Moon Underfoot (13 page)

Jake guessed Sheriff Rosco was about sixty years old and close to retiring. He’d probably been in law enforcement his entire adult life. Except for the few extra pounds he was carrying around his waist, this guy could have been Bo Jackson’s twin brother.

“Yes, sir. I really appreciate them tryin’.”

“When I was a state trooper, stayin’ over in Elmore County, we gotta call one afternoon that a car had flipped into a ditch near the top of this really steep hill, right there in the toenails of the Blue Ridge Mountains. At any rate, the responders started comin’ from every direction, and they parked on the side of the road on both sides…and then this ambulance arrived and pulled to the side of the road and opened its side doors out into the middle of the road. Well, as soon as I got outta my cruiser, I could hear a fire truck coming up the hill on the other side, siren blaring and the engine straining. I checked on the guy in the ditch, and he was okay; he was just stuck upside down, and his seat belt wouldn’t release. By now there were twenty or more responders, all in full fire gear, tryin’ to get this poor bastard outta his car, when the fire truck topped the hill at full speed.”

Jake sat still, wondering why Rosco was telling this long story.

“That old fire truck was haulin’ about six thousand pounds of water alone, and when it topped that hill and the driver seen all those vehicles blockin’ the road, he stood on the brakes. That big old truck went to swayin’, and you could see the fear on the faces of the men. There wasn’t nothin’ to do but get the hell outta the way. We all took off running. The truck sideswiped every vehicle except mine and took the ambulance doors smooth off. They finally got the fire truck stopped about a half mile down the hill. I learned a valuable lesson that day: you don’t wanna get between the enthusiasm of volunteer firefighters and their jobs. They got some enthusiasm.”

“That’s an interesting story,” Jake said as he looked around the office at the old pictures.

“Awww, I get to tellin’ stories sometimes and forget what I’m doin’. Sorry ’bout that.”

“No problem.”

“Look, Mr. Crosby, you got any idea how that fire started?” Sheriff Blue asked, trying to catch Jake off guard.

“Please call me Jake, and no. I was about to ask you the same thing. I haven’t been out there in over a month. Could the wiring have gone bad? It’s pretty old.”

“How old?”

“Well, when I was just a kid, my dad rewired it himself, so about thirty years, I guess. It’s been added on to over the years. It wasn’t anything fancy.”

“Who’s yo’ daddy?”

“Robert Crosby. He worked as a production supervisor at Bryan Foods in West Point. Worked there about forty years.”

“Lots of folks worked there at one time or another.”

“Yes, sir.”

Sheriff Rosco Blue leaned back in his wooden chair and placed an unlit cigar in the corner of his mouth. “It’s kinda peculiar that it suddenly catches fire and burns to the ground. Got insurance on the place?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Uh-hunh.”

“I agree that it’s strange, Sheriff. I know I said somethin’ about the wiring, but I can’t help but think it might be arson.”

“Well, we got us a real good fire marshal here, and he’ll figure it out.”

“Does insurance pay if it’s arson?”

“I don’t think so,” the sheriff said, watching Jake closely.

Jake dropped his head into his hands

The sheriff said, “Look here, son, it’d save us both lots of time and trouble if you know somethin’ about this. You need to go on and tell me. You got somethin’ you need to get off your chest?”

“No, sir…but do you remember almost two years ago…during spring turkey season, over in Sumter County, where two rednecks got killed one night chasing a man and his daughter and another girl through the woods?”

“Yeah, of course.”

“That was me. I’m the one they were chasing—me and my daughter and this high school girl. The police never caught at least two other guys from that gang. I’ve been worried that someday they’d come after me and my family.”

“So you think the ones that got away set your fish camp on fire?”

“Maybe. I killed two of ’em, and from what I understand, they were a real tight bunch. It wouldn’t surprise me.”

“I remember Johnny Lee and Reese. Those assholes kept us busy up here at times, and quite frankly, they both needed killin’.”

“I’d never even heard of ’em until that night.”

“Well, I’ll be damned,” the sheriff remarked. He carefully considered the gang torching Jake’s fish camp, but he knew their style of payback would be murder, not arson. An eye for an eye would be their response.

Sheriff Blue leaned back again and tried to analyze Jake Crosby’s body language. He was aware that it was very common for young couples to get way over their heads in debt and need immediate cash. The reasons were too numerous to count. Insurance fires were often a quick fix. That’s what this smelled like, and the man sitting in front of him sure looked stressed.

“Jake, those rednecks’ payback would be painful. Burning your camp ain’t vengeful enough.” The sheriff suspected that Jake was trying to throw him off the real trail.

Jake rubbed his face and looked uneasily out the window. After a moment, he said, “It’s the only answer I got, Sheriff.”

T
HE TWO-MAN KROGER
security team was visibly surprised to see Samantha Owens representing Walter Severson. They politely invited Walter and Sam to the rear of the store, where they commandeered the employee lounge. On the way back, Walter waved to the friends he had made at the store. He was confident with Sam by his side. The lounge was small and cluttered. Sam and Walter seated themselves on the far side. Sam immediately placed a tape recorder on the table and turned it on with a click. Everyone stopped talking and stared at it for a few seconds. After a long moment, Sam casually glanced up and asked if the men minded. They looked at each other and shook their heads. Sam smiled.

