Moonshine Murder [Hawkman Bk 14] (14 page)

He strolled back to the SUV and leaned against the fender while waiting for her return. Having to catch Jeb in the act of selling booze, could be very dangerous. He didn't think he should tell Jennifer about his idea until afterward, as she wouldn't go for it at all. The details were filtering through his brain when he heard the squawk of his pet. Strolling out to the center of the meadow, he whistled his call to her, and held up his arm. She circled several times before making a smooth landing on his forearm. Her beak showed evidence she'd found her kill.

Hawkman returned home and put the falcon into her cage. She appeared much more content. He swept out the aviary, filled the water tin, and put some dried grain into the food container. He dropped the clear protector down around the sides as the wind had kicked up and had turned quite nippy. He then went inside through the sliding door leading to the deck.

"Bet she enjoyed her trip,” Jennifer said, looking up from her computer and smiling.

"She's always much calmer when we get home from a hunt."

Jennifer twisted in her chair. “I've got a question."

"Okay, shoot,” he said, pushing Miss Marple off the seat next to Jennifer and lowered his lanky body.

"If Jeb takes his hooch into one of the nearby towns, do you think he'll use the buckboard or borrow Tami's car?"

"Interesting question. Why do you think Tami would lend him her car?"

Jennifer tapped her chin with a pencil. “I'm not sure. There's something about her sudden appearance that makes me wonder about her relationship with the family. Maybe she's a moonshine runner. Or what about Jacob making a trip out to the cabin and transporting the liquor?"

"You're full of good ones today. You've given me a few more things to worry about. Let's talk about all the options you've brought up."

"Okay, where do you want to start?"

"Did you ever get Tami's last name?"

"No."

"Hmm, makes it a little hard to research, especially since her first name could be a shortened handle. Not knowing where she lives makes it twice as hard."

"Sorry, at the moment, knowing you were charging up the back way, and then my finding a stranger at the cabin, made it difficult for me to concentrate on my objective."

He patted her on the arm. “I'm not scolding you. Everything went just fine. You did good."

She bowed her head. “Thank you, kind sir."

"You told me a little about the reactions of everyone; have you thought of anything to add?"

"No, other than she appeared very distant or cocky. I wouldn't classify her as shy, more like secretive."

"Let's skip her right now and go to why you think Jacob might come and haul out the booze."

"You said the still was obviously put in before the Hutchinsons moved in, and copper stills are very expensive. Knowing Jeb has no money, you assumed since the dad owned the property, he probably installed them.” She cocked her head toward Hawkman. “What if Jeb hadn't moved up here; did Jacob have plans to make the moonshine himself?"

"Hard to say. Since he's playing caregiver to his father, he probably wouldn't leave him at night, especially since the man's apparently bedridden. It's possible he had the still or stills brought to the property. Not sure what's in the other outbuilding, but it's tall enough for another one. Anyway, he could have planned to do it himself earlier, and later decided to hire men to make the rotgut."

"I'm curious about how this moonshine is made."

"It's really an easy process, but first you need a copper still. There are all different sizes, but the one in Jeb's outbuilding is huge. You can go on the computer and find pictures of them. To make the mash, the recipe can vary, but commonly they mix corn meal and hot water in ‘mash barrels'. Next they add scoops of sugar as well as yeast and malt. This mixture begins to bubble furiously and will continue to do so for several days as fermentation takes place."

Jennifer sat with her chin resting on her hands, giving Hawkman her full attention. “What next?"

"When the mash quits working it has the kick of a mule and is ready to be transferred to the still. A fire is stoked underneath, and the alcohol vapor rises to the top and condenses into liquid as it passes through the coiled worm submerged in the cooling barrel. A potent rivulet, a little larger than a pencil trickles from the end of the worm into half-gallon fruit jars. The first part is high-proof while the adulterated end of the batch is known as “singlings” or “low wine", which is set aside, poured back into the still, and cooked again. So the first drops were followed by a flow of decreasing strength, or proof. If you poured some of the lower stuff on the fire and it flashed up, it would be kept running; but if it put out the fire like water, it's time to quit. Any hot liquid remaining in the still is recovered and poured over new grain in the mash barrels to repeat the process."

