The Baptist Bootlegger by Nicholas Lyon

Author:Nicholas Lyon [Lyon, Nicholas]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: historical; historical fiction; vintage; crime; anti-hero; organized crime; prohibition; self-made man; Guthrie; Oklahoma
Publisher: The Wild Rose Press
Published: 2022-08-22T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 27

Nigel

In the hours following the death of the moonshiner, the police tore the man’s house apart. Not that there was much to tear apart, but they couldn’t stop and mourn their fallen soldier, so they worked.

“I want any kind of address book, any name, anything we can use to keep moving forward with this.” Nigel drank a cup of decaf coffee while they worked. He couldn’t quite get the image out of his head of Officer Adams dying in front of him. It wasn’t his first death, of course, but it never got easier to see.

“Sir?” Another young cop, this one barely out of high school, walked up to him holding a shipping label. “I found this attached to one of the boxes. The others look like they may have had them, but this was the only one still attached.”

Nigel read the name and reread it. Edward Young. Wasn’t that the name the old-timer drinking beer in his garage had told him? Edward, yes, that was it. “Thank you. You may have saved the day.”

After phoning Mr. Edward Young, Nigel paid the man a visit. He was surprised to see how small the man was and how much his overly large mustache compensated for that. Still Edward seemed jovial enough when he answered the door.

“Mr. Young, thank you for seeing me.” Nigel sat on a light blue couch facing Edward Young sitting on a replica, an expansive hardwood coffee table between them. Nigel leaned forward, toward the coffee table, while Edward leaned back, legs crossed at the knee, a knowing smirk on his face.

The outside of the house had not told the same tale as the inside. Approaching it, Nigel had thought it belonged to a middle-class, blue-collared family. The inside, however, spoke of wealth, the kind of money that almost became pointless to have.

“Of course, Inspector. I’ve heard a great deal about you in the few days since you came to town.”

The small man wore a sweater vest with various colors waging a war against each other, with the only victim being the man wearing it. Under it he wore a pristine white button down shirt that looked like it had never even sat on a store shelf. Despite his tacky sweater, Edward Young had expensive taste, and apparently, the means to fulfill that taste. Nigel noted a tremor in Edward’s hand as he drank coffee and the two made small talk. Nigel’s own coffee sat on the table, forgotten and turning cold. He’d had enough for the day.

“Mr. Young, do you play poker?”

“Sir?”

“Poker. It’s a bit of a card game. Usually involves money.”

“I know the game.”

“Have you ever played it?”

“I have not. Would you like to? I could get some cards.”

“That’s not necessary. I bring it up because you remind me of a time that I played poker with a friend of mine. He was deft at shuffling, even at keeping track of the cards. However, if he had a good hand, anyone in the room could

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