Revenge is Necessary: A farm family discovers their successful, recently deceased, husband/father was a psychopath who led a second life acquiring land through murder. His letter explains why. Or does it?

Revenge is Necessary: Psychological Thriller

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BLURB: Revenge is Necessary

Shaw Skogman, a taciturn, successful farmer, erupts and attempts to kill his wife and son by firing a shotgun at them. Shaw ends up with a severe leg wound but chooses to die rather than accept a lifesaving amputation.  His wife and family learn more shocking things about him as they discover the separate life he led in plain sight. Elderly farmers and their spouses died. Was it of natural causes? How did he acquire so much land? What was the relationship between him and Melvin, his nervous right-hand man? Shaw’s first wife committed suicide—or did she? What roles do a gay undertaker, a closeted sheriff, and two gay teens play in discovering the answers? Finally, what secrets did his second wife have?

EXCERPT: Revenge is Necessary

Cochran bit into his Danish, chewed and said, “For some reason, I want to see Melvin’s delivery van. He told us he stored it in a shed about a quarter mile across the road from his place. Let’s run by and see it.” He drained his coffee, threw a ten on the table, grabbed the remains of his Danish and rushed off. Outside, Jens noticed the jeep was muddy with what looked like remnants of chicken crap. “Don’t say a word about the condition of my car, unless you’re prepared to clean it.” Cochran tore out of the gravel parking lot like there was a fire or another accident. Jens followed him to Connie’s, parked his truck and jumped into the Jeep.

Cochran drove past Melvin’s place. “Guess his lawyer didn’t bring his Mercedes.” He pointed at a rusty blue Hyundai Elantra in the drive. Cochran pulled onto the property that held a garage, no windows, with a wood shed attached. Evidence of a razed farm house and barn showed in the dirt, waiting to be planted. The garage door opened by a key pad. The side door of the garage was locked. “Damn,” Cochran said as he studied the padlock.

Jens stepped into the wood shed and let his eyes adjust. He began feeling around the edges of the door frame. “Bingo,” he called out. “Sometimes it takes an old farmer to know another one. Melvin’s so meticulous, I’m surprised he didn’t keep this key on him, but then, with all these properties, how many keys did he want to carry around? Besides, he had the code for the big door.” He unlocked the padlock and they walked in.

Cochran flipped on the light, illuminating an older, but well maintained, white Dodge panel minivan. On each side, a magnetic sign said Prescription Delivery. He peered through the passenger window. “It’s set up like a delivery truck. Shelves, clipboards, a small medical bag…Hey, there’s even a nurse’s jacket hanging with a name pin on it. Some people will recognize him, though I’m surprised I never heard anyone mention Melvin claimed to be a nurse. I’ll take a picture, zoom in, maybe I can blow it up enough to read what it says.” Cochran took several pictures, then reviewed them. “Yup, it says Melvin Smith, L.P.N. This confirms the records I’ve seen.”

He went outside and shot photos of the garage and surrounding area. Sitting in his Jeep, sipping coffee out of his thermos the Syds waiter filled for him, he mused, “If they’re messing with pills, do you think they’re doing it at Worthington Pharmacy? I realize Shaw is still licensed…”

Jens felt his eyes widen. Cochran must have noticed. “Oops, guess I shared too much. Anyway, yes, Shaw Phillip is a licensed pharmacist, still in good standing. No complaints against him. Trust me, I checked. Close your mouth before a fly dives in.”

Jens swallowed. “I think if he and Melvin were coming in and out of the pharmacy, even in the night, and making pills up, someone would notice and start asking questions. I think they have another place where they can produce pills from raw material.”

“I agree. Got any ideas where?”

“Yup, on the farm. Let’s go back and I’ll show you where the place might be.” Jens made a circle with his hand as if to turn around.

“I’ll be… Listen, we need to rule everything out. Why don’t we go visit Worthington Pharmacy, then come back to the farm? I’ll buy you lunch. There’s a great little Mexican place. We have time. I think the meeting with Jack isn’t until four.”

