The Moonshine Shack Murder

by Diane Kelly

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  Kiki had already left for a freelance graphic art gig Monday morning when I fed Smoky and sat down at her table with a cup of coffee and a plain bagel slathered with creamy peanut butter. I was fresh from the shower, my dark curls twisted up in a towel atop my head like a terry-cloth beehive. As I sipped from the mug, I checked my phone. A text had come in from Miranda. Got an appointment with Heath Delaney tomorrow at 10:00. Any chance you can come with me?

  I was flattered she wanted me to come along. It was nice to be considered capable. My thumbs moved over the screen as I texted her back. Sure. Meet you at Limericks beforehand to discuss bookkeeping system? 8:00?

  She responded with a thumbs-up.

  I licked errant peanut butter from my fingers, polished off my coffee, and proceeded to get ready for my day. Smoky did the same, splaying his claws out like jazz hands and cleaning between his toes.

  Invigorated by the caffeine, I decided to take a second look at Cormac’s accounting records to see if there might be something I’d missed. Using the user ID and password Miranda had given me yesterday, I logged into his online bookkeeping software. I’d focused on his recent transactions when I’d been at Limericks with Miranda the day before, but maybe an older entry would provide a clue.

  I’d worked my way back to early the preceding year when a single transaction in the amount of $615 caught my eye. The payee was a company called Hiddenvision. The name rang a bell. Kiki and I had come across its products when searching for an affordable security system for my shop. The business specialized in concealed camera equipment. I hadn’t wanted a concealed system, though. I wanted mine to be visible, where it would act as a deterrent to would-be criminals. Had Cormac bought a concealed camera system for Limericks?

  If the cameras were hidden, it would explain why Miranda wasn’t aware of them. If Miranda didn’t know about the cameras, maybe the police didn’t, either. I knew I should pass the information on to Ace, but I also wondered what might be revealed by the camera footage. I slumped back in my seat, debating what to do. Curiosity quickly got the best of me. I sat up and returned my fingers to the keyboard, justifying my decision on the grounds that I should attempt to verify if, in fact, there was a hidden camera system at Limericks before potentially wasting Ace’s time. Besides, there might be something in the footage that would exonerate me and implicate the actual guilty party. I had a right to seek evidence to defend myself, and I’d be doing the detective a favor if I could point her in the right direction.

  Knowing people sometimes used the same login and password for multiple accounts, I gave it a shot. I logged into the Hiddenvision monitoring system and entered the username Limericks and the password SourMashNo.7. Sure enough, an account popped up. The account data indicated Cormac had purchased two cameras and prepaid for three years of cloud storage for the video feeds. The package he’d purchased would retain footage for four weeks before it would be deleted. The page included a link to the footage.

  I leaned in to the screen, my pulse pounding in my ears. Two questions popped into my mind. What might I find? and Where should I start? I remembered Miranda telling me that after she and Cormac had returned to Limericks after attending my grand opening, Ashlynn had walked into the bar, seen the two of them together, and screamed, You’re a dead man! The security footage would let me know if she was telling the truth.

  After familiarizing myself with the site’s functions, I brought up the video footage from the preceding Sunday evening. Unfortunately, while the system had two interior cameras, there were no exterior devices. But I’d see what I could glean from watching what had taken place inside the bar. What time had Cormac and Miranda left my shop? Eight-thirty, maybe? I selected the feed from the camera designated in the system as BAR CAM, and started the clip at eight p.m. Although the camera was positioned over the cash register, the lens offered a wide-angle view of the entire bar. Isabella appeared to be single-handedly holding down the fort. I forwarded through the footage at four times actual speed until the front door opened and Cormac and Miranda entered. Miranda carried her jar of wild blackberry shine carefully, one hand on the lid, the other supporting the bottom. Cormac’s jar of cherry shine hung loosely from his hand, as he gripped the aluminum lid with his fingers. As Miranda headed behind the bar to the stockroom, Cormac slid his jar of moonshine onto the counter next to the cash register, circled around the bar, and picked up the television remote. He aimed it at the large-screen TV mounted on the side wall, turning the program from a news station to ESPN.

