The More They Disappear by Jesse Donaldson

Author:Jesse Donaldson
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781466851337
Publisher: St. Martin's Press

seven

A sad herd of bedraggled cows lolled across the road leading into Lingg Pedersen’s homestead. Harlan had to shoo them by waving his ball cap as if it were a Stetson. He’d read up on the Pedersen case since visiting the bank. Lingg’s son, Adam, was a common punk facing jail time after having swung through his third strike—the last one for carrying a couple of grams over the misdemeanor limit of dope. Lew’s letter to Craycraft had mentioned how the weighing of drugs was an imperfect science and that he might consider this when adjudicating Adam’s future. Craycraft ended up dropping the charge to a misdemeanor, and Adam walked out with a fine and community service. Not long after, Lingg sent his son on a bus to his mother’s place in Pennsylvania. A week after that, a check from Pedersen to Lew bounced. There wasn’t a second check.

When no one came to the door of Pedersen’s house, Harlan continued on to the barn. He found Lingg checking his tobacco, which hung on inch-thick poles to cure. “Good yield this year, Lingg?”

“Doesn’t matter if the market’s down,” Pedersen replied before turning to see who’d asked.

“I wondered if I might talk to you,” Harlan said. “About Adam.”

“That boy. So much potential, so little drive. He’s at his mother’s place.”

“I remember when you sent him up there. Pretty soon after his court date.”

“Yep.”

“Pretty good fortune for Adam.”

“I suppose.”

Pedersen grabbed a broom and started brewing up a dust storm of barn-floor dirt.

“Do you know why the judge reduced the charges?”

“Nope.”

Harlan pulled out a bandanna and covered his mouth, took hold of the broom to make Pedersen stop. “You wrote Lew Mattock a check around that time.”

“Now there’s a tragedy,” Pedersen said.

“We’re all broken up about it,” Harlan said. “But the check. Do you remember it?”

Pedersen scratched through his beard and thought. “Probably a campaign donation.”

“That’s strange,” Harlan said. “It didn’t go into a campaign account. It went into Lew’s personal savings. And then it bounced.”

“Did it now?” Pedersen shrugged. “I never put much stock in banks.”

“None of this sounds familiar?”

“It sounds familiar,” Pedersen said. “But that doesn’t mean I recollect it.” He was playing dumb but he’d perfected the art.

“That check wouldn’t have anything to do with Adam’s arrest, would it?”

Pedersen started fiddling with the engine of his International. He couldn’t keep still.

“Did you know Lew wrote the judge a note on Adam’s behalf?”

“Is that right? Maybe he was a better man than I thought.”

“What do you mean by that?”

Pedersen pulled a rag from the pocket of his overalls and rubbed his face. “All these questions.”

“I’ll stop asking when you start answering.”

Pedersen methodically folded the sweat rag into a pocket-sized square with his gnarled but nimble fingers, then slipped it back into his overalls and focused his attention on Harlan. “Lew asked for a campaign donation around the time of Adam’s court date. He didn’t say anything about the donation getting Adam off the hook but I knew it couldn’t hurt. When the check bounced, Lew was some kind of angry, so I offered to butcher him a couple cows instead.

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