Page 36 of Stronger Than Blood
Mick
Rory and I wandered through the very large safe, and although I was far from a liquor connoisseur, I did recognize several manufacturer’s names. There were cases and cases of Jack Daniels with dates between 1900 and 1905. “Pre-prohibition,” Rory said, his grin growing wider as we searched.
There was a case of whiskey bottles that were simply labeled, ‘Very old whiskey,’ and some said, ‘Very good whiskey.’ There were also a lot of bottles that I assumed were local moonshine, but it would take someone besides me to figure that out.
“This… this is amazing. You think he was running liquor during prohibition?” I asked.
He laughed, “I don’t think your Uncle Eddie was that old, also, from what I can tell, most of this stuff is before that time. Jack Daniels moved out of Tennessee in 1910 ’cause the state instituted its own prohibition, so those were before then. Then, in 1920, prohibition was all over the country.”
“How do you know all that?” I asked, and Rory laughed again.
“Well, my great-grandma was a teetotaler herself, very dedicated to the abolition of all things alcohol. My great-grandpa, however, was very dedicated to his still up in the hills of the farm. My grandpa used to laugh when he’d tell me about the wars that erupted between the two.”
“And you? You learned from him?”
He shook his head. “No, I was just interested in how a Black landowner back during that time was able to avoid the revenuers. I was interested in the history, so I researched it and learned that the Black drunks tended to be a lot better at keeping their mouths shut when drunk and arrested than the White folks did. It was such a fascinating time, and I do like a shot of whiskey myself from time to time, so I learned what I could.”
“And you think all this is legit?” I asked, still overwhelmed by the find.
“Oh, I’d put money on it, and, from the look of those mason jars, I’d say your uncle did a little of his own distilling too."
"They do look sorta new,” I said, looking at the jars on the bottom shelf of one wall of the safe.
“Wanna bet that we’ll find that still if we dig a little more?” he asked.
I didn’t know. The truth was, I had no way to know. “Wasn’t it dangerous to use a still inside? I thought that’s why all of them hid their stills in the hills.”
“Probably, but let’s go check out the rest of the store. I have a feeling there are some more fun finds to be had.”
There was nothing under the remaining trash except more trash. But in our haste to see what might be there, we managed to finish cleaning out the back room. Tomorrow, when the new dumpster arrived, I figured we’d at least have one floor finished. Now, we had to face the top floor and basement.
When Madam Bellamy showed up much later in the day, we were finishing up, and Rory asked if he could show her the stash. Which, of course, why not? The government would probablyseize it anyway since I was sure most of it was acquired when it was illegal to own it.
Madam laughed when she saw it. “Your uncle enjoyed this more than you know. I think he loved watching you inching closer to his secret.”
“Yeah, a secret I don’t know how to deal with.”
“Oh, don’t be discouraged. I’m sure it’ll all work out. But I’d keep it under lock and key!” she said.
“I just wish I knew the combination—”
Just then, she looked up and smiled before nodding. “Your uncle is pointing at a pile of papers over in the corner of the safe,” she said. I quickly got up, and after locating the ones she meant, I looked, and damn if there wasn’t a piece of torn paper there that had what I assumed was the safe’s combination.
“Well, I’ll be,” I said and chuckled inwardly at how country I sounded with the old saying. “At least I can keep it secure until I get it all figured out.”
“Do you have an attorney you can call about all this?” Rory asked, and I immediately thought of Jonah, the attorney who’d recently moved to town.
“Yeah, in fact, let me give him a call.”
“No, not yet,” Madam said and looked back to where she had indicated she had seen my uncle. “Your Uncle Eddie wants you to toast the find. I think it means something to him.”
“Um, okay,” I said. ”But what should we drink?”
Madam Bellamy stood and walked over to one of the newer jars, picking it up. She appeared to be checking with my uncle’s ghost and then smiled. “This is the one he wants us to drink.”
The label on the bottle said Popcorn’s Last Run to the Creek.
“What do you think that means?” I asked, and she shrugged.
