Murder and Moonshine: A Mystery (26 page)

“Look at me!” Rick bellowed, yanking Bobby toward him without any consideration for the bullet in his thigh.

He lifted his wan, shuddering face and met Rick’s livid gaze.

“If you go near Lucy Hale—or that inn—ever again, I swear to you, Bobby, I’ll set the dogs on you and you’ll be their next dinner. Kin o’ mine or no kin o’ mine. Do I make myself clear?”

The only reply was Bobby’s teeth chattering.

“Do I make myself clear!” Rick thundered.

“Y … Yesh.”

“Good. Now apologize to Daisy.”

The wan, shuddering face turned toward her. She had never seen Bobby look so terrified.

“I … I’m sorry, Daisy,” he stammered. “I’m very sorry.”

With a grunt, she relaxed her finger.

Also grunting, Rick released his hold on Bobby’s shirt. He slumped back to the ground.

“I have a question,” Ethan said.

Both Daisy and Rick looked at him.

“It’s for Bobby.”

Bobby half-gurgled, half-moaned as he cradled his leg.

“What did Daisy’s mom do when you told her she had to sell the land?” Ethan asked him.

“She shot me!” he sobbed.

“Obviously. But did she say anything before she shot you?”

“Naw. She just pulled her gun from the dresser without any warning and…” Bobby paused to rub his watery eyes. “Well, she did tell me she wouldn’t ever sell it. Then she pulled her gun from the dresser and…”

Not waiting for the conclusion of the woeful tale, Ethan turned to Rick. “Is it possible you don’t own all of Fox Hollow?”

Rick raised a surprised eyebrow. “I bought everything the bank had.”

Ethan then turned to Daisy. “And did the bank have all of Fox Hollow?”

“Yes.”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course I’m sure,” she returned with irritation. “We covered this once before already, and I really don’t know why we have to go over it again. The entire property was forfeit. The house, the crops, and the land. You took the whole thing. And the whole thing was mortgaged, so the bank had all of it.”

“But there must be a reason why this Joe believes your mom still owns a piece of the property,” Ethan mused.

“Now that you mention it,” Rick said, “there were some folks up here acting like a piece might be missing.”

Daisy snapped her head toward him. “A piece might be missing! What piece? And what folks?”

“They came a couple of weeks ago and—”

Thinking immediately of Zeke and what he had told her, she interrupted him. “Were they big-city folks? Did they ask you if you own Fox Hollow?”

Rick’s eyebrow went up in surprise a second time. “Yes. How did you know? They did ask me if I now own it. I guess there was some confusion on the subject. Since old man Dickerson had been living there, they thought it belonged to him. Or maybe he even told them it was his. I’m not sure. But then they discovered it’d been sold to me.”

“How did they find that out?”

“I think they looked at the property records. Same as Sheriff Lowell and everybody else who’s interested in learning who owns what. The county must be slow in processing the paperwork, because nobody seemed to know I’d bought Fox Hollow until right around the time Fred died.”

“That’s not unusual,” Ethan said. “Most places are at least six months behind when it comes to updating land records. But what I’m curious to know is whether—”

“Whether the timing with the records and Fred’s death is just a coincidence,” Rick finished for him, “or something else instead?”

Ethan nodded.

“I’ve been wondering that for a while too. I even looked at the records myself, but they didn’t help any. Old man Dickerson wasn’t listed at all. And there’s no mention of the ATF either. Fox Hollow went from Paul and Lucy Hale”—Rick glanced at Daisy—“to the bank, then to me.”

“That’s not unusual,” Ethan said again. “My office doesn’t take possession the same way a normal purchaser would. From a legal standpoint, governmental forfeiture—” He also glanced at Daisy.

She gave him a sour look. “Is this really the best time for a lesson on forfeiture?”

“Probably not. Sorry.” Ethan cleared his throat gruffly, then turned to Rick. “I do think the way you obtained the property might be important. How did you learn it was available?”

“From the bank.” Rick leaned against the dented door of Bobby’s trailer and folded his arms across his chest. “From the bank’s president if we’re being precise.”

Daisy’s sour look went to him. “Since when are you and the bank’s president pals?”

Rick smiled. “We’ve been doing business together for many years.”

“Doing business together?” She smiled back at him wryly. “I don’t believe that for an instant. What kind of business?”

The smile grew. “Darlin’, I sell more whiskey to him than to any other man in the Commonwealth of Virginia.”

