by James Ross
“You’re kidding me!” Denny cried out. “You mean Zerrmann? That’s news to me.”
“Yeah, he and our accountant, Walter Hancock, have been the targets of an IRS investigation into tax evasion.” J Dub admitted.
Denny was extremely curious to hear that bit of news. “How is that progressing?”
“Heck if I know. But it seems like I’ve been answering questions from them for about three years,” J Dub admitted.
“You know that Lew is an unscrupulous character,” Denny volunteered as he leaned back into his chair.
“So I am finding out. I got caught holding the bag,” J Dub groaned. “If nothing else, then there might be some information that I can provide to you.”
“In return we’re hoping that there might be some information that you can share with us,” Curt included.
Denny certainly thought that his other clients had been shortchanged. Now, he would snoop into J Dub’s situation. “How do you think that you were defrauded?”
“I think that the books were cooked,” J Dub admitted.
“His partner had created a fake expense account and was funneling all the profits out of the company,” Curt chimed in.
“You mean Zerrmann, right?” Denny asked with interest.
Both men nodded.
“I’ve been investigating him for several years,” Denny volunteered. He paused, thinking for a long time. J Dub thought that Denny looked constipated and would need the bathroom at any minute. The delay in speaking made both of the men antsy.
“What are you doing?” J Dub inquired.
“I’m thinking,” Denny responded.
“It looks like you need a laxative,” J Dub quipped.
Denny smiled. “My thoughts are that you may want to talk to my other clients,” Denny proposed.
“What good would that do?” J Dub asked. “He forced me out of the business and didn’t let me exercise my option or my first right of refusal. I literally lost the farm when he wouldn’t allow me to buy it.”
“Count your blessings,” Denny stated matter-of-factly.
“Why do you say that?” J Dub probed.
“You’ll see once I let you in on what I know,” Denny replied.
“The guy is unethical,” Curt added. “He had been skimming a couple hundred thousand dollars a year out of the business.”
Denny’s ears perked up as he leaned forward. “That’s something interesting that the heirs and I weren’t aware of. It sure is a statement about his character if we can prove it.”
“Nothing made any sense when we looked at the books,” J Dub declared.
“If he would have gotten a loan and the business went upside down, then the bank could have come back at him for bank fraud,” Curt ranted.
“Does he still own the business?” Denny asked.
“As far as I know,” J Dub answered. “I think that he wanted me out of there so that he could sell it to someone else.”
“Who is that?”
“As far as I have been able to find out, it’s Norman Pierce. There is talk about the two of them developing the property into home sites or something,” J Dub replied.
Denny was on the edge of his seat. “George Pierce’s brother?”
“Yeah,” J Dub blurted.
“Oh come on!” Denny shouted. “You need to talk to my clients.”
“Why is that so important?” J Dub inquired.
“You’re a golfer, right?”
J Dub nodded. “It’s the gentleman’s game,” he said with a smile.
“Well, I hate to be the one to inform you, but I don’t think that your ex-partner counts all of his strokes,” Denny mumbled. He was proud of his analogy.
“The more that I learn, the more I tend to be of the same opinion,” J Dub said as he shook his head in agreement. “Keep using those golf terms. I can relate to them.”
“Do you want to try to beat him at his own game?” Denny queried.
“I wouldn’t be here unless I wanted to try to get back at him,” J Dub said.
“Get even,” Curt corrected.
Denny beamed. His mind was going a thousand miles an hour. Perhaps this was the break that he had been hoping he would get for a number of years. “I’ve been on to him for quite a while,” Denny started. “He’s as slippery as an eel, or, should I say, as elusive as a hole-in-one?”
J Dub grinned. He was starting to really like the guy.
“We’ve had nothing but delay after delay. It seems like we have battled technicalities for at least a decade or so,” Denny continued.
“ . . . A decade? I know that he will use whatever he can to his advantage, but ten years is ridiculous,” J Dub admitted.
“He’s good at it, too,” Denny concurred. “But he’s also as dirty as they come.”
“What do you know?” J Dub asked. His curiosity was piqued.
“Enough to know that a lot of people can’t stand him,” Denny cried out. “He’s the biggest crook on this side of the river.”
“Then he must have nine lives,” J Dub joked.
“There are some things that we can do to take a few birdies out of his round. These new analogies have my mind in fifth gear,” Denny stated.
J Dub forced a smile. “Like what?”
“First off,” Denny asked, “would you be interested in having my law firm take your case?”
“We’ve gone to everyone in town,” Curt revealed, “and I do mean everyone.” Curt shot J Dub a quick glance.
“Nobody is interested because the case is too bizarre or complicated,” J Dub added.
“But they don’t know what I know,” Denny countered, “and you might be able to fill in some blanks for me.”
“I need someone to take it on a contingency basis,” J Dub confessed.
“That’s no problem. Just cover your expenses like court costs and copying charges. The estate has a nice retainer on file,” Denny explained.
“So you have money to live on?” Curt guessed.
Denny nodded. “But you two can help the case.”
“But can you help me?” J Dub countered.
“I think so,” Denny theorized. “But I need you to talk to the principals of the estate.”
