Blind Conviction (Nate Shepherd Legal Thriller Series Book 3)

by Michael Stagg

  “Fine,” I said. “I can’t talk about the details with you, though, Mrs. Mack.”

  “By fine, do you mean you’ve found the person who actually did it?”

  “I can’t discuss it with you, Mrs. Mack.”

  “I see,” said Mrs. Mack. She clearly did not. “My son can’t go to jail, Mr. Shepherd.”

  “Mom,” said Archie.

  “I’m doing everything I can to prevent that, Mrs. Mack.”

  “Are you?”

  I looked at her squarely. “Yes.”

  “Well, then I guess that’s all we can ask.”

  The dining room was filed with the sound for forks on plates for a few minutes before I said, “I do have a question for you that might help me.”

  “Anything.”

  “I was doing some background research on your farm and found something I don’t understand.”

  “What’s that?”

  “There’s a record of a complaint of vandalism and criminal damaging on your farm a while back.”

  Mrs. Mack looked at me blankly. Archie seemed intent on a chicken leg.

  “You all called the sheriff saying that someone had ruined your crop by putting fertilizer on it.”

  Mrs. Mack’s face cleared. “Goodness, yes! That was terrible.”

  “So someone destroyed your crops?”

  “No. Yes. Not exactly.”

  I smiled.

  “I suppose it is confusing. Archie?”

  Archie waved a fork that she should go ahead and kept eating.

  “Do you know anything about organic farming?” said Mrs. Mack.

  “Assume I don’t.”

  “So to be an organic farm, you can’t use certain fertilizers and herbicides on your land for three years before your first crop. After that time passes, you can be certified as organic.”

  “And get the better price at market,” said Archie as he paused long enough to carve out a chicken breast.

  “So five years ago, as a family, we decided to make that transition. We’d been struggling and we all agreed to give it a shot. It was hard because we had to relearn everything we had ever done. Farm technology changes but not that much. The seeds and fertilizers and things have evolved, but a lot of the techniques for planting have been consistent, you just have more computers and better equipment to help you do it. My Alban has a pretty good feel for what works and my boys”—her pride was apparent in her words—“well, they’re very good at it too. When we made the change though, without being able to use our usual products, we were flying a little blind. They had to learn a new system of crop rotation and new techniques to minimize bugs and disease without resorting to spray. Corn and soybeans were mostly what we grew before, so now we were looking at different seed options and maybe adding in some other crops too. It was a lot to take on.”

  “So how did it go?”

  “Year one, five years ago, was a little rough. We were learning, we were transitioning, and yields were way down. We didn’t cover our loan for the year, although we were close.”

  “Year two was better. We made adjustments to the planting schedule, and got a better line on stock and seed. We covered our loan and our deficit from the year before, even without being able to sell as certified organic. We could start to see that, with the premium, this was going to work.”

  She shook her head. “And then we had year three. Once we got through that, we would be certified the following year. We got everything planted that spring and the weather conditions were just about perfect for once. We felt good. The crops were planted, there were no infestations, and we felt just fine about going for a long weekend to a family wedding in Wisconsin. The boys drove the normal way, down around Chicago, but Alban and I decided to drive to Ludington and take the ferry across Lake Michigan with the car.”

  She sighed. “It was fantastic. We had a great time and barely thought about the farm at all, which is pretty rare for us. We got back Sunday night. It was late so we didn't notice anything and just went to bed. So then Monday morning, Alban, he’s up before the sun and I usually don't see him until lunchtime at the earliest. And he comes back half an hour later just as the sun is coming up. He doesn't say anything to me, just motions and takes me out to his truck.”

  Mrs. Mack handed me a dish of potatoes and stopped talking until I put some more on my plate. Then she said, “So Alban puts me in the truck and we start driving around our section and pretty soon we see a fertilizer sign. And then another fertilizer sign. And another. Every fifty yards. All the way around the section.”