Her mouth flopped open.

“We were drinking together one evening this past winter,” Rick said, “and he told me he was on the verge of celebrating. You see, the bank had a property on its books that had been giving him a whopper of a headache. For four years they hadn’t received a mortgage payment, interest payment, property tax payment, or insurance payment. It was just sitting there with the bills accumulating, and he couldn’t do anything about it. The feds had it all tied up with their rules and regulations and endless red tape. But at long last every necessary form had been signed and every teeny tiny technicality had been taken care of. The bank could finally dispose of its albatross.

“It was a messy albatross too,” he continued. “There was a tenant on the land who supposedly had a lease, but no one could find a copy of it. And without it, the bank didn’t have a clue what to do about him. Their best option—their only option really—was to sell the property, wipe it from their list of defaults, and at least get a portion of their investment back. I was curious about it and asked where the property was. When I heard Fox Hollow, I almost fell off my chair.”

“I bet,” Daisy muttered.

Rick’s voice deepened. “I immediately made an offer, he accepted it, and we shook hands on the deal over a jar. So now you know how it happened. How I became the new owner of Fox Hollow.”

“Well,” she said, sighing, “that explains why you were the only one who knew it was up for sale.”

“Right time, right place.”

“And the money?” It was a question that had been nagging her for weeks. “How could you afford it?”

“How do you know the Balsam family isn’t worth millions?”

Daisy gestured toward the dilapidated trailers.

“Darlin’,” Rick drawled, “you shouldn’t be so quick to judge a book by its cover. For your information, I don’t wet the whistle of just the lovely folks in Pittsylvania County or even good ol’ Virginny. I supply half the eastern seaboard with my ’shine. And that keeps me flush enough to afford a lot more than your precious Fox Hollow.”

“Damn.” Ethan exhaled.

Rick looked at him. “Is that a problem for you, Mister Federal Agent?”

Ethan answered with a smirk. “Clearly I chose the wrong occupation.”

“You and me both,” Daisy agreed. “And to think how many stupid scones I’ve baked when I could have been brewing up brandies instead.”

“I told you on the drive out here you should have become a bootlegger.”

“Unfortunately that advice comes a little too late.”

“Doesn’t seem quite fair, does it?” Ethan remarked.

“Fair?” It was Daisy’s turn to smirk. “Nothing in this world is ever fair.”

As though to prove her point, Bobby mewed piteously.

“I think your brother is in need of some medical attention,” she said to Rick. “And now I know you won’t have any problem paying the bill.”

Rick’s gaze narrowed, and he was about to respond when Bobby interrupted him.

“Watch … watch out for Joe,” he choked.

“There’s another piece of advice coming too late.” Daisy’s sarcasm was mixed with frustration. “You saying that now doesn’t do my momma and the humongous bump on her head a lick of good. Nor does it help me that everybody’s constantly talking about who owns Fox Hollow and then telling my momma to sell it. She doesn’t own it, so she can’t sell it, and I really don’t understand why that’s such a difficult concept to grasp.”

Ethan nodded. “That’s why the first thing I’m going to do after we leave here is check with my office. I want to make absolutely certain nothing funny happened with the forfeiture. That something didn’t get divided or split off along the way. So we know without any doubt what you think of as Fox Hollow and what the property records show as Fox Hollow are the exact same piece of land.”

Daisy nodded back at him. “I appreciate it. Thank you, Ethan.”

“Hopefully that’ll clear everything up,” he went on. “And if not, it should at least give us a better idea of how to protect you and your mom from any future problems.” He frowned at Bobby.

“I won’t. I won’t.” Bobby shook his head vigorously. “You won’t have any problems from me.”

“Even if your brother decides not to set the dogs on you”—Daisy restrained a grin—“should Aunt Emily catch a glimpse of you lurking anywhere in the neighborhood, she won’t hesitate for a second to pop you full of holes. She’s always itching for an excuse to blast something to kingdom come, and you’ll make the easiest target she’s ever had.”

Bobby squirmed like an earthworm on a hot sidewalk.

“What about Sheriff Lowell?” Rick asked her pragmatically.

“Maybe you should try bribing him with a couple of jelly jars,” she replied. “Have you been doing business with him too?”

Rick growled, and her nose twitched in amusement.

“We don’t know what the others have told the sheriff by now,” Ethan interjected.

