Cactus Island, A Stan Turner Mystery Vol 8

by William Manchee

CHAPTER 43

  RESCUE

  On Thursday my nurse advised me that they were planning to move me to a detention facility that afternoon. That scared me because that meant I would soon be in the general population with other prisoners, most of whom were dangerous criminals who might relish the idea of doing a little attorney bashing—and not the verbal kind that was so popular nowadays. I had taken a few self defense courses, but I wasn't exactly a black belt. If there were a betting pool on the odds of me winning a prison yard brawl, I'd bet against me.

  As I was staring out the window contemplating my fate, I remembered what Stan had said to me on more than one occasion. When things go wrong, don't panic. It won't help. Have faith that God will somehow take care of you. Stan was always so calm even when things went to hell. I needed to be strong too and have faith that somehow I'd get through this nightmare. I closed my eyes and said a silent prayer. A second later I heard footsteps in the hallway. I opened my eyes and watched as the door opened. It was Bart and Paul Thayer. I would have jumped for joy had I not been handcuffed to my bed.

  "Hey. You brought reinforcements," I said grinning broadly.

  Bart nodded, "Yes, I picked him up this morning at the airport."

  "I hope you have some good news," I said to Paul. "I've been told they're transporting me to the local jailhouse this afternoon."

  "That's not going to happen," Paul said. "You're booked on a six o'clock flight to Dallas."

  "Oh, thank God! How did you manage that?"

  "Stan worked it out with the judge and Wilkerson. The local authorities aren't going to press charges here in Tortola. I'm afraid you're going to have to go back to Dallas in handcuffs, though."

  I shrugged. "That's okay, I guess, but what's going to happen when I get to Dallas?"

  Paul replied, "You'll be released on your own recognizance with the stipulation that you won't leave Dallas County until after Cheryl's trial. At that time you'll either be indicted or no-billed."

  "Well, that's not so bad."

  "There is one thing. You won't be able to represent Cheryl anymore. You can help Stan, but you won't be able to act as co-counsel at the trial."

  "No! That's exactly what Martin Windsor wanted and now he’s got it. We can't let him get away with this."

  "Don't worry. He hasn't succeeded yet. We're going to figure this thing out," Paul said. "Bart and I paid a visit to Walter Johansen today and we've started interviewing staff at the hotel. Someone is bound to remember something."

  "Not if their memory has been erased," I replied. I told them about my theory that Martin or someone had invented a memory eraser.

  "Well, Johansen doesn't seem to have a memory loss," Paul replied. "He gave us a complete account of your meeting."

  "That should be interesting. What did he tell you?"

  "He said you met with him and told him you were closing out Cheryl's account and wanted to move the money immediately to an account in Chile. He said he advised you against it because there were stiff penalties for withdrawal of funds within one year of deposit. According to him, you said you didn't care about that, you just wanted the money moved immediately."

  "I wonder how much Martin paid him that pack of lies," I replied. "You've got to thoroughly investigate him and link him somehow to Martin Windsor. He's the only lead we have right now."

  "I've got a man watching him as we speak," Paul said. "I'm going to stay here for a few days after you leave and find out as much as I can about him. If he contacts the people he's working for we'll know it."

  After Bart and Paul left, I was giddy over the news of my evening flight back to Dallas. Stan had been right. My prayers had been answered after all. It was just a matter of hard work and a little faith. The fact that I couldn't be first chair at trial was disappointing, but I wasn't going to dwell on that right now. Hopefully, Paul would find something on Johansen that would clear me and things would get back to normal.

  At 4:00 p.m. Bart and Detective Pollock came to pick me up to go to the airport. Pollock uncuffed me and let me get dressed, then we went outside where a police car was waiting. Pollock and I went in the police car and Bart took a cab. It was complicated going through customs with lots of paperwork and conferences between Pollock and numerous customs' agents. Finally we made it through and boarded the airplane.

  It was embarrassing to be handcuffed to Pollock. People looked at me like I was the two-headed lady at the circus, but I didn't care. I was on my way home and soon all of this would be but a distant memory. Bart found us and sat in the aisle seat next to me. He took my hand and squeezed it. I smiled up at him and thanked God again for saving my butt.

  The flight back to Dallas seemed to take forever with two stops along the way. At the U.S. Customs office at DFW Airport Pollock turned me over to Detective Perkins and a uniformed officer who escorted me to the downtown Dallas Police Station. There I was booked and then released on my own recognizance as had been agreed. I nearly cried when I came out and saw Stan and Bart in the waiting room. Stan gave me a big hug.

  "How are you? I've been so worried about you," Stan said.

  "I'm okay now that I'm home. It got a little scary there before Bart and Paul showed up."

  "Yeah, I bet. I'm sorry I didn't come with them, but I figured I could do you more good from this end."

  "Yes, I heard you cut a deal with the judge. Thank you so much."

  Stan shook his head. "It was nothing. I'm just so sorry you had to go through all of this."

  "Well, it's water under the bridge. Now we have to focus on the trial coming up. I heard you got a short continuance."

  "Right. So, just as soon as you've recovered, I could use your help getting back on track."

  "I'll be at work first thing Monday morning," I said.

  "Well, that's all right. You should take a day or two off. You've been through quite an ordeal."

  I shrugged. "I've been lying around for three days in a hospital bed. I don't need much more rest. I'll be at my desk at 8:00 a.m. ready to work on Monday."

  "Okay, I'll see you then."

  Bart and I drove home and all the way I kept rubbing my wrists thankful that the handcuffs were gone. When we got home, I took a good look around the condo. It was nice to be back home where I finally felt safe again. Although it had been less than a week since I had left for Tortola, it seemed like a month. After a late dinner and a couple of drinks, Bart led me to the bedroom to show me how much he'd missed me. I soon discovered he'd missed me a lot.