  A man stepped up to the bar and placed an order. After scooping ice into a lowball glass, Cormac grabbed a bottle of scotch from the shelf behind him and poured its remaining contents into the glass. It was barely enough to wet the ice cubes. He held up a finger to signal the man that he’d be right back and headed for the stockroom, passing Miranda, who was on her way out. Miranda spotted the jar of cherry shine next to the register, picked it up, and slid it onto the shelf behind the bar next to the bottle of Backwoods Bootleggers moonshine. If that’s the jar that was used to kill O’Keefe, Miranda would have an explanation for why her prints were on it. In other words, she’d have plausible deniability. Still, I didn’t know whether Cormac’s jar of cherry shine was the one used to kill him. Cormac had been able to snatch his complimentary jar off a shelf in my shop the night of my grand opening without my knowledge. The Ken doll frat boy had stolen a jar of shine without me noticing, too. Maybe they weren’t the only ones who’d taken moonshine without me knowing.

  On the screen, Cormac came out of the back room with a full bottle of scotch to replace the one he’d emptied. As he unscrewed the cap and poured another finger of scotch into the man’s glass, Miranda joined Isabella in tending to the patrons at the tables. With it being a Sunday evening, there were few people in the place. In the periphery of the video, the front door opened and in walked Ashlynn. Gage Tilley followed her, lugging the jug of Granddaddy’s Ole-Timey Corn Liquor he’d taken away from my party. Miranda waited at the bar, watching Cormac fix drinks for the customers at her tables. When he set them on her tray, she smiled, leaned over the bar, and pecked him on the cheek.

  Although the camera recorded no sound, it was evident from the way Ashlynn’s mouth came open and the snap of the customers’ heads in her direction that she’d issued nothing short of a banshee war cry. Her mouth flapped. While I couldn’t read lips, from the enraged expression on her face it seemed entirely possible she’d threatened to end Cormac’s life, that she’d hollered You’re a dead man as Miranda claimed. Ashlynn charged the bar like an offensive lineman vying for an MVP award. As she reached the counter, she swung her arm, fingers splayed, and swiped at Cormac in an attempt to scratch his eyes out. Cormac jerked back, jostling the bottles on the shelves behind him. Unable to get to Cormac, Ashlynn pivoted and set her sights on a more accessible target. Miranda. I had to hand it to Miranda. She had quick reflexes. She raised a loose fist and managed to deflect the backhanded slap Ashlynn aimed at her cheek. Rather than intervene, Cormac cowered behind the bar. Meanwhile, Gage Tilley stood stock-still in the middle of the room, stunned by what he was witnessing.

  Over the next few seconds, Ashlynn slapped and clawed at Miranda, while Miranda attempted to shield herself and evade her attacker. Tilley ditched his jug of corn liquor on a table and attempted to intercede, but when Ashlynn landed a solid slap on his cheek, he reflexively stepped aside, raising a hand to his face. Miranda turned to run and Ashlynn seized the moment, reaching out to grab her by the hair. Yanking Miranda by her honey-hued mane, Ashlynn dragged her out the door. Tilley could be seen hollering at Cormac and pointing out the door, imploring Cormac to stop the brawl. Cormac merely shrugged. If there’d been a camera outside, it would have shown Marlon rushing over from my grand opening to pull the two women apart.

  I paused the feed. Had Ashlynn been serious? Or had her death threat been mere bluster? I relaxed ba
ck on the sofa to ponder the matter. You’re a dead man was the kind of hyperbole someone would blurt out when overcome with emotion. Maybe Ashlynn settled down once she had some time to think about things. Then again, maybe her fury festered and she came back for Cormac Friday night, made it look like a robbery. Let’s see what the camera recorded at closing the night Cormac was killed. I leaned in again and plugged in the date and time parameters. A fresh feed popped up, starting at one a.m. Saturday morning. Cormac stood behind the bar, loading glasses into a dishwasher situated under the counter. Only a handful of customers sat at the tables.

