True Intent

by Michael Stagg

  “How much more are we talking about here?”

  “Than the next highest? I'd say on the order of fifteen times.”

  “And the lowest?”

  “Twenty-three times.”

  “I take it that’s significant?”

  “I’m afraid that it is. I told you that St. John’s wort can interfere with beta blockers, right?”

  “You did.”

  “Did I explain how?”

  “No.”

  “I’ll give you the high points for now. Beta blocker medications are removed from the blood stream by the liver. St. John’s wort speeds that process up so that that the liver removes the beta blocker from the patient’s system quicker. Much quicker.”

  “So was the St. John’s wort in the tea enough to have interfered with Richard Phillips’ beta blockers?”

  “More than enough.”

  I deliberately did not sigh. “But they found the beta blocker in Phillips’ bloodstream in the autopsy.”

  “They did, but it was only a trace amount. I can say definitively that, by the time Richard Phillips died, the beta blocker wasn’t regulating his heartbeat anymore.”

  There is a legal expression for this kind of news—great fuckety fuck-fuck.

  “Anything else I should be aware of?” I said.

  “What was he eating the night he died?”

  “I don’t know. Does it matter?”

  “When you're taking St. John's wort, you shouldn't eat or drink foods with tyramine.”

  “Tyra-who?”

  “Tyramine. Foods like aged meats, aged cheeses, red wine.”

  “Why is that?”

  “Because it can raise your blood pressure to life-threatening levels.”

  Double the prior expression. “Anything else to avoid on St. John’s wort?”

  “Caffeine and alcohol.”

  “Do you know what a trifecta is, Dr. Beckman?”

  “No. Why?”

  “Because I think I just hit it. Anything else?”

  “No, I think that's it. I'll email you a copy of my findings and the lab test results.”

  “Thanks. And send me a bill. I'm going to want you on standby. I don't know that I'm going to call you at trial but I’d like you to be available just in case.”

  “You know this could all be a coincidence, Mr. Shepherd. It takes pretty a deep dive to learn about these things.”

  “Got it, Dr. Beckman. Thanks.”

  I walked over to Danny’s office. He looked like a soldier hiding behind a fortress of paper towers. “Have you been through all of the witness statements?” I asked.

  “A couple of times, yeah.”

  “I want you to dive into everything Phillips ate and drank.”

  Danny grinned. “Sure.” The grin faded as he looked at me. “Seriously?”

  “Seriously. I want you to pay special attention to aged meats, cheeses, red wine, caffeine, and alcohol. Scour the statements for everything he was drinking, the meals he had, all the way down to the appetizers.”

  “At the hotel suite too?”

  “Yep. Then, wherever we can, we need to identify the source of anything that went into his body—whether he ordered it, whether it was generally available. Pay special attention to any mention of Liselle ordering for him.” I thought. “In fact, see if you can find Richard’s RSVP for the meals he picked. I’d say start with the waitstaff and then move on to the other witnesses.”

  Danny looked flabbergasted. “That'll take a month.”

  “Good thing we have five. After we get through that—”

  “We?”

  “I mean ‘we’ in the royal sense.”

  “Got it. Anything else? Want me to count the threads in the tablecloth, interview the vintner who bottled the wine?”

  “Great idea. You can do that when you're done.”

  Danny looked at me and it took him a few seconds to realize I was joking. He shook his head and said, “What’s this about?”

  “Medication interactions. I know this seems like busywork, Danny, but I think it’s going to be vital. I’ll explain later.”

  He nodded, gave me the look that I imagine Sisyphus gave Hades, and went back to work.

  My phone buzzed on the way back to my desk. Olivia. “What’s up, Liv?”

  “You need to come over.”

  “Sure. I was planning on working out after—”

  “Now.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes.”

  “What’s up?”

  “I’ll tell you when you get here.”

  “A hint?”

  “You need to get something that rhymes with glass over here.”

  “On my way.”

  I let Danny know I was going to the Brickhouse and left.

  “You really couldn’t talk to me over the phone?” I said as I closed the door and sat down in Olivia’s office.

  “Is your client accused of killing one of the richest men in America?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then it can’t hurt.” She pulled out a folder and flipped it across her battered desk. “You have a problem. Two of them actually.”

  If I could keep it to two, I’d consider it a personal victory. “What did you find out?”

  “Remember the fracking dispute?”

  I nodded. “Doprava wanted to lease its land for fracking. The land was next to the Mark Twain National Forest and the Forest Initiative protested to stop it because the fracking would harm the woodlands.”

  “Right. And surveyor materials were vandalized and went missing.”

  “Right. But there was no connection to the Forest Initiative.”

  “There’s a connection.”

  I breathed deep. “What?”

  “Jeremy Raines. Second folder.”

  “C’mon. His name’s Raines? Really?”

  “Really. About six months after the last vandalism incident, he was picked up in Kansas selling stolen goods at a pawn shop.”

  “Those being?”

  “Surveying equipment.”

  “Brilliant.”

  “Yep. Had the name of the surveying company right on it still. I didn’t find it earlier because it was in a different state.”

