Moon Underfoot (8 page)

“That sounds good. I’ll let her know today to expect your call and to discuss specifics with you in confidence.”

Jake was relieved to get the lawyer’s contact information, since his career depended on this working out. He appreciatively shook Walter’s hand and then glanced to Walter’s right as the eagle landed in a giant pine tree.

* * *

M
ORGAN CLEARED THE
supper table as Jake slowly rubbed his forehead, thinking of ways to increase their income. They had just discussed the upcoming pregnancy expenses. Morgan had already created a new family budget forecasting the next two years. It looked dismal. All she could really focus on, however, was turning their guest bedroom into a nursery.

“Why can’t you just ask for a raise?” she asked while loading the dishwasher. “I can’t remember the last time you got one.”

“It’s not that simple. I’m a commissioned broker. Their position is that I can improve my income by signing more clients.”

“Well?”

“Well, it’s not easy, Morgan,” Jake said defensively. “The economy is in the shitter, and nobody wants to get into the market or move any money. Plus, West Point’s lost a lot of jobs these last few years. It’s tough out there.”

“Our family is growing. Our expenses are growing. What are we going to do? What are
you
gonna do?”

“I don’t know. I’ll think of something.” Jake ran his hands through his hair.

“Jake, you always say that, and this time it’s not good enough. We both agreed that I should be a stay-at-home mom, but do I need to get a job?”

Jake sat motionless. He wanted what was best for his family. He clearly saw the benefits of Morgan staying home to take care of Katy and knew it would be the same with the new baby. It was worth the sacrifice.

“No.”

Morgan exhaled deeply and looked over Jake’s head.

“If we have to, we could sell the river camp.” Morgan knew this solution would not be well received.

Jake grunted. As a young man, Jake’s grandfather had built the camp house. It wasn’t much, but it had been in his family for years. It was an old-growth cypress A-frame on pylons overlooking the old river channel. Jake had grown up there fishing, tubing, boat riding, and just hanging out with friends and family. He had to find a way to keep it.

“I know.”

Morgan sat down at the table and looked straight at Jake. “Look, I know you don’t want to sell it…I get that. But we gotta keep all our options open. This baby is going to be expensive, and it won’t be long before Katy’s driving and then going off to college. But we don’t have to do it tomorrow.”

“Just give me a little while to work this out. I swear I’ll think of something.”

“Maybe I could start selling Arbonne. I hear some women in town are doing really well selling cosmetics and accessories.”

“You’ll
love
the pink Cadillac,” Jake said with a hint of sarcasm.

“They drive Mercedeses.”

“Really?”

Jake looked around at his home. He could hear Katy taking a shower upstairs. In a few years she’d be driving. Morgan had
that expectant-mother glow, with a baby due in seven months or so. He was beginning to feel like he was failing as a provider. Morgan wanted more. His boss wanted more. Somewhere he had to find the more that everyone demanded. His thoughts turned to the cash that Walter Severson had stashed somewhere.

M
OON PIE HEARD
the locks click in place on the front door as the last customer left. It had been a good day at the Gold Mine. He studied the newest shiny gold pieces while the two employees quickly straightened up and prepared to leave. His employees never worked a moment longer than they had to. Today’s haul included a dozen rings, bracelets, chains, medallions, and four gold teeth. He weighed the items collectively and instantly knew he had netted more than $5,000 today.
Not bad. The economy’s not shitty for everybody
, he thought.

The Gold Mine was notorious for paying less than the other gold business in town, but most of the customers were desperate and didn’t consider comparing prices. They typically needed quick cash, and Moon Pie was happy to exploit their desperation. He knew that once someone walked in, he or she was ready to sell, and some money was better than nothing. But not all were down on their luck. Many wealthy wives cashed in jewelry for mad money, and divorces always created a general abandonment of sentimentality.

Through the one-way mirror built into his office wall, Moon Pie watched his favorite employee, Bailey, walk toward his door. She wasn’t the most productive, but she was the best
looking. Moon Pie had his sights set on her the day she applied. Bailey was twenty-four years old and had been forced to drop out of college to take care of her sick mother, who had just recently passed away. A three-year battle against leukemia with no health or life insurance had left Bailey broke. Moon Pie had tempted Bailey with all sorts of side offers for financial assistance, but she never took the bait. Her redneck boyfriend was jealous of anyone who looked at her, and he had threatened Moon Pie early on. That wasn’t smart, and the boyfriend soon realized it.

Bailey didn’t know everything Moon Pie was into, but she knew he was of no account. She planned to leave the first chance she got. She had applications out all over town, but things just weren’t happening for her. She felt like she was stuck in the mud and couldn’t get out.

“Do you need anything else?” Bailey asked as she stuck her head inside his office door.

“Wanna go to dinner tonight?” he asked as he bagged the gold jewelry.

“You know I can’t.”

“I’m thinking sushi,” he said, ignoring her rebuff. He squirted antibacterial spray on his left palm and then vigorously rubbed together both hands. Moon Pie left the gold teeth on his desk. They gave him the willies, so he decided to see how other people would react. He arranged them into a smile.

