Moon Underfoot (40 page)

He stopped talking when he noticed tears welling in Bailey’s eyes. She knew what she had done was wrong, and that had been haunting her. Her lip was quivering, and it was hard to speak. She didn’t like being called a criminal.

Bailey asked, “What are we gonna do? I don’t wanna be a criminal.”

“I don’t know,” he said, looking around the room, his eyes stopping on two rolling suitcases. He pointed at the bags and continued, “That money right there…that is some dangerous shit, bad dangerous. It’s gonna get somebody killed. You ain’t got a clue who all’s involved with that.”

Bailey started to tremble. Levi moved next to her and wrapped his arm around her. He noticed the time on a wall clock. It was 8:00 p.m., and he hadn’t eaten all day.

“Look, I’m starving. Let’s get something to eat and talk this through, see if we can’t find a solution.”

Bailey seemed to welcome the idea. “There’s a ton of restaurants here!” She handed him a brochure from the coffee table.

“Cool. Go get ready. We’ll go somewhere nice,” Levi said, opening the brochure.

“I’ll take a quick shower and be ready in fifteen minutes!”

Bailey jumped up, kissed him on the cheek, and grabbed a small travel bag as she ran into the bedroom and shut the door.

Levi stood, stretched, and walked to face the massive floor-to-ceiling window. Though the night was inky black, he couldn’t see any stars because of the giant parking lot’s orange lights. The moon also was nowhere to be seen. Levi remembered from the drive that rain clouds had been rolling in fast. The sound of the shower running and Bailey singing “Broken Road” brought his
thoughts back to where he was. He turned to look around the room, his gaze falling on the suitcases.

He walked over to the bags and opened one to see the cash wrapped with rubber bands and neatly stacked inside. He smiled, grabbed a bundle, and then zipped the suitcase shut.

Seeing the money jolted Levi back to the fact that Moon Pie needed help. While he was looking at his phone to see if Moon Pie had texted him, the battery died and the screen went dark. An overwhelming sense of urgency hit him. He dropped a thousand dollars onto the coffee table, grabbed the suitcases, and headed for the door.

The last thing Levi heard before closing the suite’s heavy door was Bailey’s joyful singing in the shower.

T
HREE HOURS EARLIER,
Trance Moser and Yancey Fuller, two grave robbers, had been dropped off at the eastern edge of the vast river-bottom swamp by one of their wives. Inside their backpacks were black tarps, small shovels, wire screens to shift the dirt for artifacts, and a variety of other tools and accessories. They carried one loaded AR-15 rifle and two four-foot sections of metal rod that they would push down into the earth until they felt something solid, and then they would dig.

While scouting a few weeks back, they had discovered an Indian mound along the edge of an old river run. The mound was inconspicuous to a layman, but these two easily recognized the slight rise in the terrain. It appeared to them to be unexplored, and they eagerly anticipated digging. This area of Mississippi was known among artifact hunters for the presence of long ceremonial-spear points that brought top dollar.

The grave robbers retrieved the waypoint of the Indian mound from their handheld GPS and started hiking toward it.

These guys had perfected their illegal activities. They dug only at night, arriving after dark and leaving before daylight. They preferred winter, when the soil was moist and easier to
work; plus, there were no snakes, and the insects weren’t a nightmare. Following their new approach, last year they had sold over $95,000 worth of illegal artifacts to private collectors, mostly from Japan. Lately several law enforcement officers, tasked with protecting sacred Indian artifacts, had come close to catching them. Consequently, they now had to be dropped off and picked up to facilitate their concealment.

When they finally reached the mound, they spread the tarps to build low, tentlike structures over the area they wanted to dig. With this setup, they were able to use small battery-powered floodlights to illuminate their immediate work area. Inside, it was brighter than midday. Unless you were a few yards away and heard the shovels, you would never know that an excavation was occurring, about to unearth a Native American buried deep in the past. The grave robbers could not have cared less about the Indians. They just wanted the cache of beads, arrowheads, spear points, and ceremonial pieces buried with them for use on the other side.

Tonight had been a slow dig, so Trance stood outside the tarp, smoking a cigarette and thinking. His wife had recently left him for the UPS delivery guy, and he was having trouble focusing on the task at hand. He had almost finished the cigarette when he noticed vehicle lights on the other side of the lake. He immediately called to his partner, Yancey, to turn off the lights. Paranoia struck deep, and for a long while, they both stood stock-still but ready to flee, abandoning their project.

“Game warden?” Trance whispered nervously.

“Nah, I don’t think so,” Yancey responded as he looked through binoculars, watching the vehicle’s lights bumping down a logging road several hundred yards away. They could hear the engine rev and mud and water splashing.

“Well, at least they’re on the other side of the slough.”

His buddy didn’t respond as he intently glassed the truck.

“Sheriff?”

“Nah.”

“Corps patrol?”

“No.”

“Well, who the hell is it, then?”

