Jack rose from the table and paced behind the chairs. “Wait, Colby. I’m not accusing anyone of anything, yet. I’m just saying it could be Allison. Every one of these deaths is in a different town, not even in Fort Worth or Tarrant County. And if they are murders, the killer is smart enough to make them all different. Not likely that anyone would have ever connected the dots if we hadn’t done so.”
Colby rose and pointed her finger at Jack. “All you’ve got is a theory. I’ll admit that Allison is smart enough to have planned it, if there was planning involved, I might add. I’m not a judge or a jury, but show me some evidence.”
“She’s right, Dad,” J.D. said, coming down on Colby’s side.
Jack returned to his chair where he rubbed his face and eyes with both hands before he spoke. “Okay, here’s what we’re going to do. I’m going to file a motion to require Allison Southwest to produce all of the life insurance policies they have on employees or former employees. Well, on second thought, let’s make it on former employees since these deaths all involve former workers. That will cut down the numbers and make it a little more palatable to Judge McDowell. We won’t get a hearing on the motion until a couple of weeks before trial, but that’s the best we can do.”
“Where does that get us on either solving attempts on my life or in helping June’s case?” Colby asked.
“If we could find that Allison Southwest had a dead peasant policy on your life, we’d have motive. I would take the evidence to Sherrod and let him take it from there. Problem is we just can’t ask for any policies on your life. You’re not a party to the lawsuit. Also, I don’t want to ask for policies on just the other Allison employees we know met violent deaths. I’m not willing to show all of my cards yet. So, we’ve got to argue in our motion that the policy on June’s life is part of a deceptive practice that potentially includes hundreds or thousands of former employees whose lives were wrongfully insured by Allison.”
“Are you suggesting that not only is Dwayne Allison trying to kill me but also he’s had eighteen former employees killed to collect life insurance proceeds? I don’t believe that for a moment. He’s been impacted by the economy, but he’s still doing well.”
Jack pondered her comment before replying. “Well, let’s just see about his financial condition. It just happens that I’m the biggest customer of my banker in Beaumont. I’ve got his cell phone number and his permission to call him any time, day or night.”
Jack retrieved his cell from his pocket and tapped on a name. The phone rang twice and Charlie Wilson answered.
“Jackson, my good friend and client, how goes it in Cowtown?”
“Doing well. How are the wife and kids?”
“Hell, Jack, you lost track. I’ve got a grandchild now.”
“Time flies.” Jack smiled. “Listen, I need a favor. By the way, I’ve got J.D. and my friend, Colby Stripling, on the speaker.”
“J. D., I was never a TCU fan until you went there. Now, I’ve even got a purple shirt. Nice to meet you Colby. Now, Jack, tell me what I can do for you.”
“Get on your computer and check into a Fort Worth company called Allison Southwest and its owner, Dwayne Allison.”
“Hold one a minute, Jack. Let me get to the right screen. Here it is. Mega car dealer until the economy collapsed.” There was silence while Wilson studied the screen. “Boy, he’s in deep shit. Pardon my expression, Colby. He’s down below seventy dealerships from a high of a hundred and twenty five. He’s behind on principal and interest on every one of his floor plans. Been that way for nearly three years.”
“I take it he’s not a very good credit risk,” Jack said.
“Let’s see…the only unencumbered property he appears to have is a small herd quarter horses. Put it this way, if he walked into my bank, I wouldn’t even approve him for a new credit card. Not to say he can’t pull out of it, but it’s going to be a long haul. Looks like he was highly successful until the economy collapsed. Five years ago I would have loaned him ten million in a minute. He knew how to sell cars back then, probably still does.”
Colby and Jack each fixed a double martini while J.D. went to the refrigerator to pour himself water from the dispenser. When they adjourned to the patio overlooking the pool, three very talkative people said nothing as they sipped their drinks and pondered what to do next. Finally, Colby spoke.
“Okay, I admit it’s a possibility, but I’m not going to accept that Dwayne Allison is trying to kill me just because he’s financially strapped.”
