He held the document out to me.
I raised my hand. “I'm sorry, Will. There seems to have been a misunderstanding. I'm here about the Mack farm, but I'm not representing the Macks on negotiating an oil lease.”
Will Wellington pulled the paper back and his eyes clouded. “Why else would you be here?”
“I represent Archie Mack in his criminal case.”
The scowl deepened. “Hillside Oil & Gas has nothing to do with that.”
“I understand. I have some questions about your negotiations with the family.”
Will Wellington put the contract back on his desk and while the look on his face remained pleasant, the cheerful bonhomie of his greeting was gone. “Mr. Shepherd, I appear to have made a serious mistake. We do not comment on negotiations with landowners over lease rights. There are too many moving parts. Even mentioning it to you…” He trailed off and tapped the thick agreement on his desk. “Well, let's just say my comments this morning were enough to violate our company policy.”
“I'm sorry, Will, I never said that I—”
Will Wellington raised a hand. “I know, Mr. Shepherd. You didn't. I made an assumption that was obviously incorrect and have now put the two of us in the position of having an awkward conversation in which I must ask you to leave because I have other appointments, which I thought were worth being late for when I believed you were here on a different matter.”
“Sure. I'm sorry for the misunderstanding.”
“No, I'm sorry,” he said. “It's entirely my fault.”
I stood and made to leave and, to his credit, Will Wellington came around his desk and offered to shake my hand again. “If you could keep what I said confidential?” he said.
“I'm not going to go to the paper or talk about it around town. But I can't promise you that I won't act on it for my client.”
His eyes hardened and I caught my first glimpse then of Will Wellington, the wildcat oilman who was willing to take risks and make deals. A moment later, it was gone, and he said, “Sure. Nice to meet you.”
“You too.”
I waved goodbye to Nancy, the most pleasant receptionist in the lower Peninsula and went to my Jeep. Wellington said he’d made a mistake but what he’d said made it clear that Hillside Oil & Gas was negotiating a deal with the Macks.
Which wasn’t what I’d been told at all.
My first call was to Archie. When he didn’t answer, my second was to Mrs. Mack.
“I don't know what you're talking about, Mr. Shepherd,” said Mrs. Mack over the speaker in my Jeep.
“I just came from Will Wellington's office, Mrs. Mack. He had a deal all set to go.”
“But we haven't spoken to him.”
“Could Mr. Mack have talked to him about it?”
“We don't operate like that, Mr. Shepherd.”
“I didn’t mean to insult you, but it was clear that Wellington thought he had reached an agreement with you.”
“I’m not insulted, Mr. Shepherd, but it’s exactly the opposite with us. Alban is out in the field all day this time of year. I handle the books and the business side of things. If anyone was going to have the initial conversation with Mr. Wellington on their own, it would be me. But that's not how Alban and I do things. If we were going to make a deal with him the two of us would have sat down together and discussed it.”
“What about Hamish?”
“What about him?”
“Could Hamish be making a deal?”
“No.”
“Doesn’t he own his land outright?”
“Yes, but…It’s complicated.”
“Explain it to me.”
“Basically, Hamish and Archie each own their own parcel of land. They’ll split our parcel when we die or can’t work it.”
“Okay.”
“Our land is adjacent, so what one person does affects the others. It’s important that we all be on the same page.”
“Right. Like the decision to go organic.”
“Exactly. So, technically, we make all the farming decisions together, but the profit or loss from each third goes to the owner of that third.”
“I’m with you so far.”
“Technically, we make all of our farming decisions together.”
This time I heard her emphasis. “And if you disagree?”
She paused. “Alban and I have a fifty-one percent vote.”
“So what you say goes.”
“We didn’t have to give them any land while we were alive.”
“I understand.”
“But we wanted them to be able to support themselves, to farm before we were dead.”
“It makes sense.”
“And we have the most experience in making these kinds of decisions.”
“Sure. And you haven’t made a deal for a well?”
“No.”
“Okay.”
I wasn’t going to say it but Mrs. Mack got there anyway. “Do you think Hamish has tried to make a deal for a well?”
I had my suspicions but said, “I don’t know.”
“I'll speak to him right now.”
“Can you wait?”
“Whatever for?”
“I'd like to speak to him first.”
Another pause. “Why?”
“I'd like to get the explanation directly from him without him having time to think about it.”
“Why would you do that?”
“To get the most truthful response possible.”
“Why wouldn't Hamish give you that?”
Mrs. Mack had not yet made the leap that I had. She’d get there but I didn't want to be the one who said it. “You never know.”
There was a pause long enough for me to wonder if the call had dropped. Then Mrs. Mack said, “I’m not going to set up one son to save another, Mr. Shepherd.”
“I’m not asking you to, Mrs. Mack. I’m asking you to give your youngest the chance to tell me what’s going on in person.”
