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Moonshine Murder [Hawkman Bk 14]
by Betty Sullivan La Pierre
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Mystery/Crime
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SynergEbooks
www.synergebooks.com
Copyright ©2011 by Betty Sullivan La Pierre
First published in SynergEbooks, 2011
NOTICE: This work is copyrighted. It is licensed only for use by the original purchaser. Making copies of this work or distributing it to any unauthorized person by any means, including without limit email, floppy disk, file transfer, paper print out, or any other method constitutes a violation of International copyright law and subjects the violator to severe fines or imprisonment.
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CONTENTS
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
CHAPTER THIRTY
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
CHAPTER FORTY
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
CHAPTER FIFTY
CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE
CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO
CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE
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Moonshine Murder
Book 14 of the Hawkman Series
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by
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Betty Sullivan La Pierre
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Permission to use photographs of
"Copper Moonshine Stills"
given by Colonel Vaughn Wilson
www.coppermoonshinestills.com
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Copyright 2011 by Betty Sullivan La Pierre
All Rights Reserved
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Published by SynergEbooks
www.synergebooks.com
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Others in ‘The Hawkman Series'
by
BETTY SULLIVAN LA PIERRE
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THE ENEMY STALKS
DOUBLE TROUBLE
THE SILENT SCREAM
DIRTY DIAMONDS
BLACKOUT
DIAMONDS aren't FOREVER
CAUSE FOR MURDER
ANGELS IN DISGUISE
IN FOR THE KILL
GRAVE WEB
THE LURE OF THE WITCH
SHADOWS IN THE NIGHT
THE ARCHER
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Also by Betty Sullivan La Pierre
MURDER.COM
THE DEADLY THORN
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This novel is a work of fiction. The characters, names, incidents, dialogue, and plot are the products of the author's imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual person, companies, or events is purely coincidental.
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TO MY DEAR MOTHER
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CHAPTER ONE
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Young Randy Hutchinson rode his bike at breakneck speed down the hill, then onto the road leading into the residential area. He slowed at Tom Casey's place, and eyed the woman in the yard bending over the flower beds that stretched the length of the house. Taking a deep breath, he turned into the driveway.
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Jennifer heard the crunch of rocks and glanced up. She studied the young lad for a few moments as he straddled the two-wheeler. He needed a hair cut and wore very tattered clothes, even though he appeared clean. “Well, hello. I don't think I know you. What's your name?”
“Randy Hutchinson.”
She stood up and dusted off her hands. “I don't recognize the name Hutchinson. Do you live around here?”
He pointed toward the way he'd come. “We have a cabin way up there on a hill. Don't get down here much.”
“I see. Did you just move in?”
Randy shrugged his shoulders. “Sort of. I guess you'd say that, since we're still bringing up stuff for the place.”
“Welcome to the neighborhood.” She held out her hand and smiled. “I'm Jennifer Casey.”
“Thanks,” he said, grinning shyly as he jumped off the bike, dropped it to the ground, and took hold of her fingers. “Is Mr. Hawkman your husband?”
Jennifer laughed. “How'd you know him as Mr. Hawkman?”
The boy wrinkled his forehead in question. “Isn't that his name?”
“It's his nickname. His real name is Mr. Tom Casey.”
“Didn't he used to be a spy? And doesn't he have a pet falcon?”
“My goodness, you certainly know a lot about him for being new to the area.”
Randy shuffled his worn sneakers across the pebbles on the driveway. “Kids talk a lot, and some of the guys told me they think he's some sort of god.”
Jennifer stifled a giggle. “He's a nice guy, but I don't think I'd classify him as a god.”
“Is it true he's a private investigator?”
“Yes.”
“I'd sure like to meet him.”
“Tell you what, hang around here for a few minutes and I'll see if I can find him.”
His eyes grew wide. “Really?”
Jennifer disappeared into the house, went back to Hawkman's office, and poked her head into the room. “You've got a visitor.”
Hawkman glanced up from the ledger he'd been working on. “Who?”
“A ragamuffin boy about ten years of age. Says his name is Randy Hutchinson.”
“Is he from around here? I haven't heard of anyone named Hutchinson in this area.”
“Guess they're a new family, living way up on a hill in a cabin.”
Hawkman frowned. “Usually we hear about the new ones, before they're even settled.”
“I'm very curious too. The boy knows a lot about you, for a newcomer.”
“Oh?”
“He called you ‘Mr. Hawkman’ and asked if you were once a spy, but now a private investigator. He told me he learned it from the kids. Oh, he also said you're some sort of god.”
“What!”
“I'm just telling you what he told me.”
“Oh, my, I better go out and set this kid straight.”
