Murder and Moonshine: A Mystery (28 page)

“They must have been real unhappy about that too.”

“No doubt. I’d wager they’ve been interested in acquiring the land for quite a while now but couldn’t because of the forfeiture. When the bank was finally able to dispose of the property—”

“Rick swooped in,” Daisy finished for him. “Rick and his ’shine made a hush-hush agreement with the bank president.”

“Exactly.” Ethan gave a slight smile. “They’ve probably been spitting nails about that sale slipping beneath their radar from the minute they heard about it.”

She frowned. “But now they’ll just buy Fox Hollow from Rick. Or work out some sort of mineral deal with him. Uranium is just like coal and oil, isn’t it? I assume you can buy and sell the mining rights the same way.”

“In general, yes. Except when compared with uranium, coal and oil are barely more dangerous than a tub of lard and a box of Cubans. Uranium is open-pit mined. That means they dig up a huge area, both wide and deep. The radiation and toxic chemicals released from the site spread like dust blowing on the wind. It’s seriously harmful stuff guaranteed to cause kidney damage, birth defects, and a dozen different cancers. But on the upside, uranium is extremely valuable to the people who own the land with the deposits and the executives of the company that extract them.”

“Lovely,” Daisy muttered grimly. “They’ll all become filthy rich before going safely back to whatever big city they came from, while the rest of us are left behind in Pittsylvania Count to wither and die.”

“They’ve got to go awfully far away to be safe,” Ethan said. “From what I understand about the degree of impact, the ground and surface water contamination from uranium mining and milling is so bad, the vast majority of Virginia would be affected, along with at least half of North Carolina. And that’s assuming it’s successfully contained. If at some point a remnant of a hurricane passes over the region—or any heavy flooding occurs—or a severe storm with a tornado—”

“All of which we get around here pretty regularly,” she interjected.

“Then the affected area could be massive and potentially catastrophic for the southeast. The contamination would last for decades and generations. That’s millions of sick people to dig up something there’s not even any shortage of. Not here or in the rest of the world. Apparently we’ve got well over a hundred-year supply of uranium stockpiled already.”

Daisy raised a suspicious eyebrow. “You seem to know an awful lot about all of this.”

Ethan shrugged. “I did a little research on the subject after finding those drilling permits. Trust me, I’ve learned my lesson about not doing enough research in advance.”

The eyebrow remained lifted. “Thinking about trying to get in on the action? See if Rick’ll cut you a piece of the uranium pie?”

“Hell, no. I don’t want that much blood and suffering on my hands. Money or no money. From what I read this afternoon, uranium mining makes a smidge of explosives and a few questionable firearms look downright harmless. And I’m ATF.”

She responded with a sigh.

“But even ignoring all of that,” Ethan continued, “I don’t think Rick wants to sell the property.”

“What makes you say that?”

“He seems to me to be fairly content as its new owner. Maybe because it’s a good place for his whiskey business. Maybe because he likes having Fox Hollow when you can’t.”

Daisy sighed again. Ethan was probably right on both counts.

“I think if Rick was interested in getting rid of the property, he would have done so already. But the last time we saw him, he didn’t give any sign he was even contemplating it. When his brother said he’d been paid to talk to your mom, Rick appeared just as surprised as you. His reaction would have been different if he were in the middle of negotiating the transfer of two hundred prime acres to the same people.”

“There are still the mineral rights.”

“True.” Ethan nodded. “But if Rick sold or leased those, the land itself would be worthless to him. No more corn. No more stills in the old tobacco barn. No more Fox Hollow as it looks today. The place would become one giant poisonous pit.”

She shuddered.

“And Rick didn’t understand their interest in the property any more than we did. He was the one who first suggested taking a look at the plat map to see if it could give us any answers. So he’s not even aware of the uranium deposits.”

Daisy shook her head. “Even after everything you’ve told me, I still can’t figure out why those big-city folks are pestering my momma to sell the land. They’re not trying to convince Rick to sell the land, and he’s the only one who can sell it.”

“I can’t explain that,” Ethan said. “I looked pretty hard at all the documents relating to the forfeiture, and there’s no indication whatsoever anything funny happened with it. Nothing got divided or split off along the way. At least not that I could find. Fox Hollow appears to be fully intact and the same as it’s always been. For better or worse, there’s no missing piece that still belongs to your mom.”

