Page 4 of Killer Moonshine

“Cool.”

“Hey, can we come in?” asked Brax. They waved Brax and Saint into the room, and the two men stood at the front of the conference room.

“What can we do for you two, other than give love advice,” smirked Gaspar.

“Now is not the time,” frowned Saint. “I don’t know if you heard from anyone else, but a few of us were at The Well last night, and a customer started vomiting blood. He was jaundiced, or at least yellow to me. He was having horrible abdominal pains and was bleeding from his rectum as well.”

“We asked the EMT to let us know the outcome, and he called a while ago to say the guy died,” said Brax.

“Let me guess, formaldehyde poisoning,” said Miller.

“How did you know that?” frowned Brax.

“Lucky guess. That’s two,” he said, looking at the others. “Two that we know of.”

“Two?” frowned Saint.

“Duckie died from the same thing,” said Ghost.

“Damn,” muttered Saint. “The EMT said there had been several brought in the last few weeks. Are you guys gonna take this on?”

“Definitely. For Duckie.”

CHAPTER THREE

“Maggie, we know this must be a terrible time for you,” said Ian, “but we have some questions we’d like to ask you.”

They’d had Duckie’s funeral only two days before, and she’d been so distraught that they could barely keep her upright. They noticed that most of the people in attendance were from Belle Fleur, which seemed strange considering how long Duckie and Maggie had lived in the area.

“Not sure what to say,” she sniffed, wiping her eyes. Claudette, Marie, Mama Irene, and Ruby were seated next to her. They’d made coffee, tea, and some sandwiches that were all on a pretty little tray on the coffee table.

“How much did Duckie normally drink?” asked Ghost.

“Maybe one at night after dinner,” she shrugged. “On the weekends, if we weren’t working, he might have two or three, but no more. He was always very careful about it because of us losin’ our Meg to a drunk driver.”

“That’s right,” nodded Ian with a frown. “I forgot about that, Maggie. I’m sorry. When did he start having pains?”

“About a week ago, but he refused to go to the clinic. He kept sayin’ it would go away, and he didn’t want the boys to know that he’d been drinkin’ moonshine.”

“Why was he drinking moonshine?” frowned Ghost. “We sell beer, wine, liquor, and other things at the store. It couldn’t have been money.”

“It wasn’t,” she said. “He had an old friend from school that was makin’ it in his backyard. Wanted Duckie to be his taste tester.” She sniffed again, dabbing her eyes and shaking her head.

“What was this friend’s name?” asked Ghost.

“John Brown,” said Maggie, shaking her head. “I’d never met him, but that was his name. There must be a thousand John Browns in the area. I tried to call but just got tired of leaving messages.”

“We can probably narrow it down by his age and the high school they went to,” smiled Ian. “He must not have been a very good friend if you’d never met him.”

“Duckie didn’t want me to meet him. He said John had fallen on hard times and wasn’t the same any longer. I don’t know what that means, but it might help you.”

“Did he ever say where he lived? Where he picked up the moonshine?” asked Ghost.

“Never. He would simply come home at night and have a bottle of that stuff in the trunk. Smelled awful,” she said with a sour face.

“Do you have any left?” asked Ian.

“I do, but I can’t let you drink it. I won’t,” she said, shaking her head. “You’re a good man, and your wife needs you.”

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