James Ross - A Character-Based Collection (Prairie Winds Golf Course)

by James Ross

  Denny raised his eyebrows and was instantly curious. Coming from a family that controlled a lot of land in their own right, Denny took an immediate interest in their story and quickly decided to take the case. A couple of trust fund babies had found the non-conforming, eccentric rebel that they had been searching for. Plus he knew a little about law.

  From the beginning of their union with Denny, Matt and Lucille realized that not only would they be overmatched in court, but they also would have to do most of the investigative work by themselves. Yet they were determined to create havoc and get to the bottom of the hoax that had befallen them.

  All the while, with the efforts of this trio occurring mainly behind the scenes, Lew Zerrmann continued to behave in a manner that was oblivious to their efforts. He had gotten away with the scam of a lifetime and it was his feeling that the Statute of Limitations had run its course.

  Over the past ten years since meeting, Lew and Lois had established themselves openly as swingers. They were a sexually active couple that played in threesomes, foursomes, and groups. Lew’s appetite for the elicit was insatiable and when it came to sex, there wasn’t much he was opposed to, including having sex with the wives of married men.

  His self-indulgent, immoral behavior spun out of control at times. Lew truly believed he lived the good life and that no one could stop him or attempt to bring him down. Because of his political connections he had insulated himself well. To those outside his circle of connections it seemed like Lew had truly become too big for his britches. He had literally become a big fish in a little pond . . . and actually believed that he was untouchable.

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Summer of 1995 . . .

  Walter Hancock was every bit as edgy now as he was on the night that he was included with the crew that buried the hooker. Back then the alcohol had somewhat of a numbing effect. The years seemed to have a way of making him more eccentric and more assiduous. Perhaps it was his price to pay for keeping the dark secret. After all, he was the only one in the group that seemed to have a conscience. All the others were dead of emotion.

  As the years passed along, he became more and more precise with his routine. Every day he would arrive at his office at exactly 7:30 a.m. He would immediately go to the kitchen area and make a pot of coffee. While the coffee was brewing he would visit the restroom and make sure that every strand of hair on his head was in place.

  He would then drink one black cup of coffee, read the morning newspaper, and follow that with a cup of coffee with one creamer and one tablespoon of sugar. Then he would pick up a pencil and idly tap his desk as he gazed out the window. Something was going on inside his head—either that or he was going insane.

  Lew Zerrmann burst into his office one morning in early June and disrupted his routine. The pencil in Walter’s hand sounded as if it were keeping the beat to a song. “What are you so nervous about?” Lew asked.

  “The property has served its purpose,” Walter declared. “Get rid of it.”

  Lew was not impressed with that reply. He just shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly. “Quit worrying about things. I’ve taken care of everything,” he stated.

  Walter blew up. “ . . . And that is exactly what I am worried about! My life and future is in your hands. It’s not exactly the way I envisioned things would be when I reached this stage of my life.”

  Lew couldn’t stand being lectured like a child in elementary school. He was used to always calling the shots and getting things done his way. Walter was relentless. He was starting to vent his years of resentment.

  “Get the damn thing sold!” Walter exclaimed in a voice that was clearly frustrated. He had allowed himself to be controlled by Lew Zerrmann for nearly fifteen years and he clearly was not pleased about it.

  Lew got up from his seat, went to the kitchen, and poured a cup of coffee. Even when he was getting a lip thrashing he was inconsiderate. “You know how fond I am of ground,” he said when he returned to his seat.

  “We’ve been dodging a bullet on the golf course for years!” Walter continued. He was making reference to all of the creative accounting that the two had started when the business was in its’ infancy. “All that stuff is going to catch up with us one of these days.”

  “You know, I’ve kind of gotten to the point in my life where I like the place,” Lew replied indifferently. Lew wasn’t about to let a wimpy accountant gain control of the conversation. It was clear that he was going to dig in and show Walter who was making the decisions. He sat up straight in his chair and firmly crossed his arms.

