Chapter 13
The Accident
The following day, Jennifer was scheduled to meet with me. I wanted to get all the details of the accident so I could evaluate her liability exposure. I also wanted to know what she and Rob did the night of Luther's murder. I was on the telephone when Jodie came to my door and signaled that Jennifer had arrived. After I hung up the phone, I hit the intercom button and told Jodie I was ready to see her.
In a moment the door opened and she strolled in confidently. I stood up. She was definitely a looker. I realized immediately how Rob must have been mesmerized by her beauty. I certainly was. She didn't look like a teenager either. If I had met her in a bar I would have guessed twenty-two. She took a seat in a side chair in front of my desk.
"Thanks for coming in, Jennifer. I really appreciate it."
"It's no problem. I hope there is something I can do to help. I feel so terrible about what happened. The Blaylocks must hate me."
"They don't hate you. They are obviously upset over what happened. But they realize Rob was just as much to blame as you."
"No he wasn't. He didn't even want to go to the warehouse. It was all my fault. I wanted to go dancing. Why did I have to insist on it? It was a stupid idea," Jennifer moaned.
"You had no idea this would happen," I replied.
"Why didn't I drive? I knew Rob was drunk. If I had just taken the keys from him, we wouldn't have been in the accident. Damn it! They'll never forgive me."
"I'm not so sure about that," I said.
"I hope they don't throw him off the baseball team. That would devastate him.
"And his father," I added.
"Oh. . . . Don is definitely going to hate me," Jennifer sobbed. "God, I can't believe the mess I've gotten myself into."
"Well, it's water under the bridge now, so let's just figure out the best way to deal with it. . . . Why don't you just tell me what happened?"
Jennifer wiped her tears away with a tissue. Then she began her story. "After the cop had taken Rob and Jesse away we headed toward downtown on Central Expressway. We took I-45 to the eastbound on-ramp to I-30 and eased our way into the flow of traffic. Traffic was light so everyone was traveling fast. As we were about to pass the Fair Park on-ramp, a red Chrysler LeBaron convertible full of teenagers suddenly veered in front of us going barely fifty miles per hour. Unfortunately, I had momentarily taken my eyes off the road to get another tissue since I'd been crying. I didn't see them until it was too late."
"Oh, God."
"I turned sharply to the left trying to avoid the Chrysler and ended up veering into the center lane in front of a silver Mercedes. The Mercedes swerved to the left but couldn't avoid hitting us. The collision forced the Mercedes further to the left until it collided with the concrete median, flipped over several times, and burst into flames. I slammed on the brakes and we came to a screeching halt. The Chrysler continued on down the highway. I could see the occupants looking back at the us. The driver never even slowed down."
"Well, I'm sure they must have been drinking too, so there is no way they would have stopped and risked been interrogated by the cops."
"I know. We'd of done the same thing."
"So, you hit the Mercedes pretty hard?"
"Right. Linda struck the front windshield and was knocked unconscious. I wasn't seriously hurt, but emotionally I was a wreck. I jumped out of the car and watched the burning Mercedes in horror. Suddenly, the car exploded and the concussion from the blast knocked me down. I tried to stand, but halfway up, everything went black."
"God, that must have been terrible," I said trying to fathom the horror Jennifer must have felt at that moment. How quickly our lives can go up in smoke.
"It was," she said. "I haven't had a decent night's sleep since it happened. I keep seeing the Mercedes burning. Sometimes I can hear the doctor screaming, smell his flesh burning--it's just unbearable."
"You didn't actually hear the doctor scream, did you? Or smell burning flesh?"
"No, I don't think so. It's just my imagination, I guess."
"Well, you may need some counseling to get through this. I can refer you to someone, if you like."
"No, I'll be all right."
"So, that's it?"
"That's all I remember."
I shook my head. "Okay. Lets figure out what defenses are available to us. This will be a tough case, but I think there are a few possibilities."
