Chapter 11
Every Man’s Dream
The next afternoon I decided to go visit my last common client with Bobby Wiggins. Joanna Winburn was every man's dream–slim, sexy and sophisticated. When she walked in a room full of men, all conversations ceased. The first time she strolled into my office I nearly fainted. This was the first time I had visited her on the job and I must confess it beat the hell out of an interview in my conference room.
Joanna was happy to see me. It had only been a few months since I had put her into Chapter 13 and got the IRS off her back. With Bobby's help all of her tax returns had been filed and now all she had to do was pay $600 a month for the next five years. Considering she was making at least a thousand a week that wasn't going to be a problem for her. She was very relieved to have escaped criminal charges. She took me to a table in the corner. The club wasn't crowded.
"I'm so glad you came by to see me dance," she said. "After my act I'll take you in the back and give you a lap dance on the house."
The idea of a lap dance was very tempting, God was it tempting, but I knew better than to tempt myself with a beautiful woman. I couldn't forget the purpose of my visit.
"Thanks, I'd like that very much. Unfortunately, I'm not here for pleasure. I need to talk to you about something."
"What?"
"Bobby Wiggins."
"Oh, poor Bobby. Have the police come up with anything yet?"
"No, I haven't heard a word from them."
"So, what do you want to know?"
"You saw Bobby several times during the two weeks before his death, right?"
"Yes, he was so nice to help me get those tax returns filed. I didn't have many records so it was difficult for him. It took us quite a while to reconstruct everything."
"Where did you do this reconstructing?"
"At his office."
"After hours?"
"Sometimes."
"You two didn't–"
She frowned and said, “No. Give me some credit. He was a nerd." Then she gave me a naughty little smile and said, "You're the only professional I've wanted to fuck."
I didn't know if she was teasing me or she was serious. Either way, the thought of us making love was exhilarating. I took a deep breath trying to maintain my concentration.
I laughed. "You're a real tease, aren't you?"
"That's my job, to get men aroused."
I shook my head, "Well you're doing a hell of a job on me. Now cut it out and let's get back to the subject at hand."
"Okay, I'm sorry."
"Bobby never came here did he?" I said.
"No, of course not. It's too noisy around here to work."
"Right. So, did he tell you anything unusual or did he act strange in any way?"
She thought for a moment and then said, "No."
"Did you all talk about anything other than taxes?"
"Sure, he told me about his family and how much he loved his two grand kids. This summer they were planning a road trip to California with them."
"Really? Did he ever mention a medical problem?"
"Nope. His wife was sick a lot. He complained about how much he spent on her medical bills."
"Is that right?"
"Yes, but he was in perfect health. I know that for a fact."
"Why are you so sure about that?"
"We talked about it one time. You know, one of those boring nights when we were going through credit card receipts. He wondered if I was worried about my health cause of all the men I dated. I told him I was very careful, always used protection and had a physical every month. I knew I was in perfect health. He said he just had a physical himself and the doctor had given him a clean bill of health too."
That wasn't what I wanted to hear. Frustrated and depressed, I left the club and headed for the office. When I got to the parking garage I pulled up behind a white Ford Mustang that was waiting for the wooden gate to rise before it could enter. Finally the gate opened and the Mustang went in and parked in the first open spot. I flashed my security card, drove past the Mustang toward the main entrance to the building and parked in my usual spot. I opened the trunk of the rent car I was driving, pulled out my coat and put it on. Then I picked up my briefcase and turned to walk toward my office.
Suddenly the white Mustang pulled out and came barreling straight at me. For a moment I stood there, almost paralyzed with fear, but just before the car struck I jerked myself back between two parked cars, barely escaping certain death. As I lay on the ground, I could hear screeching tires as the assailant made his escape. The Mustang broke through the wooden exit gate and sped off toward Central Expressway. Before I could get up, Sam Piper, one of the building security guards came running up.
"Are you all right, Stan?"
"I think so."
"He tried to kill you," Sam said.
"I noticed."
"I'm going to call the police."
"Okay, I'm just going to go up to my office where it's safe. You can send the police up there if they need to talk to me."
"Fine, do you need any help?"
"No, I'll make it."
When I entered my office, I was walking kind of awkwardly, breathing heavily and was shaking from all of the adrenalin that had flooded my system. Jodie stood up when she saw me enter the office.
"What in the hell happened to you," she said.
"Some asshole just tried to kill me."
"You're kidding?"