He dropped his pencil into the crease of the book and stood. “Lead me to him.” Before they got to the front door, Hawkman took hold of Jennifer's shoulder. “Let me peek through the kitchen window and check him out.”
He scrutinized the boy through t
he glass. The youngster had long dishwater blond hair, which definitely needed cutting, and appeared tall and skinny for his age. His jeans and tee-shirt were very ragged. Hawkman turned to Jennifer. “Looks poor, but clean.”
“My thoughts exactly.”
He opened the door and stepped outside.
The boy's blue eyes lit up. “You're exactly what I imagined. My friends told me you were tall, had an eye-patch and looked like a cowboy.”
Hawkman smiled. “Glad I didn't disappoint you.”
“Do you really have a falcon you carry on your arm?”
“Yes, would you like to see her?”
“Oh man, yeah.”
Hawkman took him around to the back of the house and showed him Pretty Girl, who put on a big show of squawking and flapping her wings inside the large aviary. “She wants to go hunting. I try to take her out once or twice a week.”
Suddenly, Randy's mouth turned down at the corners. “I've got to go. Thanks for showing her to me.”
Hawkman glanced at the boy. “Did I say something wrong?”
“Oh no, sir. I just gotta go. Can I come back sometime?”
“Sure.”
They walked back around the house, and Randy jumped on his bike and took off up the road. Hawkman placed his boot on the brick wall of the flower bed next to Jennifer. “That boy had more on his mind than just meeting me.”
She stopped digging in the dirt, and glanced up. “What makes you think so?”
“Something about his being so eager, then suddenly turning it off like a water spigot and saying he had to go. He seemed troubled, but didn't have the nerve to say any more.”
She dusted off her hands, and sat down on the wall. “What in the world would bother him to such a point? What did you talk about?”
“I told him I took Pretty Girl out to hunt once or twice a week. Why would such a comment cause the boy to melt down?”
“You sure you didn't say something negative?”
“I'm positive.” He pointed a finger. “I have a feeling we haven't seen the last of Randy. In fact, I'm going to ask around, and see if anyone knows about this family.”
“I'll do the same, as I got the impression, they've been here for a few months, and I thought it strange we hadn't heard anything about them.”
“Where'd he say they lived?”
She pointed west. “He said in a cabin, way up in the hills.”
Hawkman frowned. “Most of that property is privately owned. Maybe they're renting a place. Off the top of my head, I don't recall any sort of a cabin, just homes.”
Jennifer shrugged. “You know boys; he might have thought it sounded more manly or rustic to say cabin.”
Hawkman dropped his foot from the brick and moved toward the front door. “From the looks of his clothes, I don't think there's much money in the family.”
“You can't judge by what he's wearing; those might be the ones he uses for outdoors.”
“True. Maybe I'm reading something into the boy which isn't there.”
She smiled. “Very likely.”
He glanced at his wife, then went inside.
Jennifer returned to digging the soil in the flower bed, her mind churning with thoughts of the young lad. She hated to admit to her husband, that she, too, had reservations about the youngster when he rode onto the driveway. Yet, she couldn't put her finger on it. He seemed a tad shy at first, but when she spoke to him, his demeanor and expression lightened considerably. She wondered, if she hadn't been outside, would he have come up to the house? He was definitely more interested in Hawkman than her. The fact he'd mentioned her husband being a private investigator did throw up a red flag.
She finally stood, and groaned. This bending over was killing her back. The biggest bed was now done; she'd work on the other two tomorrow. Putting her implements into a bucket, she set them in the corner and went inside.
[Back to Table of Contents]
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CHAPTER TWO
Before retiring, Hawkman locked up the aviary. He didn't always take this precaution, but tonight he decided to follow his instinct.
The night had turned warm, so when Hawkman and Jennifer went to bed, they opened the sliding glass door and the window above their heads. An owl hooted in the distance and the critters of the dark made their ways across the lawn, occasionally climbing onto the deck, only to be frightened off by a loud squawk from Pretty Girl. The water from the lake lightly rippled against the shoreline, making a soft soothing sound.
Jennifer dropped off to sleep almost immediately, and Hawkman could hear her deep steady breathing. He lay staring at the ceiling and watched the leaping shadows made from the moon's reflection, as it bounced off the water. Turning from side to side, he couldn't get comfortable and wondered if they should buy a new mattress. He kept glancing at the alarm clock and the minutes were ticking off rather rapidly. When the hands hit midnight, the squawks of Pretty Girl rent the air to the point it sounded like a war zone.
Hawkman jumped from the bed and Jennifer bolted to a sitting position. “I've never heard her make such a racket before. Something's wrong.” He grabbed his gun from the holster slung over the chair and hurried out the sliding glass door. Crouching behind the aviary, his gun poised, he peeked around the corner. Not seeing a thing, he slowly moved to the side, then to the front of the cage.
