The Moonshine Murders - The Jailer's Daughter Mysteries

Chapter 1

Finding Justice

I woke up in my cousin Lily’s bed surrounded by a pile of 45 records, “American Woman” by The Guess Who still clutched in my hand. Darn! I wanted to listen to that! A quick glance to my right told me Lily had already flown the coop. My growling stomach reminded me of the typical country breakfast awaiting me. Homemade biscuits with gravy, country ham, eggs sunny side up, grits, and Aunt Martha’s canned strawberry jam were all calling my name.

The wind-up alarm clock next to the moss-green Princess phone on the nightstand read 8:12 a.m. It would be groovy to have a phone in my room, but with my two brothers clambering for the same thing, it was what Daddy called a pipe dream. Lily was lucky. No annoying siblings to compete for the cool stuff.

I dropped my head back on the pillow and sighed. I was amazed I had slept through the whole night, which was a rare occurrence when I stayed with my cousin Lily. Not because I was afraid to be away from home. It was because Lily lived in a two-story brownstone house attached to the Roselyn County Jail. The only thing separating us from a bunch of criminals was a steel door and a fifty-foot check-in hall. It certainly wasn’t the type of accommodation you would expect when visiting a relative, but these relatives were unique. My Uncle Bill was the deputy sheriff in charge of running the county jail, and my Aunt Martha, the best cook in Roselyn County, oversaw the meals for the prisoners.

No matter how many times I’ve been here over the years, the creepy feeling never went away. My biggest fear was a jail break. And it didn’t help when I heard the occasional scream promising murder and mayhem during the night. That’s why Lily kept a baseball bat under her bed. Not that I thought it would do much good, but it did make me feel a little better.

Lily had the whole upstairs of the brownstone all to herself. The rooms were spacious with ten-foot ceilings and beautifully carved wood crown molding. Her brass bed with a green and gold flowered bedspread sat against a wall of windows with coordinating drapes and sheers. Aunt Martha, who was a talented seamstress, made a lovely gold-satin skirt to go around her mirrored vanity with a matching cushioned stool. An assortment of make-up accessories and perfumes were scattered on top. A small stereo record player and radio console sat in the corner. A tall green and gold antique refinished Chester Drawer completed the elegant looking room.

I pulled back the curtains to get a peek at the weather, groaning when I saw the low-hanging gray clouds. At least it would block some of the intense southern heat.

An ornamental balcony was outside the windows. Although it was not meant to be accessible, it had never stopped Lily. She climbed through the windows to sunbathe or to spy on the deputy sheriff’s driving into the jail parking lot. Watching a deputy bring a rowdy prisoner in was often more entertaining than Hawaii Five-0. A large tree with thick branches sat on the corner of the balcony. It was what Lily called her spying tree, because it was easy to climb, had plenty of leaf-cover, and a great view of the parking lot. Using it to sneak out was a bonus.

The smell of fresh baked biscuits wafted through the air. Better get moving. I was headed to the bathroom when Lily thundered up the stairs. Grabbing my hand, she excitedly pulled me back into her room and slammed the door. “I talked to Mama and Aunt Laura. They are going to let us spend the day with Troy! Isn’t that great?”

“Exactly what did you tell them?” Lily tended to twist the facts about where we were going and what we were planning to do to make it more parent pleasing. Critical facts were generally left out to avoid an out and out lie.

“I said we were going to see friends and grab something to eat around lunchtime. Now we can go to see Tatty Barker and get the information we need!” she said excitedly.

“So, you lied. I don’t think that’s what Troy had in mind when he said to get permission from our parents,” I huffed. “If they knew we were going out in the rural county to see an old drunk who used to be a regular prisoner, I’m sure the answer would be big fat ‘no!’ Call that Barker guy on the telephone and ask him your questions. If Mama and Aunt Martha find out what we are really doing, we are going to be dead meat!”

