“At a social gathering.”
“Did he have any health conditions?”
“Not that I'm aware of—” she caught herself “—was aware of. I assume his children would be better people to ask about that.”
“Probably. I was just wondered if you knew of anything.”
“No.”
“When did you get into town?”
“We came in on the second plane, Thursday night.”
“The second plane?”
“The family flew in privately. Rich and I were on the second plane.”
“When did the first one come in?”
“Monday. Some people made a week of it.”
“What did you do here?”
“Wedding things. Rehearsal dinner Friday night, wedding Saturday.”
“How about during the day Friday?”
“Rich and some of the family went golfing.”
“You?”
“No.”
“Spa day?”
Liselle raised an eyebrow. “I had business in southeast Detroit.”
Pearson’s brow furrowed for a moment before he said, “What kind?”
“I was checking certain trees there.”
Pearson looked honestly quizzical. “Why did you do that?”
“I work for the Forest Service in cooperation with the Missouri Department of Natural Resources. I'm a biologist.”
“Really?” Pearson said and immediately looked like he wanted to take it back.
Liselle stared at him.
“Right,” said Pearson. He looked back at his paper and said, “Any indication that Mr. Phillips wasn’t feeling well?”
Liselle shook her head. “None. We had a great time at the dinner Friday. He told me he’d golfed well that day. And we were enjoying ourselves at the wedding until…”
Pearson waited a moment before he said, “And you danced?”
Liselle’s eyes didn’t leave Pearson’s. “We danced.”
“Any indication he wasn’t feeling well at the wedding?”
Liselle started to speak, stopped and cleared her throat, then said, “Not until he collapsed.”
Pearson nodded and said in his best good-cop voice, “Can you tell me what happened?”
Liselle nodded back. “We had cocktails and circulated before dinner—there were a lot of people there that Rich wanted to see. We ate dinner and had some cake. We visited a little more after dinner and then when they opened up the dance floor, we danced. We were dancing toward the end of the evening and then Rich just collapsed.”
Liselle paused.
Pearson handed her a tissue, but Liselle wasn’t crying. She took the tissue, folded it in her hand, and said, “He was unconscious and we couldn’t revive him. Then the ambulance came and took him away and…”
Pearson nodded. “Any complaints during the evening?”
“None.”
“Notice anything unusual?”
“No.”
Pearson checked some boxes, straightened some papers, then lifted his head and smiled. “Thank you for coming in today, Ms. Vila. Will you be staying in town for a little while yet?”
“Until…” She stopped, cleared her throat, then said, “Until Rich can go home.”
Pearson stood. “That’s all, Ms. Vila, thank you. And my condolences.”
“Thank you, Officer Pearson.” Liselle stood, nodded, and walked out.
I shook Pearson’s hand and he was so busy watching Liselle leave that he forgot to try to crush it. “Let me know if you need anything else,” I said.
“Hmm, oh yeah, right.” Pearson pulled his eyes away and came back to himself. “I doubt I will. Seems like the geezer bit off more than he could chew and his heart gave out.”
“Right. See you.” I left.
I didn’t see Liselle in the lobby so I hustled out to find her standing outside, face tilted up to the sun. “Thought I’d lost you.”
She smiled. “Not this time. So what happens next?”
“The autopsy will take another day or two. After that, the coroner will release the body and you'll be able to take him home.”
“I won't be taking him home,” she said. “But I want to make sure he’s on his way.”
Judging from what I'd seen of Richard Phillips’ kids last night, I thought she was right. “What are you going to do until then?” I said.
“Work. I brought my computer and there are a couple of things I can check out here.”
“Like what?”
She shrugged. “Biology stuff. I’m a woodland biologist so I thought I'd check out Groves State Park.”
I stared at her. “Really?”
She nodded. “It’ll give me some perspective on what I’m doing back home. Why?”
“I just…I know someone that worked there, at the park.”
“Oh? Doing what?”
“A lot of monitoring—water quality, invasive species, tree health.”
Liselle looked at me directly for what felt like the first time. “Could you put me in touch with them? I'd love to pick their brains about what they’ve done up here.”
“It was my wife.”
“Perfect. Can you introduce me?”
“I'm sorry. She's passed.”
Liselle looked embarrassed. “I'm sorry, you're still wearing…” She trailed off and pointed at my hand.
I smiled. “Not quite ready to take it off.”
She looked at me seriously before she nodded and said, “I understand. I’d love to hear about what she was working on though, if you don’t mind. Care to join me for lunch?”
“Sure. What are you in the mood for?”
“Anything.” She smiled. “As long as we can eat outside.”
I decided to take her to the Railcar, a restaurant that had been renovated out of the remnants of a used brick waystation on an abandoned spur of railroad. The Railcar had a back patio that overlooked a stream (that the railroad had used to supply the water tower that filled the steam engines) and the woods beyond. Add to that the smell of hickory smoke and just about the best barbecue you could find and you had an outstanding outdoor dining experience.
