Page 43 of Moonshine Kiss
“It’s a misinformation campaign. Just like Jedidiah Bodine did during the ‘shine running years,” Mrs. Varney cackled.
Mayor Hornsbladt stroked his silver beard like a cartoon villain. “Why, June Tucker. I think that’s a mighty fine idea.”
“Yes. I know that,” June stated.
Mom elbowed her in the side.
“I mean, thank you,” June reluctantly corrected herself.
The buzzing of the crowd hit deafening levels, and the mayor had to smack a clawfoot hammer on the crate under his feet. He hit it too hard and it collapsed, spilling him onto the floor.
He sprang back up and hammered the wall for a minute until everyone quieted down again. “Y’all, we gotta keep this orderly. Now, let’s strategize all strategic-like. Who’s got an idea?”
Hands shot up all over the barn, and the chatter returned.
“I can’t sit here and let them obstruct a police investigation,” I told Bowie. His hand was still on my knee.
“They’re not obstructing the police. They’re obstructing a bunch of disrespectful outsiders who think we’re all stupid, toothless hillbillies. There’s nothing illegal about not being truthful to a reporter,” he insisted.
I gritted my teeth. This whole thing was chapping my procedural ass. “How often do y’all call secret meetings?” I asked him.
“Only when absolutely necessary,” he said evasively.
“And are my mom and sister usually in attendance?”
He smirked at me. “They’re usually the ones callin’ the meetings.”
“You’re shitting me.”
“Remember when your dad couldn’t prove that Donna Tarper’s husband was knocking her around?” Bowie asked.
My eyes narrowed. “Yeah.” My dad had a big, squishy heart. He couldn’t stand to see anyone or anything hurt. Knowing that one of his citizens was getting the crap beat out of her on the regular never sat well with him. But Donna had refused to press charges.
“Remember how the husband suddenly attacked his neighbor Pete? And that mysterious video footage of the fight just happened to show up at the station?”
I closed my eyes. “You can’t be serious.”
Bowie nodded solemnly. “Your mama called that meeting and made us put our heads together to figure out how to catch the sonofabitch and make sure he got locked up.”
I rubbed a finger between my eyebrows where a headache was sprouting.
“Feelin’ left out?” Bowie asked.
“Yeah. A little.”
“Now you know how it feels,” he said smugly.
“Are we back to that again?” I was starting to get my hackles up.
“No, Cass. We’re not. But there are some things it’s better if law enforcement doesn’t know about. Who’s gonna get hurt if we run these idiots out of town by telling them a couple of tall tales?”
“That’s not the point, Bowie. Right is right and wrong is wrong.”
“Honey, sometimes there’s a whole lot of something in between right and wrong.”
I didn’t like that one bit. Law and order kept people safe. It defined exactly what was good and what was bad. It gave people answers, truthful ones. The law made the consequences of our actions clear.
If you stole your neighbor’s cable, you paid a $500 fine. You laundered money, you spent up to a year in jail. Blowing up shit that’s not yours on the 4th of July could have you serving up to two years and shelling out a cool $10,000.
