Moon Underfoot (30 page)

“That’s really freakin’ weird,” Moon Pie said aloud and re-holstered his pistol. His mind went through the mechanics of the alarm, but nothing added up.
Maybe the rain shorted something out.

As he stood in the dark thinking, he heard Levi’s truck drive up. He relaxed a bit and walked into his office. As soon as he sat
at his desk, he saw the tobacco can with the shiny silver lid. He reached out to touch it.
What the hell!
he thought.

Levi busted in the office door, full throttle as usual. “You ready, dude?”

“Almost. I just got here.” Moon Pie started to tell Levi about the alarm but decided against it.

Levi had brought biscuits from the gas station and dropped one with sausage and mustard on Moon Pie’s desk.

“You know whose this is?” Moon Pie asked Levi, tossing him the can of Copenhagen. “It was on my desk. Who do we know whose name begins with a
W
?”

Levi looked at the lid and turned it in his hands. “That’s not a
W
; it’s an
M
.”

Moon Pie took a bite of his biscuit. “Well, genius, who do we know whose name begins with an
M
?”

“Mom.”

“That dips Copenhagen?”

“Mom.”

“My mom or your mom?”

“Mine.”

“You sure come from trash.”

“Like your ass is any better.”

“
My
momma don’t dip Copenhagen! Is that
your
mom’s can?” Moon Pie asked, exasperated.

“Nope. I don’t know whose it is. Maybe it was brought in to get some cash for it. The
M
’s gold-plated.”

“Yeah, you’re right. Bailey probably didn’t know what to do with it and laid it on my desk till Monday.”

Levi leaned against the doorframe, slowly eating his fried-bologna biscuit. “So the doc knew you were there?”

“I think so.”

“That’s weird.”

“How could he know that? Lucky guess, you think?”

“I doubt it. Maybe. But I doubt it.”

“It’s the first weekend. It stands to reason that he could be thinkin’ he might have poachers.”

“What about that device on your ankle?”

“It ain’t like they’re gonna be sharin’ info with the law.”

“Yeah, you’re right ’bout that.”

“I gotta have a trackin’ device planted on my truck.”

“Damn…we should check it out. We need to use a lift to look underneath. That’s where it would be.”

“You think they could track my cell phone?” Moon Pie asked as he looked at it.

“Hell yes! I’ve heard how they can triangulate off cell towers and figure out real close where folks are at.”

“Now that I think about it, they don’t even gotta do that. I got this app that lets me find my phone wherever it is. They can get the carrier to do it for them. Damn phone companies. All big businesses are hooked into the government and politicians and vice versa, and we’re the ones gettin’ screwed cuz of it!”

“That’s gotta be it.”

“We should go back to prepaid cells. They’re almost impossible to trace and track. We’ll check out my truck after we meet. We’ll use your truck today to be safe.”

“Dang it. I
love
my BlackBerry. I hate to give it up.”

“You can keep it; just don’t carry it when we’re workin’.”

“Good. Okay. Thanks.”

“Let’s get the dough and hit the road. Go look out the back door and make sure it’s clear,” Moon Pie said as he stood to open the safe.

Touching the coded keypad, Moon Pie thought about his phone betraying him. He had never considered that before. The last code beeped, and the lock released. He turned the handle, swung open the door, and almost immediately started screaming a string of cuss words that would make a crab fisherman blush.

T
AM AND HIS
Vietnamese cellmate talked for several hours. The man knew of Tam and held him in high regard. They squatted and bounced slightly on their heels as they discussed the situation and potential solutions. Tam learned that his new friend was to be released at 8:00 a.m. the following morning and that the jail didn’t have any biometric screening. They stood to compare their heights and weights, and then Tam made him one hell of an offer.

After the others in the cell were asleep, the two Vietnamese men swapped jumpsuits. Tam’s had green stripes, denoting felony charges, and his buddy’s was solid orange, representing a misdemeanor offense. They spoke Vietnamese so no one would understand the plan, which depended on Sunday morning’s new shift of officers—who wouldn’t know the specific circumstances surrounding those being held there temporarily.

Tam shook his new best friend’s hand and again pledged that he and his family would be protected and well taken care of financially. He nodded; then the two embraced. This man didn’t know what might be ahead of him, but he was confident the American judicial system would eventually determine that he wasn’t Tam Nguyen and he would be freed. What he didn’t
appreciate was that he had just agreed to commit numerous federal offenses that actually would send him to prison for the next several years, if not decades.

At 7:30 a.m., a young police officer walked into the holding area and unlocked the door. He looked at the two Vietnamese men and then focused on the orange jumpsuit. He said, “Let’s go, Lan. Time’s up. You’re free,” and then yawned.

The other prisoners watched as one of their cellmates left for freedom. A few yelled racial obscenities. All were jealous.

Without hesitation, Tam stood up and walked toward the officer, who looked at the discharge papers and then down at the real Lan and shook his head.
Hell, they all look alike to me
, he thought.

M
OON PIE AND
Levi were both in shock as Levi drove his truck to the abandoned bomb factory. They left both of their phones at the Gold Mine. Moon Pie was freaking out and kept staring at the ankle bracelet, knowing that he had to get it off soon. He had been ranting, making no sense for the last twenty minutes.