"Like what?" Jennifer asked eagerly.
"Unavoidable accident for one. Assuming you weren't speeding, there was nothing you could have physically done to avoid the accident under the circumstances. Secondly, the negligence of the third vehicle's driver was the actual cause of the accident. You had the right of way."
"You think that will be enough?"
"Not necessarily, but at least it's something."
Jennifer nodded dejectedly.
I smiled. "Listen, let's change the subject a minute."
She looked up and replied, "Okay."
I pushed the intercom button on the phone and picked up the receiver. "Jodie come in here please." Turning to Jennifer, I said, "If you don't mind I'm going to let Jodie take notes for me."
"Sure, whatever."
Jodie came in and took a seat on the sofa behind Jennifer. I really didn't need her to take notes. My real purpose for having her in the room was to get her opinion as to whether Jennifer was being candid or not.
"I've got to ask you about the night of Luther's murder. You were with Rob, right?"
"Yes. We went to the Mesquite Library."
"About what time was that?"
"Eight or so."
"And how long did you stay there?"
"About an hour."
"Then where did you go?"
She looked straight through me like she was in deep thought. Finally she blinked and replied, "Home."
I studied her, sensing she was hiding something.
"Are you sure?"
She looked away and swallowed hard. Suddenly she began to cry. I got up, picked up the box of tissues and took them to her. I sat down in the side chair next to her. She took a tissue and blew her nose. I put my hand on her arm to try to console her but it didn't do any good. She turned and looked at me. She was crying harder now. "I don't know, Mr. Turner. Sometimes I wonder if I'll make it another day."
I didn't understand her sudden emotional crash, so I said, "What's wrong? Is there something you're not telling me?"
"Well, I should have told you this before, but--"
"It's okay, just tell me now."
"After we went to the library Rob wanted to go home and check on his mother. When we got there she was in her bedroom staring at the wall. He tried to talk to her but she wouldn't respond. It was like she was in a trance or something. Rob was so upset he took his father's .38 Special out of his drawer, stormed out of the house yelling that he was going to kill Luther Bell. I followed him trying to calm him down, but he was way too upset for that."
Like father, like son, I thought. Rob had a temper like his father.
"On the way there, Rob put the gun in his lap. While he was making a turn, I grabbed it away from him. I didn't want him shooting Luther. We fought for the gun and nearly ran off the road, but I managed to unload it and throw the bullets out of the window. Rob was pissed but kept on driving. I guess he was going to kill Luther with his bare hands.
"When he got to Luther's condo we parked in the driveway. The garage door was open. We both jumped out. I ran over to Rob to try to stop him. We struggled some more and then we saw Luther lying on the ground in a pool of blood."
I looked at Jennifer in shock and dismay. "What did you do then?" I said tentatively, wondering if I was hearing the truth or a well rehearsed story.
"I was scared--scared someone would think we had killed Luther, so I pushed Rob back toward the car and told him to get in. We had to
get out of there fast before someone saw us. When we got home I put the gun back in the drawer while Rob kept his father busy. Pam was asleep and didn't even know I was in the room."
I said, "You're sure Luther was dead when you got there?"
"Yes, absolutely. Rob didn't kill him."
Jennifer looked at me intently. She didn't blink. I felt like she was telling the truth, but I wasn't positive.
"If anyone saw you two, you're in serious trouble."
She closed her eyes and exhaled. "I know, but I don't think anyone did."
"Did you touch anything?"
"No, I don't think so. We just looked at Luther lying there on his side with his eyes wide open. It was dark, but there was no doubt he was dead."
I shook my head. "Okay, if Detective Besch tries to question you, don't talk to him."
"I won't."
We stood up and started walking to the door.
Jennifer said, "Thank you, Mr. Turner. You've been so wonderful. I'm sorry I cried like a baby."
I smiled. "Oh, don't worry about it. It's good to let your emotions out."
