Simon Hansen
I took the hardpack of cigarettes out of my shirt pocket, opened the lid, and selected a smoke with my lips. I lit up with a paper match from a plain white book and carelessly tossed the pack and matchbook on the cheap, pretend mahogany desk. Simon Hansen glared from his square face. There was no ashtray in sight, and he looked like a non-smoker. I didn’t give a damn.
I drew smoke from the filter cigarette and decided again that I didn’t like it. I’d asked for a pack of Trafalgar Square Kings, but they only came in softpack and the cops needed a hardpack to hide the bug inside. I was given a pack of Burnished Gold Filter Kings from the vending machine in the lobby of the state police barracks. I laughed when I smoked the first one at the police station. David asked what I thought was funny. I told him Charlie’s opinion that, ‘filter cigarettes are for pussies.’ He laughed and his eyes twinkled with pride.
Hansen opened his desk drawer and planked a cheap aluminum ashtray in front of me. It was a giveaway that had his business name around the rim. Black block capitals said, ‘Hansen General Equipment & Service.’ I flicked a few flakes of ash into it.
Hansen was a salesman through and through. He oozed fakery from the faux elegance of his cheap suit, to the top of his dyed and slicked back hair, to the obvious crowns on his front teeth. Even the smile he offered was forced. It didn’t reach his unhappy grey eyes.
He steepled his fingers and leaned forward to put his elbows on the desk in a posture of familiarity. He spoke with a deep, cultivated voice. “David Ploughman, what brings you and your…your friend here this afternoon.”
I was overtly hostile when I introduced myself to Hansen when we first walked into his office. I wanted to needle him. I wanted him off balance and at least a little angry. I attacked his integrity right out of the gate. I shook his hand and spoke to David while I did. “This is the guy who drilled that fucking well? He looks like the kind who would offer a well and deliver a bunch of grief instead.”
Hansen hadn’t said anything, but his grimace announced that I’d gotten to him. Now that we were seated around the desk, we could get down to business. “Mister Ploughman, I do not believe the firm has drilled a well on your property.”
I fielded that statement as well. “We’re here about the one you drilled for Lars Krengel. You know perfectly well that David owns the property now. You made an offer to buy it through his attorney, Chris Christiansen.”
He shook his head. “I apologize but I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re talking about. It is true that we drilled a well for Mister Krengel. Is there a problem with it?”
I answered. “Yeah, it burned the fucking house down. It also sabotaged the farm equipment, ruined the refrigeration plant, messed up the milking equipment, and what was the last thing?” I looked up like I was lost in thought. “Oh yeah, it killed the fucking cows!”
Hansen stared like I’d grown a second head. He was confused. He directed his question at David. “Mister Ploughman, is your friend quite well?”
I slammed my hand on the desk and immediately wished I hadn’t because of the pain that exploded in my joints. I winced but stayed in control. “I’m fucking fine, pal! What’s the matter, you never heard of a well that could burn a house and wreck equipment and infect cows with hoof-and-mouth disease?”
He grinned like I was an ass. “No, I never have. How would a water well do all those things mister…mister, excuse me, I seem to have forgotten your name.”
“No, you haven’t. A salesman never forgets a name.”
Hansen’s deep, miserable frown returned. “I am a business owner. I’m not a salesman.”
“You’re a salesman, alright. You’re trying to sell us right now. You’re selling your innocence and neither of us are buying.”
He forced another smile. “I do not understand you, sir. What do you claim I’m guilty of?”
I elbowed David and pointed at Hansen. “Show him.”
David took a small envelope from his shirt pocket. He opened the fold and shook out a baker’s dozen of blue sapphires. Hansen continued to play innocent. “Very pretty, but what do those stones have to do with me?”
I answered. “They’re what you wanted when you entered into a conspiracy to defraud Lars Krengel of his property. Your employee dug a well and found blue sapphires in the drill tailings. He told you about them instead of Krengel. You knew who Lars was. You’re a native of a very small place. You must’ve known Lars. He was a very old man with a small operation. You wanted the property to exploit the minerals, but you didn’t want to pay much for it. You had a word with local no good, Keith Sykes and the crooked local law, Sheriff Andy. The plan was to demoralize Krengel into giving up on his farm and selling out to the first offer he had, which you assumed would be yours.
