Deadly Distractions, A Stan Turner Mystery Vol 6

CHAPTER 2

  SURRENDER

  A rush of relief washed over me, but it didn’t last long as now I had the seemingly insurmountable task of proving Dusty Thomas innocent of murdering an agent of the Internal Revenue Service. He had motive, opportunity, and the whole world already knew he was guilty. It was just the kind of hopeless case I always seemed to attract. Everyone would expect me to lose, but I couldn’t lose this one. I had promised Dusty I’d lead him to the light and I damn well planned to do it.

  I pushed the button on my walkie-talkie and said, “Logan. We’re coming out.”

  Logan responded, “Copy.” Logan raised his hands and yelled to his troops, “Hold your fire, they’re coming out!”

  We walked out of the barn with our hands over our head. I made Dusty leave the shotgun inside. Two deputies rushed over and pushed Dusty up against the barn. They cuffed him and escorted him to a waiting squad car. Logan and Cox came over to me and patted me on the back.

  “Nice job, counselor,” Cox said. “You may have saved his life.”

  I shrugged. “Perhaps. I just hope I can keep him alive.”

  Cox nodded sympathetically, “That could prove difficult. We’ve already been given the word that this is a high priority case. The justice department wants your guy nailed. They can’t have revenue officers becoming the targets of unhappy taxpayers.”

  “Did he have anything to say to you?” Logan asked.

  “Yeah, he had a lot to say, but you know I can’t talk about it. I will tell you one thing though, he’s claiming to be innocent.”

  Logan laughed. “That’s a good one.”

  “Well, anyway, I’m putting you on notice that he’s my client and I don’t want anyone talking to him without me or my partner Paula Waters present. . . . Understand?”

  “Loud and clear,” Logan said.

  I watched as the crime scene crew entered the barn. They put the shotgun in a long plastic bag and carried it to a waiting van. There was a commotion behind me at the perimeter of the crime scene. I heard Paula arguing with a deputy. They finally let her through and she joined us.

  “What jerks,” Paula said. “I’ve been trying to get in here to see you for twenty minutes.”

  “I’m surprised you made it at all,” Logan said. “The perimeter’s been closed all day.”

  “Paula, this is Agent Robert Logan and Maureen Cox from the FBI.”

  “Nice to meet you,” she replied. “I just came from the morgue. I didn’t learn much, but I did find out the wound was from a 12-gauge shotgun.”

  “Really?” I said. “I wonder what kind of shotgun they took out of the barn.”

  Cox looked at Logan and he turned and walked over to the crime van. He talked to someone there and returned.

  “It’s a 12-gauge Remington and it’s been fired recently.”

  “Damn,” Paula said.

  “Sorry, guys,” Logan said. “It’s not looking good for your client.”

  “You got that right,” Paula replied. “We better get going, Stan. Martha is waiting for us at the house.”

  “Oh, okay,” I replied. We thanked Logan and Cox and took Paula’s car back to the main house. The FBI had already completed their search of the place and Martha was straightening up the mess they had left. She was a thin, dark-haired Irish woman of about fifty-five. She looked tired and worn out from the ordeal she had been through. Despite everything, she offered us coffee which we accepted.

  “Did the FBI find anything, Mrs. Thomas?” Paula asked.

  “I don’t think so. They took all his tax records, most everything in his office, and all his guns and ammunition.”

  “Were there any other shotguns?” I asked.

  “Yes, he had several.”

  “Do you know what kind?”

  “God, no. I stay away from guns.”

  “Where were you when this all happened?” Paula asked.

  “Shopping in McKinney. They have a great dress shop near the old courthouse.”

  “Did your husband know the IRS agent was coming by today?” I asked.

  “No, I don’t think so. He didn’t mention it to me and I’m sure he would have. He hates the IRS and if anything is going on with them he’d of been ranting and raving about it.”

  “Do you think Dusty killed the agent?” Paula asked.

  “I don’t think so, but it’s possible, I guess,” she replied.

  “What makes you say that?”

  “He said he was going to kill that bastard someday, but it was just talk—at least I thought it was.”

  “Do you know of anyone else who might have been around your ranch today?” I asked.

