Brash Endeavor, A Stan Turner Mystery Vol 3

  Chapter 34

  THE RUSE

  Wednesday

  When the appointed hour arrived Ken, Snyder, Miguel and some local detectives had gathered at Miguel's office. The phone was being monitored and taped. Miguel picked up the phone and made the call.

  "Hello," a male voice said.

  "Hello, Mr. Bird Logan please."

  "This is he."

  "Yes, Mr. Logan . . . this is Miguel Valdez . . . you don't know me, but I know a lot about you."

  "What do you want?" Bird asked.

  "I'm a private investigator and I've been hired to search into your past and find out all of your hidden secrets," Miguel chuckled.

  "Well if you think I'm going to tell you anything you're a lunatic!" Bird replied.

  "No . . . no, you don't understand, I've already learned everything about you that there is to know."

  "Oh yeah, like what?"

  "I know you killed your wife and I know why you did it," Miguel said.

  There was a moment of silence.

  "You are a lunatic, goodbye!" he said and hung up.

  "Damn it?" Ken said. "I thought we had him."

  "No, actually I thought that went quite well," Snyder said. "He's not stupid. He's not going to say anything incriminating over the telephone. I'm sure he knows his phone is tapped."

  "So what now?" I said.

  "If he's interested he'll probably go to a phone booth and call back to set up a meeting," Snyder said.

  "But, how's he going to do that, Miguel didn't even give him a phone number," I said.

  "I looked in the Yellow Pages, there is only one Private Investigator named Miguel. If he wants to find him, he'll do it, and it won't take him long."

  "So, what do we do now?" Ken said.

  "Order pizza," Miguel replied.

  Miguel got on the phone and ordered a pizza and we all sat around hoping for a phone call. After about an hour our patience paid off.

  "Hello, Miguel Valdez."

  "Hello, this is Bird Logan, is this the Miguel I was talking with earlier today?" Bird asked.

  "Yeah man, I tried to talk to you this morning and you hung up on me," Miguel said.

  "What do you expect. This kind of thing isn't something you talk about over the phone. We need to meet."

  "Okay, I'll be happy to meet you, Mr. Bird, just tell me the time and the place."

  "The bait shop off Ocean Boulevard at the end of the pier . . . 5:30 p.m. sharp."

  "Okay man, I'll be there," Miguel said.

  "Good."

  Miguel put down the phone and smiled gleefully. "The Bird has taken the worm."

  "Thank God!" I said feeling much relief.

  Ken smiled and extended his hand to congratulate me. Snyder looked pleased, I guess he won either way. It didn't matter to him whether Rebekah or Bird killed Sheila as long as he got credit for convicting the real murderer. During the next several hours Miguel and Snyder worked on his script for his meeting with Logan. When the appointed hour approached, Miguel was fitted for his wire and all the electronic equipment was tested.

  At five o'clock Miguel got in his Jeep and drove to the pier off Ocean Boulevard. We all followed him in a gold Chevy Van driven by two undercover police officers dressed for a day on the beach. Miguel got to the appointed meeting place at 5:20 p.m. and waited. We all huddled inside the van and listened. At 5:35 p.m. Bird made his move.

  "Sir, you wouldn't be Miguel would you," Bird said.

  "Yes, you must be Bird," Miguel replied.

  "Let's take a walk down the beach."

  "Sure."

  There was about a minute of silence as the two began walking toward the beach. We could hear the wind blowing, the seagulls screaming and the waves pounding on the sand, as well as Miguel's heart beating rapidly.

  "Now what's all this about information you've dug up?" Bird said.

  "I was hired to gather evidence against you for use in the Rebekah Turner trial. I've been checking into your background and all of your activities for the past few years," Miguel said.

  "Who’s your client?" Bird asked.

  "Well, I'm not at liberty to say but he's not a rich man and can only pay me a pittance for my work. On the other hand, I know you are about to become a very wealthy man and this information is much more valuable to you."

  "So, it's safe to say you haven't told anyone about what you've turned up."

  "No, absolutely not. No one knows yet, but my client is pressing me for the information, so I will have to tell him soon. Unless, of course, someone else wants to buy the information for a higher, much higher, price."

  "I don't know what you think you've got on me. I had nothing to do with my wife's death, but I don't want you spreading lies about me that might get Rebekah Turner acquitted."

  "Of course, I understand, you had nothing to do with your wife's murder, and Jesus was never a Jew, right?" Miguel laughed.

