Moonshine, Coal, and Hope

by Richard Allen Evans

  Luttrell sat down in desk chair. He put his head in his hands and wept openly. “God forgive me,” he wailed.

  Bob and John looked at each other while Ed walked over to the desk and leaned across it.

  “You’re runnin’ out of time,” he said.

  Luttrell suddenly reached and opened his top right desk drawer. He reached for...nothing.

  “I told you hotshot, you’re not smarter than me,” Ed said as he dangled a Navy Colt .32 revolver over Luttrell’s head. The prosecutor now looked thoroughly defeated.

  “Nobody else will see those pictures?” He asked.

  “Welllll...a few people will, but we’ll do our best to keep it from the public,” Ed said.

  “Your family will be spared the added humiliation,” John said.

  “But you will me help bring down a network of corrupt politicians — startin’ right now,” Bob said as he pulled out his note pad and a pencil.

  “What about the phone call?” Luttrell asked.

  “I’ll make the call,” Bob said as he picked up the candlestick phone on the desk.

  “Start rattlin’ off names,” Cotton said.

  Luttrell gave him a list of no fewer than thirty—seven names, including five judges, three sheriffs — including the sheriffs of Fuson and Evans counties, three prosecutors, two state senators, and three state representatives, and one congressman.

  “All of them are paid off by the Milner family?” Bob asked.

  “Yes,” Luttrell said.

  “You have proof?” Bob asked.

  “The ledger has documented dates and amounts that in most cases will correspond with bank deposits,” Luttrell said.

  “Why did you document that?” John asked.

  Luttrell looked astonished that he asked the question.

  “In the event I might need the information one day,” he said as Ed laughed.

  “I wonder whatever for?” He asked.

  “Is there anyone who will verify your claims?” Bob asked.

  “Only the people you already have the goods on,” Luttrell said.

  “You mean like Joe?” Bob asked.

  The prosecutor looked down and nodded.

  “Yes,” he said.

  “Why did old man Milner get a wild hair up his ass about me?” Ed asked.

  Luttrell shrugged.

  “You had something he wanted. He saw you making big money and growing powerful. Jeff Milner is not a man to play second fiddle to many people — and he refuses to do so in his own backyard. He wanted to take over your operation,” he said.

  “He wanted to be the only bull in the barn,” John said.

  “Greed. Just greed,” Bob said.

  “What about Lee? What have you got on him?” Ed asked.

  Luttrell smiled.

  “Outside of him knowing about the payoffs and obstructing — he confessed to me that he murdered Elmer Elkins — but it’s just my word against his. He’s a thug and an ape but he covers his tracks well. Lee may well be the smartest of the bunch,” he said.

  “Did he ever deliver a payoff?” Bob asked.

  “No. It was always Joe,” Luttrell said.

  “And he had his reasons for that,” Ed said as walked over to the window.

  “It’s not like that...at least not at first. Things just...happened,” Luttrell said.

  “How does shit like that just happen?” Ed asked.

  Luttrell lowered his head again. Unbothered by his criminal activities and betrayal of the public trust, he displayed genuine shame concerning his underage trysts. He merely shook his head.

  “I know you don’t believe me but...if my wife finds out...,” Luttrell’s voice trailed off.

  “Think she’ll kill you?” Ed asked with a smirk.

  “I’m afraid she’ll kill herself. The shame will be too much for her to bear...and my children...God help them with what they’ll face,” Luttrell said.

  “Just stick your word about testifyin’ about the Milners and corrupt politicians and they don’t have to know this...sickening truth. But break any part of your word and the world will see every picture. And I’ll be sure your family sees them first,” Ed said. “You helped that bunch of assholes try to ruin me. You hurt a lot of people who did nothin’ to anybody. So yeah, you’re gonna pay and you’re gonna help see they pay.”

  “And in case you decide to run or say, fall on your own sword, the same deal applies. Your family will experience humiliation you cannot begin to comprehend. You were gonna target me and my family. You’re gonna answer for that too,” John said.

  A defeated looking Luttrell put up his hands.

  “I understand,” he said.

  “How much did the Milners pay each week?” Bob asked.

