The Gray Drake

by Charles Cutter

  “I saw him through my window.”

  “Do you remember what time you saw him?”

  “About two, I think.”

  “And what was he doing?”

  “He looked like he was in a hurry, but then he stood by his car and smoked a cigarette.”

  “Thank you, Ms. Kennedy. And how about him?” Burr pointed at Harley Hawken.

  “Yes, I saw him go outside a few minutes later. They both got in Mr. Osterman’s car and drove off.”

  “Ms. Kennedy, are you aware that both Mr. Osterman and Mr. Hawken testified that they never left the lodge that night?”

  “I saw them both leave.”

  Burr knew this didn’t prove anything, but it didn’t hurt. “Ms. Kennedy, did you happen to see that man?” Burr pointed at Charlie Cox, sitting by himself at the back of the gallery.

  Kathryn Kennedy looked down at her feet, then put her hands in her lap.

  “Ms. Kennedy?”

  “I did.”

  “Let the record show that Ms. Kennedy has identified Charles Cox.” Burr turned back to his doe-eyed witness.

  “And where did you see him?”

  “He was at the auction and then I saw him in the kitchen. With Wes.”

  “Wes Godspeed?” Burr said. What the devil is going on here?

  “It was hot in the attic, so I came downstairs. I saw the two of them in the kitchen.”

  “What were they doing?”

  “They were arguing.”

  “What did they say?”

  “I’m not sure. I saw Wes hand an envelope to him, and then the man left.”

  I knew Cox was involved. But Wes? Burr thought. “Ms. Kennedy, did you see anyone else?”

  “No.”

  “Did any of these men see you?”

  “No,” she said. “No, I don’t think so.”

  “And then what did you do?”

  “I went back to bed.”

  “Thank you, Ms. Kennedy.” Burr looked up at Skinner. “No further questions, Your Honor.” Burr walked back to the defense table. What just happened? Someone is lying. There’s probably more than one liar. Burr shook his head. I’m sure they’re all lying.

  Cullen approached the witness. “Ms. Kennedy, why were you awake at that time of night?”

  “It was hot up in the attic.”

  “I see. What time did you say it was?”

  “About two in the morning.”

  “So it was dark?”

  “Yes.”

  “How do you know who you saw?”

  “There was a moon that night.”

  “Could it have been someone else?”

  “Who?”

  “Someone other than Mr. Osterman?”

  “I don’t think so,” she said. “Maybe.”

  “Maybe it wasn’t Mr. Osterman,” Cullen said. “So you’re not sure?”

  “I’m pretty sure.”

  “You’re pretty sure,” Cullen said. “Well, then how about Mr. Hawken. Are you sure you saw Mr. Hawken?”

  “Yes,” she said.

  “You’re sure?”

  “Asked and answered,” Burr said.

  “Your Honor, it’s not clear that Ms. Kennedy knows who she saw.”

  “That’s for the jury to decide,” Burr said.

  “Please be quiet, Mr. Lafayette,” Skinner said. “Anything further, Mr. Cullen?”

  “No, Your Honor.”

  “We will recess for lunch,” Skinner said. He banged his gavel, then glided out like a hunchback in a black robe.

  Burr herded Lizzie, Wes and Eve to Wes’s office at The Gray Drake. Jacob was still missing. Burr looked out at the river. It was up a little thanks to the melting snow.

  Lizzie walked in with a tray of sandwiches and a pitcher of milk. She’s worn out, but she’s still making lunch.

  “How can you keep doing this, day after day?”

  “Doing what?” She offered him a sandwich.

  “Breakfast, lunch, dinner. Cooking. For God’s sake, you’re on trial for murder, and you act like it’s a parking ticket.”

  “What, exactly, am I supposed to do?” Lizzie pushed the tray toward him.

  Burr was starving, but lunch was going to have to wait.

  “I think it helps keep her mind off things,” Wes said.