In her best slow, sweet Southern drawl, Sam asked, “Are y’all charging my client with anything?”

“No, ma’am. We’re just trying to get some answers. We hope Mr. Severson knows something that will be helpful to us.”

“My client is very distraught about this and your threats to fire him. This job and his reputation are important to him.”

“He offered to resign of his own free will.”

“He doesn’t feel welcome anymore, and he feels intimidated.”

The men were silent. They had been suspicious of Walter’s sudden offer of resignation. They were under serious pressure to quietly solve the case and recoup the stolen funds. Corporate didn’t want to involve the police unless they didn’t have a choice. The ease of the crime was not something they wanted to become public. Each day that passed meant the money would be harder to trace and recover; it would be burning a hole in someone’s pocket.

With a lawyer present, the men were more cordial to Walter than before.

“Mr. Severson, we have a few follow-up questions about Sunday the fourth of November.”

“Gosh, I’ve slept a bunch since then. That’s been over two weeks ago,” Walter responded as he glanced toward Sam. “By the way, where’s Ed…you know, the manager?”

“He’s been temporarily reassigned.”

Samantha was scribbling something on a legal pad.

“Can you confirm that you worked that day?” one of the security specialists asked, reading from a prepared list.

“I got a full week’s pay, so yes, I guess I worked that day.”

“Can you confirm your shift was from two to ten p.m.?”

“I always work weekends so others can be with their families.”

“Did you see anything strange or out of the ordinary during that shift?”

“I see strange things every day I work here, young man.”

“Did you see anything out of the ordinary or strange happening in the back area of the store while you were on your shift that day?”

“Would
you
call it strange or out of the ordinary for someone to get a lap dance by a stripper moonlighting as a cashier?” Walter turned the question around while maintaining a straight face.

Sam betrayed no emotion.

“Yes. What can you tell us about that?”

“It happened a lot. Mostly on Sunday nights. She and Ed had a thing going on. I heard that she was a stripper and worked here for the medical benefits and Ed’s wife is pregnant. I don’t know for sure. You know how rumors are.”

“Did you actually see it?”

“What?”

“The lap dance.”

“No—not with my own eyes. I’da liked to…she’s a looker…but…she’s too young for me.”

The men made notes and studied their sheets of paper.

“She didn’t really talk to me. I guess I’m not her type.”

“Mr. Severson, we’re missing some money. A significant amount.”

Sam was extremely attentive now and ready to jump into the conversation.

“I don’t think she stole it.”

“Why not?”

“Well, I saw her yesterday, and she was driving a beat-up, old four-door Nissan. I think that a girl like her…if she’d got her hands on significant money, she’d be driving a Ford Shelby Mustang the next day.”

“Did you study psychology?”

“No, I’m just old. I’ve seen a lot. If you pay attention, people’s behavior is fairly predictable.”

“What do you think happened to the money, then?”

“Somebody probably…miscounted.”

“Not a chance. We have all of the register receipts. Do you know who stole the money or anything about it? Anything?”

With that line of questioning, Sam jumped in, holding up a hand to Walter to stop him from saying anything. “Whoa. Stop right there. It sounds like you’re insinuating that my client is involved somehow or complicit.”

“No, we are not. As I explained earlier, we’re just trying to get answers.”

“I’m not going to allow him to answer any more questions.”

“Why not?”

“Let’s just say…hypothetically that this missing money was in fact stolen. If he states something that implicates anyone, he could be opening himself up to a civil suit for slander.”

“I don’t think so.”

“Are you licensed to practice law in Mississippi?” Sam glared at the guy, who was shaking his head. “I didn’t think so; besides, what’s in it for my client to get involved?”

“A chance to do the right thing?”

“I wish it were that simple.”

“It is that simple.”

“Gentlemen, if you want my client’s cooperation, come back to us with an offer. If you want to ask any more questions, you’ll have to come to my office. Here’s my card.”

“We don’t make offers.”

“My client is a fine, upstanding citizen, with no previous criminal record or work history that gives you any reasonable grounds to suspect his knowledge or involvement with this missing money, which may or may not be stolen.” Sam stood, placing her hand on Walter’s shoulder. “And if you question other employees with the intent of implicating my client or otherwise disparaging him or his reputation in any way, we’ll know within moments, and then you two will be answering
my
questions.”

The two security experts leaned back, trying to put distance between them and the fireball attorney.

The senior agent picked up her card and looked it over. “We’ll be in touch, Mrs. Owens.”

“That’s Miss Owens, thank you very much.”

W
ALTER HUDDLED WITH
his team in the library of the historic hotel. He paced while they settled in their seats and then shut the door. His emotions were all over the place, and anxiety flooded him, just as it had eleven years ago in the Minnesota police station. He fought to suppress the memories and keep his mind on track. Fortunately, the meeting with the security team had been much less intense than he expected. Samantha’s presence had totally changed the dynamic. When he was alone with them a few days earlier, he had been certain they were onto him and about to call the police.
Maybe they were just fishing
, he thought.

Glancing at his watch, Walter exhaled deeply. Bernard, Sebastian, and Lucille all awaited Walter’s update.

“Samantha was a big help this morning. That was a great suggestion, Sebastian,” Walter said.