Moon Underfoot (32 page)

The police officers all looked to the task force guys. John Wesley nodded, and the dog handler pulled the dog close to him, whispered something, stroked his head, and sent him inside.
Everyone took a deep breath. They all had the utmost respect for the dog and the handler.

John Wesley looked at his partner. They knew they were thinking the same thing:
I sure hope our dog doesn’t get shot.
They had witnessed it before. When a canine officer got killed, his partner always took it really hard.

For thirty seconds, there wasn’t a sound. Each person imagined the dog checking every corner of the dark building. Suddenly they heard a loud yelp, and the handler cracked open the door. The dog flew out and sat next to his handler, shaking and whimpering.

All the officers stared in disbelief. What could have scared a fearless police dog and made him retreat! Radios cracked with questions from the police brass who were watching through binoculars. No one could answer. The handler had never seen his dog back down from anything.

“Captain, something really bad is inside. We need reinforcements, lights, and thermal imaging!” John Wesley requested on the dog handler’s radio. “And tell the guys at the back door to be ready!”

“Ten-four. Give me a minute. We have all that gear here in the SWAT van.”

Within two minutes, twelve more officers, dressed completely in black full-body armor and carrying various gear, arrived and crouched with the others. Each person’s eyes were wild with anticipation yet focused on the mission. John Wesley counted them down, and they stormed through the front door—every officer, except the dog.

The dark store was instantly illuminated, and the officers quickly cleared the front room. Staging beside the partly opened door to the back room, they went on a rehearsed silent count and then burst into the back room. Three quick shots were fired.

Radios erupted with chatter as the captain and his men frantically ran to the building. “I need info!” the captain yelled as he charged to the shop’s outside door. “I need intel!”

Radio silence fell for ten seconds as the men sorted out what had happened.

“I need info! What’s happening!” the captain barked.

“It’s okay, Captain. We’re all clear,” a voice on the radio reported.

“What about the shots!”

“We shot a lion!”

“What?” he asked as he started inside.

“It’s a life-size mounted lion!”

“You’re shittin’ me.”

“I swear, it looks alive, sir.”

M
ONDAY MORNING WHEN
she dropped Katy at Oak Hill Academy, Morgan went inside to advise the office staff and headmaster of what had happened in Tupelo. She wanted them to be on high alert. Her worst fear was that Katy would be kidnapped for revenge for Jake’s actions that night in the swamp, and Katy’s school was one place where Morgan couldn’t directly protect her. She did have faith in the staff, and she noticed a police cruiser sitting in the parking lot when she left. The young officer waved, and she realized why he was there. She pulled up beside the patrol car.

“Thank you.”

“No problem, ma’am.”

“Are you here all day?” she asked.

“For as much of it as I can, unless I’m needed somewhere else. We’re rotating so somebody’s around here during the day until this thing dies down.”

Morgan was almost moved to tears. “Thank you. Can I get you something? Are you hungry?”

“No ma’am. My wife cooks me breakfast every mornin’.”

“That’s sweet. How long have you been married?” Morgan wondered.

“Four months, yesterday,” the officer admitted proudly.

“Oh, so you’re still honeymoonin’!”

The officer blushed. “Yes ma’am.”

“I really do appreciate y’all doing this. Thanks again,” she said as she drove off and mumbled to herself, “Hot breakfast will probably last two more months, at most.”

T
HE POLICE SWARMED
Moon Pie’s home so fast that he didn’t have time to get out of his La-Z-Boy. He had been watching ESPN analysts debate which teams would be paired in the upcoming college football national championship game. One minute he was pumped that an SEC team might be in the top two, and the next minute he had his hands up like he was signaling a touchdown—a beer in one, the TV remote in the other.

“What’s your name! Are you Ethan Daniels! Is there anybody else in the trailer!” an older officer asked as he holstered his weapon.

Ethan looked around at four pistols and two AR15s pointed at his head. “Yeah, you got me. I’m Ethan Daniels. What’d I do now?”

Two more officers entered the trailer and began searching it. Moon Pie watched them disappear down the small hallway.

“Shitter’s the second door on the left!”

“Okay, wiseass, where’s Tam Nguyen?” John Wesley asked him.

“Who?” Moon Pie acted surprised.

“Don’t play stupid with me, shit-for-brains. I ain’t got the time.”

“I don’t know nobody named Tam. Who is she?”

“Get up. We’re goin’ downtown to talk about it and refresh your memory.”

The two officers returned. “It’s clear, sir,” said the younger of them.

Moon Pie now was beginning to feel a bit cocky. “Why do you think I know this person?”