“You said that they were out of town. Where are they?”
“Florida. West Palm Beach.”
“I could use a trip out of town . . . after that, then what?” J Dub asked.
“They are committed to getting back what they lost. You need to talk to them. If they can get back what they’ve lost, then you might be able to retrieve what you’ve lost,” Denny explained vaguely.
J Dub turned to Curt. “What have we got to lose?”
“If it turns out to be a wild goose chase, at least we’ll be in Florida,” Curt rationalized. “No other lawyer has seemed too enthusiastic about this case.”
“I’ll call them and arrange everything,” Denny urged. “The two of you together might be a lethal combo.”
“I hope you mean that in a good way,” J Dub said with a smirk.
Denny’s mind was still working overtime. He smiled in agreement. “Sort of like a birdie and an eagle, back to back. In the meantime, I want you to help me take out a little insurance.”
J Dub knew enough to know that a back to back birdie and eagle meant that they were on a roll. “Like what?”
Denny had already moved to the next step. He was ready to start gathering evidence. “What can you provide to me in the form of documentation?”
“Tax returns, financial statements, partnership agreements, contracts, and an appraisal,” J Dub replied.
“Can you run around and check on some things for me?”
J Dub shook his head up and down. “Within reason,” he said.
“Good.” Denny reached for his notepad and jotted down some instructions. “Here are some things that I’m going to need for you to do.” He handed the note to J Dub. “There may be an opportunity for all of us to correct a mess that happened a long, long,
long time ago.”
Chapter Eighty-Seven
In the meantime, Lew had been partying up a storm. The spring of ’98 had nothing but good fortune coming his way. Wherever he turned, big bucks followed.
First off, he had filed an insurance claim on the motorcycle that he had backed over. He had gotten a dozer that he owned and scooped up the wrecked bike. It was loaded into the back of his pickup truck. Late one night Lew met Monty on the local supermarket parking lot.
Monty had two friends with him that just happened to be named Fricke and Frack. The four of them unloaded the cycle onto the lot. Lew then called the police and reported that the motorcycle had been run over by someone when he had been inside the store.
The proceeds of the insurance settlement were enough to cover the cost of a brand new Harley-Davidson. There was even a little left over for a nice cash bonus for the three accomplices.
Shortly after that Lew received a letter via registered mail. It was a message from Donald Stokes at the U. S. Attorney’s office. The letter informed him that he and Walter Hancock, who had been targets of a federal investigation for tax evasion, had been more-or-less exonerated. After an extensive examination it was decided that the government would not press charges.
Lew was ecstatic. He naturally picked up the phone to congratulate Raymond Parsons and Monty on a job well done. He assured Raymond that a nice sized packet would be delivered his way.
Another snippet of good news was that Grady Patterson had gotten the “hold harmless” agreement signed. Once Hank Lowery had forwarded the original over to Grady’s office, Lew sent Monty to pick up the document. By Lew’s account he made nearly three-quarters of a million dollars the day he forced J Dub out as a shareholder. The profits of the upcoming sale to Norman Pierce would not have to be distributed to anyone else. That was the difference between what J Dub stood to gain and what he ended up taking as a settlement.
Later on that night Lew took Lois and Monty out for an exquisite steak dinner. Afterwards, he threw a party for himself and Lois and Monty that lasted through the weekend. He bought two gorgeous female guests for entertainment. A limo delivered them in luxury for a three-day sex party in the dungeon.
Once the squeeze-out of J Dub was complete, Lew became free to negotiate with Norman on the sale of the golf course. The two of them decided that the best route to take would be for Norman to buy the golf course. The two of them could then enter into a joint venture to develop the surrounding property into home sites. They decided that the land near the highway could subsequently be rezoned for commercial use. By structuring the deal in that manner Lew stood to make well in excess of twenty million dollars.
For an old bachelor in his seventies that was more money that he could ever hope to spend.
Needless to say, when he stopped in to see Walter, Lew was in good spirits. “I told you we’d get out of that mess we were in,” Lew chirped as Walter nervously tapped his pencil on the desk.
“I’m not supposed to talk to you,” Walter advised.
Lew was puzzled. “ . . . Why not?” Lew asked. “You got the letter from the U. S. Attorney’s office saying that they were not going to press charges, didn’t you?”
“Yes I did. It made Nora very happy and may have saved my marriage,” Walter answered.
“I told you that we didn’t do anything wrong,” Lew gushed. His self-confidence was oozing out of his pores.
“All it means is that they couldn’t catch us right now.” Walter’s tone suggested that they had merely gotten a par on the first hole and that there was plenty of golf left in the round.
“What do you mean? It’s over and done with,” Lew babbled like a craps player on a roll.
“That doesn’t mean that we may not have civil charges at some later point in time,” Walter explained. “Besides they might keep looking at me and some of my other clients. Listen I can’t talk to you.”
“Why? Dammit! We’re home free.” Lew clearly wanted to continue the celebration that he was on. “After three years of worrying about being cuffed and hauled off to prison we’ve got it made now.”