  The front door opened, and Gage Tilley strode in wearing his usual pocketed cargo pants and red Backwoods Bootleggers uniform shirt. After a quick visit to the men’s room, he approached the bar with a jovial smile. He said something to Cormac, who in turn called out to Ashlynn. Once again, she was wearing a peasant blouse with elasticized wrists. She looked their way and gave a nod. Cormac dried his hands on the bar towel hanging over his shoulder and lifted the bar flap to let Tilley through. Tilley followed Cormac behind the bar to his office at the other end. Cormac opened the door and the two disappeared inside. A couple of minutes later, Tilley emerged, leaving the office door open behind him. He took long, quick strides behind the bar and had nearly reached the pass-through when he suddenly stopped and dropped down next to the shelves of glasses under the bar, his back to the camera. His elbows and shoulders moved, and he stood again. He circled around through the bar flap and strode to the door in a half dozen long steps. He seemed to be in a hurry. Given the late hour, maybe he just wanted to get home. Heck, I was exhausted working only until nine in the evening. I couldn’t imagine working bar hours, not arriving home until three or four in the morning.

  Tilley pushed the door open and stalked out into the dark night. Through the open doorway, I caught a glimpse of the words MOONSHINE SHACK glowing on my shop across the street. Curious, I dragged the timeline back to watch the footage again. What was Tilley doing when he bent down behind the bar? Had he dropped something and gone to pick it up? Maybe his car keys or some pocket change? Though I watched the feed a second time, with Tilley’s back to the camera, obscuring the view, I couldn’t tell.

  A few minutes after Tilley left, the five frat boys who’d been in my shop came into the bar. With the Moonshine Shack closed at this late hour, I supposed they felt comfortable returning to this stretch of Market Street. Or maybe they’d bar-hopped their way around the area and were now making their way back to their frat house. Rather than take seats at a table, they bellied up to the bar, sliding onto stools. Cormac lifted his chin in casual acknowledgment as if he recognized the boys. He stepped over, pulled the towel from his shoulder to wipe down the bar top in front of them, and flipped it back over his shoulder before taking their order. The Ken doll placed his order first, signifying he was top dog in their pack. The others nodded and flapped their mouths.

  Judging from the fact that Cormac grabbed the bottle of Backwoods Bootleggers moonshine off the shelf, the boys must have ordered moonshine and, judging from the fact that he demanded payment up front, Cormac must not have trusted these boys not to drink and dash. He was smarter than me in that regard. Cormac set the bottle down to make change for them. The financial transaction complete, he proceeded to fill their drink order. He filled five highball glasses with ice and lined the glasses up in front of the boys. After pouring a jigger of moonshine in each glass, he used the soda gun to add cola, the bubbles forming a foamy head.

  For the next few minutes, the boys drank and joked around. The moonshine thief turned backward on his stool and eyed Ashlynn as she moved about the room. He used his elbow to nudge Short-’n’-Stocky, who was sitting next to him, and angled his head to indicate the curvy server. As she approached the bar with a tray of empty glasses, he reached out and grabbed her by the arm. He said something to her, an inappropriate proposition no doubt. She pulled out of his grip and said something back. Once she’d passed the boys, she rolled her eyes and pressed her lips together, clearly annoyed. She wasn’t the only one annoyed, either. Cormac had seen the interaction from the other end of the counter. He sailed down the bar and snapped at the Ken doll. The kid raised his palms in innocence and appeared to issue an apology. His buddies laughed, much as they had when leaving my store with their contraband moonshine. Once Cormac turned his back, the boy made a lewd motion with his hand, a stupid move on his part as the back of the bar was lined with mirrors. Cormac whipped back around and pointed at the door. The boys downed the remainder of their drinks and hustled en masse to the door. The Ken doll cast a glance back before heading out, his narrowed eyes sending daggers in Cormac’s direction. If looks could kill.

  I watched the rest of the video to see if it would provide more clues. Unfortunately, it didn’t. The other customers finished their drinks and left. None paid special attention to Cormac or the cash register. Soon, it was closing time. While Cormac loaded dirty glasses into the under-counter dishwasher, Ashlynn and Isabella wiped down the tables and placed the chairs atop them. Isabella took off, but Ashlynn remained to sweep and mop the floor. When she finished, she called out to Cormac, who stood behind the bar, restocking the shelves with bottles he’d rounded up from the storeroom. She raised a hand in goodbye as she passed out of the bar and into the back room, but as soon as she was out of his sight, she rotated her hand and curled back all of her fingers but the middle one, flipping him the bird. Doesn’t quite look like she’d forgiven him, after all. Ashlynn gathered her purse from her locker and went out the back door by herself. Cormac didn’t even have the decency to see her safely to her car. What had she and Miranda seen in him?