“All right. I'll need to tell Alban as soon as he gets in tonight though.”
“I'll go see Hamish right now.”
“Thank you, Mr. Shepherd.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Mack.”
I hung up and kept driving to Mack Farms, to the one-third owned by Hamish Mack.
28
I timed it just about right. The sun was setting and Hamish was driving his combine into his modern steel barn when I rolled to a stop in his driveway which, unlike his parents’ and brother’s, was a long stretch of asphalt rather than gravel. I watched him idle the big red machine slowly through the doorway, looking side-to-side to make sure it didn't scrape on either edge. As it disappeared into the barn, I got out of the Jeep and waited on the black drive that was still giving off the heat of the day’s sun.
I didn't have to wait long. Hamish came out of the barn, hit a button, and watched until the steel doors slid home and locked. He took a few steps toward his house, saw me, started to smile, then stopped.
“You’re on the wrong farm, lawyer,” he said.
“No. I’m looking for you.”
“Oh?” He pulled a rag out of his pocket and wiped his hands. “Why would I talk to someone who’s trying to free the man who crippled my Abby?”
“I don’t know. I’m not that guy.”
“Sure seems like it from here.”
I shrugged. “I’m the guy trying to figure out who did push Abby down those stairs. I’d think you’d want to talk to him.”
Hamish shook his head. “Lawyers. Always twisting things.”
“Not twisting. Discovering.”
Hamish snorted and I thought he was actually going to spit. When he just shook his head, I said, “Things like oil leases.”
No reaction. “What about them?”
“I just came from Will Wellington's office.”
Hamish began to wipe his hands with the rag again. “Oh? How is Will?”
“You know him?”
Hamish smiled. “Everybody kn
ows Will.”
“How about you?”
“Through our church and the Business Association. What took you to see Will?” His eyes were calm but his hands worked the rag.
“I had some questions about the timing of his offer for an oil lease on the farm about three years ago. It seemed suspicious to me coming on the heels of the crop sabotage.”
Hamish’s eyes cleared a little. “I don't blame you there. But I think Will is a pretty good guy. He just has access to a lot of information. He'd heard what happened so thought it was a good time to make an offer to the family. My parents weren’t interested though. They still wanted to give the organic thing a try.”
“What about you?”
“What about me?”
“Did you want to give the organic thing a try?”
“No one has helped my parents with that more than me, including Archie. I've been working their farm and mine for years.”
“So why did you sign a deal with Will?”
Hamish didn’t blink. “I didn't sign a deal with Will.”
“Good point. Why are you about to?”
“You’re barking up the wrong tree, Lawyer. My parents have a fifty-one percent vote on farming decisions for all three farms and they’re not interested. I can’t sign a deal.”
“That’s not what Will thinks.”
He stopped wiping his hands. “Wish I could say it was good to see you,” he said and walked toward his house.
“Why are you doing it?”
Hamish stopped. “I’m not doing anything. You need to ask my brother why he did it. Then you need to tell him to burn in hell.”
“Rent and an eighth of the profits is a lot of money. More than a farm produces.”
Hamish paused, then climbed the stairs to his porch and went into his house.
I waited as the sun dipped below the horizon, leaving the farm in darkness. The lights came on but Hamish didn't come back out, so I climbed back into my Jeep and left.
I thought about going to see the Macks but decided against it. If I was right, they’d find out soon enough that their youngest was trying to cut a deal to put an oil well on their property. I felt like I was missing some angles here, so I decided to call it a night and go clear my head and talk to someone else who was working through the same puzzle.
The evening rush was over at the Brickhouse when I went in, but there were still a few people working out. I saw a couple of groups rotating through the weights and Cade was in back sparring with a guy who was as big as him. As I walked through, I heard a thump as Cade tossed the guy to the mat, then watched him step back and wait as the guy staggered to his feet.
I found Olivia in her office, staring at her monitors. I knocked on the open door. She glanced up then turned her chair all the way around.
“Hey, Shep.”
“Who's on the mat with Cade?”
Olivia smiled. “A young guy who wants to audition for that MMA show.”
“He any good?”
“Supposedly.”
“Cade just tossed him.”
“The two aren’t mutually exclusive.”
I handed her one of the two coffees I’d brought.
“Bless you,” she said. “What's up?”
“There’ve been some developments. Do you have a second?”
Olivia rubbed her temples. “I do.”
“Staring at the computer too long today?”
She straightened. “I’m fine. What's going on?”
So I told her, about my trip to see Wellington and his mistaking me for the Macks’ lawyer and him disclosing that he had a deal put together to drill a well on the Mack farm, about my call to Mrs. Mack and her explanation of how she and her husband controlled the farm decision-making and that they had authorized no such thing, and about my trip to see Hamish and my suspicion that he was trying to make the deal.