  “Fifteen hundred dollars plus bonuses. I was also promised a five thousand bonus if I could get you confess or turn yourself in,” Luttrell said to Ed.

  “How much total did they pay you — at least to date?” Bob asked.

  “Roughly $153,000,” Luttrell said.

  “And where is that money now?” Bob asked.

  Luttrell smiled.

  “You don’t need to know,” he said.

  “A nest egg after a prison term,” John said.

  Luttrell nodded.

  “I’ve gotta get something out of this,” he said.

  “How about staying alive asshole?” Cotton asked.

  “The money is in a bank account in Lexington under the name of my late father.

  “Write down the account number and any other information needed to get to it,” Ed said and Luttrell complied.

  “Okay. That ought to do it,” Bob said.

  Luttrell nodded and stood up. He walked to the door and stuck his head outside.

  “Marshall Ryland, could you please come in here?” He asked as the deputy U.S. Marshall stood and walked in, followed closely by the camera—toting Cotton, who closed the door behind him.

  Luttrell held out both hands with his fists clenched so tightly his knuckles turned white.

  “Marshall, I’m turning myself in. This is written confession to accepting bribes and obstructing justice. I’m sure the special prosecutor will gladly add more charges. And this is my resignation as a U.S. Attorney,” he said as he handed a folded piece of paper to the lawman.

  The marshal, Woodrow “Wood” Ryland, a slim blonde man in his late twenties, looked at Luttrell quizzically.

  “Do what?” He asked.

  “I...am turning myself in. It’s all in those papers,” Luttrell said through gritted teeth.

  Another d eputymarshal, David Cord, stepped over, looking just as confused as Ryland.

  “Let me see those papers,” he said.

  Cord read over each paper, his lips pursed and eyes widening every few seconds.

  Cord was taller, broader, and slightly older than Ryland. He had dark brown hair and blue eyes.

  “It appears he’s serious. Arrest him,” Cord said.

  Ryland pulled out his cuffs and snapped them on Luttrell’s wrists as Cotton snapped pictures.

  “Mr. Luttrell, you’re under arrest. I’m taking you to the county jail until I’m told to transport you somewhere else,” Ryland said.

  “I’ll call Marshall Hagen. I’m sure he’ll want to get the FBI involved,” Cord said. “Until then, I want everybody out of here and don’t take anything with you when you leave.”

  “I’m a staffer,” said a slim man who looked a great deal like a high school student.

  “You’re unemployed. Leave. Now,” Cord said

  Ryland marched Luttrell to the door and the secretary gasped as the other marshal’s eyes widened when Ryland led Luttrell from the office in cuffs.

  The four men emerged from the office almost unnoticed with the rest of the people from the office as all eyes followed the marshal leading the now former federal prosecutor out in handcuffs.

  ***

  Lee saw the small crowd gathering near the building Luttrell had commandeered for his Cry
stal Springs office. He watched as Luttrell got into the back seat of a black Ford as one of the men he knew to be a deputy U.S. Marshall joined him. As the car pulled away, Lee hurried toward the office. He noticed several marshals milling about outside ushering onlookers away.

  Something wasn’t right.

  One agent — Carl Welch — a slim man whose sun baked face made him look much older than his thirty—nine years, lit a cigarette. Lee didn’t like him and was pretty sure the feeling was mutual but he approached him anyway.

  “What’s going on Welch?” Lee asked.

  Welch chuckled as he inhaled.

  “You’re not gonna like it — not one damn bit,” he said in a flat Midwestern accent.

  “Tell me what it is and let me decide,” Lee said.

  “Luttrell confessed to accepting bribes. Turned himself in. Ryland is locking him up in the county jail until we get word where to transport the prisoner. Looks like the Elkins investigation is over,” Welch said, flashing a yellow—stained grin.

  Before Lee could respond, a voice to his left caught his attention.

  “You’re finished and so is your family,” Ed said.

  “By this time tomorrow, all of Kentucky will know what your family tried to do to this man,” Bob said.

  Lee shook in rage.

