CHAPTER 26
STAKEOUT
As I worked at my desk, my mind kept wandering back to the accident, the funeral, and the threats against Stan and his family. It was hard to stay focused on Dusty’s case with all these thoughts haunting me. I took a deep breath and began leafing through my notebook. Okay, where was I? There appeared to be three good suspects: Donald Hurst, Laura Blair, and Reverend Lowe. Hurst was the least likely to have killed Tuttle, I thought. He was jealous of Tuttle and they didn’t like each other much, but that didn’t seem enough motive for murder. Laura Blair and Reverend Lowe had better motives. Laura had been raped by Tuttle and was probably mothering his child. She was bitter over the rape and having her career put on hold to have a baby she didn’t want. I thought about who she would have confided in about her feelings—her mother, a sister perhaps, but they wouldn’t be likely to talk to me. I decided her boyfriend was my best shot. He wouldn’t have liked Bobby too much so he’d probably love the opportunity to badmouth him. Once I had him going, I’d turn the interview in the direction I wanted it to go.
Chet Conway turned out to be a Dallas fireman. At first he refused to talk to me but finally agreed to a meeting after his shift. We met in the bar at Chili's. He was very tall with blue eyes and jet black hair. Several women in the bar were having trouble keeping their eyes off of him, including myself. We ordered a couple of beers.
“So, I guess you’re wondering what this is about?’ I said.
“Bobby Tuttle’s murder, right?”
“Yes. I guess you know I’ve already talked to your girlfriend, Laura.”
“Yes, she mentioned it.”
“Well, I’ve got to talk to everyone who knew Bobby Tuttle and I understand you met him a few times.”
“I didn’t kill him,” Chet said bluntly. So much for directing the interview. “Don’t get me wrong, I thought about killing him a few times.”
“Really? Why is that?”
“He was a no good asshole—using his position at work to force her into a relationship she didn’t want.”
“That seems to be the consensus of everyone I’ve talked to so far. I was wondering though—weren’t you and Laura having some problems?”
“Sure, we got mad at each other a time or two but it was nothing serious,” Chet said.
“Really? I thought you had split up for a while.”
“Not a split-up. We just needed a little space for a while . . . you know . . . to think things out.”
“Right.”
“So, weren’t you pissed when Bobby tried to strike up a relationship with Laura when you two were thinking things out?”
“Yes, I was totally pissed. I wanted to tear Bobby a new asshole.”
“So, why didn’t you?”
Chet looked at me warily. “I know what you’re trying to do.”
“What’s that?” I asked.
“You’re trying to get me upset so I’ll incriminate myself.”
“No, I’m just looking for the truth. I’m not out to get anyone. I just want to find out what really happened.”
“Dusty Thomas shot Bobby Tuttle. Don’t you read the papers?” Chet said. “They caught him standing over the body with the shotgun, remember?”
“They can’t prove Dusty’s shotgun was the murder weapon, so it’s possible he didn’t do it,” I replied.
He shook his head. “Well I guess you’re getting paid plenty to believe that, but as for me, Dusty’s your man.”
“Maybe he did it, maybe he didn’t. So, where were you when Bobby Tuttle was murdered?”
“I went dove hunting in East Texas with a friend.”
“Dove hunting? You mean with a shotgun?”
“Right.”
Chet gave me his friend’s name and telephone number and assured me he would verify his alibi. That didn’t convince me he was innocent. Old hunting buddies would most likely say anything to protect each other. I asked him what kind of vehicle he drove and he said it was a Ford F150 Extended Cab. Laura, however, drove a grey Mercedes. Not silver, but grey and silver were close enough in color that one could be mistaken for the other. It occurred to me that Chet might have borrowed the Mercedes while Laura was home sick with the baby. He could have driven to the Double T Ranch, shot Tuttle, and brought the car back without Laura knowing it had been gone. I thanked Chet and went back to the office.
Jodie greeted me and said she had completed her research on the other members of the People’s Mission. I invited her to sit down and tell me what she had found out. She had a sheet for each of the members with background data and her interview notes. I was very much impressed and made a mental note to give her more assignments in the future.