  “So I just looked at him and I said, ‘Do you think it's true?’”

  “‘It's either true or it's a sick joke,’ he said. ‘We’ll test.’”

  Mrs. Mack pursed her lips. “It wasn't a joke. We tested the soil and pretty much our whole section had been hit with pesticide and fertilizer. So after that year, we had to start the three year clock all over again.”

  “What did it do to the crops?”

  “That’s why it was hard to answer your question. People use fertilizer because it works. Between the perfect growing conditions and the fertilizer on top of that, we had the best year we’d had in a long time.”

  “That’s good, anyway.”

  “Maybe. But it still put us three years away from premium crops again.”

  I did the math. “And now you're in the final year again?”

  “This is it,” she said. “We just need to get through this harvest, and avoid sabotage of course, and we can start growing organic next year.”

  “So no out-of-town weddings?”

  “No, we’ve been sitting tight to make sure nothing bad happens…” She trailed off and looked at Archie, who had stopped eating and looked at his plate.

  “Well, we’ve been sitting tight,” she said.

  “How is Abby, Mom?” said Archie.

  Mrs. Mack brightened. “Good! She’s using a cane now!”

  “Already?”

  “You know Abby. She’s not going to tolerate crutches for long and a cane for less.”

  Archie looked pained. “You saw her?”

  Mrs. Mack nodded. “I was over there last weekend; Hamish had bought tickets to one of those casino fund raiser trips he favors, for the Future Farmers, I think this one was. Or maybe the Dellville softball team, I’m not sure. Anyway, he wasn’t going to go, but then I offered to stay with Abby, and she insisted that he go win her some money, so I went over and Abby and I had a grand time.”

  “Doing what?”

  “Well, that’s none of your business, Son, now is it?”

  Though his mom’s tone was light, Archie didn’t smile. “I suppose not.” He tapped his fork on his plate. “And her eye socket?”

  Mrs. Mack’s smile turned forced. “Better. I think the last procedure helped. She could see well enough to trounce me in rummy, I can tell you that.”

  Archie’s face looked stricken. “Mom, I didn’t…”

  Mrs. Mack put a hand out and grabbed her son’s arm. “I know, Son.”

  “I just don’t want you to think—”

  “I don’t. That’s why we hired Mr. Shepherd. He’s going to prove you didn’t.”

  I took a bite of my favorite dish—chicken with a side of expectations.

  “Well,” Mrs. Mack tapped the table, “I know you boys have things to discuss and I can’t listen to them, so I’m going to get your dessert and be on my way.”

  I looked at the wreckage of chicken bones and vegetable stalks on my plate and couldn't think of what else there might be. “Mrs. Mack, I'm stuffed.”

  “Not before the strawberry shortcake you're not.”

  Archie smiled and stood up with his plate. “We’ll clean up while you get it, Ma.”

  Archie and I cleared the plates, and I was following him into the kitchen with an armful of them as his mother said, “I’m just putting the leftovers into the…oh, dear.”

  Headlights flashed across the kitchen window and before I knew it, Archie w
as heading for the back door.

  “Mr. Shepherd,” said Mrs. Mack and, judging from her tone, I hurried out the back after Archie.

  Archie had stopped on the back porch, gripping the rail. A blue Dodge truck had stopped in front of the barn and a man climbed out. In the porch light, he looked about the same age as Archie, a little stockier, a little shorter, and with a full head of red hair where his brother was bald. He stopped short of the porch, spit, and said, “I have to use the Hopper Topper tomorrow.”

  Archie was rigid. “I thought Dad was going to pick it up for you.”

  Hamish Mack—because it had to be Hamish—glared, then looked away and shrugged. “He’s running with the lights on tonight. I have to set up for tomorrow.”

  I stepped forward, not because I had anything to say, but so that I was between them on the stairs.

  Hamish Mack turned and spat again, then tucked his tongue into his lower lip in the classic gesture of a man packing a dip before he said, “You must be the lawyer.”

