[The Moonshine Messiah] by Russell W. Johnson

Author:Russell W. Johnson [Johnson, Russell W.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Shotgun Honey Books
Published: 2023-09-03T04:00:00+00:00

24

Mountain Flowers was the best-known titty bar in Southern West Virginia. Its billboards littered the highways south of Beckley, showing a big busted woman with daisy tassels, proclaiming the club’s talent as “West Virginia’s second greatest natural resource,” with coal as the presumptive first. Mary Beth’s stomach turned every time she saw one of those monstrosities, including the one she passed right before pulling into the strip club’s parking lot at speed, gravel flying, as she circled around back where a cluster of trailers overlooked a slurry pond. The folks who came for lap dances went in the front of the club, but Mary Beth knew the real money was made in back, where the patrons could get to know the talent more intimately or pick up a bag of Mamie’s Mounta in Fescue.

She let her siren blare as she exited her vehicle, sending some nervous Johns scrambling for their pickups. They were followed by two armed security guards who were obviously displeased by the interruption. One was older, tall and bald and held a shotgun by his side. The younger one was short but built like a brick wall. He walked with the slow, strained strut of a serious weightlifter, like he was so muscle bound that every step or casual swing of his arms p ained him.

Mary Beth remembered seeing that one wrestle a few years ago, a heavyweight for McCray High who still had the cauliflower ear to prove it. She was sorry to see he’d fallen into this kind of work. Seemed like a good kid. Plus, now he was holding a Glock nine millimeter trained at her forehead, holding it sideways the way they did in the movies, arm all twitchy like it was the first time he’d ever pulled on somebody.

Mary Beth walked straight toward the gun like she hadn’t noticed it, more worried about the goon shooting her by accident than anything else. Once she was within spitting distance, she turned to the tall bald man, head pink and freckled, and said with the most pleasant of smiles, “Hey, Tommy, why don’t you tether your attack dog over here before I rip his nuts off?”

Tommy, who was some manner of cousin, second or third, maybe once or twice removed—Mary Beth was never really sure—nodded to his partner to lower his piece.

“Jesus, Mary. You can’t come storming up here like this. It’s bad for business.”

“Couldn’t be helped,” Mary Beth said. “I need to see Mom.”

Tommy frowned and motioned past the row of trailers to the backdoor of the club. “She’s in th e office.”

He turned to lead the way. The shorter man fell behind, walking with a wide wrestler’s stance until Mary Beth hauled off and kicked him square in the nuts, dropping him like a f lour sack.

The man balled up on the ground, whimpering and gasping for air. Mary Beth chicken-winged his thick arm behind him and took his gun. “Don’t ever point a gun at an officer of the law, dickweed.”

“Goddammit, Mary,” Tommy said.

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