The Bootlegger’s Legacy (3 page)

Mike decided to order another drink, so to be polite Joe joined in. Millions buried in Mike’s backyard—that would go a long way toward solving Mike’s problems. And, of course, he would give some to his best friend since the second grade. Why not relax and see where this was headed?

The bartender brought their drinks over and asked them to clear the tab since he was going off shift. Joe flopped out his American Express card and gave it to the bartender, mentally noting that this was a business expense since Mike was a client. Of course, Mike hadn’t paid him in about six months—maybe with his dad’s millions things would look better.

“I know you’re thinking this is nuts, but the strange thing is that after he died I received a package from a lawyer in Dallas with a letter from my dad and a key.” Mike took a drink and eyed Joe to see if he was snickering or actually listening.

“Go on—tell me what was in the letter.” Mike had his attention.

“Some of the letter made sense and some didn’t. I have it out in the car in my briefcase—wait just a minute and I’ll go get it.”

While Mike went to his car, Joe decided to take a bathroom break and use the payphone to call Liz.

“What the hell are you doing out drinking with Mike? Didn’t you just tell me he was broke and would probably be going out of business? No doubt you’ll be picking up the tab. Sometimes I wonder about you Joe. It’s like you’re smart and stupid at the same time. I don’t want to hear any made up stories about why this is important—if you want to go waste your money drinking and carousing with your lowlife friends, you go right ahead. I’m sick and tired of it—unless you want to consider living alone with no family, maybe you ought to give ol’ Mike a hearty goodbye and get your ass home. This is just about the last—”

Click. Calling home may have been a mistake. She hadn’t even given him a chance to explain how important this was to Mike. But of course she thought Mike was scum, so she didn’t really care. Hanging up on her was going to create a serious problem. Her threat to divorce him had been going on since about the six-month anniversary of their marriage. Well, he would deal with her later. The first trick was to avoid her until morning, so he’d stay out late, sneak in, and sleep on the sofa in his home office. He kind of liked it there anyway.

Mike returned and slid into the booth. He handed Joe the letter.

Dear Son,

I know we’ve had some rocky times, all my fault and I’m sorry. This letter is to let you know that I loved you and you have always meant the world to me. Maybe I didn’t show it the way I should have. It was just easier for me to let your mother handle everything. I was too old to be your typical dad—more like your granddad—but you gave me great joy and made a lot of the things I had done in my life seem okay.

Since you’re reading this, my time will have come to an end. Don’t overly grieve. I had a good life and have no regrets.

With this letter you will receive a key. I cannot tell you what this key is for or I will risk other people discovering my secret. I know you may think that I’ve lost my mind and that this letter is nonsense, but trust me, this is important. I know you know I was a bootlegger before I retired and started running the store. Well, son, I was a very successful bootlegger. I stockpiled a shitload of cash. It is waiting for you. You’ll think this is the madness of an old man, but let me assure you, it’s true.

I couldn’t just give you the money without creating problems. If you can discover what you need to find the cash, you’ll have demonstrated that you’re clever enough to figure out how to use the money without causing problems.

You may or may not want to pursue this. If you do and you’re successful there will be a big reward. If you decide that this is too crazy and you’re not interested in my farfetched stories, I understand. Just do what you think is best. I only want you to be happy and have a good life.

I think you are a lot smarter than I ever was, so I’m sure you can figure out what this is about.

Dad

P.S. Don’t talk to your mother about this. She’ll just tell you that I always had a screw loose—and she’s right. And remember your path to financial independence goes through Deep Deuce at the St. Francis.

Mike gave Joe the key.

Joe sat quietly for a while. He wasn’t sure what to make of any of this. If Mike’s dad had millions to give his son, why make it so difficult?
Dear Son, here is the secret number to a Swiss bank account that has millions for you. Thanks, your Dad.
But this seemed almost crazy—just like Mike had said.

“How in the hell can you find out what this key is for? Didn’t he tell you any more toward the end?”

“Well, that’s what I mean. He did tell me more, but it never made any sense. After I got the letter, I was curious. I don’t know. It just went into the back of my brain as some nutty thing my dad did at the end. I wanted to forget the whole thing.”

“Let’s start over. He told you he had buried millions, right?”

“That’s what he said, but Joe he was out of his mind—it was just nonsense.”

“Did you contact the attorney in Dallas?”

“Nope—didn’t do anything except run the store into the ground and drink a lot.”

“Did he give you any hints where it might be buried?”

“Joe, listen to you. You’re starting to believe. It was all nonsense. My father lost his mind before he died. He was just making up stuff. Complete and absolute bullshit.”

“Stop feeling sorry for yourself—I think this is worth exploring further. After all, you may not believe it, but my dad told me that your dad was once one of the wealthiest men in the city. I always thought he was just joking. Maybe he wasn’t.”

“Yeah, I heard some of those stories. They never made sense. He was old from my first memories. There was no way him being a bootlegger made sense to me. And we lived okay, but we were sure the hell not rich. Why would we live the way we did if he had millions? He worked his butt off every day in that hardware store, waiting on grumpy old farts who needed a bolt. Why in the hell would you do that if you had millions?”

“Well, yeah, that’s a fair question. One that I don’t have an answer for. I know it doesn’t make much sense—but there’s something so odd about all of this. So odd that I’m not sure someone would make it up. I think we need to see if we can determine what this key is for. What does this mean about Deep Deuce at the St. Francis? Does that make any sense to you?”