“I'm telling you, Liv,” I said. “There's something there. Hamish seems like the only one out of his whole family who thinks that Archie did it. But there's no way all of the rest of this is just a coincidence—first an offer from Hillside Oil right after the crop sabotage and now Hamish trying to put a deal together after his brother is tagged for attempting to murder his fiancée.”
“Why isn't he talking?”
“Hamish? That seems obvious—he doesn’t want the rest of the family to know about the well.”
“No. I mean, Archie.”
I shook my head. “I’m not sure. It has to be related.”
“I wonder if Archie knows.”
“About Hamish trying to sell the drilling rights? He can’t, right? It would have a big impact on the organic farming that they’re all planning.”
Olivia nodded. “All a competitor would have to do is take a picture of the Macks’ crops with an oil derrick in the background. That would pretty much scrap any healthy food claims.”
A thump and a sharp cry echoed across the emptying gym. Olivia chuckled.
I chuckled with her, then said, “I'll let you know what I find out from Archie.”
“Thanks.” She took a sip of coffee and turned back to her computer, the monitor reflected in her glasses.
“Maybe you should knock off for the night.”
“Good night, Shep.”
I walked out of her office and saw that Cade and his sparring partner had put on oversized boxing gloves. They touched briefly then began to move around the mat. Cade’s footwork was exceptionally smooth for his size. He flicked out a jab with a long left, 1-2-3 times before ducking a hook and tapping the man in the back of the head. I couldn't help but stop and watch for a few minutes as Cade floated lightly on his feet, tagging the man from different angles seemingly at will. Soon, I realized that he could probably knock the MMA show contender out at any time. I decided I was in the best spot when it came to fighting Cade.
Not fighting Cade.
I left.
29
Next morning, I met with Danny and brought him up to speed with everything that had happened the day before. Danny pressed his lips together as I spoke.
“What?” I said.
“You should've called me.”
“I figured we’d talk about it today.”
“No, I mean before you called the Macks and saw Hamish.”
“Why?”
“Because I had information that would’ve mattered to you.”
“Great. What?”
“Video of the Quarry.”
“What about it?”
“Hamish was there with Wellington.”
“What? At the concert?”
Danny nodded. “I’d never seen Wellington, so his face didn’t mean anything the first few times I’d gone through it. Then, when we started looking at him and I went on his company website and his Facebook site, I was pretty sure I’d seen him on the video so I went back and checked. Turns out, I had.”
“When?”
“After the concert.”
“Where?”
“In the courtyard. He’s talking to Hamish right before Hamish goes out the back.”
“You’re kidding.”
“Nope. Then, when Abby goes after Hamish, Archie swoops in and talks to him.”
“To Wellington?”
Danny nodded. “It looked animated. Then Archie disappears to the back.”
“That’s the video we’ve been focused on?”
“Right. And then as Archie returns, Wellington goes to the back.”
“Toward the stairs?!”
“Yep.”
“Goddammit. That means all three of them were back there?”
“Looks like it. At three different times.”
I stood. “Do you have any other dress shoes here?”
“No. Why?”
“Because those are going to get dirty.”
I’d texted Archie that we were on the way to see him, but his combine was still rolling across his field when we arrived at Mack Farms. I wasn’t in the mood to wait. I backed out of his d
riveway and drove longways around the long block to the far side of Archie’s field where he was just making a turn near the road. I flashed my lights, honked the horn, then got out of the Jeep and waved. The combine stopped.
Danny and I found a narrow part of the ditch and hopped it, then made our way through a cloud of pollen and dust to where Archie stood, arms crossed, waiting.
He glanced at the sun. “I don’t have a lot of time, Nate.”
I nodded. “Hamish is going to build the oil well.”
Archie’s arms flexed and his jaw clenched. It struck me as anger but not surprise. “He might try but he can’t.”
“That’s not what Will Wellington thinks.”
“You talked to Wellington?”
“Yes. He thinks he has an agreement ready to go.”
“That can’t be.”
“Why not?”
“Our Farm Agreement. Mom and Dad have final say in farm decisions while they’re alive.”
“Even on your individual farms? Yours and Hamish’s?”
“Yes.”
“It seems like Hamish might be operating behind your back.”
“He’s always operating…” he trailed off again.
“Archie,” I said. “Did you see Wellington the night of the concert?”
He looked at me. “How did you know he was—?” He caught himself but it was too late.
Which, by the way, is why you never put the defendant on the stand.
“Video,” I said. “Danny here watched him. Watched Hamish talk to him. Watched you talk to him. What’s going on?”
Archie pulled the brim on his cap down, then looked to the side at the field. “I suspected Hamish was trying to deal with Wellington. I had no idea he’d gone so far.”
Blind Conviction (Nate Shepherd Legal Thriller Series Book 3) Page 15