Bailey was hungry, and ramen noodles were most likely on her menu.

“Sounds good, but you know I can’t. I’m leaving, if there’s nothin’ else for me to do.”

“I got sump’n for you to do.”

“Ethan, please.” Bailey used his real name to emphasize her displeasure.

“When you gonna dump that piece-a-shit loser and go out with a real man—someone who knows how to treat a lady?”

Bailey wanted to say, “I’ve already broken up with him, but I can’t get rid of his sorry ass,” but she knew it would be harder to explain than that. He had promised her severe pain if she didn’t come back to him.

“Look, babe, I’m going to North Alabama in a few days to pick somethin’ up. I may need you to drive me so I can work on the way. Strictly business, and it’s important,” Moon Pie said.

“What about Levi? Can’t he go?” she asked.

Levi Jenkins was Moon Pie’s half brother from another mother. His desire was to be Moon Pie’s right hand, but he hadn’t proven himself capable so far.

“That peckerhead got arrested yesterday in Tuscaloosa. I don’t know how quick I can get his sorry ass out…or even if I really wanna get him out,” he said with a glint of anger in his voice. It was just a quick glimpse of his well-known two-foot-wide mean streak, but it was unmistakable.

Bailey knew she had to get out of this toxic environment. She regretted having borrowed money from Moon Pie to pay her mother’s funeral expenses, but she’d had nowhere else to turn. She exhaled deeply. The only thing she liked about the Gold Mine was Levi. He treated her with respect, and he made her laugh.

“I’ll pay you double,” Moon Pie said, leaning back in his chair.

Bailey desperately needed the money, but she absolutely did not want to go on a road trip with Moon Pie. She did, however, want him to leave town so she could get to the cash in the safe. She thought she knew two of the three sets of numbers to the combination, but she wasn’t certain. Her mind started racing.
Maybe if I go on this trip I can get the other set out of him and steal the cash later
.

“Can I let you know tomorrow?” Bailey asked, stalling.

Moon Pie started to grin and then caught himself. “Sure.”

Bailey forced a smile, waved good-bye, and for good measure added a little extra swing in her hips.

Moon Pie quietly laughed as he watched her walk out the door. After he heard it shut, he spun his chair around to place the gold inside his safe. He had configured the interior of the Browning safe to serve his needs. Inside on the top shelf, he had six loaded semiautomatic pistols with extra loaded magazines; underneath on the left side stood three different-caliber hunting rifles he used when poaching, depending on the terrain, and two customized fully automatic black rifles he used for protection. On the right side were shelves for his purchased gold, and underneath were boxes of money.

At the moment, he had $260,000 in cash packed inside three Tony Lama boot boxes. He calculated that he’d have enough room in the safe for the duffel bag of cash he would pick up in a few days. All he had to do was take delivery, store it overnight, and then hand it off. It might be in his possession for only thirty-six to forty-eight hours. The Gold Mine’s security was adequate, and the heavy safe was against an internal wall, secured to the concrete slab with four five-inch-long wedge anchors.

Moon Pie had no worries. In front of him was a simple pickup and delivery of cash that would net him 20 percent, a great football game on ESPN on Saturday night, and a new place to poach Monday morning, when the landowner was back at work.
Life’s good and gettin’ better…particularly if Bailey decides to go with me to Alabama.
He leaned back in his chair, put his feet on his desk, lit a Marlboro Light, and smiled.

L
EVI JENKINS SAT
in a Tuscaloosa, Alabama, jail wearing an orange jumpsuit with the sleeves rolled up to showcase the barbed-wire tattoos on his lanky arms. He was craving a dip of Skoal. He cussed under his breath for getting caught transporting the precursors for manufacturing crystal methamphetamine. He was especially disgusted at his situation because he had the biggest drug run of his career brewing, and he didn’t need this attention. Arguing his innocence had proven useless. No one was buying the story that his church was purchasing a case of Sudafed to deliver to the needy in Haiti.

The twenty-seven-year-old neophyte drug dealer knew that his boss and half brother, Moon Pie, wouldn’t help, so he called their cousin in Tupelo, who had finally passed the bar exam on his fourth attempt. He was a classic ambulance-chasing plaintiffs’ lawyer but with a gift for being hired by clients who couldn’t pay or who were seldom offered settlements, much less awarded judgments. After two minutes of cussing and ranting about issues of jurisdiction and licensing, the lawyer finally promised to see what he could do.

Back in his cell, Levi bragged about the big stick his lawyer would wave. Levi assured his cellmates that he would be
out within twenty-four hours. What Levi didn’t know was that officials within the Mississippi Drug Task Force had already put the wheels in motion to spring Levi. All that was left was the final paperwork. The rail-thin drug runner was a well-connected small fish they hoped would lead them to a large fish—a fish significantly large enough to make their careers. The Alabama counterparts just had to make it appear that Levi’s less-than-competent cousin was responsible for his release.