After Jodie escorted Jennifer to the door, she came back to talk about what had happened. I suggested she pour us both a cup of coffee. She did and then sat down to brainstorm.
"So, what do you think? Is she telling the truth?" I asked.
Jodie replied, "I'm not a hundred percent sure, but I think so. She seemed sincere."
"I don't know. She may be protecting Rob. She's a pretty smooth talker."
"So what are you going to do?"
"I don't know. I should tell Detective Besch about it, but I'm afraid he'll stop looking for the real killer and just try to pin it on Rob. I'll have to tell him eventually, but I need more time."
"What if he finds out on his own and figures you were holding out on him?"
"Then we're screwed. He'll figure Rob is guilty and that's why he didn't come clean."
"What are you going to do now?" Jodie asked.
"Find out more about Luther Bell--see if he had any other enemies. I think I'll start with his former employer."
She nodded. "Oh, by the way. A woman called today about your Peruvian pottery."
"Really?"
"Yes, she said your old client, Marvin Schwartz, asked her to try to find a buyer for it."
"Oh, my God. You're joking. I'd given up on him."
"Well, it's your lucky day."
"What's her name?"
"Melanie Dixon. She's an anthropologist and is very anxious to see what you have."
"Wow. That sounds promising. I never expected to get rid of that stuff. Frankly, I was afraid to even get it appraised."
She smiled. "Thought it was junk, huh?"
"Uh huh."
"Well, you've got an appointment tomorrow at 3:00 p.m., so you'll find out one way or another. I packed them all up carefully and put them in a box."
I laughed. "You really are worried about getting paid."
"Somebody around here needs to be concerned about it."
I shook my head. "How did you get saddled with a bum like me?"
"You're not a bum. You're just so wrapped up in everybody else's problems you don't have time to take care of your own."
"Hmm. You ever thought about being a shrink?"
She rolled her eyes and said, "Get out of here."
I took her advice and headed out for my appointment with the manager at Mid-America Life. Walking into their offices brought back memories of my law school days when I sold insurance to make ends meet. In retrospect, it was a valuable experience, although at the time I hated it. The constant rejection a salesman had to endure in any business was brutal, but selling life insurance was the worst of all sales jobs. Fortunately, those days were behind me. I took a deep breath and walked up to the receptionist.
"Hi, I'm Stan Turner and I'm here to see Mr. Walsh."
"Oh, yes. He's expecting you. I'll tell him you're here."
After a few moments, I was escorted into Mr. Walsh's office. He was a portly gentleman with thin white hair. Stacks of papers, booklets, brochures and other paperwork cluttered his desk. He sat back and relit an old cigar.
"So, Turner, didn't you used to work for Cosmopolitan Life?"
Walsh's inquiry shocked me. I hadn't expected him to know me.
"Yeah, a few years back."
"I knew your boss, Helms. He and I were at New York Life together fifteen years ago."
"Really?"
"He told me he had some aspiring attorney working for him. I told him you'd never get through law school while you were selling insurance full time. I guess you proved me wrong."
"Well, I had a lot of incentive to graduate--a wife and four kids."
"You should have stayed in the business. With a law degree you'd be a dynamite salesman."
"No, I don't think so. I learned early on that I wasn't cut out to be in sales."
He nodded and put his cigar in the ash tray. "So, what can I do for you?"
"You had a salesman--Luther Bell."
"Yes, I did. A hell of a salesman. Too bad about him gettin' his brains splattered all over his garage."
"I represent Don Blaylock and Jim Cochran. They are suspects in Luther's murder. I was hoping you might give me some insight into Mr. Bell's life. I'm particularly interested in how he got into franchising. It seems a little strange he'd be doing that while he was working for you."
"Well, Luther knew his days were numbered here at Mid-America so he decided to get a head start on his new franchise venture. I'm sure he was hoping to hang on here until he could draw a salary from the Golden Dragon partnership."
"When did you suspect he was moonlighting?"
