Moon Underfoot (21 page)

Sixty seconds crawled by while the music played and two female undercover officers acted as if they had just seen Elvis—the young, hip-swinging version—live and in person.

“What are they doing now!”

“They just pulled off…headed toward the concert hall. Must not have been them.”

“Damn!”

M
OON PIE HATED
doing anything but hunting on Sunday. He loved Chick-fil-A’s corporate policy, since 1946, of being closed for business on Sundays. This recipe for success had made such an impression on him that he had decided the Gold Mine would close on Sundays as well.

When he received the text from Tam, he knew he didn’t have a choice but to work that Sunday.
At least I can watch the game Saturday without anyone bothering me
, he thought.

Moon Pie had become a Tennessee Volunteer fan when he lived in Chattanooga with his grandparents. That was also where he picked up the nickname Moon Pie. His grandfather worked in the original Moon Pie bakery, and at a young age, Ethan was never seen without one of the snacks in his hands—thus the moniker.

At halftime Moon Pie called Levi to update him and talk about what he expected to happen on Sunday. He realized he wasn’t hanging around his trailer, as was his custom. “Where the hell are you?” Moon Pie asked, and then spit into a plastic bottle.

“I’m eatin’.” Levi had been expecting Moon Pie’s call.

“I hear lots of voices,” Moon Pie said as he logged on to Facebook with his new iPad.

“I’m downtown.”

“You with a girl?”

“Kinda,” Levi said as he smiled at his date.

“Who is she?”

“I ain’t tellin’.”

“White girl?”

“You’re funny, Moon. Do you need me?”

“No, we ain’t gonna make the exchange tonight. It’ll be tomorrow. You wanna go shinin’ tonight?”

“Nah, man,” Levi said, “I’m busy.”

“All right, then. Be ready in the mornin’. I don’t know what time yet, so be expectin’ my call.”

“Where you thinkin’ of doing the deal?”

“Shit!” Moon Pie said out loud. “I never have any friend requests.”

“What?”

“Facebook’s broke.”

“It ain’t broke, you just need a better picture. That photo looks like some perv’s mug shot, dude.”

“Commercial’s over. I gotta get back to the game,” Moon Pie said and then started to hang up.

“Whoa, wait! Where we meetin’ at?”

“Probably at one of the boat ramps. They’ll be pretty quiet till duck season opens. I’ll call you in the mornin’,” Moon Pie said authoritatively. Then he spat loudly and broke the connection.

Levi looked at his cell phone. He was glad he wasn’t at Moon Pie’s trailer watching ESPN. More than once, Moon Pie had thrown a beer bottle at his television when Tennessee lost. He smiled at the reprieve from Moon, looked at his date, and then asked, “How’d you like to go to the Rascal Flatts concert tonight?”

“You have tickets?” she asked enthusiastically.

“Nope, but I can get us some.”

“Yes! Yes! I’d loooove too! I loooove those guys! I know all their songs!”

“Great! Okay. Let’s get goin’, then.” Levi thrived on spontaneity.

D
ARKNESS FELL. WALTER
and his team were drinking coffee in the Henry Clay Hotel library. They were studying the video from the camera Bailey had brought back. The combination appeared to be 36, 24, 36, pound.

Walter laughed out loud when he realized what the code represented. He knew that no one would have tried that particular combination of numbers. Sebastian had spent countless hours studying relevant numbers in Moon Pie’s life, and something so off the wall as a woman’s measurements—it was just too much for him.

Sebastian grunted at the genius of the code.

Lucille blinked in disgust.

Bernard smiled, knowing that he would have chosen that exact sequence; it would have been so easy to remember.

Now the gang had to decide when to do it.

Bernard and Lucille wanted to strike right away—tonight. Walter wanted to plan for a few more days, study the layout more. Sebastian didn’t really care but was very anxious to see Woody get what was coming to him.

“Tonight’s a good night. Everybody’s watching football on ESPN,” Bernard pointed out. “What else do we gotta do?”

“I’m not sure. I’m just worried about gettin’ in and gettin’ out without bein’ caught by our boy or the police,” Walter said with a worrisome tone.

“What? Lucille and I’ll be watchin’ from across the street. We’ve talked about this.”

“What’s the matter, Walter?” Sebastian asked.

“Nothing. I-I-I…I mean, we just had the Kroger job planned so well, and I know they suspect me…but with this…we really haven’t considered all the angles—in the same detail—so it could go to hell in a hurry. I don’t want any of us getting into trouble.”

“It could also go off without a hitch,” Bernard said. “All we gotta do is get in and get out. It’s pretty simple, really. And easier than the last one. There won’t be any people around.”

Sebastian stood up and then made sure that no one was outside in the hall who could hear him.

“Look, Walter Severson. Listen to me! I’ve been here for almost three years, basically sittin’ ’round with nothin’ to do, nowhere to go, and nothin’ keepin’ my mind engaged other than readin’ the paper. I had a good life, but I ain’t got shit to show for it now. My wife died years ago. She tried to be healthy, but it wasn’t in her genes. I lost my daughter in a car wreck, and my son’s overseas, fightin’ in the war in Afghanistan. Hell…he’d understand.