“Sykes sabotaged the refrigeration plant and the farm equipment and cost the operation quite a bit of money. That wasn’t enough to chase Lars off because he was a stubborn old man. He also was a man of faith. If he was suffering, he must’ve assumed the Lord was testing him. He marched forward like a good Christian soldier. Eventually, your little team grew tired of waiting for Krengel to lose faith. You upped the ante and the pressure. Sykes got infected material from the Bovine Research Center in Winnett where he works and used it to give hoof-and-mouth to Krengel’s herd.
“Either the inspector discovered the infection or Krengel noticed and told on himself. Perhaps you had a word with the inspector and suggested he check on Krengel. I don’t put it past you.” I shrugged that it hardly mattered. “Either way, Lars finally had enough and was ready to sell. He didn’t take your low-ball offer, though. He accepted the standing offer of his friend, David Ploughman. You tried to buy from David. You made your offer through a law firm in Billings. David didn’t want the money, though; he wanted the land.
“You and your confederates tried harder. You had Sykes burn the house. He came back to do some more mischief two days later, but I caught him and he left. In the meantime, Andy harassed me and David and David’s son to warn us off the investigation. Andy is an idiot. All he had to do was leave me alone and I never would have suspected his involvement. Instead, he made a nuisance of himself from the start. He couldn’t have made his involvement any plainer if he shouted it. He also wiped a print from the flare cap I discovered next to the burned house.
“You should probably tell Sykes the next time he torches a house, don’t drop the cap to the flare in the shrubs. He should toss it in to burn with everything else. I know Andy wiped the cap because it should’ve had a print or at least a partial. Any surface that can support prints will have them. Sykes didn’t wipe it; he was too stupid. Andy wiped it because he’s stupid, too. Sykes came back last night with more flares to burn the barn, but I posted guards. They caught him and tied him up. I questioned him and he gave us your name.”
Hansen smiled, genuinely this time. “This is a marvelous story. Where, may I ask, is the devious Mister Sykes now?”
“Andy rescued him from us. He also threatened me and David and several others with his official sidearm. I haven’t decided whether or not to press charges.”
“Fascinating! This is a good story. It lacks only one thing; you failed to mention how you could hold me responsible for any of what you claim happened.”
It was David’s turn to get tough. He pounded his giant fist on the desk hard enough that my cigarette ashes jumped out of the tray. I realized I was still holding a cigarette and stubbed it out. David growled at Hansen. “I can’t hold you responsible, but I know it was you. Law and I came here and told our story because the foolishness stops now, today, this moment. Your game is finished because we know all about it.”
Hansen insisted he knew nothing. “It’s an interesting story, but completely untrue. That said, I bear you no ill will in spite of your accusations. In fact, it sounds like I have a new business opportunity. You’ll need equipment to open your new mine and…”
David pounded the desk again and roared. “I AM A FARMER! I am not a miner. I purchased a dairy because I wanted a dairy. There will be no mine. You cost me some time, an old house, and some equipment repairs. You also cost me a friend. Lars Krengel was the salt of the earth and because of you and your greed, he’s dead. There isn’t a single thing I can do about any of that because I have no proof. Just because I can’t prove it, doesn’t mean I don’t know it in my heart. You stay away from my land, my property, my family, and my business. We will have no more dealings. We’re finished for good and all.”
David gathered the sapphires and stood from his chair. I did the same and added a final thought. “By the way, David said that he couldn’t hold you responsible. That only means he and I can’t personally do anything. We had a nice long talk with the state police this morning. Perhaps they will be able to build a case. Perhaps a little official pressure applied in the right places will make one of your confederates talk. Who knows?”
I lifted my hands in an exaggerated shrug and turned to leave. Hansen called after me. “Mister Edwards, you forgot your cigarettes.”
I didn’t go back for them. “Keep ‘em you cheap grifter.”
He held the pack up. “I don’t smoke, sir.”
“Yeah? You also didn’t remember my name, did you, salesman?” I laughed my way out of his office, through the showroom, and into the parking lot. David followed. We got into the Suburban and drove away.
David waited until we were out of the parking lot before he commented on our meeting. “I’m disappointed he didn’t admit to anything.”
“Me too, but guys like him are so used to being crooked, they don’t say anything they don’t have to.”
“Do you think this idea of yours will work?”
I raised my hands and let them fall to my lap in another exaggerated shrug. “No idea. It’s worth a shot. I hope it works. I was pretty proud of the idea.”
“I hope so, too.”
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