Murder and Moonshine: A Mystery (24 page)

“Momma!”

Lucy Hale didn’t respond. Nor did she move when her daughter grabbed her arm. But Daisy let out an immeasurable sigh of relief a moment later when she saw a little puff of air blow some wisps of hair away from her momma’s pale cheek. The puff repeated itself. She was breathing.

“Will you help me get her up, Ethan?”

Not waiting for his assistance, Daisy rolled her momma onto her side. She gasped when she saw her face. A welt the size of a golf ball protruded from her left temple. It was turning an ugly shade of puce.

“She must have hit her head on the bedpost,” Ethan said.

Daisy nodded in agreement. “The rug probably slipped out from under her, and she fell. But why are those drawers—”

Just then Beulah appeared in the doorway, yawning raucously. “I’m telling you, Daisy, we’ve got to take that damn gun away from Aunt Emily before—” Her sentence ended abruptly as she saw Daisy’s momma lying on the floor. “Oh my God!”

Stirring slightly, Lucy murmured a few incomprehensible syllables.

“Momma?” Daisy cried. “It’s me, Momma! I’m here!”

“Is she all right?” Pushing past Ethan, Beulah dropped down on her knees next to Daisy. “What can I do?”

Needing no time for deliberation, Daisy gave instructions at rapid-fire speed. “Call Sue Lowell. Tell her my momma’s hit her head, and she’s unconscious. Or semiconscious. I don’t know if it makes a difference, but she’ll understand either way. Try her at the Glade Hill Fire & Rescue Squad first. She’s usually there in the mornings.”

Beulah jumped up and raced out of the room in the direction of the nearest phone. Her robe flapped behind her like a pair of angel wings. Daisy was too busy cradling her momma’s bruised face in her lap to ask Ethan why he was examining the door frame.

“Daisy—”

“Huh?” She didn’t raise her gaze.

“Does your mom have any other injuries?”

“No, I—” Daisy paused and did a quick survey of her momma’s body. Her neck was straight, and her shoulders appeared even. Her arms and legs weren’t twisted funny. Nothing seemed broken, at least not from the outside. Maybe there was a sprain somewhere, but hopefully that wouldn’t be too serious. “I don’t see anything.”

“There’s no blood?”

“There’s no blood.”

“You’re sure? Because—”

Too agitated to listen, Daisy glanced over at the two drawers lying nearby. “Why are those on the floor? Do you think maybe she tried to grab the dresser as she was falling?”

“I think it’s more likely that’s where she kept her Colt,” Ethan replied.

Daisy’s head snapped up. “Her what!”

“Her Colt,” he repeated placidly, gesturing toward the base of the nightstand.

Her eyes followed his finger. Less than a foot away at the crinkled edge of the throw rug, there was a pistol. A small bluish-gray Colt. Daisy recognized it immediately.

“The three-eighty,” she whispered.

“You know it?” Ethan asked.

He sounded surprised, but not half as surprised as she was to see the gun in her momma’s bedroom.

“My daddy gave it to her,” Daisy answered, reminiscing more to herself than to Ethan. “The Christmas before he passed. For years he told her she should have one, just in case. But she always laughed him off. Said that’s what she kept him around for. My momma never really liked guns much. Her hands are so tiny she has trouble holding most of them. That’s why my daddy got her the three-eighty. He said it was light and little and manageable.”

“So manageable”—Ethan gave a grim smile—“she was able to get off two rounds even after she fell.”

“Two rounds!”

“See that?” He pointed at a marred spot about waist-high on the door frame. “One’s lodged there. And the other”—he waved a few inches lower—“based on that blood spatter across the wood, I’d bet is hurting somebody pretty bad right about now.”

“You think she hit someone?”

“Absolutely. Best guess, in the thigh. Or his ass if he was already running.”

Stunned, Daisy blinked at the Colt lying on the floor. “I didn’t know she still had it. I assumed she sold it after—after we moved to the inn.”

“Well, it’s a good thing she didn’t,” Ethan replied, “because I doubt your mom would have pulled apart her dresser and started firing in here unless she seriously needed to.”

Daisy’s stunned blinking continued. The firecrackers. There had been two bangs. That must have been her momma with the .380. Then the clumsy footsteps thudding down the stairs and the door slamming. It was the person she had injured. Fleeing. And the other footsteps? The door slamming again?

As though he could read the progression of her thoughts, Ethan said, “That’s the reason I didn’t want you going after Emily. I had a feeling it wasn’t deer—or rabbits—she was shooting at.”