Jack nodded his understanding. “Let’s go back to Plan A. I’ll file the motion. If McDowell buys into it, we’ll know for sure if there is a connection between these deaths and dead peasant policies. We’ll also know if there’s a policy on you. I’m not sure how I can get whatever we find into evidence, but we’ll worry about that when the time comes. One thing for sure, if we’re right and the judge lets it into evidence, we’ll damn sure be able to get the jury pissed off at Allison and his company. That potentially will make for some big damages for June Davis, and if this all comes out in the open, it should end the killings.”
Colby sipped her drink. “Wouldn’t it also put an end to Allison Southwest?”
“Colby, if we’re right, it may put an end to Allison Southwest and send Dwayne Allison to death row.”
64
Colby poured her coffee and joined Jack at the breakfast table.
“I already miss J.D.” she said.
“Yeah, me, too,” Jack replied as he glanced up from the newspaper. “That’s okay. He’s living his dream and, besides, I don’t have to fight with him over the sports section.”
Colby took a sip of her coffee. “Can I have the women’s section. Well, it’s not called that any more, but that section that you never read.”
Jack smiled and pushed it toward her. Colby was thumbing through it when she stopped. “Jack, we almost missed this.”
‘Missed what?”
“The annual Fort Worth Zoo Beastro is tonight.”
“So?”
“I volunteered for it for years. We’ve got to go. The whole zoo is open. The best restaurants in the area will be there serving appetizers, entrees and desserts. It’s only a hundred dollars apiece and every dollar goes to maintain the best zoo in the state.”
Jack put down the sports section. “You sure you’re up to leaving the house?”
Colby thought for a few seconds. “Yeah, I’ll be okay. It’ll be packed with people. And you’ll get to see the new Texas section of the zoo. It’s so good, Disney himself could have designed it.”
The Beastro started at five o’clock, early enough to still see some of the animals before they settled down for the night. Colby had gone online and purchased two tickets. She talked Jack into driving the Bentley. The event was Cowboy casual. Jack wore freshly pressed jeans, a blue long sleeved shirt with white stars and a pair of his Justin boots. To top it off he pulled a white Stetson out of the closet. Colby wore a cowboy cut green pants suit, her own Justin boots and, of course, her Mikimoto pearls.
Among the first to arrive, they handed their tickets to a volunteer and were served champagne in return. Colby grabbed Jack’s hand and led him to the left of the entrance to the Texas exhibit. They wandered through an old town, straight from a John Wayne movie set, seeing bobcats, mountain lions from West Texas, longhorns, sheep, goats, feral hogs and Guinea hens. As they made their way around the area, more attendees filled the zoo. Jack was delighted to find a display of horned frogs with a purple sign above them proclaiming “National Champions, 2012.”
When they exited the “bat cave” exhibit, they met face to face with Dwayne Allison. Allison seized the moment.
“Colby, how nice to see you. Glad to see you are out and about. So sorry about your house.”
Colby grabbed for Jack’s hand before speaking. “Thank you, Mr. Allison.”
Before she could say anything more, Allison interrupted. “Of course, I must say that I disapprove of your escort for the evening.
Still, Mr. Bryant has come back to his roots. I suppose we should just accept him in spite of the fact he’s suing my company for a couple of million dollars.”
At that Jack smiled. “Mr. Allison, you have nothing to worry about if your business practices are on the up and up. If not, we’ll just have to see what a jury does.”
Allison frowned as he stepped away. “I see my banker over there by the lion compound. Please excuse me. Got to be on good terms with my banker.”
Allison walked up to Quillen and pulled him over to a corner behind some decorative hay bales. “Damn it all. I come out here for a pleasant evening and I’m confronted by that damned Jack Bryant. You know him?”
“Unfortunately, I do. He’s responsible for daily lawsuits being filed against my banks. His name’s not on the pleadings, but I know he’s behind them. Fort Worth would be a helluva lot better off without him around. You’re still my biggest problem, but he’s running a close second.”