“Easy, girl,” he said, softly to the bird as he checked the interior of her cage. The moon gave plenty of light and he could see no snake had entered her domain. She continued to flap her wings and squawk, but less intensely. Suddenly, Hawkman heard a crunching noise like wheels on gravel. He charged around the side of the house and when he leaped around to the front, he spotted a bicycle turning the corner at the fence line and high tailing it down the road.
When he returned to the bedroom, Jennifer looked at him wide-eyed. “What caused all that ruckus?”
“I'm not sure, but I'm going back out and examine her cage better.” He hurried into the living room and flipped on the outside light. Removing both the falcon's water and food, he brought them inside. He poured the dry pellets onto a paper towel, scrubbed both bowls with a detergent, rinsed each thoroughly, then filled them with fresh water and food. He returned to the aviary, swept out the floor, replaced the containers, then locked up the cage.
Wrapped in a robe, Jennifer stood at the door, watching his endeavor. “What do you think occurred? You act like Pretty Girl's food and water could have been poisoned.”
Hawkman walked back into the house shaking his head. “I don't know, but didn't want to take any chances.”
“Did you see anyone out there?”
He nodded. “Yeah, a person taking off on a bike.”
She put a hand to her mouth. “Could you tell who it was?”
“No. The silhouette looked too big to be Randy. However, nighttime can play tricks on your eyesight.”
Jennifer pointed at the cabinet. “You better put the falcon's food into some sort of tight container in case it's contaminated. I sure don't want Miss Marple getting into it.”
“You're right. I'm going to take it to my office tomorrow and see if I can detect any toxins in the food.” Hawkman placed the falcon's food into a zip plastic bag, slipped it into the jeans jacket he'd be wearing tomorrow, and buttoned the flap. He patted the pocket. “That should keep our nosey feline safe.”
She took hold of Hawkman's arm. “If Randy came back, why would he want to scare Pretty Girl?”
“I doubt he figured she'd carry on so. He might have wanted to take her hunting, and found out I'd padlocked the cage. When he tried to force the door, then Pretty Girl let us know. Don't think she wants to be handled by anyone but us. If I'd left the door open, the boy would have discovered the wrath of a falcon.”
“I'd hate to see him learn such a lesson, if he's the culprit.” She pulled Hawkman toward the bedroom. “Let's see if we can salvage the rest of the night. Working in the soil yesterday has made me sore all over.”
> “I'll try; can't say I'm going to get much sleep now.”
Monday morning, Hawkman joined Jennifer in the kitchen for a cup of coffee. “I feel like I've been run over by an eighteen-wheeler. My eyes feel full of sand and my body's sluggish.”
“I know the feeling.”
“Has school dismissed yet for the summer?”
“No, I think they still have one or two more weeks. Why?”
“Think I'll stop by on my way to work, and see if Randy Hutchinson's enrolled.”
“Remember, he could be home schooled. Many people participate in our area. They have a large group who meet once a month.”
He frowned. “Hadn't thought of that. Still think I'll drop by; since I know Mrs. Simpson, don't think she'll mind my asking.”
Jennifer set a plate of scrambled eggs and toast in front of him. “Oh, she won't. You'll find her very accommodating.”
He sat down at the kitchen bar and ate. “If you have a chance, ask around and see if anyone knows about this family.”
“It's on my list. I'm attending the women's auxiliary this morning, and it will be a perfect place to gather any information.”
“Yep, get a bunch of women together, and you're certain to find out any gossip, true or not.”
Jennifer furrowed her brow and glared at her husband. “You act as if men don't gossip.”
He glanced at her cautiously between bites. “Well, I didn't mean it quite that strong.”
“Regardless, I'll see what I can find out.”
“Thanks.”
Hawkman got out of the house quickly, as he figured he'd overstepped his bounds. He journeyed up the road toward town, and pulled up the driveway leading to the small school's whitewashed building. No space appeared available, so he parked behind one of the cars he assumed wouldn't need to be moved, and hopped out of his vehicle. His timing seemed perfect, as about ten kids were outside in the small play area, running after balls or swinging on the one monkey bar set.
He found Mrs. Simpson behind the desk of the one-room school, grading papers. She'd been widowed many years ago, and had taken over the job of running the school shortly after the loss of her husband. Her appearance fit the typical schoolmarm: hair pulled back in a small bun, and a solid colored brown dress. She glanced up at Hawkman over the top of her rimmed reading glasses, and her firm mouth broke into a big grin.
Moonshine Murder [Hawkman Bk 14] Page 1