  I did one of those circular nods that meant “yes,” “no,” and “what the hell?”

  “Why didn’t you just call, Hamish?” said Mrs. Mack.

  Hamish shrugged. “Knew you were here. Figured I’d be in and out while you were still eating.” He glared. “Didn’t know I was interrupting a legal meeting.”

  “We were just cleaning up,” said Mrs. Mack. “Did you get the lasagna I left?”

  Hamish’s tongue rolled back and forth in his lower lip. “I haven’t been inside yet, Mom. I’m sure Abby’ll heat it up. If she can stand the pain.”

  There was no positive place for this to go. I put a hand on Archie’s elbow and jerked my head at the house.

  “Yeah.” Hamish spit. “Why don’t you head on in and get your story straight, Arch.”

  “Don’t worry, Ham. All my meetings are out in the open.”

  “Archie, inside,” I said. “Mrs. Mack, you promised to help keep them separated.”

  “Boys,” was all she said.

  Archie turned and went inside. Hamish glanced at his mother, then at me, then clenched his fists, gave a last spit, and headed for the barn.

  “I’ll see that he gets the Hopper Topper and gets going,” said Mrs. Mack, and hustled down the stairs. I followed Archie into the house. I handed him dishes and he rinsed them and put them in the dishwasher for a bit before he said, “We share some pieces of equipment. Helps us all reduce overhead.”

  “Makes sense.”

  “It used to.” He stared out the window, jaw clenched.

  I followed his gaze to the barn with its lights on and doors open. “I take it he doesn’t agree with Abby? About you doing it?”

  “We’ve had words.”

  “That all?”

  He looked at me. “No.”

  “How much more?”

  “I’d call it pushing more than punches.”

  “I see. Why would he think it’s you?”

  “Because there isn’t a better explanation.”

  That was a problem.

  “Which is why you have to fix this.”

  “That’s why I’m here, Archie.”

  That seemed to get through. “Right, right. I just…”

  “It’s natural in this situation,” I said. “Don’t worry about it.”

  After we put away the last dish, Archie eyed the desert and said, “I’d dish out the shortcake, but there are certain things my mom won’t abide.”

  I smiled and thought of my dad and his Sunday barbecue. “I know what you mean.”

  We went back into the dining room. As we waited, I said, “So did they ever figure out who did this crop thing?”

  “Sheriff Dushane never found anything. Hundreds of acres and no one saw a thing.”

  “Any obvious competitor’s step in on the organic side?”

  “Not that we could see,” said Archie.

  The screen door clattered and, a short time later, Mrs. Mack came out with two bowls of strawberry shortcake.

  “There we are,” said Mrs. Mack. “Now I’ll let you boys get down to business.” She collected her purse and her keys, then gave her son a kiss on the head. “He’s just worried about her, you know.”

  “I know. I am too.”

  Mrs. Mack looked down at her son, her eyes filled with concern. Then she lifted her chin, smiled at me, and said, “It was a pleasure to see you, Mr. Shepherd.”

  “Dinner was delicious, Mrs. Mack.”

  She waved a hand. “Flatterer.”

  “Really, I can’t thank you enough.”

  “You know exactly how to thank me, Mr. Shepherd. Love you, Son.” With that, she left.

  The screen door banged again, then Mrs. Mack’s truck fired up, and we heard the crunch of gravel as she left. Archie gestured and I dug into the strawberry shortcake.

  Now I’m not much of a dessert eater but I have to tell you, eating strawberries picked fresh from a field outside your door and served on top of homemade shortcake was enough to make me change my mind. We spent the next five minutes appreciating that fact until I finally said, “We need to talk about some things.”

  Archie was still concentrating on the shortcake. “That’s what we’re doing.”

  “You went to a gas station after the concert.”

  Archie nodded. “I filled up the tank.”

  “You also went in and cleaned up a bloody bandage on your hand.”