  Walter didn’t take lightly to the body language. “Look, dammit! The books are cooked. Your skimming is out of control. If you don’t watch out we’ll throw up a red flag and trigger an audit.”

  Lew’s cockiness was reaching new heights. He had gotten away with the tax scam for so many years he thought that he was immune to any kind of governmental action. “We’ve beaten them all of these years. They don’t want a little old man like me. If they thought that something was up, then they would have stopped us a long time ago.”

  “Why take that chance? Different administrations go after different things,” Walter rebutted. “Why do you have to continually think that you are above the law?”

  “Every small businessman does the same thing that we’re doing. It’s the American way. The IRS knows that and just turns their head,” Lew rationalized.

  “But your greed is getting out of hand. The course has declared a negligible amount of income. The expenses are exceeding the income at a ratio that is going to set off a computer program,” Walter replied.

  “Hey, it’s not cheap to live anymore,” Lew responded defiantly.

  “Just find a new piece of dirt and move on,” Walter stated with frustration. He was visibly exasperated with this client.

  “You know how tough it is for me to do that. Once I get attached to something . . .”

  “Sell the damn place!” Walter interrupted.

  “Dammit, Walter, relax! You’re going to give yourself a heart attack.”

  “No. You’re the one that is going to give me one.”

  A grin came over Lew’s face. “That was what I came in here to talk about this morning,” Lew conceded.

  “What? Heart attacks?” Walter forced a smirk of his own.

  “No. I’ve been giving some thought to selling the business to J Dub,” Lew stated. He finally looked like he wanted to have a meaningful conversation with Walter.

  “It can’t come soon enough. For the measly fee you’re paying me to keep the books, it’s not worth the risk for me to put myself on the firing line,” Walter said.

  “If I sell the place, then I want top dollar for it,” Lew blurted.

  “That’s going to be tough. The business hasn’t been making any money. The income approach on any appraisal will bear that out,” Walter countered.

  Lew was getting into an area with which he was unfamiliar. “What about the land value alone?”

  “Well, maybe. It depends on how it is zoned,” Walter replied.

  “There’s a power line easement, and an oil pipeline, and some ground that’s in a flood plain. I can’t imagine it can be worth any more than what normal agricultural ground is selling for,” Lew retaliated.

  Walter was an expert in dealing with numbers. They were going down a path that was very familiar to him. “You have three different appraisal methods. They are income, market, and cost. Any appraiser will have to make adjustments. Those are regulated. If the checks and balances system is flawed then it won’t add up.”

  “Hmmm . . .” Lew wanted to hear whatever information was available, especially if it affected his pocketbook. “What are you getting at?”

  “Look, we can easily figure what the cost of the ground is. That takes care of the market approach. We can figure out how much it would cost to build a golf course if we had to replace it. That’s the cost approach. The only thing that concerns me is the income approach. Your track record with
that business doesn’t show any net earnings,” Walter reasoned.

  “If I’m paying an appraiser I’ll just tell him what I need,” Lew volunteered.

  “It doesn’t work like that! An appraiser is licensed by the state. They’re not going to put their livelihood on the line to line your pockets.”

  “It worked on you, didn’t it?” Lew started messing with the rational thinking that Walter’s brain was programmed to generate.

  “Is that your solution to everything?” Walter asked incredibly. “Pay people off?”

  “If I hire him then he should do what I tell him,” Lew responded. His arrogance was off the chart. In Lew’s world everybody and everything had a price.

  “You are something else,” Walter gasped. “The appraisal is normally ordered by a buyer or the bank for the buyer. It’s there to protect someone from overpaying.”

  “J Dub won’t know,” Lew reasoned.

  “The income approach is loaded with holes due to the skimming,” Walter was relentless in driving home his point.

  “J Dub will pay anything for the place,” Lew insisted. “He’s got too much of his time and his heart into the place.”

  “The bank may not let him.”

  “Then I’ll finance him myself.”

