Page 26 of Stronger Than Blood

Chapter twenty-four

Mick

There was a case of whiskey bottles that were simply labeled, ‘Very old whiskey,’ and some said, ‘Very good whiskey.’ There were also a lot of bottles that I assumed were local moonshine, but it would take someone besides me to figure that out.

“This… this is amazing. You think he was running liquor during prohibition?” I asked.

He laughed, “I don’t think your Uncle Eddie was that old, also, from what I can tell, most of this stuff is before that time. Jack Daniels moved out of Tennessee in 1910 ’cause the state instituted its own prohibition, so those were before then. Then, in 1920, prohibition was all over the country.”

“How do you know all that?” I asked, and Rory laughed again.

“Well, my great-grandma was a teetotaler herself, very dedicated to the abolition of all things alcohol. My great-grandpa, however, was very dedicated to his still up in the hills of the farm. My grandpa used to laugh when he’d tell me about the wars that erupted between the two.”

“And you? You learned from him?”

He shook his head. “No, I was just interested in how a Black landowner back during that time was able to avoid the revenuers. I was interested in the history, so I researched it and learned that the Black drunks tended to be a lot better at keeping their mouths shut when drunk and arrested than the White folks did. It was such a fascinating time, and I do like a shot of whiskey myself from time to time, so I learned what I could.”

“And you think all this is legit?” I asked, still overwhelmed by the find.

“Oh, I’d put money on it, and, from the look of those mason jars, I’d say your uncle did a little of his own distilling too."

"They do look sorta new,” I said, looking at the jars on the bottom shelf of one wall of the safe.

“Wanna bet that we’ll find that still if we dig a little more?” he asked.

I didn’t know. The truth was, I had no way to know. “Wasn’t it dangerous to use a still inside? I thought that’s why all of them hid their stills in the hills.”

“Probably, but let’s go check out the rest of the store. I have a feeling there are some more fun finds to be had.”

There was nothing under the remaining trash except more trash. But in our haste to see what might be there, we managed to finish cleaning out the back room. Tomorrow, when the new dumpster arrived, I figured we’d at least have one floor finished. Now, we had to face the top floor and basement.

When Madam Bellamy showed up much later in the day, we were finishing up, and Rory asked if he could show her the stash. Which, of course, why not? The government would probably seize it anyway since I was sure most of it was acquired when it was illegal to own it.

Madam laughed when she saw it. “Your uncle enjoyed this more than you know. I think he loved watching you inching closer to his secret.”

“Yeah, a secret I don’t know how to deal with.”

“Oh, don’t be discouraged. I’m sure it’ll all work out. But I’d keep it under lock and key!” she said.

“I just wish I knew the combination—”

Just then, she looked up and smiled before nodding.

“Your uncle is pointing at a pile of papers over in the corner of the safe,” she said.

I quickly got up, and after locating the ones she meant, I looked, and damn if there wasn’t a piece of torn paper there that had what I assumed was the safe’s combination.

“Well, I’ll be,” I said and chuckled inwardly at how country I sounded with the old saying. “At least I can keep it secure until I get it all figured out.”

“Do you have an attorney you can call about all this?” Rory asked, and I immediately thought of Jonah, the attorney who’d recently moved to town.

“Yeah, in fact, let me give him a call.”

“No, not yet,” Madam said and looked back to where she had indicated she had seen my uncle. “Your Uncle Eddie wants you to toast the find. I think it means something to him.”

“Um, okay,” I said. ”But what should we drink?”

Madam Bellamy stood and walked over to one of the newer jars, picking it up. She appeared to be checking with my uncle’s ghost and then smiled. “This is the one he wants us to drink.”

The label on the bottle said Popcorn’s Last Run to the Creek.

“What do you think that means?” I asked, and she shrugged.

“My guess is Popcorn was the moonshiner, but I don’t know. Would be worth doing some research, though.”

“You don’t think this’ll kill us, do you?” I asked, looking warily at the jar.

Madam looked over at the wall and laughed. “Your uncle’s saying it’s no more likely to kill you than anything else.”

“I think we should give it a try,” Rory said. He walked over to the wall where the mason jar was sitting and opened a box that held four shot glasses. “Wow, fancy, Uncle Eddie,” he said, and Madam chuckled like the ghost was being silly.

“He’s happy. It bothered him that this lay hidden, and he was afraid you’d sell the place and someone else would get ahold of it.”

“It’s his legacy,” I said and got nods from both Rory and Madam Bellamy.

I took the glasses to the sink, washed them out as best I could, and brought them back with me.

I placed them on a big wooden barrel that sat in the middle of the room and wondered if it was full of whiskey.

It was certainly heavy enough. Madam Bellamy poured each of us a shot of the clear liquid.

She looked at the place I assumed Uncle Eddie was and lifted her glass.

“Here’s to your Uncle Eddie. May the spirits be ever with you. ”

We called out “Here, here” and each downed the moonshine. “I’ve had my fair share of shine growing up. It was common among my mom’s friends, especially in Chattanooga, but this is too smooth to be shine. This is almost mellow.”

Rory licked his lips and nodded. “Yeah, moonshine is supposed to be drunk green. That way it has a kick to it. This is aged, which is why it’s so mellow. Good too.”

I leaned back and sighed happily. “You know, I was afraid my uncle was going to have money or something from a famous bank robbery. I mean, this was illegal, too, but at least it’s a Tennessee legacy.”

I could almost hear my uncle laughing. “Can you ask him if he kept a still?” I asked and looked at Rory, who I knew was anxious to know.

“No, he’s shaking his head. Apparently, your uncle was a middleman,” Madam said.

“Wait, was this used as a speakeasy?” I asked, and again, it was as if I could hear my uncle laughing.

“Yes,” Madam said. “I think the people he trusted met here.”

“When it was a bank?” I asked, beginning to feel a little buzz even though I’d only had one shot.

“No, the bank closed before that and moved its operations to Chattanooga.”

“Wait, can you hear him?” I asked, confused because earlier it seemed like she couldn’t.

“Sometimes, but it’s more in my head than hearing him speak. He’s excited right now, so his energy is up, and it’s easier to know what he’s saying.”

“So, what is all this worth?” I asked.

She shrugged. “He said a million dollars to him, but he doesn’t know ’cause he never had it assessed. He’s been collecting this over the years. Apparently, his dad was in the business for a while too, except he got out when it started getting dangerous.”

“Really?” she asked and said, “According to your uncle, Al Capone even hid out in these parts. I guess further east was his biggest hideout, but there were several sympathizers here as well.”

“I mean, that makes sense why someone would be concerned,” I said.

Madam Bellamy poured each of us another shot, and I almost said no, but how often do you get to hang out in a speakeasy with your deceased uncle who was a bootlegger and listen to stories about Al Capone, so I cheered the toast to new beginnings and happy endings and sighed as the smooth heat coated my throat.