  “I did.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I was dripping blood.”

  “Why?”

  “I had a cut.”

  “From what?”

  “Earlier in the day. Ham and I were working on a drainage tile. Cut it pretty good.” He held up his hand. The cut was healing but it was still there, a slash right across the center of his palm.

  “Will Hamish testify to that?”

  Archie shrugged. “You’ll have to ask him.”

  “Did you have a spare bandage with you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  “In case it broke open or seeped. Which it did.”

  “Why didn’t you just throw the bandage away in the bathroom?”

  Archie looked up. “And make some poor kid clean up my mess?”

  I met his gaze. “What happened, Archie?”

  “I took the bandage with me.”

  “Not at the gas station. In the Quarry.”

  “Nothing.”

  “I’ve seen the video from the Quarry, Archie. You walk toward the back of the Quarry, toward the old stairs, ten minutes after Abby. You come back. Abby never does. And you go straight to a gas station and clean blood off your hands. Blood they also found on the railing. What happened?”

  He shook his head. “I never saw her.”

  “But what happened?”

  “I never saw her.”

  “You said that. But why did you go back there?”

  Archie shrugged. “It doesn’t matter, I didn’t see her.”

  “Of course, it matters! I have to explain it.”

  Archie looked at me. “I was just clearing my head and letting the traffic clear. Nate, if I’d seen her, I’d have been the first one to help her. But I didn’t.”

  “I need more than that.”

  “Nate, I didn’t see her, I didn’t talk to her, I didn’t throw her down the stairs and I certainly didn’t hit her. None of it.”

  I decided to try another tack. “Who’d you go to the concert with?”

  “No one. Just me.”

  “Why?”

  “I originally wasn’t going to be able to go. My schedule freed up, but Bonnie was already going with Abby and their friends and I didn’t want to horn in on their girls’ night.”

  “So you went by yourself?”

  “I like Big Luke.”

  “We all do. But by yourself?”

  Archie looked up. “My first wife left me four years ago.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be. She thought she was
marrying a rich farmer. She wasn’t.”

  “What does that have to do with Big Luke?”

  Archie smiled a little. “‘Good Riddance.’ ‘I Get the Dog.’ ‘I Found the Bottom of the Bottle But You’re Still You.’”

  “I stand corrected.” I thought. “Why did you follow Abby around back?”

  “I didn’t follow Abby. I didn’t know she’d gone back there.”

  I stabbed the last elusive crumb of shortcake and ate it before I said, “Attempted murder carries a life sentence, you know.”

  “So I’ve been told.”

  “I need to explain to the jury what you were doing.”

  “I told you, I was clearing my head. And I never saw Abby.”

  “Archie. There’s a video putting you at the scene of the attack, at the time of the attack, and walking away with a bloody hand. I need to explain it.”

  “I don’t know what to tell you, Nate.” Archie chased imaginary crumbs around an empty bowl and ignored me as the silence grew. “I didn’t see Abby back there. I didn’t see anybody.”

  I believed Archie when he said he didn’t see anyone. I wasn’t getting the same feeling about why he went back there. I suppose it could have been to kill time. But I wasn’t all the way there and I didn’t think a jury would be either.

  I’d had enough for the night. I stood and put my bowl in the sink. Archie stayed seated. Before I left, I said, “You know, if I didn’t do it, I’d want someone to find the person who attacked my future sister-in-law.”

  Archie flashed. “I do.”

  “I need all the information you have about it.”

  “I’ve told you everything I know about the attack, Nate. Which is nothing.”

  I left then. Archie didn’t see me out.

  15

  I’d never heard of a strawberry shortcake hangover but I swear I had one the next morning. It took me a few extra minutes to get moving and, by the time I got to the office, Danny was already there. That in itself wasn’t unusual.

  Olivia being there was.

  The two of them were holed up in the conference room and, the minute I opened the door, Danny came tumbling out.

  I saw Olivia behind him, grinning.