  “Fulton! I should have known! You and that rag you write for have been after my family for a long time. When our lawyers get through with you —,” his words were cut off by the popping flash bulb.

  “Got’cha,” Cotton said.

  Lee started to rush the photographer but Ed and John stepped in his way. He stopped and stared at the two men. As angry as he was, he had no desire to mix it up with an even angrier Ed Elkins.

  “You’ll pay. You’ll all pay!” Lee raged.

  Ed stepped forward and spoke quietly.

  “I made you a promise once and I aim to keep it — now or later, don’t much matter to me. You just need to know you’ve stepped in shit up to your neck and you ain’t gettin’ out of it,” he said.

  “Mr. Milner, you need to move along. You no longer have any business here,” Welch said.

  “You can’t order me to do shit! Don’t you know who I am? I can have your badge by nightfall! I can have all of your badges!” Lee screamed.

  Welch opened his jacket to reveal his revolver and the other agents followed suit.

  “Mr. Milner if you don’t leave now I’ll be forced to act,” Welch said as Lee eyed the handgun.

  “What are you going to do? Arrest me?” Lee asked spitefully.

  “Not at the moment but I figure I somebody will as soon as a warrant is issued,” Welch said.

  Lee blanched. He stared at Welch and shot a passing glance to Ed before he turned to leave, muttering under his breath.

  Welch turned to Ed.

  “This investigation is over but you’re still a bootlegger Mr. Elkins. You know and I know it. My advice is to get out of the business before you get caught. The next U.S. Attorney might be an honest man more worried more about catching you than trying to ruin you,” Welch said.

  “I’ll keep that in mind,” Ed said as Welch turned and walked away, flipping the cigarette butt into the street.

  ***

  Jeff sat behind his desk, too shocked to move. Lee told him everything he knew about Luttrell’s confession and arrest.

  “What did they have on Luttrell that made him confess so quickly?” Jeff asked, more to himself than Lee.

  “I wondered the same thing. But we don’t have time at the moment to worry about a rat in the organization. Federal agents will be here before long. We’re gonna need cash — and lots of it,” Lee said.

  “Where’s your brother?” Jeff asked.

  “I don’t know,” Lee said as walked over to look out the window of the parlor.

  “He’s got to be warned,” Jeff said.

  “No time. They’re coming up the driveway now,” Lee said.

  “Already?” Jeff asked in surprise.

  “Luttrell must’ve spilled his guts,” Lee said.

  Jeff looked around in near panic. He picked up the candlestick telephone and repeatedly clicked the handle.

  “Yes, get me L. Richard Broadrick — and hurry, please,” he said with an edge to his voice. “Yes, this Jeffery Milner, I need to speak to Mr. Broadrick immediately. What do you mean he isn’t in? I don’t care about that. You tell Dick Broadrick if he wants any more of my money he’ll meet me at the Fuson County Jail as soon as his fat ass can get there!”

  As Jeff slammed the phone on his desk, Welch and Deputy Sheriffs Ray Ford and Vic Foster stepped into the parlor.

  Vic was heavy set middle aged man with light brown hair while Ray was about ten years younger, shorter and slimmer with a receding hairline of fine black hair.

  “Jeffery Milner, I have a warrant for your arrest on charges of bribing a federal official and obstruction of justice. Lee James Milner, I have a warrant for your arrest on charges of obstruction of justice,” Welch said as he gestured to the deputies to cuff Jeff and Lee.

  “I also have a warrant for the arrest of Joseph Milner. Is he here?” The marshal asked.

  Lee watched as the deputies cuffed his father, who suddenly looked older than ever.

  “Joe’s not here. Don’t know where he is,” Lee said gruffly.

  “Do you mind if we search the place?” Tom asked.

  “He’s not here,” Lee repeated.

  “Then you shouldn’t mind us taking a look around,” the marshal said as Ray pulled the .38 Special from Lee’s shoulder holster.

  Jeff looked bewildered as one of the deputies’ sat him down.

  “Look all you want. He still ain’t here,” Lee said.

  Jeff looked to Lee. He was pale and appeared to be disoriented.