  “You always have to have your way, don’t you?” Walter conceded.

  “It’s my last big score. I have to get top dollar for the place. If it means I have to pay some appraiser to get that done, then so be it,” Lew said adamantly.

  “Just get it done.” Walter was at the end of the rope. “Quit wasting time.”

  “With what I’ve been through, this is nothing. I’ll find some appraiser that has a family to feed, slip him a few bucks under the table, and get a value that I deserve. Then I’ll find some banker that is only interested in covering his ass,” Lew persisted.

  Walter could do little but stare incredulously at the man who was speaking such absurdities. “You are something else.”

  “Don’t worry. I’m good at getting things taken care of,” Lew said with a devilish grin.

  “ . . . Yeah. That’s what I’m afraid of. Just get it done before you-know-who comes knocking,” Walter stated. He realized that his common sense approach was going nowhere with a shady figure like Lew Zerrmann.

  Chapter Forty-Three

  It didn’t take Lew long to put his plan into action. He had stumbled across an out-of-town appraiser years earlier when he refinanced the debt on the golf course. At the time he had gotten clearance from the bank to use the fellow and now he saw an occasion to renew their relationship.

  Several years earlier Lew had been running short on cash. So he thought that it would be an ideal time to take advantage of attractive interest rates that were present in the economy. The appraiser that the bank had recommended specialized in golf course appraisals. Lew made the initial contact with the gentleman over the phone and was surprised at how anxious the appraiser was to travel nearly six hundred miles to do a property appraisal.

  At the time, Lew figured that he might as well kill two birds with one stone. Not only would he be able to take advantage of the low cost of money that was available, but he also saw it as an opportunity to replenish a checkbook that was getting depleted. He worked with the appraiser to get an inflated value on the business. He then refinanced the property and took several hundred thousand dollars of cash out of the business.

  Back then, that money went into the golf course checkbook. He quickly raided the cash flow of the business under the guise of the machinery lease account which he had set up with Walter.

  Lew knew exactly who to call to get an inflated value on the business and he didn’t waste any time in doing so. He knew that he would be able to tell his appraiser buddy exactly what value he wanted and the appraiser would jiggle the numbers to make things work.

  The next order of business was to tell J Dub that he wanted to sell the golf course. Even though years had passed, things had been quite tense at the course. Each morning J Dub came in and greeted the regulars and Julie. But there was a glimmer of mistrust that shrouded his eyes each time Lew walked into the shop. Not wanting to arouse his suspicions, Lew decided over the years to lay low with J Dub. He didn’t want to push him too hard, especially not now.

  “Julie, I’m gone to the bank in case Lew is looking for me.” J Dub replied as he zipped the bank bag sealed.

  “Yep,” Julie chirped as she poured another round of beers for the guys. J Dub walked out of the shop and the screen door clapped behind him. As if on cue, Lew drove his cycle up to his favorite parking spot the minute J Dub’s truck went out of sight. He entered the pro shop.

  “Did you need J Dub? He just left to go to the bank,” Julie offered as she walked past Mr. Big Shot.

  “I’m aware he’s gone, I was waiting for him to leave. C’mere when you get through serving the drunks,” Lew replied as he headed out the door and to the rear of the building.

  Julie rolled her eyes in aggravation and served the beers to the group. “Sorry, guys. I guess Lew forgot to tell me he was the voice of morality around here,” Julie quipped sarcastically. The guys snickered and went on with their card game. Julie followed Lew to the rear of the building.

  “Now don’t say anything to him,” Lew whispered as he placed his fingers to his lips.

  “You know I can keep a secret,” Julie said.

  “I’m not so sure about that,” Lew countered as he looked over his shoulder. “He’ll be back any minute.”

  “Here he comes now!” exclaimed Julie as she noticed J Dub pulling back into the parking lot. “That was quick.”

  “Go get him,” stated Lew.

  Julie ran out to the parking lot and greeted J Dub. She escorted him to the rear of the building. “What’s going on back here?” J Dub asked.