“That bastard is suing me for $400,000 plus treble damages, punitive damages and a bunch of other horseshit. He claims I took the money from June Davis, the widow of one of my old porters, Willie Davis. Bunch of crap, I tell you.”
“Yeah,” Quillen replied. “I remember. He’s the one who fell in the creek up in Denton and hit his head.”
Allison stared at Quillen. “How’d you know that? It wasn’t in the papers.”
“No, it wasn’t.” Quillen smiled. “Still, when you send me a check like that, I have one of my staff check out the circumstances. Just doing my due diligence, Dwayne.”
Allison stared at Quillen, not believing all he was hearing, but then looked around to make sure no one was watching as he pulled a check out of his coat pocket. “Here’s $500,000 toward what I owe you. Seems like a lot of my old employees are kicking the bucket. Just glad I kept up those policies. That brings me back to that damn lawyer. If he had his way, all of these policies would be cancelled, and then there would be no way for either of us to survive this recession. I need to win this lawsuit. Then we’ll both breathe a little easier.”
“How soon is it going to trial?” Quillen asked.
“About six weeks. Hopefully, I’ve got this Bryant jackal out-lawyered with Ace Leyton and his team.”
65
Boss parked in front of Polytechnic High School on the east side of Fort Worth. Hawk was standing beside a small granite monument in front of the high school, as usual, smoking a Marlboro. Boss walked up to him. “Why meet here, on the east side? Run down neighborhood, bad high school from what I hear?”
“You’re right, Boss,” Hawk replied. “Not much these days. Only when I went here it was different. See this monument to C.A. Thompson. He was the principal when I was in school. Bunch of us graduates donated to put this here.” Hawk pointed at the inscription. “He drilled this motto on the monument into us: Remember Who You Are and Where You’re From. We wanted him to be remembered.”
“I’m impressed, but look how you turned out. You think your principal would be proud of you?”
“Just depends on how you look at things. I’ve never been charged with a crime in my life. The rumor among my classmates is that I inherited some money and just do what I damn well please.”
“Look, I don’t have time to talk. Here’s your next assignment. Fifty thousand if you get it done in a week.”
Hawk rented a nondescript Taurus and parked for three days in front of the nursing home, watching the comings and goings of the staff and visitors. When darkness came, he crept up to peer into the windows to observe the living room and dining room. Dinner was usually over by six. Some of the more mobile patients made their way to the living room to watch television. Others went back to their rooms to read. The older ones in wheel chairs were taken, one by one, back down hallways to their rooms. It appeared the entire staff was engaged at this time of the evening. By eight-thirty there was a second group in the dining room. Once the patients were down for the night, the staff had dinner together. Slowly, an idea formed. The way to gain entrance would be through the kitchen where the kitchen help came and went twenty-four hours a day. The staff all wore white uniform shirts, white pants, white tennis shoes and a blue name tag over the right shirt pocket. This ought to be easy, Hawk thought.
The next day he found a uniform shop on Henderson close to the medical center. He described what he wanted, and in thirty minutes he was walking out with a suitable uniform, including a blue name tag with “Mike” on it. That afternoon he parked the Taurus in the lot and again watched the comings and goings. As evening approached he was surprised to see a Bentley pull into the lot, and Colby Stripling get out, leaving that damn dog in the front seat. He wondered who she was seeing here and considered changing his target, but then remembered the Boss’s warning to forget about her for awhile. So, he smoked a cigarette and waited. Thirty minutes later she came out the front door, started the Bentley and left. Checking his watch, he saw that the dinner hour would be over and the kitchen staff would be removing dinner trays from the rooms.
He walked from the Taurus to the side of the building. He wasn’t surprised to find that the kitchen door was locked, but figured it would only be a short time before someone came out, having finished a shift or hauling something to the dumpster. He lit another cigarette and waited. It wasn’t long. Before he had finished his smoke, a male employee came through the door with a cart loaded with garbage. Hawk held the door open for him.
