Moonshine by Oliver Tess

Author:Oliver, Tess [Oliver, Tess]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: Sugartree Press
Published: 2015-05-17T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter 9

JACKSON

The white facade of the federal style mansion loomed down over the rolling green lawn. I took a moment to admire the building with its hipped roof, brick chimneys and array of six-over-six windows. It was a popular style home on this side of the river, a balanced but different version of the common Georgian style. The house belonged to Clarence Albert, a prominent lobbyist, a somewhat controversial figure on the Hill.

Mr. Albert had grown very fond of Walter’s corn whiskey, and with his connections, he didn’t worry much about having me walk right up his brick lined driveway and past the gleaming white balustrades of his front porch to deliver my crates. I’d been leery of rolling my illegal goods up his driveway in broad daylight. He might have been safe from the law, but I wasn’t. He’d assured me I was under his protection when I was on his property. I had no choice except to take him at his word.

The normal routine was to leave the crate just inside the back gate of his yard. I reached over, opened the latch and pushed the gate open. The backyard was shaded with cherry trees that would have been dripping with white and pink blossoms just a month before. A maze of perfectly trimmed boxwood lined a brick path to the back of the house. The screen door opened, and Mr. Albert stepped out in a blue dress shirt with a contrasting white collar. The buttons on the shirt strained over his barrel chest. Without his hat, his hair looked especially sparse on top. His thin black moustache flicked with a grin as he strolled across his back lawn. “Just leave it there. I’ll have my butler carry it down to the cellar later.” He stopped in front of me. The short, quick walk across the grass had left him slightly breathless. “I’ve been thinking, J.J.—” He stopped to catch his breath. I’d shortened my name to initials while I was working. I figured no one needed to know my name.

“Having to deal with this man, Griggs, leaves a sour taste in my mouth,” he continued. “His reputation in this town, as I’m sure you know, is not good. He’s a cutthroat and a racketeer, and, frankly, as much as I like my whiskey, having to deal with Griggs leaves a bitter aftertaste. Now, I’ve asked around and I understand that you are not just the runner but you are the connection to those sweet jars of honey you just left at my gate.” He pulled out a cigar and offered me one as well. “What do you say about working up a deal to cut out our rather unsavory middleman? More profit for you and your brilliant spirit maker. I can keep the revenuers off your back, and you can replace that old jalopy of yours with something more suitable to a first class runner like yourself. What do you think? I can get you more clients as well.

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