“How's this?” I said as we picked a table.
“Perfect.” She took the seat facing out toward the woods and smiled. “Where are we?”
“We're up about twenty minutes into Michigan. Two-thirds of Carrefour is in Ohio and the northern third is in Michigan. We’re just outside the northern city limits.”
“It seems quieter,” she said.
“It is. Greener two.”
“I can see that. How far is the state park from here?”
“Only another twenty-five minutes or so. The hills start just outside of town.”
The waitress gave us waters and menus and left us to look. As she opened the menu, Liselle asked, “So what did your wife do?”
“She worked for the Michigan Department of Natural Resources. She checked the water quality of the lakes and rivers, originally. Later, they had her assess tree health and do what she could to enforce wood quarantines.”
Liselle's eyes became intent again. “Wood quarantines?”
I nodded. “About five years ago that was all she was doing. The emerald ash borer started in Detroit not too far from here and she did her best to keep it from spreading for a long time.”
I stopped because this was usually the point where people asked what an emerald ash borer was. Instead, Liselle's strange intensity deepened and she said, “Are you serious?”
“Why wouldn't I be?”
“Because that's what I'm working on.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean I work for the Forestry Service and the State of Missouri down near the Mark Twain National Forest. We’ve been quarantining our woods against the emerald ash borer. It's not in all the counties yet, but it's close. I'm doing all I can to keep it out.”
It was my turn to stare at her. “Really?”
“Really.”
I shook my h
ead and laughed. “I did not expect to be having another conversation about that stupid bug.”
“She talked about it?”
“A lot.”
“Does she have any research, anything they tried?”
“I'm sure her work has something. I have to warn you though, it wasn't very successful.”
She shook her head. “We haven't been either. But we have to try.” She thought. “Are there places I can go look?”
“Of course. We’re not fifteen minutes from one of the biggest ash groves you’ve ever seen.”
Her face fell. “Are they all dead?”
“Pretty much.”
I can't describe the look on her face then except to say that it seemed that she went very far away for a little bit. I let her be and looked at the menu although I already knew what I was going to have. Eventually, she came back and said, “How many days do you think it’ll be before…Richard can go home?”
“I think it will be another couple of days yet.”
She nodded. “That'll give me some time to explore. I'm sorry your wife can't show me around.”
“Me too.” I pointed at her menu. “The beef brisket is delicious.”
6
After we ate, I dropped Liselle back at her hotel and went to the office. My office was located on the Ohio side of Carrefour in a professional building made of glass and steel and brick that was the home to small practices of doctors, lawyers, and accountants. It didn’t have a high-rise view and it wasn’t a quaint old building; it looked exactly like what it was, a functional, professional office space.
After we’d handled a murder case this past summer, my associate Daniel Reddy and I had taken over a suite of three offices and a conference room that made up the bulk of the third floor. It was overkill for the two of us, but it was paid for through the next year so we’d found ourselves staying up there. Danny was waiting for me when I arrived. He was tall and thin and I’m pretty sure the latter was the result of constant, nervous motion. Case in point, he was flapping a sheaf of papers as I entered.
“The Jackson brief is due today,” he said in greeting.
“Did you finish it?”
“Yes.”
Danny could handle a motion like that in his sleep but he didn’t believe it yet. “I’ll look at it.”
“We only have a couple of hours.”
“I know. I’ll take care of it.”
“What were you doing?”
“Emergency meeting with Pearson this morning.”
That broke through the Jackson-brief-feedback-loop and he made a face. “Lucky you. What for?” Danny’s face grew stern. “We’re not doing another criminal case, are we?”
“No. Just baby-sitting a witness interview. An old guy died at a wedding this weekend. The Chief Detective in Charge of Serious Crimes for Carrefour, Ohio was just interviewing the man’s date.”
Danny cocked his head. “How’d he die?”
“Heart attack is my guess.”
“And Pearson was interviewing people?”
“I should have said rich, old guy. Pearson knows people will be asking for an official cause so he’s covering his bases. Nothing major.”
With that path traversed, Danny started shaking the papers in his hand again.
“Got it, got it,” I said. “Did you email it to me?”
Danny nodded.
“I’ll get it done so you can file it.”
“Thanks,” Danny said and went back to his office.
I was just turning on my computer when my phone buzzed. Matt Branson.
“Hey, Matty.”
“Hey, Shep. I’m sorry to bother you. Do you have a second?”
“Sure. What’s up?”
“My sister’s new family is freaking out about how long this autopsy’s going to take. Ellie and Jake already left on their honeymoon so you can guess who they’re asking.”
“Lucky you.”
“Exactly. You know the coroner, right?”
“I do. Want me to call him?”
“Could you?”
“He won’t give me the results but he’ll let me know when to expect them.”
I heard Matt sigh. “Anything to call off the dogs, man. Jake’s parents are fine but Richard’s kids …”
“I’ve met them.”
