My Name Is Ed
Chapter 14

Copyright© 2018 by MysteryWriter

“So what are you going to do now that you are not chasing mysterious lovers,” John asked.

“I’m going back to babysitting my worms,” I said. I do plan to put in a few more beds, I might cross breed some. You know market my own personal variety,” I said.

“You may be my dad but you are so full of shit,” John said.

“I can’t believe you are so disrespectful,” I said with a laugh. “Don’t worry son something will come along to keep me busy. It always has.”

True to my word I spent the morning feeding and watering the worms, then I drove the SUV to the local sawmill where, if you know someone you can still buy slabs. Just in case you didn’t know a slab is the first cuts made when the square off a round tree.

Sawmills used to burn the slabs but they found out in the last few year that people like me were willing to pay for them. We don’t pay a lot, but its better than burning them. I used the mills power to cut them to length so they more or less fit into the back of the SUV. Then I drove them home carefully. Once I was home, I spent the rest of the day building new worm beds.

The farm boasted two different kinds of bait worms at that moment. One was the red wiggler famous everywhere as fish bait. I also stocked a night crawler. It was more a big fish bait, as in bass and catfish around where I lived.

I was already harvesting the beds in rotation, so adding extra beds meant I had extra product to sell. Because of the tree huggers I was forced to learn about the value of worms to garden soil. Yes I sold fish bait but I wasn’t against selling worms for composting purposes, I really didn’t suggest worms as pets, but I did learn how to make worm farms.

I figured I would eventually learn all there was worth knowing about worms. The worms took up the ‘under the house’ space. Since I didn’t have any real use for it anyway, that was a fine use for it. Everyday I threw my used coffee ground, and vegetable waste into the beds. I was told the worms especially loved the coffee grounds.

People started to stop by my place to buy worms. I wasn’t sure how I felt about it, but since most all of the ‘house’ customers were friends, I didn’t discourage them.

It was a couple of days after Linda’s removal from any suspicion in the beat down of her ex husband Barry. I thought it made Barry appear to be the ass that he was so it all worked out. I even made a new friend. Lois stopped by that morning to give me the news about Linda. I already had the news but she also brought donuts from the Donut Palace which were the best ones in town. At least that was my opinion, and most of the other cops as well.

I provided my terribly Bitter coffee. She didn’t know about my coffee, since she had never been to coffee at my place. I even provided her a hoodie sweat shirt so we could sit on my deck, the one which stuck out over the river, so the view was peaceful.

“You know if you built a fire in that metal bowl thing, this would almost be romantic,” Lois said.

“Not a chance. I would never get romantic with a cop. A man could get hurt making love to a woman with a gun,” I said.

“I see what your ex wife said about your missing parts is true,” Lois joked.

“She would know, she wears them as earrings,” I replied.

“I brought the donuts as a bribe,” Lois said.

“My price is more than a donut,” I said.

“I can get all the sex I want without a bribe,” she said. “I came to see what you know about the moonshine business.”

“Lois honey, I know less than nothing,” I said.

“Well, I was told that you were a bootlegger,” she said next.

“You can hear anything, if you listen to everything,” I said.

“So you never ran liquor to the gulf coast,” Lois asked.

I raised my right hand and said, “Scout’s honor I never ran liquor to the gulf coast, or anywhere else. Anyone who said I did is telling lies, Why I have no idea. I promise you I am a worm rancher, a retired cop, and now and then I help my son out. Other than that I am dead broke.”

“I thought it was strange that a guy like you would be a bootlegger,” she said.

“What kind of guy am I?” I asked.

“A member of AA,” she said.

“And a recovering alcoholic,” I admitted. “I stay as far away from alcohol as possible.”

“I know Ed. I heard all about you and alcohol. I’m not looking to jam anyone up. I’m just looking for information. I’d like to know, who the new player in town is?” she asked.

“What new player is that?” I asked.

“I got no idea that’s why I’m here,” she said. “Some of the club owners say somebody is putting out shine year round. That amounts to a lot of alcohol,” she said.

“Yes it does,” I said.

“Would you ask around for me?” she requested.

“Afraid not honey. I stopped all that when I hung up the badge. If I help a friend out, it’s usually not in the Sheriff’s department’s best interest,” I explained honestly.

“Then you are not a friend of the Sheriff’s department after all,” she said.

“I’m not a friend, and not an enemy. I’m Switzerland when it comes to the law. I won’t break it, but I won’t narc on those who do. That is unless it’s someone like Barry Abrams. Him I will narc on with a smile. You wouldn’t even have to pay me. I just don’t know anything.”

 
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