  Alone in the bar, Cormac turned the key on top of the cash register and pushed a button to open the drawer. He counted bills out onto the counter, stacking them by denomination, before separating out enough to begin business the following day. He turned back to the register, tapped a few keys, and printed out a paper tape. He read the tape, placed it on the counter next to the cash, and proceeded to count the cash a second time. He hesitated for a moment when he finished, standing still as if in thought. Had he noticed a discrepancy between the amount of cash that should be on hand versus the actual amount in the till? It wouldn’t be unusual for the count to be off by a little. Humans were prone to error, especially when rushed, and the bar would have been busy that night. Perhaps the amount of the variance had been big enough to give him pause.

  Lifting the divided drawer tray, he retrieved a business-sized envelope from underneath it, slid the majority of the bills inside, and tucked the envelope into the back pocket of his jeans. He went to his office and placed the small amount of cash he’d separated out into the safe.

  He returned to the bar, reached under it with both hands, and pulled out a plastic bin filled with empty liquor bottles that had been haphazardly tossed into it. He carried the bin to the stockroom and set it on the floor by the back door. After punching in a code on the keypad to activate his alarm, he picked the recycling bin up again and left through the back door, alone. Through the open doorway, I got a glimpse of a sporty blue car, presumably Cormac’s. The side of a large rolling recycling bin was visible, too. But no other person appeared on the screen. If whoever attacked Cormac was out there waiting for him, they’d had the sense to stay out of sight. The door swung slowly shut, blocking any view to the outside. If only we could see what happened on the other side of that door.

  The images on the screen remained unchanging now, though the timer at the bottom told me that time continued to pass. I sped up the feed until the crime scene technicians entered the front door shortly after four a.m. to collect evidence and secure the scene. I stopped the feed and stared at the unmoving image. That was when I noticed a critical detail. Cormac’s jar of Firefly cherry moonshine was no longer on the shelf. It had been moved, but when? And to where? Could it have been in the recycle bin Cormac carried out? I reversed the feed to the point where he pull
ed the bin out from under the counter and paused the screen, taking a close look, but with the bottles being so jumbled, it was impossible to tell if the jar of cherry shine was among them. It didn’t appear to be on top, but it could have been buried under the others. By then, it was nearly time for me to get ready for work. I didn’t have time to track the jar. But I do have time to check one more thing . . .

  The fact that Cormac had hesitated after looking at the cash register tape and counting the bills told me that he might have realized something was off, that the figures didn’t reconcile. I remembered my suspicion from when I’d gone to Limericks to deliver the moonshine. I’d thought I might have seen Ashlynn pilfering from the till. Time to find out if I saw what I thought I did.

  I started the feed just after five o’clock last Monday. Cormac and Ashlynn were going through the usual motions, opening the bar. In I came, rolling the dolly, the man I now knew as Damien Sirakov on my heels. I slowed the speed to one-quarter real time and focused on Ashlynn. Sure enough, just after she straightened the bottle on the shelf, she folded some bills and surreptitiously slid them up her sleeve, making them disappear. Abracadabra!

  Could Cormac have realized Ashlynn was stealing from him? Could she have still been out back when he left the bar? Could the two have had a violent confrontation? Could this information exonerate me?

  Chapter Fourteen

  I retrieved my purse, pulled Ace’s business card from it, and dialed her direct number. After identifying myself, I said, “I saw some things on the Limericks security camera feed.”

  She paused a moment. “How do you know the place has cameras, and how did you access the feed?”

  Uh-oh. I guess I wasn’t supposed to know about the video cameras. But I couldn’t help it if I’d stumbled across the information, could I? I told her how I’d found the entry in Cormac’s bookkeeping records from when he’d bought the system. “I tried the same login and got lucky.”