“Thanks, man,” he said as he pushed the cart to the edge of the parking lot. Once he was past, Hawk went through the door and surveyed the kitchen until he spotted a serving cart. He pushed it through the kitchen to the interior door and found himself in the dining area. No one paid him any attention. As he knew from experience, if you acted like you knew what you were doing, people generally left you alone.
The entire staff seemed to be coming and going from the dining room, taking patients back to their rooms and getting them ready for bed. Jack started cleaning the dining tables, placing the trays, plates and silverware on his cart. When it was full, he pushed it back to the kitchen where he spotted the black man who had been taking out the trash.
“Hey, man. This is my first day. Where am I supposed to put this stuff?”
“On that counter. I’ll load it into the dishwasher.”
Hawk went back for two more loads until the tables were clear. When he spotted a utility closet in the kitchen area, he retrieved a dry mop and started mopping, first the dining room and then the hallways. When he saw the staff making their way to the dining room, he entered the hallway he knew led to Rob’s room. As expected, the nurses station was empty. He knew the fourth room on the right would be the one. Still, he checked the name plate beside the door: Robert W. Jones. Hawk pushed open the door and quietly closed it behind him. A thin man with black hair lay still under a sheet and light blanket. His eyes were open but not seeing.
“Rob, you’ve been here long enough. You’re going to a better place,” Hawk whispered.
He placed a finger and thumb over the eyes and gently closed the lids. Next he pulled one of the pillows from under Rob and placed it over his face. He pushed hard for two minutes, getting no resistance or response. When he removed the pillow, he felt for a pulse and found none. Hawk replaced the pillow under Rob’s head and moved quietly to the door. Cracking it, he found the nurses station still empty. He stepped into the hall and walked to the end where he could see the entrance. This late at night the receptionist was no longer at her desk. He quickly walked past the dining room to the front and out the door. Then he was in the Taurus and gone.
66
Patients like Robert Jones were supposed to be checked every two hours. Blood pressure and pulse were to be documented and a pillow was changed from his right hip to his left, or vice versa. After Irene was fired, the night attendants were careful to document patient checks when they went off shift even when they weren’t done. After all, they said to each other, why disturb a soundly sleeping patient. S
adly, if a doctor were to check the chart, two hour checks were always documented even though the attendant never left the nursing station.
Shift change was at seven in the morning. Nurse Bertha Higgenbottom, an LVN, took over. A stickler for protocol, she checked each of the patients on what she called her hall as soon as she got report from the staff going off duty. When she got to Robert Jones’s room she entered with a smile on her face and said, “Good morning, Rob,” as if she thought he would respond. He looked no different from any other day until she noticed his chest was not moving. She checked his pulse and found none. She calmly left the room, thinking it was probably for the best, and went to the nurses station where she placed a call to Dr. Winston’s answering service. Dr. Winston returned the call in fifteen minutes.
“This is Dr. Winston. I’m returning a call to my answering service.”
“Dr. Winston, Robert Jones in Room 4 died during the night.”
The doctor looked at his watch. Knowing there was no sense of urgency, he said, “I’ll be by there within an hour. I’ll call Colby Stripling after I check him.”
When Dr. Winston got to the bedside, he studied the body for a moment, then pulled back the covers, not really looking for anything in particular, but thinking that Rob’s time had come. He opened the eyelids and bent over to within a couple of inches of the face. He looked from one eye to the other; then called Nurse Higgenbottom over to confirm what he saw.
“Both eyes have petechiae, Nurse. This is not a natural death. This patient was suffocated. We’ll need to call the police after I call Colby.”
Jack and Colby parked, and Colby leaped from the truck. She scribbled her name on the visitor log and rushed into the room with Jack trailing behind her. Dr. Winston came from another room to join them. “Colby, I’m sorry.”
Colby was sad, but not tearful. “Thank you, Dr. Winston. Oh, this is Jack Bryant, a friend of mine. I knew this was going to happen sooner or later. I suppose I’ve been preparing myself for it ever since the day of his aneurysm.”
Dead Peasants Page 19