“So if there’s definitely no missing piece, then my momma’s definitely got nothing left to sell. Which means those big city folks are not only evil and greedy, they’ve also got a screw loose. Bothering a sick woman when she doesn’t have anything they could possibly want? That’s cruel and just plain stupid.” Daisy scowled with contempt. “It makes me wonder if maybe that’s the reason Fred came into the diner the morning he died. He wasn’t trying to warn Rick about the bad ’shine. He was trying to warn me about the stupid big-city folks.”

“Maybe he was trying to warn both of you. Rick because of the arsenic. You because of your mom.” The car abruptly slowed, as though its driver had a sudden revelation. “And maybe Hank too.”

“Hank?”

“It’s possible. He was always at H & P’s, right? Mr. Dickerson might very well have gone there to talk to him about the uranium and the drilling permits. Tell him all his secrets before he died. Maybe Hank was privy to some of them already. Maybe he even played a part in persuading Mr. Dickerson to rescind his request for the drilling permits. It’s hard to say for certain, but I think it’s clear Hank knew something.”

“He must have,” Daisy agreed. “Otherwise he never would have been at Fox Hollow. And before the crash, Hank hadn’t been in a single accident with his bike. He was probably one of the safest motorcyclists in the history of motorcycling.”

“You can lock your doors, bolt your windows, and slap on a suit of armor,” Ethan replied gravely, “but none of that’s going to help you if somebody with a lot of money at stake is afraid you’re going to start talking and lose them that money.”

She winced. “And now they’re focused on my momma.”

Reaching over, he put his hand on her thigh. “Don’t worry, Daisy. I won’t let anyone hurt your mom. Or you.”

It was a sweet promise. Protective and reassuring. Daisy found herself smiling. Not from Ethan’s kind words, but from her own ludicrousness. Her momma was lying unconscious in the hospital thanks to some big-city folks who intended on making a fortune by turning her childhood home into a toxic pit while poisoning a good portion of Virginia and North Carolina in the process. Except instead of thinking about what she could do to stop them, she was fixated on the fingers caressing her leg. And she liked them. She liked them so much and she was in such desperate need of comfort and escape, Daisy was seriously tempted to tell Ethan to make a U-turn on Highway 40, head to her room at the Tosh Inn, and spend the rest of the night with him forgetting everything else.

The only problem with that idea was everything else wouldn’t allow itself to be forgotten. The moment she put her hand on his, Ethan’s phone buzzed.

“Damn,” he muttered. “Lousy timing.”

Daisy started to withdraw her hand, but his fingers grabbed hers.

“Daisy—”

She checked the screen. “It’s your office.”

“Really lousy timing.” With a sigh, Ethan released his hold on her. “Did they send the plat map?”

“I think so, but we just lost the signal.”

“What do you suggest?”

“Keep driving. Eventually we’ll hit a good spot.” Daisy could see the bridge over the creek not too far away. “We’re almost at Fox Hollow. We can pull in there. It usually gets a pretty strong signal.”

She unsnapped her seat belt in preparation for getting out and opening the big red metal gate, but when they swung into the driveway, she discovered that the gate was already open. Ethan stopped the car anyway.

“Shouldn’t it be closed?” he asked her.

“I was wondering that myself.”

He took the phone from her. After a few seconds of fiddling, Ethan tossed it on the seat. “The signal’s still too weak.”

“Let’s try closer to the house,” she said. “It’s higher.”

They traveled down the long broad drive in silence. Daisy kept thinking about the gate. Why was it open? With some anxiety, she waited for the car to reach the top of the ridge. She wasn’t quite sure what to expect on the other side. Would someone be there digging up Fox Hollow? Ethan had explained to her that exploratory drilling permits were just what they sounded like. The holder of the permits could drill in various locations and test the deposits for their precise uranium content.

Her breath caught in her throat as the house appeared. It stood alone and untouched on its kingly rise. No drilling equipment sat nearby. No humongous holes marred the garden. Nor was there any sign of any big-city folks. There was a truck sitting in the pebbly circle at the front of the house, however. It was Rick’s pickup. The driver’s side door was wide open. Rick wasn’t in sight.

