Slow Hands (9 page)

For the more adventurous—and wealthier—clients, there was Lacy's newest shtick, a fifty-dollar "mother lode" bucket. Ten gallons of dirt from a gold mine.

Large overhead boards gave instructions on how to sluice the sand—a handful at a time—through screened sieves. The boards also described the typical "finds." Amethysts, quartz, ruby, tigereye, and gold nuggets. The fact that few of the stones were native to the area didn't faze most buyers.

Just inside, Lacy held court with a Boy Scout troop. The scouts were most likely camping at nearby Culver-leaf Park, and Lacy, ever the salesman, was repeating the tale of the Lost Confederate Gold—a local legend dating back to the Civil War.

Some historians had argued that the tale was completely unfounded, based on a similar Civil War tale.

Others embraced the notion of hidden treasure as gospel. Keira had grown up listening to her grandfather talk about the gold; knew Willis and
his
grandfather had searched for it when Willis was a small child. She'd heard the tale a hundred times.

But Lacy had the storytelling down to an art, embellishing it with dialogue, sound effects, and facial grimaces.

The Scouts listened, wide-eyed, as Lacy pointed to a big map on the wall and talked about Union soldiers advancing on a Georgia stronghold, and how a handful of loyal Confederate guards had taken off with the chest containing the Confederacy's treasure.

"Didn't want those damn Yankees getting their grubby mitts on their gold."

"Damn Yankees," the boys echoed.

Lacy coughed. "For years folks assumed it was buried in Georgia, till they found a letter one of the soldiers had written his mama. Told her he'd buried the gold in Arkansas, along with the body of a soldier who'd lost both hands protecting the treasure."

Lacy tapped a spot on the map. "They found a grave, here. The skeleton was wrapped in a tattered Confederate flag and both its hands were gone. Severed at the wrists."

Keira noticed the spot was suspiciously close to the Scouts' campground.

Lacy caught her frown, ignored it. "The treasure's never been found. Some say the ghost of that Rebel soldier still roams these hills, guarding the gold."

"I bet he's looking for his lost hands," one boy yelled.

"I don't know." Lacy scratched his chin. "You may be right. Why don't we ask Keira, here. Her grandfather has spent over seventy years looking for the gold."

Fifteen heads turned toward where she stood.

"Show 'em your necklace," Lacy urged.

Keira scowled, not wanting to be drawn in. But it was too late. Not wanting to disappoint the kids, she tugged the necklace free of her shirt. A large gold coin dangled from the chain.

"The treasure!" one boy whispered.

"I'm not sure it's part of the actual Confederate gold," Keira admitted. "But my grandfather claims he found it while out mining."

The coin, so worn the date was illegible, was probably not part of the treasure. She suspected Willis had made up the story to amuse her. And to humor him, she'd never debated it.

Most locals dismissed the story as myth—a myth the town fathers had learned to perpetuate in order to attract tourists— but Keira knew Willis still searched regularly for the gold. Her grandfather didn't believe the treasure was mythical.

She waited as Lacy sold fifteen miniature copies of the map and directed the boys toward the water chutes.

"Thanks for coming," Lacy said, motioning toward the jewelry shop. "Bet I've lost hundreds of dollars in sales."

She doubted that, since his only customers were the Scouts. First thing Keira did was check the fuse box outside. Sure enough, a breaker was thrown.

"I swear, I checked it," Lacy grumbled. "Sorry to call you out on something stupid, but seeing as me and your grandpa are practically partners ..."

That was Lacy's way of avoiding a charge for a service call.
Partners.

She shook her head. Keira knew her grandfather collected rocks and crystals for Lacy's attraction when he was out looking for his gold. But she'd bet Willis's real partnership with Lacy stemmed more from the moonshine Lacy peddled after hours from the back room.

When Keira finally returned to her apartment, it was late afternoon. She was surprised to find her grandfather waiting. She hugged him.

"My, my," Willis said. "Maybe I need to stop by more often. Not every day an old coot has a pretty gal throw herself all over him."

"Stay for lunch?"

"Sure."

Keira made sandwiches while her grandfather complained good-naturedly about his garden. "Cutworms got half my tomato plants. Green beans are spotty, but squash will be plentiful."

Willis laughed when he heard about her visit to the Lucky Nugget. "I told him not to call you unless it was a real emergency."

"If Lacy thinks he's losing a ten-dollar sale, that's an emergency."

Willis shook his head, then sat at the dining room table, relating the details of his last doctor visit while Keira poured iced tea. "Doc says I'm healthy as a damn horse."

"That's good to hear," she said. Willis Morgan was eighty-four, with the fortitude of a man half his age.

As they ate, he asked about her work in Hot Springs. Then he got to the real reason for his unannounced visit.

"I hear Alec Dempsey's back in town. How's that sitting with you?"

Keira gathered their plates and ducked into the kitchen to avoid her grandfather's direct gaze.

"It's okay," she kept talking. "He e-mailed me about a month ago. At first I didn't want to respond—but then I realized it was silly to hold a grudge this long."

"Ain't nothing wrong with a good grudge," Willis observed. "Or a swift kick in the keester."

She sighed. "It's been ten years, Gramps. I've gotten over it."