  Burr had had enough. “While you’re dealing drugs under her nose.”

  Wes sat bolt upright and looked at Burr, stunned.

  “Don’t give me that look. While your daughter is running this place, you’re running drugs.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Wes said.

  Lizzie held the tray, frozen like a statue.

  Burr looked at Lizzie. “Quinn wasn’t having an affair. And he wasn’t selling drugs. It was your father.”

  Wes’ eyes darted around the room. “It’s not true.”

  “Charlie Cox was selling you drugs, and you were selling them to the sports. You couldn’t pay him. So he sent his girlfriend to get money from Quinn. That’s what it was about. When Quinn threatened to tell Lizzie, you followed him to the river and killed him.”

  “That’s not what happened. It wasn’t like that.”

  “Wasn’t like what?” Lizzie said.

  Wes rushed over to her and tried to put his arm around her. She pushed him away. The tray crashed to the floor. The pitcher shattered. Milk splashed everywhere. The sandwiches scattered across the room.

  “I didn’t kill Quinn,” Wes said.

  “But you let me think Quinn was having an affair and selling drugs?”

  “I didn’t want you involved.”

  “What kind of father are you?” she said, standing in the middle of the spoiled lunch.

  Burr walked up to the two of them. “Charlie Cox wasn’t on the guest list, but he was at the auction. What was in the envelope you gave Cox? The cash you stole from the auction?”

  “That’s not what happened.” His eyes darted around the room again.

  Burr glared at him. “I think you killed Quinn and tried to make it look like an accident.”

  “I didn’t kill Quinn.” Wes started for the door. Burr grabbed him by the arm.

  “You’re one of the few people who could pull it off and make it look like an accident. And it would have worked. Except for the canoe paddle.”

  “Dad, how could you do that?” Lizzie started to tear up.

  Wes’ eyes fixed on Lizzie. “I didn’t. I swear I didn’t.”

  “You thought your daughter would have a better chance of getting off than you would?”

  “I wasn’t at the river. I was here. With Charlie.”

  “Dad was watching Josh that night. He couldn’t have gone to the river.”

  “He could have left Josh by himself,” Burr said.

  Lizzie looked down at the floor, broken dishes, spilled milk, sandwiches everywhere. She got down on her hands and knees and started cleaning up. Then she stopped, stood, and walked over to her father. “It’s all been about The Gray Drake. It always has been. Your precious fishing lodge on your precious river. That’s all you ever cared about.” She looked down at the floor, then back at her father. “Clean up your own mess.”

  * * *

  After lunch, Jacob was waiting for Burr and Eve on the courthouse steps. “You were right about the trust property. There are mineral leases with Reef Oil and Gas.”

  “Mineral leases?” Eve said.

  “Oil and gas exploration,” Jacob said. “On three separate parcels.”

  “Does the trust have the authority to enter into mineral leases?” Burr said.

  “I have no idea. We’d have to look at the trust agreement,” Jacob said.

  “Where is it?”

  “It’s not on fi
le,” Jacob said.

  “What is on file?”

  “Just the trust certificate. It lists the trustees.”

  “Who are they?”

  “Thompson Shepherd.” Jacob paused for effect. “And Quinn Shepherd.”

  “Jacob, look again. We have to have a copy of the trust.” Jacob rolled his eyes and walked back to his car.

  They filed back into the courtroom. The bailiff called them to order. Skinner entered, then he sat and poured over the witness list. He ran his finger up and down the paper, counting to himself. He looked down at Burr. “I see that you have called all of your witnesses. If you have nothing further to say, we’ll move to closing statements. Mr. Cullen, you may begin.”

  “Your Honor, the defense has discovered new evidence.”

  “Mr. Lafayette, we’ve gone through all this, and we’re still not done?”

  “Not quite, Your Honor.”

  “What is it?”

  “Your Honor, the defense believes that certain land transactions concerning Reef Oil and Gas and the Alexander Thompson Shepherd Trust may have a bearing on the case.”