At Worthington Compounding Pharmacy, Cochran and Jens asked to speak with the pharmacist and waited till he was through filling several prescriptions. He led them back to a tiny office.

“As I said, I’m Sheriff Fred Cochran out of Summerville. I understand Shaw Phillip owns the pharmacy.” The pharmacist nodded. “I’m sorry to tell you this, but Shaw died. He had an accidental gun injury last Saturday and wasn’t able to recover.”

“My God. I’m shocked. I wondered why he or Melvin hadn’t checked in. They usually do early in the week. Wow. Do you have any idea what might happen to this place? I know Farm Holding owns it.”

“I think that’s being worked out with the lawyer later today.”

Jens was surprised again at how smooth Cochran could be, how little emotion he showed.

“Can I ask several questions?” Cochran asked with a small smile.

The pharmacist waved his hand to continue.

“Are you aware that Shaw’s birth name was Shaw Philip Skogman?”

“No, not really. I knew he owned Skogman Farms, too, but never realized he went by two names. Why did he do that?”

“That’s what we’re trying to get a handle on. Listen, did Shaw ever come in here and compound prescriptions or fill them?”

“No, never. He always said he hired me to manage the business, fill prescriptions and supervise the part-time pharmacists and staff. He pays me well and I get a decent cut of the profits.” The pharmacist looked perplexed.

Jens leaned forward. “What about deliveries? Was Melvin involved in making deliveries? How far out did he deliver? Who determines what drugstore fills and delivers what scripts?”

The man thought a minute. “Some years ago, the pharmacies in the area got together and subcontracted with several local people to deliver prescriptions and medical supplies, primarily to the elderly and isolated.”

He paused to pick up an intercom call. “Tell them I’ll be able to fill it in about thirty minutes.”

Turning to the men, he continued, “Melvin seemed to know who everyone was, so he was hired to deliver the prescriptions to folks who lived between here, Marshall and Summerville. It’s a big area, but he seemed to love squeezing it in with his farm work. Melvin handled most of the regularly scheduled deliveries. In other words, he had a forty-eight-hour window in which to pick up and to deliver the prescriptions. He usually made deliveries on Tuesday, Thursday and Saturdays. If it was an emergency, we had another person handle it. Why do you ask?”

Cochran settled back in his seat like he was at a family picnic. “So, neither Melvin or Shaw ever filled scripts here. Correct?”

“That’s right. Melvin seemed to like the attention of helping others. He even carried a white jacket with his L.P.N. pin on it. Claimed he was licensed years ago, but let it expire, though he said he kept his First Aid and CPR current. He was very conscientious, and always contacted us and/or the physicians if he observed anything wrong with the clients. We have a local woman who uses our vehicle for local delivery in Worthington.” The pharmacist looked at his watch. “Do you have more questions? I need to get a script filled.”

“Two.” Cochran stood. “Has Melvin been in so far this week?”

The man replied, “No. We’ve had no scripts to be delivered. He did leave a message while I was busy this morning. I haven’t had time to call him back. Why?”

Cochran handed him his business card. “Do me a favor. Don’t return it. If he calls or shows up, call me immediately. He’s under arrest, but out on bail.” He patted the man on the back. “Don’t worry, if everything you say is on the up and up, you’ll be fine. There’s a meeting this afternoon that might decide who will be in charge of Farm Holding.”

“Jesus. What the hell is going on?” The pharmacist sat back further in his chair and shook his head. “What’s the second question? Is this one going to shock me as well?”

“Hope not,” Cochran said. “How much compounding do you do? Where do you get the raw supplies or ingredients? What kind of records do you have to keep for ordering those supplies? Did Shaw or Melvin ever acquire raw materials from here?”

“That’s four more questions. We do very little compounding anymore, but enough to make it worthwhile. We order the ingredients as needed from the major drug manufacturers. We keep records for the government. Shaw and Melvin never acquired any such materials from here. Five, it’s fairly simple for any registered pharmacist to order such supplies directly.”

KEYWORDS

revenge, Farm life, psychopathy, senior citizens,

LGBT, murder, crime

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