"No, and he was almost successful. I don't know what happened but I just couldn't move. I saw him coming straight at me but I was suddenly paralyzed. It was really weird."
"Did you call the police?"
"Sam saw the whole thing. He’s calling the police for me right now."
"This is horrible, I can't believe it," Jodie said.
"I know. This Doomsayer asshole is starting to piss me off."
"Go sit down and relax, I'll get you some coffee."
"Thanks."
I made my way into my office and sat down. Jodie had obviously cleaned it up as everything was in nice, neat stacks. In a minute she brought me my coffee and sat down to chat.
She said, "You've got a busy day today, do you want me to cancel your morning appointments?"
"No, no. I'm okay. I can't let that bastard slow me down one iota."
"Well you've got a bankruptcy appointment this morning at nine and a man is coming in about a possible will contest at 10:30."
"Huh. What about this afternoon?"
"The Hill depositions remember."
"Oh, right. . . . Oh, call Snake and set up an appointment for a strategy session. The judge set Sarah's case for trial on May 11 so we've got to really get hustling."
"Sure, I'll set it up."
I sat back and sipped my coffee. I was beginning to feel better when Jodie came running in the office.
"Stan, I just got the mail and . . . and Tom Winter's check bounced!"
"What? You've got to be kidding?"
"No, it's been stamped NSF - PRESENTED TWICE - DO NOT REDEPOSIT."
"Oh wonderful!” I said falling back limp in my chair. I closed my eyes hoping when I opened them it would turn out to be just a horrible daydream. No such luck. “This is just great. I’m going to have checks bouncing all over town."
"What are you going to do?"Jodie asked.
"Jesus! I don't know. Snake's going to kill me."
I got up, went to the window. "What was the checkbook balance before this fiasco?"
"Eleven hundred twenty-two dollars."
"Oh good, so we're only nine thousand short! Has the bank called?"
"No, not yet."
I got up and started pacing in front of the window. Then I stopped and looked at Jodie.
"Get Tom on the line, maybe. He can replace the check immediately."
"Okay," Jodie said and then turned and went directly back to her office. I followed her–anxious to see if she'd get through. She hit the speaker phone butt
on so I could listen in and then she dialed Tom's number. A man answered.
"Winter's Motors," he said.
"This is Jodie at Stan Turner's office. Mr. Turner would like to speak to Tom Winters please."
"I'm sorry ma'am, he's tied up right now, but Stan is his lawyer, right?"
"No, he's Sarah's lawyer, why?"
"Tom really needs a lawyer, the police have just handcuffed him and they're putting him in their squad car as we speak."
"You're joking? What on earth for?"
"I don’t know,” the policeman said, “something about felony theft."
"Oh my God," she said as she looked at me and frowned.
She hung up the phone shaking her head.
I said, "Well, so much for that fleeting hope." Now what was I going to do? It would be humiliating to have checks bouncing everywhere. Oh, I could explain what happened but people would still wonder if it wasn’t just a lame excuse.
“Can you borrow some money from the bank?”
“No, bankers want collateral, something I don’t have.”
“What about your family?” Jodie asked.
“All poor, I’m afraid. They’d laugh if I asked them for ten grand.”
“What about one of your rich clients?”
“No, I can’t do that. I’ll just have to have faith and trust God to get me out this jam.”
Jodie gave me an inquisitive look. “I didn’t know you were religious.”
“Well, I don’t know how religious I am, but one thing I do know is the good Lord has saved my ass on more than one occasion. I suspect He’ll do the same today.”
Jodie laughed. “I can’t believe you. This just totally blows my mind. . . . I don’t think I’ve ever even heard you mention the word God before, and now faced with financial ruin you’re just going to throw up your hands and pray for a miracle.”
“Not pray, Jodie. . . . Trust,” I said. It was true. On so many occasions during my life when all seemed to be lost a miracle would happen which would allow me to survive the ordeal. Maybe once or twice I could have attributed it to good fortune, but as many times as I had seen it I knew it was the hand of God.
"Well whatever miracle He’s got in the works, He better do it by two, that's when the bank cuts off its work."
I looked at Jodie and sighed. She smiled sympathetically and then the front door opened. We both looked up. A smiling Korean man walked in and bowed. Several others filed in after him. Jodie motioned for them to take a seat. "It must be your bankruptcy appointment,” she said.
"Oh, great. . . . How am I going to deal with this crisis and see clients at the same time."
Jodie shrugged and replied, "I'm sorry."