  “No, we had to let all the hands go after the cattle and the land were seized. The only person who visits us these days is Rusty’s son George and his wife Connie. They live up in Paris. They usually come down to see us at least once a month.”

  “Were they here today?”

  “No, I don’t think so. They usually come on the weekends.”

  “What about your neighbors?” Paula asked. “Did any of them come by today?”

  “No, but we see our neighbor across the road quite a bit. We have to go by their place when we come into the ranch. Sometimes they’re outside working in the yard on sitting on the porch. We say hi and chat a little occasionally. As a matter of fact I did talk to Emma Lou this morning when I left to go to McKinney. I asked her if she wanted to go, but she had company coming for lunch.”

  “Emma Lou,” Paula said. “What’s her last name?”

  “Marshall. Her husband’s name is Ned.”

  “Okay, we’ll check with them. Maybe they saw something,” I said. Martha’s energy seemed to be fading so I stood up. “We should go. You’re tired.”

  “I am a little bit,” she said. Paula and Martha got up and we walked to the door. “Do you think you’ll be able to get Dusty out on bail?” she asked.

  “The judge will set bail in the morning, but it will probably be very high,” Paula said. “I don’t know what you're—”

  “They don’t have anything.” I said. “IRS took everything of value except the house and 200 acres. Since there’s a federal tax lien on the house and acreage, they won’t be able to use it as collateral.”

  “Can I visit Dusty in jail?” Martha asked.

  “Of course. They have regular visiting hours. He'll be in the Collin County jail for now. You’ll be able to see him a lot before the trial,” I said.

  “Good. I’ll visit him every day. I know he must be very scared,” she said. She began to cry. Paula took her in her arms to comfort her. “I’m sorry,” Martha said. “I just miss him so much.”

  Tears began to well in my eyes as well and I could see Paula was also crying. It was a difficult moment and I wondered if there was any way we could actually prove Dusty innocent. It seemed there was no doubt he was the killer, but when he looked me in the eyes and told me he was innocent, I believed him. Could he have been lying? Only time would tell.

  On the way back to Dallas we discussed how to proceed with Dusty’s defense. Paula convinced me that there wasn’t anything I could do for Dusty in the next ten days and that I should return to Colorado. She said she’d handle the arraignment and help Martha try to raise the bail money. Reluctantly, I agreed and she took me to the airport. I thanked her for covering for me and she left.

  While waiting for my flight, I tried to forget about the events of the day and get my focus back on our vacation, but Dusty and I were all over the news. I couldn’t help but watch the TV monitors showing Dusty and I with our hands raised, walking out of the barn. Then someone recognized me and suddenly I was the focus of everyone’s attention. People were talking and pointing at me. It was very unsettling and I was glad when they finally let us on the plane where I took refuge behind the latest in-flight magazine. I knew this was just a taste of what was to come. Paula and I would be under a microscope for the duration of the trial and it wouldn’t be pleasant.

  Rebekah and
the kids met me at the Denver airport. They were excited to see me and full of questions. The kids had seen the footage on the TV screens in the waiting area and were anxious to tell me they had seen me on TV. Rebekah was relieved as she had been worried sick as usual. As we walked out of the terminal to the van, I fielded all their questions.

  “You’d have thought the FBI would have had the decency to fly you back to Estes Park after you saved their ass,” Rebekah said.

  “Yeah, that would have been nice, but they didn’t offer and I was too busy to worry about it. Martha was pretty upset.”

  “Yeah, I can imagine. I know how she must be feeling.”

  Rebekah was referring to the two times I had been in jail. The first time I was in the Marine Corps and I faced a court martial for allegedly killing my drill sergeant. The second time was when I was held in contempt of court after the Sarah Winters' trial and had to serve thirty days in the county jail. Luckily both of those incarcerations were short.

  “So, what did you guys do today?” I asked.

  “The kids went swimming this morning and we went on a nature trail this afternoon.”

  “Oh, great. Sounds like you had fun.”

  “We did,” Reggie said. “They have a humongous pool.”

  “Really? Cool,” I said. “I’ll have to check it out.”

  “The kids had fun, but I missed you,” Rebekah said.

  “I missed Daddy too,” Marcia said.

  I smiled and took Marcia’s hand.

  “I missed all of you," I said. "At least I was able to come back right away—thanks to Paula.”

