Southern Discomfort
smooth apple brandy. I don't
know
that my daddy supplied him—Daddy tells me he hasn't touched a brass worm in years—but they had been known to go hunting together a time or two, and Mr. Englert always tipped his hat to him when Daddy came to town.
    Anyhow, Mr. Englert died a couple of years ago and Mrs. Englert's rattled around in that big house all by herself ever since.
    On the night in question, she thought she heard someone downstairs and she'd called the sheriff's department rather than the town police, whom she considered incompetent.
    Dwight happened to be around and at loose ends that night, so he went along for the ride. "Never hurts to have an Englert appreciate special services the law can provide" is what he told me back when it happened. Not what he was testifying now, of course, when Doug asked him to describe what he'd found upon arriving at the Englert home.
    "Mrs. Englert called to us from the upstairs window and then came down and let us in."
    "Us?" asked Doug.
    "Myself and Deputy Raeford McLamb, who was on duty that night."
    "What did you do then?"
    "First we searched the ground floor thoroughly and examined all the doors and windows for signs of forced entry."
    "And did you find any?"
    "No, sir."
    "What did you do next?"
    "Mrs. Englert stated that she thought the noises she heard might have come from the basement, so we went downstairs and again conducted a thorough search."
    "What did you find?"
    "No indication of an intruder, but shortly after we entered the basement, the central air conditioner switched on and we heard a rustling noise in one of the ducts. We later ascertained that a piece of trash had fallen into the vent and was causing the noise that Mrs. Englert mistook for an intruder."
    "What else did you find around that air conditioner unit, Major Bryant?"
    "Objection," said Ambrose. "The prosecution is leading the witness."
    "Sustained," I agreed.
    "I'll rephrase," said Doug. "Did you find anything else that night?"
    "Yes, sir. Deputy McLamb drew my attention to two half-gallon jars of clear liquid behind the air-conditioning unit."
    "Permission to approach the witness, Your Honor?" Doug asked.
    "Permission granted," I said.
    Doug lifted a half-gallon Mason jar from the brown grocery bag beside his chair and carried it up to Dwight. "Major Bryant, I show you this jar and ask if you can identify it as being one of the jars you found in Mrs. Englert's basement on the night of June twenty-eighth."
    "It is. That's my mark on the lid."
    "I ask that this be entered as state's Exhibit A," said Doug. I nodded assent and he continued, "Did you open this jar?"
    "Yes, sir."
    "What does it contain?"
    "Objection," said Ambrose, standing with ponderous dignity. "Calls for an informed conclusion this officer is not qualified to make."
    There were snickers from the side benches that any Colleton County law officer couldn't recognize moonshine when he saw it.
    Doug, too, had a grin on his face. "Your Honor, Major Bryant is a veteran law officer with many years experience. I should call him eminently qualified."
    "So should I," I said, "but Mr. Daughtridge is technically correct. Major Bryant is not a chemist. Objection sustained."
    "I'm prepared to introduce into evidence a detailed analysis of the contents by an Alcohol Law Enforcement agent," said Doug. "I thought in the interest of saving time and—"
    Mrs. Englert had tugged at Ambrose's jacket and as he bent down to listen, the whole courtroom heard her exasperated whisper. "Why do you quibble so, Mr. Daughtridge? Everyone
knows
what it is. Get on with it."
    "Your Honor," said Ambrose, "the defense will stipulate as to Major Bryant's expertise in this matter."
    "Thank you," said Doug.
    As Dwight confirmed that the jars had held untaxed liquor that was probably at least eighty proof, I thought about the things we weren't going to hear from the witness stand today. Things like how a silly combination of circumstances could cause a waste of taxpayer money.

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