The Bootlegger’s Legacy Read Free Page B

Joe the letter.
Dear Son,
    I know we’ve had some rocky times, all my fault and I’m sorry. This letter is to let you know that I loved you and you have always meant the world to me. Maybe I didn’t show it the way I should have. It was just easier for me to let your mother handle everything. I was too old to be your typical dad—more like your granddad—but you gave me great joy and made a lot of the things I had done in my life seem okay.
    Since you’re reading this, my time will have come to an end. Don’t overly grieve. I had a good life and have no regrets.
    With this letter you will receive a key. I cannot tell you what this key is for or I will risk other people discovering my secret. I know you may think that I’ve lost my mind and that this letter is nonsense, but trust me, this is important. I know you know I was a bootlegger before I retired and started running the store. Well, son, I was a very successful bootlegger. I stockpiled a shitload of cash. It is waiting for you. You’ll think this is the madness of an old man, but let me assure you, it’s true.
    I couldn’t just give you the money without creating problems. If you can discover what you need to find the cash, you’ll have demonstrated that you’re clever enough to figure out how to use the money without causing problems.
    You may or may not want to pursue this. If you do and you’re successful there will be a big reward. If you decide that this is too crazy and you’re not interested in my farfetched stories, I understand. Just do what you think is best. I only want you to be happy and have a good life.
    I think you are a lot smarter than I ever was, so I’m sure you can figure out what this is about.
    Dad
    P.S. Don’t talk to your mother about this. She’ll just tell you that I always had a screw loose—and she’s right. And remember your path to financial independence goes through Deep Deuce at the St. Francis.
    Mike gave Joe the key.
    Joe sat quietly for a while. He wasn’t sure what to make of any of this. If Mike’s dad had millions to give his son, why make it so difficult?
Dear Son, here is the secret number to a Swiss bank account that has millions for you. Thanks, your Dad.
But this seemed almost crazy—just like Mike had said.
    “How in the hell can you find out what this key is for? Didn’t he tell you any more toward the end?”
    “Well, that’s what I mean. He did tell me more, but it never made any sense. After I got the letter, I was curious. I don’t know. It just went into the back of my brain as some nutty thing my dad did at the end. I wanted to forget the whole thing.”
    “Let’s start over. He told you he had buried millions, right?”
    “That’s what he said, but Joe he was out of his mind—it was just nonsense.”
    “Did you contact the attorney in Dallas?”
    “Nope—didn’t do anything except run the store into the ground and drink a lot.”
    “Did he give you any hints where it might be buried?”
    “Joe, listen to you. You’re starting to believe. It was all nonsense. My father lost his mind before he died. He was just making up stuff. Complete and absolute bullshit.”
    “Stop feeling sorry for yourself—I think this is worth exploring further. After all, you may not believe it, but my dad told me that your dad was once one of the wealthiest men in the city. I always thought he was just joking. Maybe he wasn’t.”
    “Yeah, I heard some of those stories. They never made sense. He was old from my first memories. There was no way him being a bootlegger made sense to me. And we lived okay, but we were sure the hell not rich. Why would we live the way we did if he had millions? He worked his butt off every day in that hardware store, waiting on grumpy old farts who needed a bolt. Why in the hell would you do that if you had millions?”
    “Well, yeah, that’s a fair question. One that I don’t have an answer for. I know it doesn’t make much sense—but there’s something so odd