“Maybe you do, but I still have the civil suit from the Morton Estate to deal with,” Walter cried.
“Didn’t Judge Rowland’s court throw that case out?” Lew asked.
“They did for you, but not for me. As executor of the estate, I had a fiduciary responsibility to them,” Walter confessed.
Lew pried further. “How is that going?”
“It’s hard to say. We’ve tried every legal maneuver and stalling tactic that we can, but we can’t seem to shake them,” Walter replied.
“Then let me give you a big piece of advice,” Lew stammered.
“That’s okay. I’ll listen to my lawyer. Just go away,” Walter clearly wanted Lew to walk out the door. His wife and attorney had both told him not to pay any attention to one thing that would come out of Lew’s mouth.
Lew acted like his feelings were hurt. “You don’t want my business anymore?”
“Maybe since you’re selling the golf course, we can end our association,” Walter pleaded. He couldn’t wait to get Lewferd E. Zerrmann out of his life for good.
“Just do like we did against the feds,” Lew advised.
“What was that?”
“Keep your mouth shut!” Lew yelled. He glared at Walter.
“Pleading the Fifth may have worked against the feds when we had criminal charges, but it doesn’t quite work that way in a civil suit!” Walter shouted back.
“How is that?” Lew probed.
“Think about it!” Walter screamed. He was visibly stressed. “We don’t have to answer questions in a criminal case if we think that we might incriminate ourselves. In a civil case all the opposition has to show is a preponderance of evidence to gain a victory!”
“A jury still needs to give a favorable verdict for the estate,” Lew rationalized.
“But it’s a helluva lot easier to prove!” Walter shrieked.
“Are you scared?” Lew wondered out loud.
Walter flew off the deep end. He stood up and said, “Look, dammit! Things aren’t going so good! And I sure as hell shouldn’t be talking to you! Now get out!”
“I thought that we were together on this thing,” Lew grumbled.
“It may not turn out that way,” Walter admitted. The estate had been turning up the heat and his trial date was rapidly approaching.
Lew got up and walked to the door. “If that’s the way you want it, then I guess we’ll have to make it every man for himself.”
“Hasn’t it always been that way?” Walter took a deep breath and calmed himself down. “Do you and me both a favor,” Walter said coolly. “Just leave.”
Chapter Eighty-Eight
April 1998 . . .
The Boeing 737 touched down at Palm Beach International Airport in West Palm Beach, Florida. J Dub and Curt never thought in their wildest dreams that they would be traveling to the “Sunshine State” to pursue an interest in a golf course located in Illinois.
Denny had lined up a meeting for them with Lucille Morton and her son, Matt. It was going to be a quick trip for the two brothers. They were to meet Lucille and Matt in an airport coffee shop for a few hours after which they were to board a late afternoon flight and return home.
The flight was uneventful. After arriving in Florida and feeling the weather in the mid-eighties, they both wished that they had brought their golf clubs and had enough time to play a quick round. That wasn’t to be the case this time however. This trip was to try to gather some information and see if there was a way for J Dub to recoup the recent losses that he had incurred. It was critical for his economic survival.
As planned, J Dub and Curt sat in a lounge off of Concourse A. Both of them wore “Tommy Bahama” shirts so that they would be easily recognized. Matt and Lucille were aware of what time their flight was to land and showed up right on time. “Greetings from South Florida,” Matt said as he extended his hand. “Meet
my mother, Lucille.”
Lucille was a gracious woman, assured and elegant in her trendy sportswear. She was tan, physically fit and as warm as the South Florida sun.
“These did a pretty good job,” J Dub joked as he pulled at the sleeve of his shirt.
“We couldn’t miss them for the world,” Matt laughed.
“Denny wanted us to meet,” Lucille started. “He’s been working with us for nearly ten years.”
“It looks like we both got the shaft,” Matt added. “With the new turn of events we may have common ground by combining forces.”
“One thing that is in my favor is that my Statute of Limitations still has nearly five years remaining,” J Dub volunteered. “But what happened to you?”
Lucille had lived a nightmare. She was ready to tell her story. “In some ways it is our own fault,” she began. “Daddy died and mother was getting senile. Before his death, Daddy had hired Walter Hancock to be the executor of his estate. We assumed that with Walter on the payroll, our affairs would be handled accurately.”
“But we found out otherwise,” Matt announced.
“One of the things that he got my mother to do before her death was sign a tax form for the government,” Lucille continued.
“I’m going to correct you, mom,” Matt interrupted. “They forged that document.”
“No, Matt, the signature on the tax form was not forged. They forged the signature on the power of attorney form,” Lucille stated steadfastly.
Matt realized his original statement had been confusing. “Technically, that’s right. They took the original signature off of the tax form and forged it onto the power of attorney form. With that signature, Walter, who was the executor of the estate, and the guy with the title company . . .”
“ . . . That would be George Pierce,” J Dub interrupted.
“Yes, George Pierce,” Lucille agreed. She was thankful that J Dub had brought that name to her attention. “Mother would never have signed all of those contracts. George Pierce and Walter used the power of attorney form. Anyway, without our knowledge, the two of them started to sell off our real estate.”