“Because his vehicle is parked behind your business.”

Moon Pie smiled. “People park back there all the time. That ain’t a crime, and it don’t mean that I know shit about it.”

“Nope, but harboring a fugitive is, as is aiding, abetting, and accessory after the fact. Plus, anything else we can dig up when we get a warrant and bring in the drug dog.”

“Look, I don’t need any trouble. I’m clean. I’m trying to be respectable. If I knew anything, I’d tell y’all.”

“Where’s Levi Jenkins?”

“He’s in love or heat or somethin’. He ain’t here.”

“Where is he?”

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know much of anything, do ya, shitbird?”

“Naw, I don’t. I do know that I was just sittin’ here, mindin’ my own business, watchin’ television, and y’all done come bustin’ up in here, treatin’ me like I’m some kinda common criminal. I do believe that’s po-lice harassment. I guess I’ll just have to speak with my attorney about this. He’s gonna—”

A local officer who knew Moon Pie interrupted, “Where’s your FJ Cruiser?”

The task force officers immediately understood the question. Moon Pie did as well. If he said it was stolen and they caught Tam in it, Tam would have another charge against him. If he said he had loaned it to Tam, it would implicate him as being involved.
Shit! Shit! Shit!

Moon Pie’s bravado was now turned down a couple of notches. “Look, you know…I ain’t sure. I usually just leave it at the office. Levi and my other employees use it all the time. I don’t ever think about it. I like drivin’ that old Bronco out there.”

John Wesley said to another officer, “Cuff him. Let’s take him downtown. Maybe his memory will improve with better surroundings.”

Moon Pie didn’t like this, but there were way too many cops to resist. He couldn’t think of anything clever to say to get out of this bind when a muscular officer snatched him out of the chair and pulled his arms behind him, applying the cuffs. The officer began to frisk him and uncovered a Mercedes smart key. The officer tossed it to John Wesley.

“Well, this is interestin’” he said, turning it over in his hand. “I bet this doesn’t work on that old Bronco. Let’s see.” John Wesley pointed it out the front door and pushed the button. He pushed it again and then looked at Moon Pie and smiled.

Moon Pie looked down at the dirty shag carpeting.

S
EVERAL OF THE
Tennessee Mexicans called an emergency meeting to discuss recent developments with the Gulf Coast load. A midlevel manager in the organization was trying to shield the initial bad news from el Jefe. Managing assets was a daily task for several of these key employees. The boss gave them plenty of latitude in managing their respective pieces of the business. This approach was good in the sense that they could make decisions on the fly, in the heat of the moment. It was a bad approach if their decisions were not good ones, which could cost dearly, in monetary and legal terms.

The normally tough-acting manager was humble and obviously nervous in the presence of his boss, the second in command. “He called about an hour ago. It was Mr. Moon Pie’s brother. He said they had been robbed and the money was gone.”

The second in command was very calm as he smoked an authentic Cohiba he had personally acquired from the Partagas factory. Rather than looking at the manger, he studied the burning end of the Lancero. “And what did you say?”

“That we will kill him and his brother.”

“I hope that’s not all.”

“No, sir. I said we wanted all of the
dinero
.”

“
Bueno
. Who do they think did this thing?”

“Us. They think
we
stole the
moneda
.”

“What made him say such a stupid thing?”

“He claims to have proof because we left a tobacco can with a gold
M
on it. He said the
M
stands for Mexico.”

“What could he be speaking of?”

“I have no idea,
señor
. And he says that we put the GPS device on his brother so we would know where he was all the time…to help us steal the money.”

“Has anyone been away in the last few days?” The second in command didn’t totally trust anyone.

“No, sir. He also said that Señor Moon Pie was just put in jail in Columbus, which is in Mississippi. But our tracking data shows that right now he is at a place called the Macarena Club in Aberdeen, Mississippi.”

“Where is the money?”

“A retirement home in West Point called the Henry Clay.”

“Is this place in Mississippi?”

“
Sí.
”

“This is not good.”

“Can you give me a few days to clean this up before you report it to el Jefe?”

“Do you know anything about this Moon Pie person?”

“
Sí
, he works for the Gulf Coast distributor, who has a very strong reputation, and he is a source that el Jefe wants. He told me to do this, so that’s why I took a chance.”

“I see.”

“I can fix this if you will allow. Trust me,
señor
.”

The second in command was disappointed with his men and the situation. “You have two days. Take Guillermo and the tracking equipment. Do what is necessary to get back our money or the drugs. And Julio?”

“
Sí
?”

“Your quality of life depends on success.”