“But why? Why would anyone—” Daisy cut herself off as a chilling possibility occurred to her. “Could it be them? Those big-city folks Zeke was talking about last night? He told me to watch out. He said they were going to come looking at us next. But I didn’t really believe him. I never imagined they’d actually go after my momma!”

Before Ethan could respond, Aunt Emily appeared in the hall outside the room. Unlike the rest of them, she was fully dressed for the day. Her hair was smooth. Her jewelry was coordinated. Only her raspberry lipstick looked a tad smudged, most likely from all of her yelling earlier.

“That’ll teach those lurkers!” she chortled with glee.

“Where is he?” Ethan asked hurriedly. “Is there any chance he’ll come back into the house?”

“No chance. No chance in the world. Not when he knows what’s waiting for him if he does.” Aunt Emily patted the double-barreled 20-gauge she had perched on her shoulder.

“But is he still on the property? Does he need to be restrained?”

“Naw. He’s gone. Went hobbling into the trees like a lame horse. If there’d been a smidge more light out, I could have put him down permanently. But as it was”—Aunt Emily clucked her tongue—“Lucy got him good. Hit ’em close to where it downright counts, if you catch my meaning. He’ll be limping for a long time to come. Other things might not be working quite right neither.” She chortled again, even more gleefully this time.

“How did you know he was here?” Ethan questioned her. “Was it the gunshots? Or did you actually see him?”

“I was about to go to the kitchen to ready the biscuits for breakfast when I heard Lucy start talking. She was mad. I knew in a snap something was wrong, because Lucy’s almost never mad. Usually she has more patience than a monk being stung by a thousand yellow jackets in the keester. Isn’t that true, Ducky?”

She gave a slight nod. She was still wondering about the big-city folks.

“Just as I came out of my room to check on her,” Aunt Emily went on, “Lucy let ’er rip. Twice, I think she fired. And he stumbled into the hallway with a sweet little bullet up in his right thigh. Fast as I could, I ran back to grab my Remington. He went down the stairs and out the back door. But it was easy enough for me to follow him. He left a nice trail of blood behind. I’m glad about it too.”

“Glad?” Daisy raised an eyebrow.

“You bet your bippy I’m glad,” Aunt Emily crowed. “Serves him right for skulking around the neighborhood. I told you somebody was out there spying, Ducky. Just waiting for an opportunity to prey on one of us. And to pick the sickest of the bunch! Like we’re a herd of helpless antelopes in the middle of the Serengeti. The man ought to be ashamed!”

“So you saw him,” Ethan said. “Can you describe him to me?”

“I didn’t get much of a look at his face. Speaking of faces.” She glanced over at Lucy. “Hers isn’t looking the prettiest right now. But at least it’s nothing a couple of aspirin and bag of frozen peas can’t fix.”

Daisy’s mouth opened, ready to protest Aunt Emily’s lack of concern over her momma’s condition.

“Pish, pish. Don’t gape at me, Ducky. You’re not a sea bass. I love your momma dearly, as you well know. And she’ll be just fine. It takes more than one bump on the noggin to bring down a lady like Lucy Hale. You know that too.”

“It’d be very helpful if you could describe the man,” Ethan pursued.

“All right. All right. Don’t rush me.” Aunt Emily stroked her beloved shotgun thoughtfully. “As I said before, I didn’t get much of a look at his face. It was dark in the hall and dark outside. But I can tell you it was painted.”

“Painted?”

“Camouflage-style. Green stripes across his nose and cheeks. Like he was heading for a tour in the jungle. His clothing also. Shirt, pants, boots, and hat. All green camouflage. The complete getup.”

Full camouflage with his face painted. That puzzled Daisy. It didn’t sound like big-city folks.

“Was he armed?” Ethan asked. “Did he fire back at you?”

“He didn’t aim. He didn’t even raise it,” Aunt Emily said. “But if I’m not mistaken, he had a rifle with him. I only caught a glimpse as he was running. It was camouflage too.”

Daisy’s jaw stiffened and her eyes narrowed as an icy, bitter realization crept along her spine. Not many big-city folks used rifles with camouflage. Especially not out of season. But she knew someone who did. In fact, the last time she had seen him, he had been wearing camouflage and carrying camouflage.

“Bobby,” she hissed.

Suddenly Lucy’s shoulders twitched, and she gave a small cough. Daisy looked down at her.