“That’s right, at the hospital. They haven’t calmed down. I think they’ve gotten worse.”
“I’ll call the coroner right now and get back to you.”
“Thanks, Shep. Beer’s on me.”
“Don’t worry about it.”
We hung up and I pulled up Ray Gerchuck on my contact list.
Ray Gerchuk was the coroner for the city of Carrefour. Although we had most recently been on opposite sides of a case, Ray was a true professional and called things exactly like he saw them. He was an altogether cheerful and pleasant man in a way that you didn't expect from a coroner and you could hear it in his voice when he answered his phone.
“Nate? I hope this is an invitation to go fishing before it gets too cold.”
“Hi, Ray. You know my dad will take you out on the boat anytime.”
“I'm gonna have to take him up on that. U of M has a home game this week but maybe next weekend.”
“You know he'd love it, but you're going to have a hard time getting him to take Michigan’s schedule into account.”
“Such a good man but so misguided. Don't know how he ever stumbled into that whole Spartan thing.”
“You know, you pay enough in tuition and it has a way of changing your view of things.”
Ray chuckled. “I suppose that's true. So, if you can't take me fishing, what can I do for you?”
“I'm calling on the Richard Phillips case.”
“I didn't realize there was one.”
“No, not a criminal case, I meant the autopsy. Are you doing it?”
“I am.”
“I'm friends with Matt Branson and the Phillips are now his sister’s in-laws.”
“Oh right, right.”
“I guess the Phillips are getting antsy because they don't know what to expect timing-wise so I said I'd call you and find out.”
“Sure. I expect to be done in a couple of days. Maybe even tomorrow. Matt can call me anytime for a status update if he wants.”
“That's about what I thought. Toxicology will be another six to eight weeks?”
“Look at you, Mister Lawyer. It's like you're reading my emails. That's exactly what it'll be.” Ray paused. “I can't give out any preliminary results.”
“I wouldn't expect you to. I was just calling to find out when the family could expect to hear from you. I'll have Matt email you with who to contact.”
“Perfect. How are things otherwise?”
“Better now that I don't have to go up against you on the stand again.”
Ray laughed. “I told you, I'm neutral so we weren’t against each other. Besides, you won, so it’s bad form to complain.”
I laughed. “I guess so. I'll tell my dad to call you.”
“Excellent. Take care, Nate.”
I hung up then texted Matt the information about the autopsy results and toxicology tests. I gave him Ray's contact info so the family could let Ray know who should receive the test results.
Matt texted me back within seconds. Thanks, man! I know what a dog's rawhide feels like right now.
I laughed and sent him a GIF of a dog delightedly chomping on a huge bone then turned my attention to Danny's brief. That pretty much took me the rest of the day.
I was at home reading that night when I got a text with a 573-area code that said, Was your wife Sarah Shepherd?
It was jarring. I felt a surge at Sarah's name and confusion at the text out of the blue until I realized that I'd received a text earlier from the same number.
Liselle. Apparently, I was going to have to add her to my contacts.
I texted back. Yes. Why?
I've already read three of her papers. We’ve been st
udying everything they did up here, in Michigan. I didn't connect the names when we were talking earlier. Stupid.
That brought back a lot of late-night conversations, some of them filled with frustration and anger.
Not much worked up here, I texted.
True.
But the borer had a pretty big head start by the time they found it.
That’s what we’re hoping.
Three dots blinked on my phone, then another text from Liselle popped up. She writes about Groves State Park. Is that the place you were talking about yesterday, with the ash grove?
Yes.
Could you take me there?
I thought and closed the text app so that she couldn't see the telltale dots that I was thinking. I thought for a little longer then reopened the app and typed, Sure.
Thanks! When?
No problem. I thought about my schedule. Tomorrow afternoon?
Perfect.
I'll text you when I'm finishing up.
Great. Thanks!
I closed my phone and reopened my book. A few minutes later, I started to read.
7
The next day, I squeezed a day's worth of work into the morning, attended a pretrial by phone right after lunch, then changed clothes and picked Liselle up from the hotel. She wore a heavy blue denim shirt, jeans, and hiking boots, which was exactly what you'd expect to traipse around in the woods on a sunny, cool day in Michigan. Her pale blonde hair was loose and a little curlier than it had been at the wedding. She hopped into the Jeep and we took off for the state park.
“I'm sorry I was so blunt last night,” she said. “When I looked back at my text this morning, I realized it must've come out of the blue.”
“A little. But it made sense once you told me what was going on. You’ve really read Sarah's work?”
“The whole series. Four years ago, right after she published it. The invasion hit Michigan about ten years before us.”
I thought about the ash trees that we were driving toward. “Are you sure you want to see this then?”
“I’ve seen dead ash trees before,” she said.
“I'm sure you have but this is…concentrated. It’s pretty jarring.” I bit the inside of my cheek. “It upset Sarah every time she went back.”
True Intent Page 3