“I don’t know. I can’t make it out. Just shut the hell up so I can think!” Yancey shot back.

T
HE MEXICAN DRUG
dealers had an interesting night. After casing the police station and the Henry Clay Hotel and not learning anything they didn’t already know, they decided to eat supper. Julio wanted to experience the local vibe and cuisine. He felt this was the only way to connect, albeit indirectly, with the target. Based upon the almost-unanimous recommendation from everyone in town they asked, they pulled up to the front of Anthony’s Market. From the outside, it appeared to be a dive. Once inside, however, Julio loved the atmosphere. He ordered one of every Cajun appetizer on the menu, just to sample it. The men gorged themselves on spicy food and drank nearly a case of Corona while watching Monday Night Football on a huge flat-screen. Guillermo had kept his laptop powered up, monitoring the movements of Moon Pie’s ankle bracelet.

Full as ticks, and feeling bulletproof, the Mexicans decided to follow the GPS tracking of the ankle bracelet as it moved from Chocolate City. They asked for the check and then spoke quickly to each other in Spanish so no one would understand. Both watched the red dot on the screen as it traveled closer to them. When it stopped moving three blocks north, Julio dropped three hundred-dollar bills on the table and thanked the waitstaff as
they walked out. At the front door, Julio’s stomach rumbled once and then again before he got to the car. He paused and considered going back inside to use the restroom, but the anticipation of the chase overpowered his guts.

As the Mexicans approached the location of the tracking device, they noticed that the street was lined with run-down shotgun-style homes. The beer had contributed to Julio’s conviction that he understood the dynamics of the neighborhood. He believed that they had the element of surprise on their side and didn’t have to worry about a big crowd. They drove by once and saw the purple car pulling into the yard. Only a few lights were on inside the house. Turning around, they turned off their headlights and rolled silently to a stop, putting the purple Cadillac between them and the house. Julio grabbed his pistol and Guillermo his laptop as they silently approached the house.

Julio’s stomach rumbled again. Guillermo heard it and looked at him, but Julio was focused on his approach to the dwelling. When they walked past the car, Guillermo noticed that the tracking program indicated that the ankle monitor was inside the car. He gave Julio a quick whistle.

“Es en el coche.”

“What?” Julio asked in a loud whisper.

Turning the computer screen toward Julio, Guillermo said in Spanish, “It’s in the car, not the house.”

Julio shook his head in disbelief and then looked for movement in the old house. Not seeing anything, he walked back to the car and tried looking inside it, but the windows were darkly tinted.

“
Está dentro
,” Guillermo insisted.

Julio knew to trust this technology. Since they had started using this program, it had proven to be accurate to within three feet. He quickly glanced around for anyone watching and saw no one. As he pulled up on the door handle, he was surprised that it was unlocked. He opened the door, pointing his pistol inside.
When he saw no one, he pocketed the pistol and began looking inside the car for the anklet. Guillermo studied the screen and then began helping search the car.

The car reeked of menthol cigarettes. The dashboard was greasy and shiny, as though it had just been wiped down with Armor All. There was a golden crown-shaped air freshener in the back window. Julio didn’t see the tracking device.

“Look under seat,” Guillermo advised.

Julio felt under the seats until he finally found the ankle monitor.

When he straightened to show Guillermo, he saw a pistol pointed right at his head and one pointed at Guillermo’s. A short, fat black man had a gun in each hand.

“You wetbacks ain’t taking Heavy G’s car! I done told that fool I’d make a payment on my rims next week when I get my check!”

In heavily accented English, Julio said, “We just want this.” He held up the anklet.

“That shit ain’t Heavy G’s!”

“Do you know where Mr. Moon Pie is?”

“What the hell you talking ’bout, fool? I don’t know no Moon Pie! All I knows is that you ain’t taking Heavy G’s car. Now, get yo’ jalapeno-eatin’ asses outta here ’fo I pop a cap in ’em!”

Julio and Guillermo glanced quickly at each other. Guillermo held his computer with his back turned to Heavy G. Julio had his hands raised, showing he was unarmed.

“I said I’m gonna pop a cap in your ass if y’all don’t get the hell away from here!”

“We leave,
señor
. We make mistake.”

“You damn right you made a mistake. Don’t nobody mess with Heavy G’s shit!”

Julio and Guillermo starting to back away. Heavy G continued to hold the pistols sideways, pointed at their faces, until they got into their car.

“Go, Guillermo,” Julio said, holstering his gun. He was embarrassed and angry.

Guillermo floored the accelerator, squealing the tires as they sped away.

M
OON PIE HELD
his side as he drove. The road was slick and rutted, causing him to put the truck into four-wheel drive. Despite the pain from the gunshot, he loved being in the swamp at night. It felt like home and was energizing. He was confident that Jake’s body would never ever be discovered. There was no reason for that drainpipe to be replaced or inspected before the body decomposed. And if Jake’s body somehow washed through the pipe, alligators and turtles would take care of it.