  “Happy birthday!” Lew yelled as he ripped the tarp off of an object.

  Underneath the tarp was a brand new, three-wheeled, John Deere Truckster. It was an all-terrain vehicle that would allow J Dub to travel rapidly across the golf course. The vehicle would be able to serve multiple purposes and was exactly what J Dub had had his eye on for months. “How did you know that is what I needed?” an amazed J Dub exclaimed.

  “The word got out, I guess,” said Lew proudly.

  Julie noticed a stencil on the side of the Truckster and ran to feel it. On the side of the Truckster was a decal that said J Dub. She turned to Lew and in a surprised tone said, “You didn’t tell me about that!”

  J Dub remembered the incident that had happened years before with the boys and the cooler. He kept in mind Lew’s penchant for chasing down golfers on the motorcycle. “I guess now we can set speed traps,” he quipped. “We’ll both have a vehicle to run after them with.”

  As puzzling to figure out on his bad days, Lew was equally as puzzling on the days that he meant well. “I’ve been way too demanding of you. This is just my way of saying ‘Thank You’ and well, sometimes I have a big mouth,” Lew said as he brilliantly played his hand to J Dub.

  “Well, thank you. I really appreciate that.” J Dub stated as he turned to shake Lew’s hand. Lew noticed that the hardness in J Dub’s eyes toward him was starting to fade. That would serve his purpose well.

  “Let’s go back inside and get something to drink,” Lew suggested as the three of them headed for the pro shop door. The boys were sitting in the back playing cards. Bogey’s years were advancing and he was taking a nap. He had gone eighteen holes with them earlier in the day. What had once been an overabundance of energy had now turned into a little bit of a struggle. When Bogey was a young dog it was not unlike him to run all over the golf course when the boys went to play a round of golf. Now, he would run for the first few holes and then walk the remaining holes. He would search for shade and a lot of the times Bogey would jump into Easy Earl’s cart and ride.

  The normal chit-chat was taking place, followed by an occasional disagreement. The old-timers were getting ornery and set in t
heir ways. “Hey, old man, when are you going to take up the game?” Easy Earl yelled from the back of the room toward Lew.

  “I haven’t got time for it. Been too busy making money,” Lew responded.

  “You’re just like all the rest of those idiots,” Rollie chimed. “Spend all your time worrying about money and don’t have time for any friends.”

  “Isn’t making money what it’s all about?” Lew countered.

  “For fools that don’t know any better,” Fred said as he seized the opportunity to chide Lew.

  “I’m trying to make something out of myself,” Lew declared. “My achievements speak for themselves. That’s why people look up to me and I command the respect that I deserve.”

  Easy Earl got a lot of delight in kidding Lew. He added, “Do you think if you die with the most toys, you win?”

  All of the boys erupted with laughter.

  “Yeah, well . . .” Lew couldn’t stand being the butt of the joke. He retreated to the sanctity of the office. “J Dub, come on in here.”

  J Dub followed him into the office. “I’ve got something that I’d like to discuss with you. Can you be at my home tonight at seven?” Lew inquired.

  “I don’t think that Marcia has anything planned.”

  “Good, I’ll see you then.”

  It had been several years since J Dub had been to Lew’s home. Something big had to be coming down. Lew usually reserved his home for grand occasions. For all J Dub knew maybe Lew was going to announce his marriage plans to Lois.

  J Dub made the short drive over to Lew’s home just as the sun was setting. He stopped at the electronic gate and got clearance to enter. After Lew opened the gate for him J Dub pulled his pickup truck down the driveway. Dusk had already fallen. On this particular night the surroundings took on an eerie calm.

  Lew greeted J Dub at the door and invited him in. J Dub was shocked to see what appeared to be three hundred guns and rifles stacked up in a pile by the door. J Dub had always known that Lew was a gun collector, but leaving the guns heaped in a pile on the floor by the front door seemed a little odd.