Long Holler Road - A Dark Southern Thriller by David Lee Malone Read Free Book Online

ventilated and probably cooler in the summer.
      Snake’s clothes hung neatly on an old cast-iron pipe that ran across the entire room and to my surprise, the room was fairly clean and neat. My attention was immediately drawn to his wardrobe. I was expecting maybe two pairs of overalls, a couple of shirts and some sort of Sunday pants. Instead, to my utter dismay, there were four or five nice dress shirts, at least that many pairs of dress pants and two sports jackets. There were even a couple of nice ties draped across the jackets. I couldn’t imagine any scenario or event that would cause Snake to put on any kind of dress clothes, especially a tie.
      “These are some nice duds, Snake,” I said, never taking my eyes off them.  “Where in the world did you get these?”
      “I can’t tell you. I promised somebody I wouldn’t never tell. But they was give to me,” he answered, smiling proudly.
      I was wondering if he was being honest. But I didn’t believe Snake would ever steal from anybody. Old Hugh had plenty of faults, but being a thief wasn’t one of them, and he would have beaten Snake within an inch of his life if he ever caught him stealing.
      Glenn spoke up, “Well, here’s what we wanted to talk to you about, Snake. We was hopin’ you’d let us help you out some when you go and work for Miss Harper. We don’t want to get paid or anything. Just help you out a little on days when we’ve not got work of our own to do. You know, just to keep you company.”
      Snake seemed pleased that we would want to hang out with him. I don’t believe he was smart enough to realize we had an ulterior motive.
      “Well, I’ve gotta mow her yard Saturday. She’s got two mowers and I could shore git done a lot quicker. I’d give you part of my wages.”
      “No, we wouldn’t want you to do that,” I told him. “We just thought we could help you out a little bit, and you know, just  hang out with you. We really don’t know Mr. and Mrs. Harper very well. It might be a good way to get to know them better, too.”
      “Mr. Harper ain’t never there much,” Snake replied, “but I usually start mowin’ as soon as the dew is off the grass Saturday mornin’. If you wanna help me, just meet me at her driveway ‘bout nine o’clock.”
     
     
     
     
    CHAPTER SEVEN
                               
      Scooter Davis had been running a successful chop-shop since he’d quit school in the ninth grade. His father before him had also run a chop-shop, as well as bootlegging, and his grandfather had been one of the most famous bootleggers in the south, making a small fortune during prohibition. In other words, the Davis family hadn’t earned a penny legally in several generations, if ever. The current sheriff, as well as other sheriff’s before him, had always had full knowledge of the Davis’s exploits, and as a result had managed to maintain a pretty good second income, besides their families always receiving very nice Christmas gifts.
      “Our old buddy really gave us a good one this time,” Scooter told Rick, his partner. “’57 Corvette’s don’t turn up everyday. Especially in mint condition like this one.”
      Scooter had never met the man who had been setting up these late night business transactions. He really didn’t care who he was as long as he kept up his occasional supply of nice cars like the one Rick had just started working on. His instructions were simple. He would receive a call about thirty minutes before the car was ready to be picked up. It was almost always within a half mile of the same spot, so he would pull his truck with the eighteen foot long enclosed bed on a small dirt road that was rarely ever used. The bed of his truck had ramps that pulled out easily, and the cars were driven up the ramp and into the truck. If for some reason the car didn’t run or if there was no key, there was a winch, powered by a powerful electric motor mounted inside