“I ain’t told y’all…but I’ve got cancer, and it don’t look good. I won’t go into that—but my point is…until you came along, Walter, with this idea to help others, I was just wastin’ away. Waitin’ to die. Just goin’ through the daily motions. Now I’ve got a reason to hang in there. Yeah, I don’t really agree with robbin’ folks, but these guys are criminals and…and we’re gonna do good with the money. I believe in this. None of us has got material wealth, but we all have big hearts, and we wanna help other people. If we do get caught, I’ll tell ’em that it was my idea and that y’all didn’t know shit about what was goin’ on. I’ll take whatever punishment they lay out. What you don’t know, Walter, is that you done me a favor and I owe you…big-time.”

Walter tried to swallow the lump in his throat. He looked around the room. Lucille had tears in her eyes. Bernard wiped his nose.

“This whole foundation makes sense to me, and it would to a lot of people if we explained it to ’em. One thing I do know—there are way more people who need a little assistance than we can actually help. Way more. But we gotta try. So when you worry about something happening to us…I don’t want you to, ’cause if anything does, I’ve made up my mind; I’m gonna take the fall. I’m gonna tell the police that I’m just a blind hog that found an acorn. That way you and Lucille and Bernard and whoever else you get can keep this foundation alive.”

Bernard put down his coffee cup. “I feel the same way. The exact same way. I’m settin’ my alarm clock now. You know, I used to just sleep till whenever. Now I don’t want to miss a thing. You’ve given us life…purpose.”

Lucille was sitting next to Walter and took his hand in her hands. “Walter, I raised two kids by myself, and wasn’t any of it easy. I had about lost faith in the male of our species,” she chuckled and wiped her nose, “until you came along. I don’t have anything to leave my kids and grandkids. I’m okay with that, and so are they. Oh, I have some silver and a few pieces of jewelry, but that’s it. What you offered to do to help Bailey is a dream come true for me. You don’t have any grandkids, so maybe you don’t know how it is for us.” She indicated the others with a wave of her hand. “We wanna help them, and it’s sad when we can’t.” She leaned over and kissed Walter on the cheek. “Thank you.”

Walter was moved by his friends’ heartfelt words. He didn’t quite know what to say, since he hadn’t been open about his motivation for starting the foundation. The gamut of emotions was swirling through him. For a long moment, all he could do was stare out the big windows into the dark street. He eventually looked at his watch, shook his head, and smiled.

“We pull this off, you gotta go see an oncologist,” Walter said to Sebastian.

Sebastian, a big, burly man, didn’t like being told what to do. He looked at his friends and saw true concern. Bernard and Lucille both nodded their heads.

“That’s a deal.”

“Well, we better get started if we’re gonna rob the place and get back in time to go to bed at a decent hour.”

J
AKE HAD HAD
a busy day. He had taken Katy deer hunting, and just getting her out of bed before daylight had been a chore. Inside the shooting house, Katy had texted on her cell phone more than she watched for deer. He’d allowed her to do what she was enjoying, but when a nice buck trotted across a power line and she couldn’t get ready fast enough, his frustration boiled over. He said some things that he immediately regretted and spent the rest of the morning apologizing.

Jake kept reminding himself that the purpose of their hunting was about spending time together and not about killing something. He was relieved that being in a shooting house didn’t seem to bother Katy or bring up any painful memories from their ordeal on the Dummy Line. In fact, she didn’t seem troubled by it at all. Jake thought about it enough for both of them. He wondered if texting was a diversion. Then he finally realized that for a typical preteen, texting occurs about every waking minute. She was fine.

Morgan was spending the day shopping in Jackson at the Junior League’s Mistletoe Marketplace and wouldn’t return until late that night. Katy had a birthday party to attend that afternoon, and R. C. Smithson was coming to town to talk with Jake about the family’s security.

R.C. hadn’t changed much. He may have put on ten pounds, and he’d grown a scruffy beard. He dressed professionally for his new job as a private detective, but Jake kept picturing him in his muddy, wet deputy’s uniform. Sitting in Jake’s den, they caught up on the last eighteen months. They had not met before that fateful night, and now there was a bond between them. Jake knew firsthand that R.C. was a good guy, and Katy really took a shine to him.

R.C. pulled out a notepad and asked Jake to explain everything that had happened recently. Jake walked over to the fireplace, looked into the flames, gathering his thoughts, and then sat down on the hearth and started talking in as much detail as he could recount about the Peeping Tom, the camp house, the mysterious cars that drove by, the time he had seen a strange car parked down from his house, and the cryptic letters he had received in the mail that he hadn’t even mentioned to Morgan. He described moving into the gated golf-course community and the expensive security system, which necessitated a bank loan. He explained that the local police had increased their patrolling of the neighborhood and that both he and Morgan were carrying pistols now and how he thought he was becoming paranoid.

R.C. took detailed notes, and when Jake finally paused, he said, “I’ve done some diggin’ since you called. Spoke to Sheriff Ollie. He said to tell you and Katy hello, by the way. Bottom line is that they’ve got concerns also. You may not know this, but several law enforcement agencies have been keepin’ an eye on you.”