"I knew something was wrong," Walsh said, "because Luther's production was way down. In fact, he and I had a little disagreement about it."
I looked at Walsh in eager anticipation. He leaned back in his chair and took a long drag on his cigar. His eyes became fixed as he reached back into his memory to tell the story.
"So, what happened?"
"I was frustrated and angry over the lack of production from my staff. My sales force was pitiful compared to what it had been in the past. The company had saddled me with college graduates, MBAs--desk men who thought people bought insurance because they needed it or, God forbid, that it was a good investment."
I laughed. "Yeah, I know what you mean. I knew some MBAs when I worked for Cosmopolitan Life--pretty worthless when it came to prospecting."
Walsh shook his head. "I couldn't get them motivated--Luther in particular."
"Hmm."
"My wife was nagging me about winning a trip to Hawaii. You see, the company runs a contest each year and those who meet certain production targets get an all-expense-paid vacation. This was the first time Hawaii was the destination. We had gone to Atlanta, San Francisco, and Disneyworld, but this was Hawaii."
"So, what did you do?"
"I called a sales meeting and told them exactly what we needed to win the contest. Everyone seemed to respond pretty well except Luther. At the time I was puzzled by his attitude. Selling came naturally for Luther. He was young and handsome, liked people and loved to talk. He was a dreamer, always with some new plan to make a million bucks, and he loved to tell anybody who'd listen about those lofty ambitions.
"I see."
"Luther had attended Penn State but flunked out his sophomore year. He quickly realized two things--first, that being a college graduate was of great importance to his success in life, and secondly, that no one ever checked his résumés. Consequently, he soon convinced himself and everyone else that he was a graduate of Penn State with a degree in finance."
"How do you know that?" I asked.
"I did check his résumé, and they told me he had flunked out."
"Why did you hire him, then?"
"Because a college deg
ree wasn't a prerequisite to this job, so it didn't matter. I heard him tell other agents he had graduated and I also know he told some of his clients he was a graduate of Penn State."
"That didn't bother you?"
"No, a salesman's got to puff a little. It's no big deal."
"Hmm. Okay,"I said. "Go on."
Walsh continued, "Luther tried to sneak away right after the meeting but I intercepted him. I told him I really wanted him to qualify for the Hawaii trip. He didn't respond and seemed distracted and anxious to leave. Frustrated with his attitude, I instructed him to have a prospect list on my desk by the following day at five o'clock. Again, I mentioned how nice it would be for him to go to Hawaii. His reply was he didn't much care if he went to Hawaii or not."
"Why was that? Did he say?"
"His wife, Laura Bell, had filed for divorce but they were still fighting over child support. A final hearing was months off.
"I told him how sorry I was and how much I liked Laura and his daughter. But nothing I said seemed to matter. He just didn't give a shit, so I got mad. I told him if he didn't get his act together, I was going to put him on straight commission. When he heard that, he turned red and stormed out of the room. I heard his tires squealing as he raced out of the parking lot."
"So, Luther was married?" I asked. I knew he was, obviously, but I just wanted to keep Walsh talking.
"Yes, he and Laura were separated. They had one child together, little Betsy. He brought her here to the office a couple times. It's a shame she won't have a father to watch her grow up."
"Why were they separated?"
"Infidelity. Luther couldn't keep his snake in his pants, if you know what I mean."
"I see."
"Laura forgave him once, but the second time she told him to take a hike. In fact, when he didn't leave the house quickly enough, she pulled a gun on him."
"Really?"
"Uh huh. He came in here right after it happened and told me all about it. I've never seen him so upset."
"What did he tell you?"
"Apparently they had taken Betsy to the Dallas Zoo. On the way home they had stopped at a Pizza Inn for dinner and by the time they got back to their apartment it was nearly eight-thirty. Laura insisted Betsy go right to bed. She had planned an amorous evening with Luther and had wine chilling in the refrigerator. Betsy put up a fuss, but finally went to bed after negotiating a bedtime story from her father.