Willis shook his head. "Still wasn't right. Hope you at least told him off."

"I did." Keira snagged a bag of Oreos, hoping to distract Willis with his favorite cookie.

At the sight of the familiar cellophane wrapper, Willis grinned. He opened the bag, then took a cookie and twisted it apart before popping the half with all the creamy white filling into his mouth. "You'll tell me if he bothers you any?"

She smiled. Willis had been playing white knight since her parents died. While she had no recollection of them, she had lots of wonderful memories of life with her grandfather. Which made the thought of Ian Griggs's threat to harm him all the more upsetting. She would do anything to assure Willis's safety.

"I'm serious, gal. Say the word, and he's gone."

Willis popped the other half of the cookie into his mouth, then drew a single finger across his neck while making a strangled noise. "Lots of bottomless pits on Fire Mountain. His body would never be found."

Keira nodded. If Alec let anything happen to Willis, that's exactly what she'd do.

Willis finished his tea and stood. "I've got a business meeting with Lacy."

She knew he meant
moonshine
business. "You and Lacy are being careful, right? No selling to strangers."

Willis looked offended. "You forget who you're talking to. I invented careful." He pointed to his nose. "Besides, I can smell a revenue agent a mile away."

Halfway out the door, he turned. "Almost forgot."

He reached in his pocket and withdrew a small, battered pewter flask. "Brought you a little draeberry wine. Best batch yet." With a wink, he disappeared.

Shaking her head, Keira uncapped the flask and sniffed.
Draeberry wine
was yet another code name her grandfather had cooked up for white lightning. No such thing as draeberries, but most outsiders didn't know that.

She blinked and refastened the cap. The Morgan family had been making the mellowest 'shine in the state for over two centuries. The family recipe was closely guarded, handed down from father to son.

Keira had never been interested in operating a still, but maybe she needed to rethink that. It was sad to think that the secret recipe for Morgan Moonshine would die with her grandfather.

Keira put their glasses in the dishwasher. When she turned around, Alec stood in her dining room. She squelched a scream. He'd no doubt climbed in through her bedroom window. Again.

"Didn't your mama teach you to knock?" she asked.

"I knocked on the window. You were busy."

Which obviously hadn't stopped him from coming in. "How long have you been in there?"

"Long enough to know I better watch my step around your grandfather." Alec drew a finger across his throat.

"Willis would probably prefer to fill you full of buckshot."

"And dump my body in a bottomless pit."

Keira narrowed her eyes. "Guess your mama didn't teach you it's not polite to eavesdrop, either?"

Alec chuckled, walked over to the flask on the counter. He held it out in a "may I?" gesture.

She retrieved a shot glass.

Alec poured a small amount of the clear liquor in the glass. He sniffed it, then belted it back.

Grimacing, he shook his head. "Damn! Willis hasn't lost his touch."

He resealed the flask, savoring the warmth in his stomach. Willis Morgan had developed moonshine into a liquid art.

Since joining ATF, Alec had specialized in weapons smuggling and rarely had dealings with the division that oversaw untaxed liquor. He had already made up his mind before returning to overlook the moonshine operations going on in the Freedom area.

The big-time operators, the ones that produced thousands of gallons of illegal whiskey, were located much farther south, and were well organized. The local producers, like Willis Morgan and his cronies, had slowly dwindled in number and were relatively harmless.

Demand was low, nothing like fourteen years ago when Alec and his buddies made gas and party money by running moonshine from county to county one night a week. They had fast cars, could drive the back roads blindfolded... and at sixteen, they were minors. Not that any of them got caught.

He handed the shot glass back to Keira. "Is this a good time to talk?"

"As good as any." After visiting with Willis she was eager to hear Alec's plans for protection.

He helped himself to a beer from the refrigerator, held one out to her. She shook her head.

"There's two things we've got to settle," Alec started. "One is my working for you. It solidifies my staying. You'll need to add me to the payroll so it appears legit, but the Bureau will reimburse you. And you'll need to fabricate some jobs for me to work.
Alone.
Can't promise how much help I'll be, but I'll pitch in where I can."

"I wouldn't expect you to do any electrical work, Alec. Your job is to watch Griggs. Make sure he gets nowhere near Willis."

He grunted. "Afraid I'm rusty? I've kept up."

"Actually I'd be more concerned for the safety of the others working with you. I take my men's safety seriously."

"Ouch." He put a hand to his heart.

She ignored him. "So that's one thing. What's the other?"

"Us. I was serious about pretending to rekindle our relationship."

"Alec—"

"Especially after the incident at the bowling alley."

While Alec couldn't directly attribute the incident to Ian Griggs, he felt it was more than a prank. Someone had gone to the trouble of stealing the doll and mutilating it before returning it.

Alec had done a little checking, knew about Keira's problems with the Barry brothers. It hadn't been hard. Everyone in town knew about the fierce rivalry between Barry Brothers Electric and Morgan Electrical Contracting. Alec hadn't liked some of the stories he'd heard.

And while he hadn't eliminated the Barrys as suspects, it wasn't their style to skulk around in dark alleys. They were verbal Neanderthals, preferring face-to-face insults. The Barrys got their thrill in the moment. They'd want to deliver the doll, watch her face.