“Momma, was it Bobby? Bobby Balsam. Rick’s brother. Was he the one who was here?”

“Bo … Bobby,” she mumbled.

It was enough of a confirmation for Daisy. The icy bitterness spread through every vein in her body, and she instantly made up her mind what to do next. But before she could act, Beulah and her flapping robe reappeared in the doorway next to Aunt Emily.

“I spoke to Sue,” she reported breathlessly. “She’s in the ambulance, and she’s coming right away. But it’ll take her awhile to get here. They had an early call over in Gretna. She says not to move your momma in case she’s hurt her back.”

“Thanks, Beulah.” Daisy nodded gratefully. “Now if I could ask you for one more favor?”

“Of course. Anything.”

“Will you stay with my momma until Sue gets here? I don’t want her to be left alone.”

“Of course,” Beulah said again, entering the room and sitting down by her. “But what about you? Where are you going?”

“I”—she carefully transferred her momma’s head from her lap to Beulah’s—“have some business to take care of.”

“Business?” Beulah frowned, not understanding.

Ethan frowned too, except he did understand. “Are you sure about this?”

Not responding to either one, Daisy grabbed the Colt from the edge of the throw rug, stood up, and marched into the hall. Ethan stepped in front of her to block her path.

“Get out of my way,” she snapped.

“Daisy—”

“Get. Out. Of. My. Way.”

“Just hold on a minute. Wouldn’t it be wiser to call the sheriff? Let him handle it.”

“
I’m
handling it.” Her voice was steely. “You don’t want to fight me on this, Ethan.”

There was a fiery determination in Daisy’s eyes, and he capitulated. “Then at least let me come with you. I’ll drive. You don’t have a car anyway. We left it at the General last night, remember?”

She hesitated.

“You can use my car, Daisy,” Beulah offered.

“You’ll need yours if they take Lucy to the hospital,” Aunt Emily countered. “She can have mine. Only I don’t think she should take it. I think she should go with Ethan.”

Daisy turned to her with pursed lips.

“Think smart, Ducky. If you’re planning on confronting the Balsam boys, you’re better off not doing it alone. Take someone who knows how to handle himself—and a weapon.”

Although she wasn’t keen to admit it, Daisy knew that Aunt Emily was right. She turned back to Ethan.

“Fine. You want to come, you can come. But
I’m
driving.”

Aunt Emily let out a low, tittering whistle. “That means you, Mr. Kinney, need to put on a shirt
and
a safety belt.”

CHAPTER

22

“If you had been born fifty years earlier, you would have made one hell of a bootlegger.”

“If I’d been born fifty years earlier and become a bootlegger,” Daisy retorted crisply, “you would have been chasing me instead of sitting next to me.”

Ethan grinned. “I told you already. I’m not a revenuer.”

“Then don’t complain about my driving.”

“I’m not complaining. But I do think you should seriously consider a career in NASCAR.”

It was Daisy’s turn to grin, just a little. She did it as she swerved fearlessly along a mountain ridge, not taking her foot off the gas in the slightest. She had no intention of slowing down. Not for tight curves. Not for obtuse possums. Not even for other vehicles. They could move. And they did move. It was as though they knew that she was focused on speed. Speed and Bobby Balsam.

The first peachy streaks of dawn were beginning to brighten the night sky, but they weren’t yet strong enough to break through the thick pine stands that surrounded the Balsam homestead. Daisy barely noticed the darkness or the gradually increasing light. She was too enraged by what had happened to her momma, and she had driven that road so many times in years past that her memory simply took over. Handfuls of gravel spit out from beneath the car’s tires as she accelerated deeper into the forest.

“You do know where you’re going?” Ethan asked her, clutching the armrest with tense fingers.

“You’ll see the signs soon,” she said.

“The signs?”

“Then you’ll hear the dogs. They’ve got lots of dogs. Rottweilers, blueticks, black-and-tan coonhounds. Normally I bring a bag of ham bones with me. That keeps them pretty well in check.”

“And without the bones?”

“It’ll be even noisier than usual.”

The signs started.
NO TRESPASSING
.
BEWARE OF DOG
.
PRIVATE PROPERTY
.
Ethan read them as they sped by. When they reached the more serious signs, he laughed aloud.

“Is there anyone they aren’t threatening to shoot on sight?”

“There’s a mighty good chance I’ll be shooting Bobby on sight,” Daisy replied, not laughing with him.