"I don't get this ‘worm’ thing."

Gesturing with his hands, Hawkman drew a picture in the air. “From the top of the still an elbow-shaped pipe juts out and tapers from around four inches to about one-inch in diameter. Attached to the end of this outlet is a twenty-foot coiled copper pipe known as the “worm". It's looped inside an adjacent barrel kept full of cold water during distillation of the sour mash."

"Why does everything have to be copper?"

"Other metals can be toxic to the human body."

"How does a buyer know he's getting good stuff?"

"A moonshiner might advertise the quality of his brew by pouring some into a metal spoon and set it afire. Safe moonshine burns with a blue flame. If its dirty the flame will be yellow. A reddish flare indicates lead in the mixture."

"I've read where some of these moonshiners have blown themselves to kingdom come."

"There has to be good ventilation, because alcohol vapor is more explosive than TNT."

"I hope Jeb is a careful moonshiner. Those building are not too far from the cabin."

"If you noticed in the pictures I took of the still, there are vents all around the top, plus a pipe that goes out the roof. That's why they do most of their distilling at night, so the smoke can't be seen by authorities, or others who might turn them in."

Jennifer leaned back in her chair and stretched her arms above her head. “You're a good teacher, I could picture the whole thing in my mind."

"Thank you,” Hawkman said. “Getting back to Jacob. I don't think he is, or will be, Jeb's runner. So it leaves our mysterious Tami's car, or the buckboard."

"It also appears that Jeb entered the picture right on time for Jacob,” she said.

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Randy awoke early Sunday morning. The dawn still provided enough light for him to see the outlines of the furniture in the room. He decided to try walking around. It delighted him when he carefully stood and felt no tenderness. Taking a few steps, he smiled to himself; still no pain. He moved slowly at first, then picked up the gait and before he knew it, he galloped in a circle. Not hearing his mother open the bedroom door, he came to an abrupt halt as she stood staring at him with her hands on her hips.

"What do you think you're doing?” she asked.

"Mom, it doesn't hurt. I had to get out of bed before I forgot how to move my legs."

She smiled. “I'm glad you decided to try it. It looks like you're on your way to getting well, but I don't want you to overdo."

"I promise. If I use my crutches, can I go outside for a little while?"

She sighed. “You can't be happy with walking around inside?"

He shook his head. “Not the same."

"Let's see how you feel after breakfast."

He grinned. His mom wouldn't make such a statement, if it didn't mean she'd probably consent. Otherwise, she'd have said ‘no’ right off the bat.

Beth stoked the fire in the stove and had it burning before Marcy let out a cry. Picking up the baby, she sat down and began feeding her.

Earl came out of the bedroom, rubbing his eyes. “What's to eat, Mom?"

She pointed toward the cabinet. “Cold biscuits wrapped in a cloth; and there should be some leftover pieces of pheasant, if your dad didn't eat it before he took off this morning. Take one of those metal plates and warm the food on the stove. Leave some for your brother."

"Yeah, and for Mom too,” Randy cut in.

"Don't worry, there's plenty here,” Earl said, taking his share. “Where'd Dad go?"

"I don't know. He got up before daylight,” Beth said.

"How come he never tells us where he's going?” Earl asked, between bites.

"He's the head of the household, and we don't question his actions,” Beth said, looking at Earl and frowning. “I need to cut your hair. It's hanging in your eyes and touching your shoulders."

Earl made a face. “Aah, Mom, today?"

"Why not? Have you got something special planned?"

"Thought I'd go fishing, if Dad doesn't need me, and see if I couldn't get a batch for dinner."

"That's a good one; you can go after I trim your long locks."

Earl scowled and finished his food. “I'll go check the horses and be back shortly."

Beth nodded, and put Marcy back in her crib. She placed the toys around her, then watched the baby babble and grin. “You are so cute,” she said.

Meanwhile Randy went to the cabinet and brought out the remainder of food for him and his mom. “You want yours warmed, Mom?"

"Yes, that would be good."