  I looked at the picture of Jeremy Raines. Reddish-brown hair, freckles, thick beard, early twenties. “And does this criminal mastermind have a connection to Liselle?”

  “Not that I know of.”

  “Small favors.”

  “But he does have one to the Forest Initiative.”

  “Member?”

  “Yep. And a protester at the fracking site.”

  “Did he confess to stealing the equipment?”

  “No. He claims he found the stuff in a dumpster and was just trying to make a buck.”

  “Did anyone believe that?”

  “No. He eventually pled no contest.”

  “Conviction?”

  “Thirty days and a fine.”

  I thought. “Okay. That’s not great but it’s manageable. Liselle is associated with the protest but protests happen all the time. Half the country is protesting what corporate America is doing to the environment and the other half is protesting fracking. She’s not responsible for what some fringe jack-bag does.”

  Olivia’s half-mirrored glasses and down-swept hair made her expression hard to read so I was glad when she said, “I agree. But it’s closer to her than I’d like.”

  “True. I can manage that though.”

  “I’m sure you can. But you have a bigger problem.”

  Giddy up. “Bigger?”

  She slid another folder across the desk. “Fourteen years ago in rural Missouri, a group of teenagers got busted by the police having a party in an empty barn.”

  “Sounds like good country fun.”

  “They got busted after paramedics responded to a 911 call that a boy had collapsed. It was serious enough that they wound up life-flighting him to St. Louis.”

  I didn’t like where this was going. “O
kay.”

  “That caused an investigation and the police found what you’d expect—beer, pot, and ecstasy.”

  “Alright.”

  “The boy eventually recovered. The police decided that he’d taken some ecstasy and then got dehydrated.”

  “That can make you collapse?”

  “It can.”

  “So the problem is?”

  “The boy’s name was Nick Heyward. Liselle Vila’s name was also on the list of teenagers who were at the party.”

  “We all went to parties we shouldn’t have in high school. That’s hardly a crime.”

  Olivia’s face was unreadable. “The kids all had the same story.”

  “Okay.”

  “Liselle and Nick had broken up a few weeks before but the kids all thought they must have gotten back together.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “Because she danced with him all night. Until he collapsed.”

  24

  There’s an old legal saying that you can explain anything once, but if it happens twice, you’re fucked.

  All right, I just made that up. That doesn’t make it any less true though.

  “Well, shit,” I said.

  “Yup,” said Olivia.

  An even worse thought occurred to me. “He did live right?”

  “He did.”

  “Do you know anything more than that?”

  “That's all I could pick up from the police report and the witness statements.”

  “It sounds like I'm going to have to go to Missouri.”

  “It does.”

  “Do you have an address?”

  “I do. It's in the folder.”

  “Thanks. I think I’d better go down there right away.”

  “I think you should too.

  “I think I need to speak to my client first.”

  Olivia nodded. “I think you do.”

  “I'll be back later to work out. Thanks again.”

  “See you, Shep.”

  It had been about a week since I had visited Liselle. It was time to change that.

  I texted Liselle that I needed to see her because even if someone is electronically confined to her house, it’s still rude to just show up. She asked if I could give her a couple of hours. I said sure. She asked if I could bring dinner. I told her I didn't think that was a good idea. A moment later, my phone buzzed. Liselle.

  “Please, Nate? I'm going crazy here. Cade or Olivia checks on me once a day but I’m literally here all alone all the time and I'm going nuts.”

  “Aren't you alone in the woods when you work?”

  “Yes. In the woods. Not in a wood box with a brick face.”

  “I need to talk to you about the case.”

  “We can talk about whatever you want. Just come over here in two hours with dinner. Please.”

  “Okay.”

  We hung up. I decided against going back to the office and instead pulled into the farthest corner of the parking lot, right up next to the trees that lined the creek that ran past the Railcar, then took out the files Olivia had given me to read. The records she’d included were bare-bones but accurate. Jeremy Raines was indeed a member of the Forest Initiative and had been busted trying to sell surveying equipment that had been stolen from the Doprava fracking site at Ribbon Falls. I set that aside and went to the file that really concerned me.

  I read about the night that Liselle Vila had been at a party where Nick Heyward had collapsed and been rushed by life flight to the hospital. Olivia had been thorough to pick up the bit about the dancing with Liselle. It was only mentioned in two out of the sixteen witness statements and it was tucked away between denials about who bought the beer and whether any drugs had been taken.

  I read all of the witness statements from the party and by the time I was done, it was time to head for Liselle’s. I stopped at a Mediterranean place along the way and, a little while later, climbed the steps to her townhouse and knocked.

  Liselle smiled as she opened the door and, despite the concern that brought me there, I was involuntarily glad that she seemed happy to see me. “Nate!” she said. “Come in.” She took the white plastic bag from me and dipped her head it. “Is that hummus too?”

  “It is.”

  “It's like you read my mind.” She touched my shoulder and guided me in. We went to the kitchen and fussed around with plates and silverware. She took some Greek salad, hummus, pita bread, and shawarma; I grabbed a gyro.

