Deadly Distractions, A Stan Turner Mystery Vol 6

CHAPTER 34

  THE LETTER

  The lack of progress on my criminal case had me a bit uneasy, but I couldn’t let that slow me down. I had to have faith that Stan would get me through the trial unscathed. Dusty Thomas’ trial was barely two months away and we had nothing conclusive to prove his innocence. We could create a lot of dust, but when it all settled, Dusty would be still be there with the shotgun in his hand, looking down at Bobby Tuttle’s body. Since the Feds wanted Dusty executed, there was no hope of a last minute plea bargain or any other resolution of the case before trial. The momentum I had going in Dusty’s case had come to a sudden stop with Jill’s disappearance. Where could she be? Why hadn’t she contacted me? Was she still alive or had Harris tracked her down and killed her? These were all questions that haunted me and made it difficult to sleep at night.

  One missing link in our theory that Don Harris was Tuttle’s killer was how he would have known that Bobby Tuttle was coming out to seize Dusty’s tractor. Since I couldn’t think of anything else to do, I decided to try to figure that out. I called Donald Hurst to see if he might shed some light on that issue.

  “Sorry to bother you, but I was wondering if you might answer one question for me,” I said.

  “I guess. What is it?”

  “Is there any way someone outside the IRS could have found out when Bobby was going out to seize Dusty’s tractor?”

  “No, the agent usually keeps that pretty close to the vest so that the taxpayer won’t try to hide the asset. The only person who would have known about the seizure was the wrecker service company that was supposed to meet Bobby out at the ranch.”

  “What wrecker company did Bobby use?”

  “In northern Collin County we use A Plus Wreckers in McKinney,” Hurst said.

  I thanked Hurst and looked up A-Plus Wreckers in the Yellow Pages. It was located on Highway 380 in McKinney. I couldn’t remember the name of the driver who found the body so I looked through my notebook. It was Lewis Lance of Princeton, Texas—white male, 38, employed at A Plus Wrecker Service since June 1986. He arrived on the scene a few minutes late and found Dusty standing over the body with a shotgun in his hand.

  “Oh, my God! He was in on it,” I muttered.

  Harris must have arranged for him to go to work for A Plus Wreckers so he would be there when the call came in for the wrecker. He was looking for someone to set up for the murder and Dusty was the lucky pick. When I called A Plus Wreckers to get an appointment to talk to Lewis Lance, I learned he didn’t work there anymore. That didn’t surprise me. I got in my car, which had finally been returned to me by the body shop, and headed for McKinney. Even if I couldn’t talk to Lewis, I could talk to his boss and co-workers. They might provide some evidence to support my theory. Mason Block was the owner.

  “He was an experienced wrecker driver. I was sorry to see him go,” Block said.

  “How did you happen to hire him?” I asked. “Were you looking for a driver?”

  “No. He just popped in one day and said he had just moved nearby and needed a job. I didn’t have an opening so I took his name and number and told him I’d call if anything opened up.”

  “So, I guess you eventually did call him?”

  “Yeah. Almost right away. One of our drivers was killed in an auto accident.”

  “Is that right? What happened?”

  “It was the strangest thing. He was driving home to Bonham and must have fallen asleep. They found his car twisted around a big oak tree.”

  "What was his name?"

  "Carl Johanson."

  I wrote the name in my note book. “So, how was it that Lewis was working with Bobby Tuttle?”

  “Oh, gosh, I don’t know. I think he volunteered. When Bobby came by, he and Lewis hit it off and Tuttle always asked for Lewis when there was a job he needed done.”

  “Lewis was a little late for his meeting with Bobby at the Double T Ranch. Do you know why?”

  “No, he left here in plenty of time. I wondered about that. Maybe Bobby would still be alive had he not been late.”

  After thanking Block for talking to me, I went back to the office and asked Jody to get a copy of Carl Johanson's accident report. She said she'd order it right away. Then I called Bart. I figured since Lewis Lance was a witness the DA’s office would be keeping track of him. Bart didn’t know but promised to find out. A little later he called and said Lewis Lance was now working in Wylie at Highway 78 Towing. I didn’t figure Lance would want to talk to me and I didn’t want him warning Don Harris that I was coming to see him, so I went to Highway 78 Towing unannounced. Lance wasn’t there, so I asked the man on duty a few questions.

  “Does Lewis Lance work here?”

  “Yeah, he comes on at five,” the man said.

  I looked at my watch and it was three-thirty. “Shoot. I really wanted to talk to him.”

  “Why?” the man asked.

  “Ah . . . well . . . he was a witness in a murder case and I needed to ask him a few questions. I tried to catch him up in McKinney but I found out he’d quit and went to work here.”

  “Oh, that was just a part-time job. He’s been working here steady now for five years.”

  “Is that right?”

  “Yeah, he got behind on his bills and needed some extra cash so he got a second job. It was hard on him working a shift here then driving an hour to Princeton and working another shift. I told him he ought to just file bankruptcy and tell his creditors to take a hike.”

  “Well, he must be a very responsible person. That’s rare nowadays,” I said. “I guess I’ll stop by after five some night. Thanks for the info.”

  “No problem, Ma’am.”

  "Oh, by the way, have you seen Don Harris lately?"

  "No, not for a week or so. How do you know Don?"

  "Oh, he's a friend of Lewis' isn't he?"

  "Well, I don't know if they are friends, but Lewis is his mechanic."

