Black Monday, A Stan Turner Mystery Vol 7

  Chapter 23

  QUICKSAND

   

  It was late December when Judge Wingate sent us a scheduling order in Jimmy Bennett's case. According to the order the trial was to begin on April 5, 1988. That left us only three months to get ready for trial. Now that we were engaged, Bart and I were anxious to get married. Once we got the scheduling order, we set our wedding date for the last Saturday in June.

  I cringed at the idea of planning the wedding in the middle of a murder trial, but Bart and I decided we had no choice. When the Jimmy Bennett case was over, it was likely there'd just be another case, so there was no way to avoid a conflict. We'd just have to get a good wedding planner. I asked some of my friends and was told they'd heard Monique Lebon was good.

  Monique stood barely five feet tall, but it was five feet of pure energy. She was constantly in motion and ordered people around like she was a female Napoleon. A French Canadian by birth, she had been forced to relocate to Texas to be with her husband who had been awarded a professorship at the University of Texas at Dallas. We met and hit it off immediately, so we hired her.

  Once we made a decision on the date the first order of business was to reserve the church. I called Father Bob at All Saints Catholic Church and asked him if he'd marry us. He said he would be honored to do it. I was glad because I'd known him since I was a child and he had been particularly helpful to me when my mother was sick.

  The service was set for 4:00 p.m. and my father insisted we have the reception at Prestonwood Country Club where he was a member. There was so much to do and so many decisions to be made, I was having trouble concentrating on Jimmy Bennett's case. Finally, I flipped open the file and looked at my notes. The last time Stan and I had talked about the case I had made a note to go talk to some of the neighbors around Don Baker's condo. It was possible that somebody might have seen someone come or go on the day of the murder. We needed to get a connection between one of our suspects and the crime scene. I told Jodie where I was headed and took off.

  The condo was not too far from Jimmy Bennett's offices in Las Colinas. It overlooked a lush pond on the fringe of the Las Colinas Country Club. There were twenty-four units in the condominium so I had lots of work to do. Since it was a gated community, I went to the manager's office to inform them of what I planned to do. An attractive blonde manned the reception desk.

  "Hello, I'm Paula Waters with Turner & Waters, Attorneys."

  The lady looked up, "Oh. Pleased to meet you. What can I do for you?"

  "Well, I'm one of Jimmy Bennett's defense attorneys and I'm looking for witnesses who might have seen something the night he was murdered."

  "Sweet Jesus. Not another investigator."

  "What do you mean?"

  "First Detective Perkins, the FBI, and now—what was your name?"

  "Paula Waters."

  It surprised me that the FBI had been out to the Condo, but as I got to thinking about it, it made sense. The murder of the President of a thrift on the brink of failure had to turn some heads in Washington. I figured they must have sent the FBI down to check into it. I wondered if they were in communication with Detective Perkins and, if so, if they'd share any evidence they found with us. I suspected they wouldn't.

  "So, what do you want to know?"

  "Were you here the night of the murder?"

  "No, I close up at 5:00 p.m."

  "Before you left did you notice anyone around who wasn't a resident?"

  "Just the pool man. He worked all afternoon fixing a crack in the deck."

  "Was he your usual pool repairman?"

  "I guess. The company sends out different men. I don't know them all."

  "Had you ever seen this guy before?"

  "No, can't say that I had, but he stayed pretty busy fixing the deck."

  "What did he look like?"

  "Tall, slim and good lookin'. I'd guess he was a cowboy but I couldn't say for sure. But he'd definitely look good on a horse."

  I laughed. "Were there any strange cars around the day of the murder?"

  "Not that I recall."

  "Do you know Congressman Manning or Representative John Potts?"

  "I saw Manning give a speech one time at a real estate convention."

  "Have you ever seen him around here?"

  "No. Can't say that I have."

  "What about Potts?"

  "Wouldn't know him if I saw him."

  "Is there anything you know or saw that might shed some light on who murdered Don Baker and Amanda Black?"

  "Well, Amanda had a lot of visitors. She was a popular girl. I . . . I wondered sometimes if she wasn't doing business out of the condo."

  "Doing business?"

  "You know—hooking. She was a striper wasn't she? She had a lot of good lookin' boys visit her during the day. At night it was all Don Baker, but during the day that girl liked to party."

  This was the best news I'd heard since I started working the case. Did Amanda have a jealous boyfriend or a John visit her that night? Could their death be as simple as a jealous rage of a would-be lover? The possibilities were staggering.

  "Well, thanks for your help. If you don't mind, I'll just start knocking on doors and talking to people."

  "Okay, but don't expect a warm reception. People around here are getting tired of hearing about Don Baker and Jimmy Bennett."

  "I will, thanks."

  There weren't a lot of people home during the middle of the day but I did manage to talk to a half dozen or so of the residents. One of them, a young black woman named Sylvia Stock, lived just down the hall from the Baker condo. She claimed to be a friend of Amanda Black."

  "We did our laundry together," she said.

  "Really? Did you see Amanda on the day of the murder?"

  "Yes, I saw them come in that evening about 7:30. They were loud as usual. It sounded like they'd just come from Happy Hour."

  "After they came home did you see them come out of the condo?"

  "No. All I could hear was the TV. It was on pretty loud."

  "Did Amanda have a lot of friends come by her place during the day?"

  "Sure. She was a popular girl. A lot of girls from the club came by to hang out."

  "What about men? Did she do any business in the condo?"

  "I don't know about that. I've seen guys there, but she's a beautiful woman and men are attracted to her. When she goes to the pool to take a swim during the day, you wouldn't believe how many men drop whatever they're doing to get their swim trunks on."

  I laughed. "Was there anybody that might have been overly obsessed with Amanda?"

  "Gee. I don't know. There was this guy who showed up in the laundry room one time when we were doing our clothes. He talked to Amanda like they were friends—more than friends. She told me after he left that she had dated him a few times, but that it was over between them."

  "Did the other guy act like it was over?"

  "No. He was still hittin' on her—trying to get another date, but Amanda wasn't interested."

  "Hmm. Did you get a name for this guy?"

  "Phil, I think. She didn't say what his last name was?"

  Did you see anyone else outside the condo the night they were murdered?"

  "Yes, a man walked by my window and headed toward Amanda's place about 10:35 p.m. I had been watching the news and remembered thinking it was strange for someone to be visiting at that hour. I didn't hear him knock either, which surprised me, so I peeked out the front door to see what he was doing."

  "What was he doing?"

  "I don't know. He had disappeared."

  "Can you describe him?"

  "Tall, dark skin, lean," she replied. “I didn't see his face."

  “Could it have been the same person you met in the laundry room?"

  "Possibly? Like I said, I didn't see his face."

  A sick feeling came over me. Jimmy was tall, deeply tanned, and lean. Could he have come to the condo? Had he been lying to me? If he was on one of his
cocaine trips, he might not even remember going there and killing Don and Amanda. I needed to find out who it was Sylvia had seen that night. If it was the spurned lover that would be wonderful, but if it was Jimmy, he was in quicksand and sinking fast.