“I’m a dead man,” Moon Pie said as he reclined in the seat. “The sumbitches got the Mexicans’ money and mine. Shit! Shit! Shit!”

“Look, we can figure this out. Okay? Think. Who knew the money was in there?”

“Just you!” Moon Pie gave his half brother an evil look.

“Don’t go there; you know me better than that.”

“That’s it. You did it.”

“You know I don’t know the safe’s combination. Plus, I was at the concert and then at the trailer. Now, both Tam and the Mexicans knew you had the money.”

“Why would they steal their own money?”

“To save your percentage. To cut you outta the deal. To get the other side to kill ya. There’s a ton of reasons, and they’re criminals!”

“My percentage ain’t shit to Tam, but I ain’t considered the Mexicans.”

“That locator shows them where you’re at, where you went after you got the money. They know it all.”

“But why would they steal it back? They’d know I couldn’t get the drugs!”

“No, but you’d owe them. You’d owe them big-time. They might be tryin’ to leverage you.”

Levi could see the old factory’s tall brick chimney rising out of the prairie soil, and it caused him to started thinking about the place. In the 1940s it had been a bustling bomb-manufacturing plant that employed thousands of workers and stored bombs in hidden underground bunkers all over the area. Now it was just a few old buildings and remnants of the past.

“But why?” Moon Pie asked.

“Maybe it’s some kind of corporate-takeover shit. Maybe they want to take over Tam’s operation and need an inside man. What better way to get your attention…do this for us or die?”

“I don’t know. Turn right here. Go behind those buildings there.”

Levi’s old Bronco turned on the gravel road. “Dude, they put a locator on your ankle. How weird’s that? They did it. I guarantee it!”

Levi was making sense to Moon Pie. His mind started really racing as he saw the black truck parked right where it was supposed to be.
What if Tam and the Tennessee Mexicans are in on this together and setting me up? What would they gain?

Moon Pie was quickly moving into paranoia. He sat up and took a deep breath. He was in a real mess. The Mexicans were gonna hunt him down unless he came up with the money. Tam would just take his drugs and leave and probably never do business with him again, or, in the best case, slow down deals until Tam’s confidence was built back.

“Flash your lights.”

Levi did as he was told.

“There. They know it’s us.”

Levi pulled the Bronco right up next to the truck with two men in it. Moon Pie recognized Mike’s face. Both men visibly relaxed a little.

“Just you guys?”

“Yep.”

“This is my half brother.” Levi waved. “Ya seen anybody?” Moon Pie asked.

“Nope.”

“Besides being haunted, this is a pretty secure place.”

Mike laughed nervously as he looked toward the building as if he expected to see a ghost in a window.

“Heard from Tam?”

“Not a word.”

Mike didn’t respond. He just smiled and said, “You ready?”

“Mike, we got a problem,” Moon Pie said in the most appealing tone he could muster.

Mike didn’t like problems, and the last twelve hours had been nothing but one big problem. He didn’t respond.

Moon Pie continued, “I got robbed last night, and I ain’t got the money.”

“That’s not good.” Mike suddenly wanted away from Moon Pie. This trip seemed doomed.

“I know. I know. I just found out, and I’m workin’ on it, tryin’ to find out what happened. But I…I wanted to come and tell ya face-to-face. I can’t trust my cell phones anymore.”

Mike didn’t respond. He just stared out the window and then at his partner, knowing Tam would be pissed.

Moon Pie pressed, “I don’t suppose you could just go ahead and let me take the cargo and I get y’all the money later? I’m just thinkin’ of a way to keep the customer happy.” Moon Pie gave a little nervous laugh.

“No. That ain’t gonna work. Tam would never agree to that.”

“Yeah, that’s what I figured. Tell Tam what happened and that I’ll be in touch to explain everything.”

Mike cranked the diesel truck. He was ready to go. “I’ll do it.”

“Hey, can you tell me what happened last night?”

“I don’t know yet. Sounds like a setup. I’m wonderin’ now if it’s not related to your missing money.”

Levi and Moon Pie looked at each other. Everything was getting more and more complicated by the minute. Moon Pie said, “Hell, I don’t know. I gotta get it figured out. I don’t know what the hell’s goin’ on!” Moon Pie shook his head.

All criminals hated the notion of a setup, mainly because they were all susceptible. Greed or egos or both usually brought them down.

Moon Pie gave Mike a quick salute, saying, “Keep it real, Mike. There’s some crazy, weird shit goin’ on.”

Moon Pie turned to Levi and growled, “Get us the hell outta here.”

A
FTER A LONG
night of swapping Tam stories and celebrating his capture, the two Mississippi Drug Task Force officers rose from their beds at the Hilton early and started backfilling the story to their superiors. It was a glorious event in their careers, and both men were appreciative of everyone who had helped, especially the guys from Rascal Flatts. The last several months had been a strain on the officers’ lives and marriages. Many family events had been missed in an effort to put cuffs on one of Mississippi’s largest drug importers. They justified their extended stays from their families by knowing they were making Mississippi safer. It was a thankless job.