Daisy’s eyes went to Bobby, who was beginning to resemble a rather sickly and nearly desiccated earthworm. Albeit with some reluctance, she felt a smidge of sympathy for him. Punishing him further would be like scolding a recalcitrant hamster. There was simply no point to it.

“All right, Bobby,” she said after a moment, “if the cat’s not out of the bag already, I won’t tattle on you to Sheriff Lowell. That’s assuming, of course, my momma doesn’t have any lasting injuries and you don’t have any more dealings with Joe.”

“I won’t! I won’t!” he cried again.

Bobby looked so grateful and relieved—and he sounded so sincere in his promise—Daisy didn’t regret her decision, not yet at least. She turned to Ethan.

“Could we go back to the inn now? I really want to check on my momma.”

“Of course. But how about if I drive this time?”

They shared a laugh and started toward Ethan’s car. Rick called to her.

“Daisy—”

She slowed but didn’t stop.

“Daisy, will you let me know how your momma’s doing?”

“I will.” She continued walking toward the car.

“In the meantime,” Rick said, “I’ll track down a copy of the plat map. Maybe it’ll show something about Fox Hollow that explains all the interest in it. And, Daisy—” He hesitated. “If you find out anything about the property or the forfeiture—”

Her back stiffened, and her feet stumbled on the gravel. Daisy didn’t mean to sound so resentful and envious, but she couldn’t help it.

“Don’t worry, Rick,” she hissed. “If we find there’s a piece missing, you’ll be the first one to know about it and the only one able to buy it.”

CHAPTER

24

“I think it’s about time for an explanation.”

“What sort of an explanation, Ducky?”

They were sitting in her momma’s hospital room, so Daisy kept her voice low. “Don’t play dumb with me, Aunt Emily. We both know you’ve got a treasure trove of Pittsylvania County secrets stored in that brain of yours.”

Her shrewd blue eyes were filled with laughter. “I’m not disputing that, Ducky. I’m just not sure which particular secret you’re interested in at the moment.”

“We can start with old man Dickerson and what you meant when you said he was responsible for the death of my daddy.”

“I thought you didn’t believe a word of that.”

“I didn’t, and I still don’t. Fred didn’t cause the accident. He wasn’t at Fox Hollow when it happened. He wasn’t anywhere near the place.”

“Just because the man wasn’t standing in the garden and didn’t physically make that propane tank explode, doesn’t mean he wasn’t responsible.”

Daisy tapped her heel on the floor with growing impatience. “So then how was he responsible?”

The shrewd blue eyes blinked at her. “Are you certain this is something you want to know?”

She stared straight back, resolved not to be sidetracked. “I think we’re beyond that point, don’t you? Considering Fred’s dead—and Hank’s dead—and my momma’s lying unconscious in that bed over there.”

“I suppose you’re right, Ducky. I suppose there are times when what you don’t know can hurt you. Although I doubt what I can tell you about Fred Dickerson is going to help you much.”

Daisy leaned back on the seat of her folding chair expectantly.

“Fred had already been a recluse for a good long time when your daddy hired him,” Aunt Emily began. “He didn’t like talking to people or even being around them. That was obvious enough. But like all the rest of us, he still needed to eat and put a shirt on his back. Your daddy used to see him scrounging around for a decent meal and a dollar bill, and he felt sorry for him, so he started offering Fred odd jobs. Mowing in the cemetery, bushwhacking along the creek, digging out rocks from the fields.”

“I remember that. I remember my daddy liked him and thought he was a hard worker.”

“But Matt’s daddy didn’t like him,” Aunt Emily said.

“He didn’t?” Daisy frowned. “That I don’t remember.”

“There’s no reason why you would, Ducky. You were married and living happily with your husband. Your pretty little head wasn’t focused on an old wreck of a farmer like Fred Dickerson. Mine wouldn’t have been neither, except your momma was worried enough to talk to me about it.”

“She was? Did she tell you why Matt’s daddy didn’t like Fred?”

“She had a guess. A correct guess in my opinion. Your momma thought Matt’s daddy was using the cemetery as a giant pot field.”

Daisy chuckled. “That doesn’t surprise me. Clean living was never Mr. McGovern’s strong suit. He must have tried his hand at a hundred different schemes over the years. Cooking up home brew. Organizing gambling operations. Peddling insurance pyramids. Everything illegal but with the potential to make him a quick buck.”