Ethan frowned at the vehicle.

Daisy was too happy to worry about the truck. “At least they haven’t started drilling yet.”

“Maybe they have and maybe they haven’t. We won’t know until we take a look at that plat map.”

He pulled behind Rick’s pickup. Daisy immediately climbed out of the car, but Ethan hesitated. She turned to him questioningly.

“That truck.” He shook his head. “I don’t like it.”

“It’s Rick’s.”

“I know. Only the last time we were here he had it parked behind the barn.”

Daisy called Rick’s name and waited for an answer. There was none. She tried again, louder. Still no response.

Ethan went on shaking his head. “I really don’t like that truck there.”

“Rick’s probably in the house or barn and can’t hear me.”

With a dubious expression, Ethan picked up his phone. He grumbled a curse. “Stupid technology. Never available when you actually need it.”

“The porch is the best spot for a signal. The left side porch,” Daisy corrected herself hastily. The right side porch presumably still had the pair of canning jars filled with arsenic-laden moonshine sitting on it.

Ethan shut off the car and followed her toward the left side porch. As she headed up the stairs, Daisy made a cursory inspection of the back garden and the path leading to the tobacco barn, but she didn’t see Rick anywhere.

“Finally!” Ethan exclaimed, grinning at the phone. “Success!”

With a weary smile, Daisy sank down on the aged porch swing. Waiting for him to examine the plat map, she watched the sun slip beneath the horizon in a deep red ball of flame. The mountains in the distance reflected its light like a row of fiery volcanos, and the ponds scattered throughout the meadows glowed like pools of molten lava. In contrast, the land closer to her was already growing dark. The trees lining the creek and the cemetery on the opposite bank were gray and hazy.

Ethan grunted.

“Any luck?” she asked him. “Does it show the permits?”

“It does. My office highlighted the area in yellow. Except the whole thing is tiny.” He squinted at the screen. “I’ve managed to find Highway 40, but I can’t line up the road with the property. And there’s an FPC on here. What’s an FPC?”

“FPC?” Daisy’s brow furrowed.

“Here. You take a look.” Ethan handed her the phone. “Maybe you can decipher it. You know Chalk Level better than I do.”

She studied the plat map. It was small and hard to read, especially with the gradually diminishing daylight. Like Ethan, she found Highway 40 without much difficulty. Then came the tricky part—finding Fox Hollow. Daisy turned the screen several times until she finally got her directions straight. North. South. East. West. There was the mobile home park and the Round Pond Baptist Church. Head west. The pastor’s house and the playing field. Head farther west. The next big piece of land should be Fox Hollow. And there it was. The plat map was so detailed, even the driveway was shown. At its far end lay the farmhouse, followed by the old tobacco barn that Rick was now using for his whiskey business.

“And?” Ethan glanced at her from the porch railing, where he was admiring the view.

“I’ve got Fox Hollow,” she said.

“You do? Good! Now do you see the area highlighted in yellow? That’s where the permits are for.”

The area highlighted in yellow. Daisy looked at it. It was west of the driveway and west of the house and west of the tobacco barn. It was also west of something labeled FPC. What was FPC?

Ethan stifled a yawn. “It’s been a long day.”

Daisy blinked at the map, then she figured it out. FPC was Frying Pan Creek.

“All this fresh air is making me tired.” He yawned again. “And hungry.”

She went on blinking at the map. The highlighted area was west of Frying Pan Creek. That meant it was across the creek. The exploratory drilling permits were for the other side of the creek.

“You know what I’ve got a taste for—”

The phone fell from her fingers and clattered to the porch floor. Daisy stared at it in stunned disbelief, as though it had suddenly come to life in her palm and whispered the answer to a very perplexing riddle.

“Burger,” she whispered back.

CHAPTER

26

“A burger? No,” Ethan said, “I’ve got the taste for—”

“Not burger,” Daisy cut him off. “Berger.”

“Huh?”

She dropped her head into her hands and groaned. “Oh, it makes so much sense now. How could I not have realized it before?”

He took a step toward her. “What makes sense now? What did you realize?”