“All the members of the People’s Mission stood to lose plenty if Agent Tuttle was successful in overturning the tax exempt status of the organization. Most of them seemed satisfied with a resolution of the issue in court. But two of the members indicated they would never pay, under any circumstances, an assessment against them if they lost in the tax court.”
“Who were they?”
“Peter Lowe and Don Harris.”
“Peter Lowe, yes, I talked to him. I would agree he had ample motive to kill Tuttle. I don’t know this Harris character though. Tell me about him.”
“He’s a graphic artist. Apparently he’s quite good. He designs ads, book covers, logos, etc.”
“Really. So why do you think he is a suspect?”
“Besides the losses he would take if the tax deductions weren’t allowed, Bobby was threatening to torpedo several government contracts Harris had going if the didn’t pay the new assessment. This was bread and butter stuff that paid his rent. He may have decided to take a preemptive strike.”
“How could he torpedo the contracts?”
“Simply by garnishing them. If the agency under contract were served with an IRS garnishment they would have to pay the IRS the money due under the contract rather than Harris. He would effectively be put out of business.”
“Did you interview him in person?”
“No, over the telephone. He refused to meet with me.”
“Did he say where he was on the date of the murder?” I asked.
“Supposedly at his lake house at Lake Lavon. He’s living there now while he and his wife are having a new house built in Plano. It’s not too far from the Double T Ranch.”
“Wow. Good work, Jodie. I guess I’ll have to pay a visit to Mr. Harris.”
Rather than calling Don Harris and telling him I was coming, I decided it would be better to show up unexpectedly. If he was involved in Bobby’s murder, Jodie’s phone call would have already shaken him up. My request for an interview would likely prompt him to retrace his steps and destroy any evidence that he might have left behind. I prayed he wasn’t already in the process of doing that. It took me about an hour to get to Lake Lavon. I stopped on the side of the road and opened my Mapsco. After finding the street I was looking for, I started moving again. It was an old county road that hadn’t been maintained very well and there was a lot of dust. Finally I got to a cluster of houses overlooking the lake. The address I had was 2255 Lakeview Drive, St. Paul, Texas.
It was an older house but well maintained. There were an expensive looking ski boat and a red Dodge pickup truck in the driveway. I knocked on the door but there wasn’t any answer. I thought Mr. Harris might be in the back so I walked around the house. There were a large patio, a brick barbeque, and several picnic tables. It looked like a perfect place to throw a party. There were voices so I continued toward them.
“Hello,” I said as I approached a man and a woman sitting in two lawn chairs. The man jumped to his feet and glared at me. “Excuse me. I’m looking for Don Harris.”
“You’re looking at him,” he said.
The woman got up and looked at me curiously. “Please excuse the intrusion. I knocked on the front door but there was no answer, then I heard voices.”
Harris frowned. “Okay, so you found me. What do you want??
??
“I’m Paula Waters—”
“Oh, shit!” Harris said. “I talked to some lady in your office and told her everything I knew about Bobby Tuttle.”
“Yes, Jodie told me she had talked to you. I just wanted to ask you a few questions myself, if you don’t mind.”
“Yes, I do mind. I can’t believe you showed up here without an appointment. I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”
“I just have a few questions.”
“I don’t talk to attorneys without my attorney present.”
Harris escorted me back to my car. I was mildly upset with his rude treatment. It aroused my suspicion that he was hiding something. His companion didn’t intervene on my behalf, but rather made a dash for the house. After getting in my car, I drove off out of view but, instead of leaving, I parked around the corner where I could observe who came and went from the house. About twenty minutes later the woman I had met came out the front door, got in the pickup, and drove off. I didn’t know whether to follow her or watch the house. I elected to continue watching the house. A few minutes later a silver Mercedes pulled up in the driveway. Another woman got out and went inside. With a pair of opera glasses I kept in the glove box, I got the license plate number, and wrote it down on a legal pad. I waited a few more minutes, but nothing happened so I decided to go back to the office. As I started to pull out onto the road, I saw the red Dodge pickup that had been in the driveway coming straight at me. I froze as the Dodge came to a screeching halt in front of me and the woman I’d just met flung opened the door, got out, and strode toward me angrily.