  “How can that have anything to do with the murder of Quinn Shepherd?”

  “Your Honor, the defense asks that you require the trust document to be produced.”

  “What could a trust document possibly have to do with a murder?”

  “It’s about oil and gas, Your Honor. Men have been killed for less.”

  Skinner drummed his fingers. “Mr. Lafayette, I am not going to order the Alexander Thompson Shepherd Trust to be produced. We have come too far, and I don’t see the relevance. I will allow you to call additional witnesses or redirect.”

  This was better than nothing. But not much.

  “Thank you, Your Honor.” Burr turned to the gallery. “The defense calls Noah Osterman.”

  Noah Osterman looked none too pleased to be back on the witness stand. “I remind you that you are still under oath, Mr. Osterman,” Burr said.

  “I am aware of that.”

  “Mr. Osterman, you are the attorney for Reef Oil and Gas. Is that right?”

  “Yes.”

  “And did you draft oil and gas leases for your client to enter into with the Alexander Thompson Shepherd Trust?”

  “No.”

  Burr walked back to his table and picked up a folder. Back at the witness stand he opened it up and handed Osterman a document. “Mr. Osterman, what are you holding in your hand?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Mr. Osterman, what are the first four words on this page?”

  “I can’t read them without my glasses.”

  “You are wearing glasses.”

  “They’re not my reading glasses.”

  What is it with these guys and their glasses? He grabbed the document from Osterman. “Your Honor, the defense would like to introduce into evidence three oil and gas leases by and between Reef Oil and Gas and the Alexander Thompson Shepherd Trust.”

  Cullen jumped up. “I object, Your Honor. These leases have no bearing on the matter at hand.”

  “Your Honor, these leases are connected to the death of Quinn Shepherd.”

  Skinner waved his gavel at Burr. “I’ll allow it.”

  “Thank you, Your Honor. Please admit these leases as Defense Exhibits Three, Four and Five.” Burr looked at Osterman. He flipped to the last page of each lease. “Mr. Osterman, I know you can’t read these leases without your glasses, so I’ll do it for you.” He smiled wickedly at Osterman. “It says here you drafted every one of these leases. And they were each signed by Harley Hawken and Thompson Shepherd. They were then recorded in the Crawford County Register of Deeds office. Does that ring a bell?”

  “I don’t remember.”

  “Of course, you don’t. Just how long has Wes Godspeed been selling you drugs?”

  Osterman sat back in his chair.

  “Answer the question, Mr. Osterman,” Skinner said.

  “I have never bought any drugs from Wesley Goodspeed.”

  “Where did you go with Mr. Hawken after the auction ended?”

  “I never left the lodge.” Osterman set his lips and his lower lip stuck out like a pouting child.

  “That’s not what Kathryn Kennedy said.”

  “She was mistaken.”

  “I have no further questions, Your Honor.”

  “Mr. Cullen?”

  “No questions, Your Honor.”

  “Gentlemen, we will have closing arguments tomorrow. Is that clear?”

  “Yes, Your Honor,” Cullen said.

  Burr nodded.

  “Mr. Lafayette, I will take your silence as an assent. We are adjourned.” Down came the gavel. Out went Skinner.

  Burr walked out of the courthouse. He thought his defense had gone well so far, but probably not well enough to get Lizzie acquitted. And, he was running out of time.

  Jacob was waiting for him on the courthouse steps.

  “Did you find the trust?”

  “No. And I looked everywhere. Twice.”

  Burr ground his teeth. “I need you to do a little more research.”

  Jacob gave him a peeved look. “I can’t find the trust. I just told you that.”

  “There is something going on with the money,” Burr said.

  “What about the trust?”

  “We’ll get back to that later,” Burr said.

  “Now what?” Jacob said.

  “We didn’t look into People’s State Bank.”

  “It’s a bank. I’m sure it’s full of money.”