"Check our accounts receivable and see who's past due. Then call them and see if we can send a runner around to pick up some checks."
"Okay."
"Go ahead and send the bankruptcy case in."
Jodie nodded and left the room. I took a deep breath trying to remain calm. My stomach was in knots. In a minute Jodie brought the group of Korean-Americans. I got up and greeted them barely able to smile.
"You were referred to us by Dong An. He said you do very good job for him," the eldest of them said.
"Oh, well I'm glad he felt that way."
"We got big problem. Not enough people come to our new restaurant. Landlord threatening to lock the doors, you know?"
This was a pretty familiar situation–foreigners coming to America with dreams of opening a business and being instant millionaires. Unfortunately it wasn’t always that easy. "Oh really. How much do you owe him?"
"$7,428 right now, more at first of month."
"Are you a partnership or corporation?"
"Corporation."
"Is the landlord your only problem?"
"No, bank want payment of $18,000 due last month."
"How much do you owe the bank?"
"Quarter million."
"Do you want to stay in business or just get out?"
"Oh no, get the hell out!"
I laughed. At least they were realistic. So many small businessmen didn’t know when to quit. They were so sure everything would turn around if they could just hold out a little longer. It suddenly hit me–maybe I was looking in the mirror. "Okay, well then we can just put the corporation in chapter 7 and you guys can just walk away and do something else. Did any of you personally guarantee any of the corporation's liabilities?"
The spokesman for the group smiled proudly. "Oh no, we not dummies."
"Good, then a business chapter seven runs $2,500.00."
"Oh, not too bad. You take cash?"
"Sure."
Several hours later, after the Koreans had left, I called Jodie into my office.
"Well, I raised $2,500, how'd you do?"
"Paul Kelley said he could scrape up $1,500 on his bill if we wanted to send someone over. I tried several others but they were either out or broke."
"Well, we got half what we need. There's not much chance I'll get any money out of the Hill depositions. Is all the mail out yet?"
"The mail man said he had about twenty minutes left."
"Check it in twenty minutes. Maybe we’ll get that miracle yet. In the mean time I've got to get ready for the Hill deposition."
"Oh, Snake said he'd drop by tonight at 5:30 to take you out to dinner and to discuss Sarah's defense. Don't forget to call Rebekah and tell her you'll be late."
"Right," I said.
As we were talking, the phone rang. It was Rebekah telling us to turn on the TV. She said the DA was about to have a news conference. Jodie went over to the cabinet that housed the TV, opened it and turned it on. I advised Rebekah I wouldn't be home for dinner and then hung up.
"This is Beverly Blake of Channel 12 bringing you live coverage of District Attorney, Howard Hudson's news conference. We take you now to the News Conference in progress."
Howard Hudson climbed before a cluster of microphones in front of the Sherman courthouse. A small crowd of about fifty reporters had managed to make it to the hastily called press conference.
"Ladies and gentleman," Miss Westcott said. "If we can have your attention please. We want to thank all of you for coming out here on such short notice. Howard Hudson, the senior assistant DA, would like to make a statement about the attack on Stan Turner, counsel for Sarah Winters."
Howard Hudson came forward and began to speak. "Ladies and Gentlemen, members of the press, we were shocked today to learn of the attempt on Stan Turner's life. Luckily Mr. Turner is all right and didn't miss even an hour of work. However, the District Attorney's office will not tolerate this type of obstruction of justice. Everyone accused of a crime in this county has a right to legal counsel and a right to formulate a defense without threat or intimidation. We will not tolerate those who abridge that right. They will be brought before the courts, and I promise you justice will be swift and severe.
"I have instructed Lt. Meadows to head this investigation and, accordingly you can be assured that the guilty party will be apprehended."
"Mr. Hudson, are there any leads as to who's responsible for these attacks?" a reporter asked.
"Yes, the FBI is examining some threatening letters for clues to their author and our forensic team has a tire print from the vehicle that tried to run Mr. Turner down earlier today."
"Do you have any idea why Mr. Turner has been targeted?" another reporter asked.
"No, I don't. Anything I said on that point would be pure speculation and of little value."
When Hudson had fielded all the questions he felt like answering, he concluded the press conference. Jodie shut off the TV.
"You think Hudson really cares what happens to you?"
"No, he's worried about his image with an election coming along soon. It would be pretty embarrassing to him if something happened to me or Sarah."