Lily shrugged. “We’ve already been over the telephone thing. Tatty Barker would probably think it was a trap set up by the police to get him to admit something. It won’t take that long to drive out there to find out what he knows. Besides, we can stop by the Dairy Barn on the way back. Some of my friends are sure to be there. See? A few omissions.”

“You missed my point.”

“Did not. It’ll be perfectly fine, Christi. Trust me.”

“Are you sure Tatty Barker will even remember you? You said it’s been a couple of years since you’ve seen him.”

Lily smiled confidently and pointed to herself. “How could he forget me? We used to play checkers through the jail bars. I even took him some Lucky Strike cigarettes I snuck out of Deputy Rudy’s desk. Tatty Barker could at least pay me back with a little information.”

There was no reasoning with her. Once she made up her mind, all I could do was pray it didn’t blow up in my face.

After a mouthwatering breakfast, we went back upstairs to Lily’s room to finish getting ready. She made the bed, while I put the records back in their sleeves and picked up the room. I had to admit I was jealous of her selection of the newest top 1970 singles.

Thirty minutes later, we headed downstairs to wait for Troy in the living room. Since I hadn’t seen him in a couple of years, I took extra care getting ready. I wore a navy cotton short-sleeve midriff that tied in the front and a pair of belted white shorts. Lily wore a color-blocked tank top with red shorts. Mississippi heat in August didn’t allow for many fashion alternatives.

Although Lily and I were cousins and both sixteen-years-old, our physical appearance and personalities couldn’t be more different. Lily was popular, charismatic, mischievous, and a risk-taking daredevil, while I was shy, studious, cautious, and a big scaredy-cat. Her lighthearted nature and gift of persuasion seemed to melt boys into butter. I had trouble getting my tongue to work properly when I was in the company of the male species. Lily was a rule bender. I was a rule follower. But despite my fears and insecurities, I couldn’t help but be drawn to her sense of adventure. The more I was in her company, the more her confidence seemed to rub off on me. No matter how many lectures we got from our parents that “young ladies” were expected to behave responsibility, Lily always found a way to convince me otherwise.

Lily was pretty with an impish smile and a shapely figure. Her deep brown laughing eyes suggested she knew something you didn’t, and she usually did. Her shiny auburn hair cut in a sleek medium bob was hardly ever out of place. I, on the other hand, was tall, slim, and fair with long strawberry-blond hair that hung midway down my back in soft curls—if I was lucky. The southern humidity often had other ideas about my painstaking attempts to smooth out my frizzy curls with large orange juice cans. Some girls straightened their hair with a hot iron on the ironing board. If the number of clothes I had scorched to ruin was any indication, the iron method would provide disastrous results for me.

I glanced at Lily, taking in the big smile on her face that hadn’t been there when Mama and I arrived yesterday. Now she had a sense of purpose. That was the main reason Troy and I had agreed to her insane plan.

Uncle Bill was in the intensive care unit at the local hospital. He had been shot. As soon as Aunt Martha called, Mama and I packed up and drove the two and a half hours from Meridian to rural Roselyn, Mississippi, where Mama grew up.

Although Uncle Bill’s main responsibility was the county jailer, at times he was asked to help with apprehensions. Yesterday morning, a farmer reported finding a moonshine still on his property. Uncle Bill was asked to assist. As they approached the location of the still, the farmer and deputies were ambushed. The farmer was killed instantly. Uncle Bill was critically wounded by two bullets. Luckily, the other deputies got him to safety, but the attackers got away.

When we got to the hospital, Lily was stomping around the waiting room in frustration. Not only was she too young to go up to the ICU to see her daddy, but the deputies refused to give her any details about the shooting. To be truthful, there was a good reason to keep the details vague. Lily tended to stick her nose where it didn’t belong without considering the consequences. I guess when you grow up in a house attached to the county jail your perception of danger has a higher tolerance than the average person’s . . . mine and anyone else who was relatively sane.

As a kid, sneaking into the jail to visit the prisoners was Lily’s pastime. She played board games with them between the bars, snuck them candy and cokes, and listened to their stories of injustice. Apparently, they were all wrongfully accused. Who knew...