  My theory was pretty well nailed down so I decided to go home. Then the idea hit me to drive by Don Harris’ place and see if anything was going on. Perhaps he had Jill with him, if he hadn’t killed her. I parked a little farther away than I had the first time. I was sure he couldn’t see me from his house. With a pair of binoculars I had in the glove box, I watched his house. His truck was in the driveway. After twenty minutes he came out of the house and got in his truck. He drove off and I followed him at a safe distance.

  It felt strange following him, not knowing where he was going. It was exciting though. My heart was pounding and I was feeling a little adrenalin buzz. He turned onto the main highway headed for Wylie. After he drove through town, he drove past his studio and turned into a little commercial district. He parked in front of a warehouse with a sign on the front that read: S & T Packing Company. I drove by and parked around the corner. He didn’t seem to notice me.

  The warehouse was very large and there were several eighteen-wheelers parked in the yard next to it. An eight-foot chain-link fence surrounded the yard and the loading area around the back of the building. A half dozen cars were parked in front. I took down all the license numbers of the cars and trucks I could see from my angle. There wasn’t much else I could do and it was getting dark so I finally left and went back to Dallas. It was too late to go to the office, so I went straight home.

  Don Harris was up to something other than designing advertisements. I didn’t know what it was but I had a hunch it would eventually answer a lot of questions. I couldn’t wait until morning to check with the Secretary of State, State Comptroller, and Department of Motor Vehicles. Maybe by knowing who owned S & T Packing Company and who worked there, we’d get one step closer to the truth. When I got to my apartment complex, I was shocked to see Stan’s car was there. He was pacing back and forth in front of my front door. I pulled up next tho his Corvette.

  “What are you doing here?” I asked as I got out of the car.

  “Looking for you. Where have you been? I’ve been worried sick.”

/>   “Following Don Harris around,” I said as I unlocked the door. We went inside. “You won’t believe what I found out.”

  “I told you not to do anything dangerous,” Stan said.

  “I know. I didn’t get too close. . . . So, tell me. Why are you here?”

  “You won’t believe what I found in the mail today.”

  “What?”

  “A letter to you from Jill.”

  “Really? What did it say?”

  “I didn’t open it. It’s addressed to you.”

  I shook my head. “Stan, you could have opened it. I wouldn’t have cared.”

  “Well, I figured you’d be home soon so I’d let you do it.”

  I looked over the envelope. It was written on Holiday Inn stationery and the postmark was from Austin. It was dated two days earlier. I ripped open the letter and began reading.

  Dear Paula,

  Thank you for saving my life. I’m sure had you not shown up at the airport I would be dead right now or imprisoned somewhere with no hope of escape. After your diversion I was able to get out of the terminal and get a cab. I hope Don didn’t hurt you too badly. I saw him kick you in the face. You’re one brave woman.

  I’m safe now. I’ve gone somewhere Don can’t find me. At first I was just going to lay low for a while, but after thinking about it, the least I could do to show my gratitude would be to help you save Dusty Thomas’ life. I don’t know a lot but there are a few things I have seen that might shed some light on your investigation.

  Don didn’t go to work on the day Bobby Tuttle was killed. I know that because I went to his office looking for him but he hadn’t been there all day. That night he called me and wanted to go out. He came by my apartment to pick me up and made a phone call. He called someone in Alexandria, Virginia because later on when I got my phone bill it had the number on it. I don’t know who he called, but the telephone bill is what he was looking for when he came and got me the day you followed us. I told him I had thrown it away but he didn’t believe me. Unfortunately he found the bill and destroyed it.

  That is about all I know other than what I’ve already told you. Good luck and thanks again for all you’ve done for me.

  Jill

  “Do you think we can get a copy of the bill from the telephone company?” I asked.

  “We can sure try. Detective Conrad can probably get it as part of his investigation of the sniper attack. Just show him the letter and that should convince him of the relevance.”

  “Good. I’ll do that tomorrow. . . . You want a drink?”

  “No, I’ve got to get home. I was just curious about the letter and—”

  “And what?”

  “I wanted to tell you what a great job you’re doing on Dusty’s case. You’ve just forged ahead despite everything that’s happened. I've never seen such great focus and determination.”

  “Thank you, Stan. I appreciate you saying that. It means a lot to me.”

  “I just wish—”

  “Wish what?”

  “That I was doing as great a job on your criminal case.”

  I frowned. “What do you mean? You’ve been working very hard.”

  “Yes, but the trial date is so close and I’m not sure we can win,” Stan said. “There are powerful forces out there against us. Forces that we know nothing about and can’t even see. I’m scared. I would just die if you went to jail.”

  A chill darted through me. I took a deep breath and replied, “I know. I’ve tried not to worry about it. Even if I lost, do you think I’d go to jail?”

  “Ordinarily not. It’s your first offense. You ought to get probation, but I don’t know. This isn’t your ordinary case.”

  I took Stan’s hand and said, “I have complete faith in you, Stan. If anybody can get me off, you can. If you don’t, then . . . well, that’s just the way it’s meant to be,” I said trying to restrain my tears.

  Stan smiled, “Jill was right. You are a brave woman. . . . I won’t let you down. I’ll figure this thing out somehow. I promise.”

  I smiled and replied, “I know.”

  This time I couldn’t restrain my tears. We embraced for a moment and then he was gone. Was he right? Was I doomed? I wondered.