"When Luther returned to the living room, Laura was waiting in her negligé. After drinking some wine they started messing around. It was getting pretty hot until Laura noticed a bite mark on Luther's back. She accused Luther of cheating on her again.
"Luther denied it at first, but finally admitted he had picked up a woman at a bar and taken her back to his motel room in Tyler. He told Laura it didn't mean anything, and that he loved her and Betsy. He begged for her forgiveness, but Laura wasn't in a forgiving mood. She told him to get out.
"He refused to leave, so Laura went into her bedroom and retrieved a gun she said she'd purchased at a pawn shop. She came out of the bedroom with it pointed at Luther. He was shocked and shaken when he saw the gun pointed at him. He tried to reason with Laura and get her to put down the gun, but when he realized she might pull the trigger he made a hasty retreat."
As Walsh talked, I couldn't get the image of Laura holding a gun in Luther's face out of my mind. She'd have to be added to the prime suspect list. I wondered if the police knew about the incident with the gun. Walsh was gracious enough to give me Laura's address and telephone number which I jotted down. He seemed to enjoy the story telling, so I pressed him for more information.
"So, what about the franchise? What do you know about it?"
"He tried to keep it a secret, but I heard it was some kind of restaurant. I know he was spending most of his time working on it. He didn't meet his production quota, so I had to make good on my threats to put him on straight commission."
I knew all about straight commission. When I worked for Cosmopolitan Life they put me on a $2,000 a month salary for a year until my account grew large enough to support me. Had I been forced to work on straight commission, I would have made zero for the first few months and wouldn't have got up to the $2,000 a month level for years. It was common for agents to get a guaranteed salary in the beginning, but eventually they were expected to go on straight commission. If, after several years, they weren't cutting the mustard, management would often put back on straight commission to force them to quit. They didn't want to fire them because their unemployment rate would go up.
"So, obviously that didn't work," I said.
"Yeah, everything came to a head a couple weeks later. It was at our regular sales meeting. I had a big chart up with a thermometer drawn to illustrate the progress of the agency toward the production goal needed to win the trip to Hawaii. Luther stared at the chart but was clearly off in another world--probably at his new restaurant. When I was done with my pep talk, I went over to talk to him.
"I asked him if he had some apps for me. He just shrugged which really made me mad. I called him a loser and told him if he would spend less time in bars and stay away from loose women, he might find time to sell some insurance."
"That pissed him off so he started yelling at me. He said some pretty nasty things that I couldn't just let slip by. I was about to fire him when he announced he was quitting. He went directly to his desk, cleaned out a couple of drawers full of his personal belongings and that was the last time I saw him."
"So how long had Luther been selling life insurance?"
"About four or five years. He was a fine salesman, but he was lazy and was always looking for the easy score. Hard work is what makes a life insurance salesman successful. I keep telling my men that, but they don't want to hear it."
"You mentioned Luther was out with a lot with loose women. Did you know any of them?"
"I heard he spent a lot of time at the Sunset Strip. It's a topless bar off Stemmons Freeway at Walnut Hill Lane. A lot of the guys go there. He mentioned a club near his house too . . . the Rendezvous Restaurant and Club, I think. It's just a singles' hangout on Greenville. I never met any of his girlfriends, and he didn't talk about them because he knew I liked Laura."
"Well, you've been very helpful. I can't think of anything else to ask you right now, but I'm sure I'll think of something later. Can I call you, if I do?"
"Sure, glad to help. I feel really badly about Luther's death. It's really a shame."
Somehow I didn't believe Walsh really felt all that badly about Luther's death. From what I had just heard it must have been a great relief for Walsh to be rid of him. Later on as I reflected more on the interview with Walsh, the thing that stood out was Luther's active sex life. This interested me. Ex-wives, girlfriends, illicit lovers, topless dancers--surely amongst them there would be a murder suspect or two.