  “Just this once.”

  Jacob put his hands on his hips. “With you, it’s never just this once. And besides, it’s too late.”

  “There is enough time if you start now.”

  Jacob gave Burr a disgusted look, but off he went.

  Burr needed to find something out at the river while there was still daylight, and he needed Maggie’s help. They took the Jeep down the two-track, the infamous two-track where Heidi Grettenberger said she had seen Lizzie with the canoe paddle and the same two-track that led to Dead Man’s Hole where Brian Bilkey had found Quinn.

  About two hundred yards in, the two-track turned into two ruts. Burr put the Jeep in four-wheel drive. In another three hundred yards, the ruts turned into a path. Burr parked the Jeep. Zeke ran ahead of them.

  They walked the path another two hundred yards to the river. It was about a hundred feet wide and ran a little over its banks. Burr smelled the wet of the snow and mud on the riverbank and the fishy smell of the river. Zeke waded in the river up to his chest.

  Maggie stood beside Burr. “What are we looking for?”

  He pointed above a run out, a flat spot near the middle of the river. “See that. That’s Dead Man’s Hole. That’s where Bilkey saw Quinn’s boat, and just below that is where Bilkey found Quinn.”

  Maggie shuddered. “Why do I have to see this?”

  Burr pointed downriver. “Just down there, around that bend, is the two-track where Finn found the paddle. Come with me.” Burr took her hand and led her closer to the river. Their boots sunk in the mud.

  “If I take another step, I’ll be in over my boots.”

  Burr let go of her hand and took another three steps. The mud ended, and he stood in the sand on the river bank.

  “Now, what do you see?”

  “I see the river. I see that you’re standing in the sand, and I’m standing in the mud.”

  “Do you see any rocks?”

  “Rocks?”

  “Yes, rocks.”

  “No.”

  Burr walked back to Maggie. “Come with me.” He took her by the hand, and they walked back to the Jeep.

  Burr turned the Jeep around. They crossed the river at Chase Bridge and drove along
the other side of the river.

  “Tell me where to turn. The two-track where you found the paddle.”

  “You just passed it.”

  Burr turned around.

  “Here,” she said. “Turn here.”

  “How do you know?”

  “There’s a white pine on one side and a red pine on the other.”

  There’s no way I’d ever have found this. He turned in, drove down the two-track. They stopped short of the river again. He got out and opened Maggie’s door for her. He took her by the hand and led her to the river.

  “What’s different about this?”

  “It’s on the other side of the river,” she said.

  “What else?”

  Maggie looked around. “I don’t know. It’s not as muddy.”

  “What else?”

  She took a step to the river and slipped. Burr caught her. “It’s slippery here.”

  “Why is that?”

  Maggie looked at her boots. “There are rocks here.”

  “Exactly.”

  “What difference does that make?”

  “It was something Traker said.” Burr crouched down and ran his hand over a basketball-sized rock. “He said Quinn’s injury, the wound on the back of his head could have been from falling on a rock.” Burr stood back up. “But there are no rocks on the other side of the river. Where Bilkey found Quinn.”

  “He could have hit his head on the boat.”

  “Or he could have been killed here and then dragged back upstream in his boat.”

  “Why would anyone do that?”

  “And that’s why Finn found the paddle here.”

  “The paddle could have just floated down here.”

  “Or it could have been lost here.”

  They climbed back in the Jeep. Burr drove back to the courthouse.

  “Is it going to the jury tomorrow?” she said.

  “I think so.”

  “Was it an accident?”

  “No.”

  “Do you know who killed Quinn?”

  “I think so, but I can’t prove it.” Burr turned the engine off.

  “What are you going to do?”

  “I’m going to have to get the jury to believe it was an accident unless Jacob can find what I need.”

  “Who did it?”

  “I really can’t tell you.”

  Maggie didn’t look too happy, but she nodded at him. She got out of the Jeep and drove off in her Explorer.