  "You think you're a real comedian, don't you?"

  "I'm sorry man, but you crack me up."

  "Let's cut the bullshit, okay? How much do you want?"

  "Well, for a man who is about to get a million dollars does it matter?"

  "You're damn right it matters. What's your price?"

  "One hundred thousand dollars would be satisfactory."

  "You're crazy! I'm not paying you a hundred grand," Bird spat.

  "Well, okay . . . Just forget it then. It doesn't make any difference to me whether your executed or not."

  "Why you dirty prick! How do you know I won't just kill you and dump your body in the bay?"

  "Do I look stupid? My cousin has all the information in a manila envelope addressed to the District Attorney in Dallas. If I don't come home tonight by seven o'clock. he's going to put it in the mail."

  "If I give you the $100,000, how do I know you won't come back for more later?"

  "You have my word, of course, but I know you have killed two, maybe three people already, so if I tried to press my luck with you I'd most likely end up dead, right?"

  "You're full of shit. I haven't killed anybody, but you're damn right. I will kill you if you double-cross me!"

  "Good then. We have a deal?"

  "I'll give you twenty-five thousand and not one penny more?"

  "Isn't your freedom worth a hundred grand?"

  "Twenty-five thousand, take it or leave it!"

  "Okay, I'll take it."

  "How do you want me to deliver you the money?"

  "In anticipation of us doing business I took the liberty of getting a locker in the dressing room over by the bait shop. Here is the key. Put the money in a beach bag, nothing larger than twenty dollar bills, and leave it in the locker. Then have the key returned to me by messenger by five. I'll give the messenger the manila envelope when I get the key."

  "Fine, but remember, if you double-cross me you're a dead man."

  "Don't worry, man, I want to stay healthy so I can spend all the money."

  "Okay, one last thing, what are you going to tell your client?"

  "I'm going just to say that I didn't find anything very interesting. You're just a model citizen, right?"

  "Okay, get the hell out of here! I don't want to ever see your face again."

  "No problem, man. It was a pleasure doing business with you."

  Later that evening Ken, Snyder and I took a Southwest flight back to Dallas. Before we left I called Rebekah and told her the good news. She was excited and told me to hurry home so we could celebrate. On the plane I was excited and relieved that Rebekah was off the hook, so I was buying cocktails for everybody on the plane and no one was turning them down. When the plane arrived Rebekah was waiting for me at the gate. After I called she had gotten a babysitter and was ready to celebrate. I asked Ken and Snyder to join us but they politely declined.

  Thirty minutes later we were sitting on the top of the Southland Life Building in downtown Dallas enjoying a delicious steak dinner and a bottle of champagne. Fr
om this posh little restaurant, you could see the entire city and at night the lights were magnificent. "I bet you never thought your life would be so exciting, did you?" I asked.

  "Somehow being on trial for murder isn't the kind of excitement I relish," Rebekah replied.

  "Do you realize I've been practicing law six months now?" I said.

  "Yes and do you realize after we eat these steaks we won't have enough money to buy breakfast tomorrow?" Rebekah replied.

  "Well, if it hadn't of been for all your legal expenses we'd be sitting pretty."

  "Well, if you'd have kept your eyes off of Sheila Logan I wouldn't have had any legal expenses."

  "Yeah . . . maybe . . . but anyway, it was a pretty good six months overall don't you think?"

  Rebekah laughed. "We're both still alive if that's what you mean. Neither one of us is in jail! . . . Hey, that's a plus."

  "Okay, okay . . . but aren't you happy?" I said.

  Rebekah looked up at me with her big brown eyes, smiled and replied, "Yes, Stan Turner, I'm happy. Then she broke out in laughter, "I don't think I'll live past thirty but it's going to be a hell of a ride getting there."

  "You're a real clown," I said. "I'll try to make the next six months less exciting."

  "Good."

  The next day there was a prominent story in the newspaper about the arrest of Bird Logan for his wife's murder and the dismissal of all charges against Rebekah. The story intimated that Bird may have been responsible for his first wife's death as well. For the first time since Sheila's death I began to think of her. She was a wonderful woman and it was so outrageous that her life had been suddenly snatched away from her. I felt anger and sadness at her loss, so much so I couldn't hold back my tears. When Rebekah walked in and saw my distress she questioned me.

  "What's wrong, Stan?"

  "Oh . . . nothing, I'm just glad all this mess is over."

  "Me too. You sure you don't want to go back to selling insurance?"

  "Are you kidding! . . . no way."