At one-thirty I took a break from my depositions to see how the quest for the funds was coming. Jodie was on the telephone so I motio
ned for her to come into my office when she was done. After a minute she walked in.
"So, what's the word?"
"You got lucky, two more grand came in the mail so now we're only three thousand short."
"Huh, I wonder if Billie Jo at the bank will cover us tomorrow. It would be nice to have another day to resolve this problem."
"She probably would, she likes you a lot. You run a lot of money through the trust account, she's got to like that."
"I guess it won't hurt to ask," I said. Most bankers I’d run across hadn’t liked me much. I don’t know why exactly. Rebekah had once said “It’s because you have broke written all over your face.” She was probably right but I liked to attribute it to the fact that I did a lot of bankruptcies and bankers hated bankruptcy attorneys for obvious reasons. Billie Jo had been different, though. She and I had hit it off right from the very beginning.
"No, it won’t. I'll get her on the line for you."
Jodie left the office. After a minute she called on the intercom and told me Billie Jo was on the line.
"Billie Jo, how are you?"
"Fine Stan, what's up?"
"Hey I've got a huge favor to ask of you."
"What's that?"
"You know that $10,000 NSF check that hit my account today, well I'm coming up a little short covering it."
"How short?"
"Three grand."
"Hmm."
"Listen, if you could cover me for twenty-four hours I'm sure I can come up with the balance tomorrow."
"I doubt if everything will hit tonight," Billie Jo said. "I'll call you if your account is over drafted in the morning and, if so, we'll figure out how to deal with it then. If you get it covered tomorrow, I doubt we'll have a problem."
"You're a lifesaver, thanks."
After breathing a big sigh of relief, I left my office to go downstairs and meet Snake. He had said he would pick me up out front at 5:30. I looked at my watch and noted it was 5:27. Snake was not known for promptness so I halfway expected to be waiting around for a while. Much to my surprise, he drove up in his Ford Ranger at precisely 5:30. We exchanged greetings and then Snake eased the pickup out of the busy parking lot and onto the street. Once he’d settled into the flow of traffic he turned to me and said, "So, tell me what happened?"
I shrugged. "I don't know, this white Mustang just came right at me all of a sudden. It took me totally by surprise."
"Did you get a look at the driver?"
"No, I was paralyzed. It was so weird. I almost sat there and let the bastard kill me."
"Did you see the license plate?"
"It was a blur. I remember looking at it but I can't remember what I saw."
"Well, I've got a real treat for you tonight–something that will take your mind off all your troubles."
"Oh really, where are we going?"
"To the Majestic Mansion. You’ll love this place, I guarantee."
"Good, I'm starving and I could use a little diversion."
Snake swung the white Ranger onto LBJ Freeway and headed East. When he got to the Town East Boulevard exit he got off and headed South. He finally turned onto the circular driveway of an old Southern mansion that had been restored and turned into a club. The parking attendant took our car and we opened the big front door of the mansion and stepped inside. A beautiful dark-haired woman in a tight fitting evening gown smiled when she saw us. "Hello Harry, who's your good-looking friend?" she asked.
Snake looked at me and replied, "Oh, this is Stan Turner. I told you about him."
"Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Turner. Welcome to the Majestic Mansion."
"Thank you," I replied.
"Would you like your usual table?" she asked.
"Yes, that would be fine," Snake said.
"Okay, it will just be a minute," she said and then walked away. While we waited to be seated, I inspected the elegant decor of the old mansion that had been made into a restaurant and gentlemen’s club. I took a look at the menu that was prominently posted on an easel by the front door. When I saw the prices of the entrees I was glad Snake was footing the bill for the evening. After perusing the menu I looked up and noticed the hostess approaching.
"We have your table ready gentlemen. Please come this way." We followed the young lady through an impressive library, then into a spacious dining room with dozens of tables adorned with fancy white linen. Around the perimeter of the room were beautifully decorated private booths. There was a stage at one end and a small jazz band situated in front of it. The room was crowded with mostly businessmen. The hostess took us to one of the booths.
After a few moments a bar maid came by. My eyes widened as I realized she was topless. "Hi Harry,” she said. “You ready for some drinks?"
"Absolutely," he said. "I need a Scotch on the rocks."
She turned to me and asked, "And you, sir?"
"Bourbon and Seven," I said admiring her fine looking breasts.
Snake chuckled. "Aren't you feeling better already, Stan?"
"Yeah, this is quite the place, but do you really expect to get any business done with all these naked women running around.”