“Well, I’m not sure. Although I seem to remember that the black area just east of downtown was called Deep Deuce. Least I think it was, not real sure. I think my dad had even mentioned that area many, many years ago as a part of town that had lots of nightclubs with live music way back when. He said he had gone there a couple of times. But St. Francis doesn’t mean anything to me.”

Joe thought about what that might mean. Was Mike’s dad trying to give his son millions of dollars after he died by sending him a strange letter and key? This didn’t seem to fit the picture he had of Mike’s dad. The guy sold nuts, screws, and shovels for goodness sakes.

“Regarding the key, the guy who supplies our key-making kiosk would probably know how to figure that out—if there’s any way to actually do that. Could be this is just an old key he left me for no reason at all except he’d lost his mind.” Mike’s mood was getting worse. If they were going to decide anything tonight, it would have to be pretty soon, before Mike slipped into a deep depression.

Joe responded, “Okay, you’re right—this is probably just some kind of strange joke, and your father was lost in a different world toward the end. We just have to make the effort and see if this is nonsense or not. When can we contact your guy about the key?”

“I’ll go call him right now and see if he can meet us in the morning.”

Mike returned quickly after making his call. “He said no problem, he’ll be there tomorrow morning at ten. Will that work for you?”

“Sure, I’ll see you at your store. I think I’ll hang out here for a while. Better if I can sneak in later without having a battle with Liz tonight. She’s no doubt beyond pissed since I hung up on her earlier right in the middle of her ‘Joe’s a shithead’ speech. See you tomorrow.”

Joe sat in the booth alone and gave some thought to his life. He remembered his school days with Mike, when everything had seemed possible. They’d always thought they were going to be something—something special. But it didn’t happen that way. Joe had periods of success. He didn’t want to be an accountant, but when he passed his test and got his CPA license he felt successful. It was just that the work didn’t suit him—he wanted to be creative, build things, not track other people’s success by crunching numbers.

He and Mike had stayed close after school, and that was an important part of Joe’s life. Mike considered him the smart one, and Joe liked that. Joe thought Mike was more daring than he was—often that wasn’t a good thing for Mike, leading him to make risky decisions. After his father died and Mike took over the business, Joe thought that the change would be good for Mike, but now he wasn’t so sure. Failing at running your dad’s hardware store was a heavy burden, one that Mike wasn’t handling well.

Joe wondered what things would be like for them in ten years. He guessed he’d still be doing taxes and hating it, and Liz would still be yelling at him, or worse yet ignoring him—basically the same as now. For Mike, he didn’t know what was going to happen—it worried Joe.

Oklahoma City, Oklahoma

Liz had had it with Joe. He was a drunk and he was a terrible husband and father. She had worked every day at making their marriage a success. She was exhausted from the effort. How many years can you be married to someone who seems to always be in a fog?

When they were first married, Liz had had real hope. She thought Joe could be a success. He worked hard and, except for his drunken nights out with his useless buddy Mike, he was a good provider. Liz had used every alluring skill she’d had to get Joe to propose to her—but once he did she immediately stored her charms away for some future use. Liz had never really enjoyed sex, and Joe’s constant need repulsed her. After years of her coolness he began to leave her alone—of course by then they had two children.

While sex wasn’t vital to her life, her children were. Somewhere in the recesses of her brain it was as if the children had nothing to do with Joe, as if they’d been conceived and born only of her. With the kids her life took on a new meaning, and Joe started to blend into the background.

Like most people in Oklahoma, Liz was a Christian. Her beliefs, based on the Bible as the literal word of God, grew as her children grew. She took them to church at least twice a week, often more. They participated in extended Bible school in the summer and attended summer camps devoted to their faith. She knew it was vital that the sinful ways of their father be cleansed from her children.

Liz’s first impulse to divorce Joe probably came within a year of their marriage. But the birth of the children and Joe’s ability to provide financial comfort were barriers to her ever taking action. While she’d never asked for a divorce, sometime in the early years of their marriage she effectively divorced herself from Joe. He was necessary for her to have a means to support herself and her children, so he stayed. She knew that without her constant nagging for him to apply himself he would more than likely fall into an alcoholic stupor and become an even more useless drunk. She had to stay to make sure that didn’t happen.

There was a constant pressure on Liz to steer her children in the right direction and to keep Joe working and earning money. She never relaxed, knowing that without her unwavering dedication to making sure that everything was done in the way she prescribed, it would all fall apart. She also knew no one appreciated the sacrifices she’d made for her family. She was alone, but she wasn’t about to be stopped.

Liz sometimes dreamed about what her life could have been if only she had married someone she could have loved. She hadn’t had that luxury, though. Her family was poor. Her father had been a drunken bully who beat her mother, until one day he left and never returned. Her mother was brokenhearted when the bastard left. To this day Liz couldn’t understand why her mother was so devastated. After her husband left, her mother became the family drunk—and ignored her kids. Liz had hated her family and spent part of each day planning how to escape.

As a teenager, Liz was attractive. She knew she was no beauty queen but with a little make-up and some borrowed clothes she could be very appealing. She wasn’t particularly good at school and knew her best hope for getting away from her mother and their mind-numbing poverty was to marry. Every day of high school, the goal was to find a husband. Liz’s best friend was Judy. Liz suspected that Judy had been having sex since the eighth grade, and she was the class expert on attracting a man. Judy had told stories to Liz and her friends that had made Liz blush and hide her face. Liz listened to Judy and was soon walking and talking differently. They had spent hours working on how Liz could use her eyes to flirt. Liz thought much of this was silly, but before she knew it boys were noticing her. Her first reaction was disgust at the fact that these guys could be so easily manipulated. Judy declared gender victory.