  “Is she going to be all right without you?” Rebekah asked.

  “Yeah. I should think so. She knows a lot more about criminal law than I do. Dusty’s in good hands.”

  We arrived at the van and the kids climbed inside. Rebekah put her arms around me and said, “Good, because I don’t want any more interruptions. I want you all to myself.”

  We kissed as the kids watched us intently.

  “You can’t have him every minute,” Mark said. “Dad promised he’d teach us to fly fish.”

  I shook my head, smiled at Rebekah and said, “You’re the one who wanted a big family.”

  When we got back to Estes Park it was late. Although it was summer, the night was cool. Marcia was asleep so I carried her inside and put her to bed. The rest of the kids managed to stagger inside and jump in the sack on their own. After the kids were in bed and fast asleep, Rebekah and I went outside to look at the stars. In the city they barely shone but up here in the mountains they were bright and beautiful.

  "I'm glad you're back," Rebekah said. "I was worried about you."

  I put my arm around her and replied, "It was no big deal. I knew Dusty wouldn't hurt me. This whole thing makes no sense. I can't see Dusty killing anyone, even if it was an asshole like Bobby Tuttle."

  "Maybe you didn't know him as well as you thought you did?"

  "Maybe. It wouldn't be the first person I've misjudged."

  We continued to wander through Colorado another week and ended up in Steamboat Springs. We had just returned from a jeep ride through the back country. The tour company had taken us up to an old abandoned mining camp where we were fed a big steak dinner. It was a rough ride, but the landscape was spectacular. Along the trail we saw deer, elk, and a big brown bear. When we returned to our cabin, I noticed the message light on the telephone was blinking. “Oh, crap!”

  Rebekah jumped. “What!”

  “There’s a message for me.”

  “Oh, no. What now?”

  “I don’t know, but I better check it out,” I said and picked up the phone. I dialed the number to get my messages and waited. I heard a familiar voice. It was one of my best clients, Tex Weller. ‘Stan, I’m in Ecuador concluding a little business venture. I need to wire some money into your trust account. I took the liberty of calling Jodie and getting wiring instructions. I hope you don’t mind. I’ll explain everything when I get back to Dallas next week. Sorry to bother you on your vacation, but I didn’t want you to be surprised when you got your bank statement at the end of the month. Bye.'”

  Rebekah looked at me expectantly. “So, what’s up?”

  “Oh, nothing important. Tex was just letting me know he was wiring me some money—some business venture he’s winding up in Ecuador.”

  “Ecuador? I didn't know he did business in Ecuador."

  "I didn't either. I wonder what in the hell he's doing down there."

  "Why didn’t he wire the money into his own account?” Rebekah asked.

  “I don’t know,” I said. “It is a little strange, but if it’s a new venture he may want to set up a new corporation, get a tax ID number, and then open up a bank account in the corporate name. If he put the money in his own account first he’d have to explain to IRS why it wasn’t earned income. From a bookkeeping standpoint it makes sense.”

  “Have any of your clients done that before?”

  “No, but there’s a first for everything.”

  “How much money is it?” Rebekah asked with a wry smile.

  I laughed. “I don’t know. He didn’t say.”

  “How does he know you won’t spend it?”

  “I think that’s why he called. He wanted to make sure I knew who it belonged to.”

  “Well, at least he didn’t want you to rush back to Dallas.”

  “Thank God.”

  The next morning my curiosity got the better of me, so I called the office and asked Jodie about the wire transfer. Not that it mattered, but I was curious if the money had come and how much it was. She put me on hold while she called the bank.

  “You won’t believe this,” she said.

  “How much?”

  “1.8 million.”

  “1.8 million? Holy Jesus! Did Tex say anything about what kind of deal he was into?”

  “No, not a word.”

  “Okay, thanks. I’ll see you in a couple days.”

  Tex had a little money and I had helped him set up a few small ventures, but this was way out of his league. I knew he was a sucker for any kind of get-rich-quick scheme that came down the pike. I wondered if one of them had finally panned out. I assumed Tex would have a reasonable explanation for how he got the money, but I couldn’t help but feel a little uneasy about having it in my trust account. What if it were illegal? Was Tex using me to launder his money? I didn’t think he would do that, but what if I was wrong about him?