  “Thanks for doing this,” she said as she began to eat. “Eating alone all the time is the worst.”

  I left my gyro wrapped in front of me. “We have a problem,” I said. “Two problems actually.”

  She scooped some hummus onto a wedge of pita bread and took a bite. “Mmmm. Like what?”

  “Jeremy Raines for one.”

  Liselle's green eyes didn't blink. I know because I was watching. “Who?” she said.

  “Jeremy Raines. Do you know him?”

  “I don't think so. Should I?”

  “Maybe. He's a member of the Forest Initiative.”

  “So are about twenty-eight thousand other people.”

  “He seemed to be based out of St. Louis.”

  “Then I should've run into him at some point. What does he look like?”

  I showed her a picture. She set down her pita bread and stared at it for a moment. “He looks a little familiar but I don't remember ever speaking to him or anything.”

  “He was involved in the Ribbon Falls protest.”

  She nodded. “That makes sense if he’s based out of St. Louis.” She took another bite, chewed, then said, “But then again the whole national organization showed up for that one.”

  “Why?”

  She smiled. “If you're not gonna protest fracking next to a waterfall in a national forest then I don't know why you would join an environmental organization.”

  “Did you know he was arrested?”

  “No. But that happens sometimes with protests.”

  “Not at the protest. It seems like he stole some surveying equipment.”

  Liselle stared at the photo a moment longer before she pushed it back toward me. “Sorry. I don't think I've had any direct contact with him. How is that a problem?”

  “Because it looks like the organization you’re a part of committed a crime when it was protesting against Richard’s company.”

  “The organization didn’t commit a crime, Nate. And neither did I. I can't imagine that the prosecutor would be allowed to try and connect that with this case.”

  “She wouldn’t. But if you have any connection with Raines, I want to know about it so I can deal with it.”

  Liselle looked me dead on. “Fortunately, I don’t know him. What's the second problem?”

  “Tell me about Nick Heyward.”

  This time Liselle reacted. Not much, but she lifted her eyebrows and looked at me quizzically. “What does a high school boyfriend have to do with this?”

  “Tell me about the time Nick was taken to the hospital after the party.”

  Liselle nodded. “It was out at the McKenzie farm. Gabby’s parents were gone for a week so she had a massive party. People came from five high schools and because we were out in the country and far away from town, things got pretty wild. Nick overindulged and collapsed so we called the paramedics. They came, which meant the cops came too, which meant a bunch of people got busted, but I can't believe that I’m the only person who’s been at a high school party that got broken up by the cops.”

  “No, you’re not.”

  “Then why is that a problem?”

  There was no way that Liselle was that dumb. She either knew and could see the connection or she'd forgotten what happened. I wanted to see what she would tell me. “What was Nick doing when he collapsed?”

  Liselle scowled and she pushed a piece of bread into the hummus and she took a bite and she appeared to be thinking when her eyes widened and she dropped the bread. “Oh no,” she said.

/>   “Oh no what, Liselle?”

  She looked at me and said softly, “We were dancing.”

  I nodded and I spent a good thirty seconds unwrapping my gyro. Then I took a bite, set it down, and said, “I think you’d better tell me what happened.”

  Liselle looked as upset as I’d seen her. She pushed her plate of hummus and pita bread aside and said, “This is terrible.”

  “Tell me.”

  She picked up a napkin and wiped the corners of her mouth. Then she set it down and said, “Nick and I dated for a while in high school. He was at the party too. We were all drinking and dancing and there was music playing, and someone had molly. I had never taken it before, most of us hadn’t, but that was kind of the point of having a party out in the middle of nowhere. I took some, Nick took some, and most of our friends did too.” Liselle looked down in a way that was almost shy. “And then we started to dance.”

  “Just the two of you?”

  “No. There was probably at least thirty or forty of us.”

  “But the two of you were dancing together?”

  She shrugged. “Sometimes? It’s hard to say in that…state.”

  “So what happened?”

  “We danced for a while and then Nick just went down. I don't think it was a seizure or anything, he just kind of passed out and fell to the ground. We felt him and he was really hot and he wouldn't wake up so eventually we called the ambulance.”

  “Did he wake up while you were there?”

  “Not until the ambulance came.”

  “Did you stay?”

  “I did. Most of the others took off.”

  “Did you ever find out what happened?”

  “The paramedics said he dehydrated.”

  “Really? At a party filled with beer?”

  She looked at me sharply. “Have you ever taken molly?”

  “No.”

  “You get hot and can dehydrate so you have to be careful to drink enough water. We had some but he still dehydrated and passed out.”

  I nodded and thought. “Did you get along with Nick?”

  “I did. We dated.”

  “Were you dating that night?”

  “No. We had broken up.”

  “How long before that?”

  “I'm not sure. A few months maybe.”

  “Any bad feelings there?”

  “No.”

  I munched on my gyro. It wasn't exactly the way Olivia had told me the story, but it was close enough that there seemed like a good chance that Liselle was telling me the truth. “Liselle, I can't say this strongly enough. Don't mention this to anyone.”