"Well, actually I find them quite stimulating. I do my best work here. Later on there will be a show. We can take a break and watch it, okay?"
“Whatever you say.”
The barmaid returned with our drinks. She set them down in front of us making sure her tits got right in our face. Snake stuck a fifty in her G-string and then grabbed a handful of ass. She turned and gave him a filthy look. Then they both started laughing. Snake introduced us and they promised to meet later that evening.
Snake looked at me and said, "Don’t worry, it will be a productive evening. I promise, no more interruptions.”
“Okay,” I said skeptically. “But isn’t it going to be kind of hard to work here?”
“Oh, we’re not going to work here. Let’s go back to my office.”
Snake led me up some stairs, past several bedrooms and into a small office. It was furnished with a cherry desk, a lamp, adding machine and a typewriter. Papers, ledgers, pencils and a red and black silk bra were scattered about on the desk. “This is your office?” I asked.
“Well, not really. It belongs to Priscilla, the manager, but she lets me use it whenever I want.”
“You spend a lot of time here I take it?”
“Yes, it’s a little too quiet at my office at night. If I have to work after 5 I come here.”
Snake sat in the chair behind the desk and motioned for me to sit down. I cleared off part of a small love seat and sat down. Snake opened a drawer, pulled out a couple of legal pads and tossed one to me. He smiled and said, “Now we can get to work. The girls will bring us some dinner later.”
“O. . . kay,” I said trying to refocus my mind back on Sarah Winters. . . . So, what do you think our best defense strategy would be?”
"It looks to me like we have five possibilities: (1) Sarah is innocent; (2) the baby was stillborn; (3) Sarah killed it but she was temporarily insane; (4) Sarah killed it but it was an accident; or (5) Sarah killed it, period," Snake said.
"Stillborn might work," I said.
"I thought Sarah remembered hearing the baby cry?"
"Well, only under hypnosis, and she doesn't have to testify."
"What about the autopsy report showing feathers in the baby's lungs?" Snake said.
"Well, that hurts, but I'm not certain it's conclusive. We might be able to create some reasonable doubt on that issue."
"I think it's weak," Snake said.
"Okay, so we've got temporary insanity, somebody else did it or an accident," I said.
"If it was an accident then why did the baby end up in a dumpster?" Snake said. "And why did the killer wear gloves?"
"Good point. Temporary insanity or somebody else did it, I guess, are our best shots. I wonder if Dr. Gerhardt will back us up on temporary insanity."
"Temporary insanity is hard to prove. You'd have to show at the
time Sarah killed her baby that as a result of a mental defect or disease, she did not know her conduct was wrong or was incapable or conforming her conduct to the law. We've got an intelligent girl here, a college student, I don't see us being able to prove temporary insanity," Snake said.
"From talking to Sarah and getting to know her, I don't see how she could have intentionally or knowingly killed her baby. There's got to be some other explanation. She either didn't do it or, if she did do it, she was temporarily insane. Hopefully, Dr. Gerhardt can shed some light on this over the next few weeks," I said.
"What if someone poisoned her?" Snake said. "She said she was violently ill. There are some drugs that induce abortion. Maybe someone slipped her one of those drugs to make her abort. Then they killed the baby and disposed of it while Sarah was unconscious."
"Who do you suspect?" I asked.
“Richard. He's the most likely, but it could have been Greg too. He certainly had a motive."
"I don’t know about Richard. He apparently had an adoption all lined up."
"Really? Have you checked that out?" Snake asked.
"No, I need to talk to the attorney who supposedly arranged for it. Sarah didn't know who he was."
During the evening Wendy kept bringing us fresh drinks. Snake said a little liquor helped him think. The booze was having the opposite effect on me. We continued brainstorming, however, for several hours discussing every factual scenario and legal theory we could imagine to use in Sarah's defense. Several hours later I looked at my watch and was alarmed to see it was after midnight.
"I've got to get out of here. Rebekah's probably worried sick about me."
Snake laughed. "She's probably sound asleep by now. . . . Listen. I know the girls here pretty well. Why don't I round us up a couple and we can borrow one of Priscilla’s guest rooms for a few hours?"
I frowned. It was a tempting idea, but obviously not a prudent one. "No, I don't think that would be a good idea. I'm not a good liar. It would take Rebekah about ten minutes to figure out I'd been unfaithful. Then if I was very lucky she'd just divorce me, but more likely she'd kill me in my sleep."
"Damn," Snake said. "I'm glad I'm single."