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container of something that might have been bread before nature started making penicillin out of it.
    Using two fingers to minimize exposure to the nasty yuckies, I plucked a soggy magazine off the crate he’d apparently been using as a table. A naked woman wearing only a Santa hat fell out of the mag and spread herself toward the ground. “Ugh!” I dropped the porn mag, centerfold and all, to the sandy ground. “He lives in a box propped up by sticks but he spends money on porn?”
    Cal shifted a filthy pair of jeans aside with his boot. “And your point would be?”
    “Right.” For a moment there I’d been thinking like a woman. All rational and stuff. “Nothing here but a lot of dirt, germs and things that require eye bleach.”
    Cal picked up the jeans and searched the pockets, coming up with a stick of gum and an inexpensive bottle opener. “That’s not exactly true.” He picked through the fire pit just outside Bubba’s tumble-down hut with a long stick. Something flashed. 
    “What was that?” I crouched down beside him, grabbing my own stick. We dug around in the ashes until we saw it. A gold coin, covered in soot but still whole.
    Cal pulled it out of the ash, rubbing it clean with his thumb. He frowned.
    “Why the hell would he try to burn a coin?” I had a sinking feeling, worried that my father’s mind had been fractured in his final days.
    Shoving aside the charred logs, Cal dug into the dirt beneath the fire with his stick and turned up more coins. “He wasn’t trying to burn them. He hid them underneath. Pretty smart actually.”
    Okay, that made me feel better. I straightened, tears suddenly flooding my eyes as I looked around. Such a sad, stinky place to die. Cal gathered the coins and stood, holding them out to me.
    I took them, sniffling. “Thanks.”
    He looked uncomfortable for a moment and then reached out and squeezed my arm. “I don’t think I’ve told you, Felicity. I’m really sorry about your dad.”
    The tears that had been building behind my lids spilled out and I gave a soft sob, covering my mouth in an attempt to hold back the tsunami of emotions building in my breast. Cal stepped closer and I collapsed against him, the sobs I’d tried to hold back tearing from my throat. He held me for a long moment, until I could get myself under control, and then, clearing his throat, stepped away. “We should get back.”
    I nodded, digging in my purse for a tissue. I started to follow him, my gaze still focused on the inside of my purse, and my foot hit something hard, sending it clattering into a rock. I looked down and saw a clear, plastic bottle. From where I stood I could read the words on the bottle. “Cough syrup.” I picked it up. “Looks like Bubba had a cold.”
    Cal plucked another bottle from the grass and, frowning, another one. “Must have been a bad one.” He held the bottle to his nose and grimaced. “I don’t think it was a cold.”
    Straightening, Cal held the bottle out for me to sniff. The acrid scent of strong booze stung my nostrils. “Ew. What is that?”
    “If I’m not mistaken it’s moonshine.” Cal looked around, finding several more bottles buried in the tall grass. “And it looks like your…” He glanced at me, two lines of worry burrowing down between his midnight brows. “ Bubba was buying a lot of it. Which means, we need to find out who in Sinful is selling the stuff. Because they might be able to tell us how he spent his last hours.”
    ###
    Apparently the local hunter Walter had told Cal about was Lena Borne’s brother and he lived with her. Walter gave us directions to Lena’s place south of Sinful about a mile. I thought we were lost for a while. The narrow, winding roads leading us from Sinful to the Borne cabin were more dirt than gravel and made me feel like we’d strayed off into the wilderness and were driving in maddening circles.
    Only one thing kept me from saying something to Cal as he struggled to make sense of