likes to be in cemeteries after dark. And bingo,” he said, pointing toward the next row of graves where a lone figure walked toward them. He glowed as if the light was emanating from him and limped a little as if whatever battle he had served in had sustained him an injury. There was no moaning or groaning to go with his solitary walk, but Natalie was certain she could hear the rattle of chains. Which was ridiculous. Or maybe it was the rattle of the gate banging in the wind. Except there really wasn’t much of a wind tonight.

“He looks so real,” she whispered to Newland.

“Didn’t you say that people in this town did reenactments?”

“Yeah. Lots of them.”

“Does he look familiar?”

As the “ghost” drew closer to them, Natalie realized she did know that face. It was Harvey Johnson who staggered along dressed as a Confederate soldier wounded in battle, now left to haunt a grave that was no longer there.

“It’s Harvey Johnson,” she said. “But I know from my aunt’s house she can’t tell that.”

“It’s ingenious. You think he’s behind all this?”

“He can’t be. He’s no smarter than Gilbert and Darrell put together. They must have recorded him at one of the reenactments.”

“So our mastermind is still out there.”

Natalie nodded. A bit of movement across the cemetery caught her eye. It seemed their trick worked. She’d been so busy watching the ghost that she hadn’t immediately noticed movement by the big oak tree.

“They’re moving them out now.”

Newland raised the binoculars to his eyes. “I wish I had night vision goggles.”

“Me too.” So the ghost was fake and the wind was playing tricks on her ears. But it was still creepy to be out in the cemetery in the middle of night. She would love to be able to see what was going on across the way to help ease her mind there were no real ghosts out here. She shook away the thought.

“Are those—” Newland stopped. “Here. You take a look.” He handed her the binoculars.

It took a second for her eyes to adjust to seeing so far in the distance. Her vision was a tad blurry. She blinked a couple of times to clear it. “Oh my gosh! That’s a coffin.” She was ready to hand the binoculars back to Newland when they stacked it on the bed of the truck. That rattle sounded again, and Natalie knew that it wasn’t the sound of chains but the dull clink of glass cushioned with hay against the inside of a coffin.

“Yeah, I guess they put the moonshine in the coffins and move the coffins out. Who’s really going to check them?”

Natalie shuddered again. She raised the binoculars back to her eyes and watched as Gilbert and Darrell continued to stack case upon case of moonshine into plain wooden coffins and load those onto the back of the truck. “It’s ingenious.”

“Why thank you.”

They whirled around to find Gerald Davenport standing behind them.

It took Natalie a full five seconds to realize that Gerald wasn’t there because she was lying in the grass in the cemetery with another man, but because he was the mastermind behind the whole moonshine ring.

“You!” She pushed herself to her feet. “What are you doing?”

“Aww, Natalie. You and your old money. I’m securing my future. There’s a lot of money in moonshine.”

“But people bottle and sell moonshine all over—legally,” Natalie told him.

“And let the government have all my profits? Not likely. I’ve sort of gotten used to my lifestyle, and this helps finance it quite well.

“Of course if you had just left everything well enough alone and talked Bitty into moving into the nursing home, we wouldn’t be standing here right now.”

“What?” Was he saying what she thought he was saying?

“Yes, that’s right. I wanted the house to secure that tunnel. Not to put it on the historic registry. What a joke. Who even cares about such things anyway?”

Natalie felt the heat rise and her cheeks. “I do. That house is almost two hundred years old. And all you care about is how it can make you money. What about me?”

He gave her a pathetic little smile. “What about you?”

“I thought you loved me.”

Her stomach fell as he threw back his head and laughed. “You thought I loved you?”

The way he said it made it sound stupid. But once upon a time she had thought … “I thought you were going to ask me to marry you.”

She was barely aware of Newland pushing to his feet and brushing himself off. He came to stand beside her, a little behind and a little to the side as if he were protecting her.

“Well, you thought wrong. All I wanted was the house. And now that I can’t have that … ”

“What are you going to do?” Newland’s voice was low and flat. He seemed almost scared, but he didn’t know Gerald like she did. Gerald wasn’t about to hurt them. Surely Newland could see that.

“The cufflink!” she said pointing at Gerald once again. “The cufflink was yours.”

“Oh, you found it?” he asked dryly. “Good, good, it’ll be nice to have that set back together again. They belonged to my grandfather, you know.”

His grandfather, Charles Davenport.

“To answer your question.” He pointed to Newland and sighed. “It goes against my original plans, but as I see it, my only option at this point is multi-murder-suicide.”

“What?” Natalie cried. Surely she had heard him wrong. “Gerald, don’t joke about things like that. It’s not funny.”

Newland leaned down, closer to her ear. “I don’t think he’s joking, Natalie.”

“You played into my hands perfectly. Taking a stranger as a lover—”

Natalie gasped. “You know?”

“Sugar, you should know by now that nothing goes on in this town without me knowing about it.”

She hated his tone, self-serving and arrogant. What had she ever seen in him?

“You invited a stranger into your aunt’s home, then took the man into your bed. Now all I have to do is shoot everybody in the house, stage his suicide, and we have a stranger who brings tragedy to our poor little town.”

“I’m not listening to this anymore,” Natalie said. “You’re crazy.” She turned to go. “Come on, Newland.”

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Gerald said. Even in the dark she could see him raise a gun—a big one.

“You have a gun?”

“This is a dangerous business, Natalie.” He smirked at her once again. “I really did like you though.”

“Whatever.”

His words still hadn’t sunk through. Even though he held a gun, his threats of murder-suicide seemed ridiculous at best. This was Gerald, who raised money for St. Jude’s Hospital and supported dolphin-free tuna and all sorts of other environmentally sound, save-the-whales, help-the-children benefits. How could he kill all of them? It just didn’t make sense.

“All righty then,” Gerald started. “Let’s get this show on the road.” He motioned with his gun for Natalie and Newland to move ahead of him. “To the house.”