Read Black Monday, A Stan Turner Mystery Vol 7 Page 12
Chapter 12
CONFLICT OF INTEREST
When I got back to the office I rushed into Stan's office. He looked up and smiled. I didn't reciprocate.
"You won't believe what I found out when I met with Gerald Hatfield at Metroplex," I said.
"What?"
I suddenly felt sick. I walked over to a side chair and sat down. This couldn't be happening.
"Are you okay?" Stan asked.
"Not really," I said.
"What's wrong?"
"Did you know Tex Weller had a loan with Metroplex?"
"Sure. He's been banking with them for years."
"Well, did you know there was a letter from Tex in Don's hate mail file?"
"What? I knew Tex was upset when they made him sign that consulting agreement, but he never mentioned sending Don a letter."
"Well he did, and it isn't a letter I'd like read to a jury."
"Oh, my God. Come on. You can't believe Tex could have killed Baker," I said.
"Well, I wouldn't put it past him considering what a greedy bastard he is."
I was referring to his propensity to get involved in shady, get-rich quick schemes, the last of which nearly got he and Stan killed.
"I don't know."
"It's pretty clear that money is all he cares about. You said he was livid when he got the news his loan had been called."
"Still, I can't see him doing that. I've known him for years. He's not a violent person. Besides, the note was called after the murder."
"He knew it was coming when the stock market crashed. Didn't you two talk about the likelihood that Metroplex would call the note?"
"Yeah, but—"
"I can't believe you'd defend him after what he did to you."
"I'm not defending him. I'm just trying to analyze the situation. I'll admit he may have had a motive, but I'd be shocked if he were the killer."
"It doesn't matter if he is or he isn't. Either way, now I have a conflict of interest. I'm going to have to withdraw from Jimmy's case. Damn it! I can't believe the bastard has screwed up my murder case."
"Wait a minute. Don't jump to conclusions. You don't necessarily have a conflict of interest."
"Yes, I do. Tex is a suspect now and the firm represents him. We can't represent both he and Jimmy."
"Maybe Tex has an alibi. If he does, then he wouldn't be a suspect."
"He'd better have an alibi," I said. "If I have to withdraw on account of him, he might end up dead. Then you'll really have a conflict of interest."
He laughed. "Okay, calm down. I'll go talk to him."
"Right now, I hope. I can't even think. I'm so upset."
Stan left and I started to return phone calls but I was so sick inside I didn't feel like talking to anyone. There was a lot of other work I could have done, but no matter how hard I tried, I just couldn't concentrate. Finally, I grabbed my purse and headed home. All I wanted was a hot bath and a bottle of Chardonnay—or, better yet, vodka.
The place was dead quiet—too quiet. I turned on the stereo and put on the new Randy Travis album, Always and Forever. Now there was a man who knew about love. I kicked off my heals, grabbed the vodka, and headed for the bathroom leaving a trail of discarded clothing in my wake. Steam billowed up and filled the room quickly as the scalding hot water poured into the tub. When it was full, I slipped in and sunk into the hot bath.
The hot water and few shots of vodka put me in a trance. I had everything I ever wanted except, of course, the love of my life. But I was prepared to sacrifice that love for fame and fortune, if that was the price. I was there, right on top, the envy of every judge and lawyer in the state of Texas. The press loved me. I could get an interview with any reporter or talk show host in the blink of an eyelash. At least today I could. Tomorrow I might be washed up on account of Tex Weller—the greedy little bastard. I wondered if he had killed Don Baker. I prayed he hadn't. I couldn't defend Tex Weller. My heart just wouldn't be in it.
When the bath water cooled, I got out, dried myself with a big fluffy towel, and rubbed lotion all over my body. It felt good and the smell of lilac was exhilarating. I was feeling better and my thoughts turned away from Tex to Bart. Where was he? Maybe he'd like to go out for dinner. I found the phone and tracked him down at the medical examiner's office. He thought dinner sounded good and said he'd pick me up at six. I looked at the clock on the dining room wall and noted it was quarter to five—plenty of time to get ready.
It took a while to find the perfect outfit. I had decided tonight was the night to heat things up a bit with Bart. Deep down I was sure he wanted a permanent relationship but whether or not he would acknowledge it, I didn't know. A tinge of fear shot through me. What if he said no? What if my ploy backfired and turned him off? I may be screwing up a perfectly good relationship by putting unnecessary pressure on it. I moaned.
What was I doing? What happened to the confident seductress who was always in control? What would people think if they knew of the turmoil boiling inside me? I cringed at the thought. I looked at the clock radio and saw it was 5:55 p.m. I heard the front door open. I smiled. Bart had arrived.
Bart took me to a cozy little restaurant nestled in one of the few hills in Dallas near downtown. It was called Baby Doe's. We started with a bowl of their famous cheese soup made with premium Coors Beer. Bart had a bottle of Coors too and I was drinking a Chardonnay. The crowd was thick and the music loud. We were both having a good time. The moment had come.
I said, "Honey. I've been thinking."
Bart looked at me and smiled. He seemed to sense I was about to say something important. I liked that about Bart. He listened to me and gave me his full, undivided attention. Not many men did that.
"About what?"
"About us."
"Us?" Bart said, gazing into my eyes.
"Yeah, us. Is that a big surprise?"
"Kind of," he said.
His comment stung. I looked at him wondering what was going through his mind. He forced a smile.
"I'm sorry," he said. "Go on. What about us?"
I took a deep breath. "Well, I like being with you and I think you enjoy my company, right?"
"True."
"So, I was thinking . . . maybe . . . you know . . . we should spend more time together."
He smiled. "That would suit me fine, but what about your practice. How much more time could you afford to spend?"
"Well, that's what I'm getting to. Maybe . . . maybe you should . . . you know . . . consider moving in with me."
Bart gave me a look I'd never seen before. I couldn't tell if it was shock or dismay. He looked away and fumbled with his napkin. I closed my eyes fearing the worst. Finally, he looked at me and said, "What about Stan?"
"What about him?" I said, even though I knew exactly what he meant.
"You over him?" he asked.
I swallowed hard. "Yeah. I'm over him."
He turned his head and smiled. "That's not what your eyes say."
I shrugged. "I'm over him. Okay? I'm over him."
Bart sighed. "I don't know if I believe you. I want to. There is nothing I 'd like more than to wake up next to you every morning for the rest of my life. But I won't be a stand-in for Stan Turner."
Tears welled in my eyes. I said, "You won't be. I promise."
He took my hand and said, "Then marry me. Be my bride."
The words took my breath away. Tears flowed from my eyes. I lost control. I was so embarrassed. I hadn't cried since I was a child. Bart came over to me and put his arms around me.