Randy didn't want to act too eager to get outside, as his mom might get suspicious of his motive, so he took his time eating, and played with Marcy a while. When his mother went into the bedroom to dress, he thought enough time had elapsed, so he slipped on a pair of jeans and the tee shirt Mrs. Casey had given him. He took a jacket off the peg near the door, and grabbed the crutches. “Mom, I'm going outside for a while,” he called.

About that time, Earl came in the door.

"Did you find Dad?” Randy asked.

"No, he took one of the horses, so he's probably out in the field. Where's Mom?"

"She'll be out in a minute to cut your hair,” Randy said, with a grin.

Earl doubled up his fist and waved it in front of Randy's nose. “Don't get smart. She'll cut yours next."

"Enough, boys,” Beth said walking into the kitchen. She pulled out the shears and motioned for Earl to sit on the stool.

Randy went out and closed the door behind him. A cool breeze swirled around his head and he pulled up the collar to cover his neck. He took a deep breath. “So good to be outside,” he said, aloud. He glanced in all directions, but didn't see his dad, so decided he'd take a chance and venture toward the building where his dad had knocked him down. Maybe he could see inside. Randy knew the contents of those sheds had something to do with whatever made his mother unhappy.

He clomped along on the crutches and it seemed to take forever, even though the structures weren't far from the cabin.

Randy discovered the door was padlocked with a chain and he couldn't get it open. The windows were covered with dark curtains on the inside, forbidding him even a peek. He maneuvered to the next one and found the same predicament, but from this one he could hear a strange sound, like bubbling or something boiling. “What the heck,” he muttered. He moved around the structure but found no peephole.

Figuring he'd been snooping long enough, and Earl would be coming out before long, he moved on to the corral and stood watching the horses. Soon, his older brother joined him.

"What are you doing out here, runt?"

Randy hated being called that, but decided not to cause a problem. “Just watchin’ the horses. I needed some fresh air and Mom said I could go for a walk. So guess I've been out long enough."

"Yeah, she told me to tell you to get back inside, wimp"

Heading back to the cabin, Randy yelled over his shoulder. “Cute haircut,"

"Shut up, brat."

Randy snickered as he chugged along. When he got even with the second outbuilding, he glanced back to make sure Earl wasn't watching, then put his ear against the wooden side. He could still hear the bubbling noise and swore the siding felt warm to his skin. A knot hole caught his eye and he tried to see through it, but to no avail. However, a strange smell seeped through the tiny opening. Suddenly, out of the corner of his eye a movement caught his attention. He jerked his head around and spotted his dad riding a horse, galloping toward the cabin. Quickly stepping away from the structures, Randy went swinging toward the cabin entry on the crutches.

Jeb came to a stop and dismounted. “Hello, Son, good to see ya out."

"Hi, Dad. Mom let me go for a walk. Sure feels good to get outside. I went as far as the corral, so thought I better get back before she got worried."

His father opened the saddle packs and took out several small dead birds. “Take these in to your ma, she might want to fix them tonight for supper."

Randy managed to slip the small doves into his large jacket pockets.

Jeb mounted the horse and headed for the corral. “I'm going to rub down the horse, then I'll be up."

Randy noticed the lather on the beast's body, and figured he'd been run hard. His dad's shotgun hung in the scabbard on the side of the saddle. Going toward the front door, he tread a bit slower, so the birds wouldn't fall out. He glanced back toward the outbuildings and still wondered about the strange sound and odor. When he reached the cabin, he shoved open the door with his shoulder. “Hey, Mom, Dad just got home and told me to give you these.” He unloaded the fowl into the sink. “He said he'd be up shortly after he rubbed down the horse. “Boy, that horse was lathered from head to tail. Wonder why Dad ran him so hard?"

"Could be several reasons,” Beth said, examining the kill.

When she didn't explain her comment, Randy removed his jacket and hung it on one of the pegs by the door, stood the crutches in the corner, then went to the crib where Marcy lay on her tummy, babbling at the colorful rag doll propped in the corner. “You know, Mom, she's really adorable."

"Yes, she is. She's acting more like a person now, and fun to play with.” Beth said, as she stoked the fire in the stove, then set a bucket of water on the top to heat up so she could pluck the feathers from the fowl.