  “Call Broadrick. Tell him to take care of this immediately,” Jeff said as he appeared to be gasping out the words. “Find your brother. Tell him...,” his voice stopped as he grimaced sharply and collapsed.

  “Dad!” Lee said as he bolted for his unconscious father and away from Ray, who was preparing to cuff him.

  “Call a doctor!” Welch said to Vic, who was closest to Jeff.

  “He’s not breathing!” Lee said as he kneeled over his father.

  “He’s breathin’ Lee — just barely — but he’s breathin’,” Vic said as he struggled to loosen Jeff’s collar and tie.

  “I’ll call Doc Fulton,” Ray said.

  “The hell you will! Get another doctor! That bastard’s not gonna do anything for my father,” Lee said.

  “He’s the only one I know to call,” Ray said.

  “Get somebody else!” Lee snapped.

  “Try Doc Carter,” Vic said as he propped Jeff’s head on a cushion from the couch.

  “Operator, connect me with Dr. Carter and hurry this is an emergency,” Ray said urgently into the mouthpiece of the candlestick phone.

  “Elevate his head more — might help his breathing,” Welch said.

  Lee grabbed another cushion from the scarlet parlor couch as the deputy loosened the top buttons on Jeff’s shirt.

  “Is there a hospital in town?!” Welch asked.

  “No. Closest one is in Corbin. It’d take forty five minutes to get there,” Vic said.

  “Should we load him in the car and go?” Ray asked as Tom weighed the decision. “No, better not. He probably doesn’t need to be moved,” he said.

  “Somebody’s gotta do something!” Lee yelled as he adjusted the cushion under his father’s head.

  “All we can do is wait for help,” Welch said as Ray started describing the emergency.

  As Welch and Vic watched over the man on the floor, Lee stood and backed away slowly. While Ray talked on the phone he didn’t notice Lee back up to the desk and open the top left desk drawer behind his back. He slipped his hand into the drawer and found his father’s Navy Colt .32 revolver.

  Ray looked over to the men kneeling on the floor. “I got through to Doc Car
ter! He’s on his way!” He said excitedly as he held the mouthpiece to his chest.

  Lee raised the revolver and shot Ray in the back of the head at point blank range. He then shot Vic in the back and while Welch reached for his gun, Lee shot him twice in the middle of the chest.

  He retrieved his own pistol from Ray’s waistband and walked over to a portrait on the wall. Lee took the portrait down and took a look at the safe. As he worked the combination lock the house staff looked on in disbelief. Two of the maids wept openly at the carnage in the parlor. Leonard, the longtime Milner family butler, stood nervously.

  “I need a pillow case Leonard,” Lee said calmly.

  “Get it. Now,” the butler said quietly to one of the women, who hurried away. In a few seconds she returned with pale blue pillow case and handed it to the butler, who walked over to Lee.

  “Hold it open,” Lee said calm as Leonard complied.

  Lee shoved stack after stack of one hundred bills into the makeshift sack. After he emptied the safe, Lee took the bag and walked over to his father, who was still unconscious and barely breathing. His lips were blue and his skin was ashen.

  Lee shook his head slowly and pulled his revolver.

  “You shouldn’t have to suffer,” he said with tears in his eyes.

  “Sir please!” Leonard said as Lee hesitated. “He’s not suffering right now. He’s unconscious but he’s still breathing. There’s still a chance he’ll survive.”

  Lee considered his words and put the handgun back its holster.

  “If he lives, see that Dick Broadrick is contacted,” he said as he left the room.

  By the time sirens echoed up the long driveway of the Milner estate, Lee was speeding west to Somerset and his special hiding place.

  ***

  Eight hours later, Cat looked at John. They were standing in the hall outside of Jeff’s bedroom. A deputy sheriff sat guard next to the door.

  “You did everything right. It’s just a matter of waiting now to see if he gets stronger,” he said.

  John started rolling a cigarette.

  “Yeah but what kind of life? If he lives, it likely won’t be long and the rest of his life will be spent in prison — I had a hand in that Cat. No matter what kind of man he is or what he’s done, I had a hand in puttin’ him where he is. Maybe I’d done him a favor by lettin’ him die downstairs,” he said.