CHAPTER 5
THE DEPOSIT
On July 21st, a Monday, I starting digging around my desk, which was cluttered with mail, files and messages that had accumulated during my vacation. It was a task I didn’t relish but eventually had to face. As I sorted through the phone messages, I came across a telephone message from my bank officer, Billie Jo. She usually called because we were overdrawn in our bank account, but I knew that couldn’t be the problem since Paula had just deposited $50,000. Curious, I placed the call.
“Billie Jo. You called?”
“Yes, we were just wondering if you wanted us to invest your excess funds overnight. You can usually make a little interest on your money if we do that.”
Suddenly I remembered my conversation with Tex and the money he had wired to my account. I had been expecting ten or fifteen thousand dollars, not 1.8 million. What in hell kind of venture had he gotten into. It occurred to me I’d be raising a red flag if I acted surprised about the money so I said, “Oh, yeah. One of my high rolling clients is going to buy a small apartment complex. Ah, is there any risk if you invest the money overnight?”
“No, it’s fully guaranteed and secured. We do it all the time for our customers.”
“Okay, I guess he’d want his money earning as much interest as possible.”
“I’ll take care of it,” Billie Jo said. “Oh, and Stan, Robert Winger, our president, wanted to know if you’d like to go to lunch next week?”
That blew my mind. Robert Winger normally wouldn’t give me the time of day. Now that I had $1.8 million sitting in his bank, he wanted to take me out to lunch. I should have said no, but suddenly I was curious about what he'd have to say to me.
“Sure, sounds like fun. Just tell me where and when.”
“Okay, I’ll coordinate it with Jodie.”
The invitation to lunch with the bank president nearly made me forget I had $1.8 million sitting in my bank account. I called Tex at his office but his secretary said he was still out of town. Apparently he was due back but hadn’t shown up. I called his house to see if his wife Toni knew when he’d be back.
“Gosh, Stan. He was due in yesterday but something must have come up. Frankly, it’s not that unusual for him to delay a return from a business trip but he usually calls and lets me know when to expect him.”
“He hasn’t called then?”
“No, not yet.”
“Did he tell you where he was going?”
“Yes, to Ecuador. He was working on some kind of loan for a client.”
Tex was more than an insurance agent. He was a financial consultant, business advisor, and confidante. Once a business owner became his client, he was there to help solve any problem that might come up. It was not unusual for him to act as a loan broker either. He had lots of connections and often could help out in that regard. The problem with Tex, however, was that he was a sucker for any get rich scheme that came down the pike. He’d often call me to tell me about the latest pyramid scheme he had gotten into or silver mining stock he’d bought. I would always tell him it was a scam, but he’d do it anyway and get burned. Over the years Tex referred to me a lot of business, and I had grown very fond of him and Toni. They often came over for dinner and always were the first to arrive at our annual Christmas party. Now I was worried. Where are you, Tex? What have you been up to?
“Ecuador? That seems like an odd place to get a loan.”
“I know. It seemed strange to me, but I’ve learned not to question him. He gets very upset if I get too inquisitive.”
“Well, apparently he was successful. He wired some money into my trust account a day or two ago. That’s why I called. I wanted to let him know the money arrived and find out what he wanted me to do with it.”
“Oh, well. That’s good news. He should be back here soon then.”
“I’m sure he will. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
It didn’t seem prudent to tell Toni the amount of money that had been wired. That would have really shaken her up. I wondered if I should contact the authorities and report Tex missing, but what if he was into something illegal? I didn’t want to get him in trouble—particularly since the money was in my bank account. I figured I better wait and pray that Tex showed up. If he didn’t, I’d have to go looking for him.
Paula walked in and reminded me that Dusty was coming by in twenty minutes to work on his defense. This was going to be our first real opportunity to question him thoroughly on the events of July 11. Hopefully he would provide us with some leads as to other suspects in Agent Tuttle’s murder. Dusty was dressed in blue jeans and a red shirt when he walked into the reception area. Jodie showed him into my office and then went to get Paula. She joined us and the interrogation began.
“So, how are you holding up, Dusty?” I asked.
"I've been better.”
“How about Martha? How’s she doing?”
“She’s really scared I'll be convicted. She's a strong woman, but when I was locked up and she was alone, she nearly died. It's a good thing you got me when you did.”
“Well, we’ve got a lot of work to do if there is any hope of keeping you out of jail.”
“I know it’s gonna be a hard case, but you’ve got to believe me when I tell you I didn’t kill that asshole. I thought about it a few times, but I’m not a killer.”
Paula said, “You need to be careful how you characterize Agent Tuttle. If someone hears you call him an ‘asshole’ or any other derogatory term, it could come back to haunt you.”
“That’s right,” I said. “I know you hated him, but from this day forward you’ve got to forgive and forget.”
Dusty shrugged. “Whatever you say. You’re the boss.”
“Now, it’s important that you not talk about the CDA. If anyone asks you about them, your response is: no comment. If anyone asks you about the case, your response is: no comment. Understood?”
He nodded and said, "Got it.”
“Tell us everything you remember about July 11. Start from the moment you got out of bed.”
"I got up about six. Martha fixed me breakfast and we watched Daybreak for a spell. When the weatherman came on, he said it might rain. That upset me 'cause I had a mowing job scheduled that day. One of my friends is a county commissioner and, when he heard about my IRS problems, he offered me some mowing work for the county. Since the only thing the IRS hadn’t taken was my tractor, it was about the only work I could get. Anyway, the job was gonna take me most the day, but if it rained I might not finish. I don’t get paid until the job is done so I was praying it wouldn’t rain.
“About ten past seven I loaded the tractor and pulled it over to the location where I was supposed to start. I was only able to mow about an hour and a half before the rain came. If it had just rained a little, it wouldn’t have been any big deal, but it was a gully washer. So I put the tractor back on the trailer and drove home. After parking the trailer in the driveway, I went inside. Martha had gone somewhere, so I made myself a sandwich and watched the noon news. After eating, I got my shotgun and walked the perimeter of my property. By then it had stopped raining. I walk the property at least once a week to be sure there aren’t any holes in the fence.”
“Why did you take your shotgun?” Paula asked.
“Just a habit, I suppose. You never know what you’ll run across out there—coyotes, wolves, bobcats, trespassers, or the like.”
“Did you see anybody or anything?” I asked.
“No, just a coyote that I took a shot at but missed.”
“So that’s why you had gun residues on your right hand?”
“I guess.”
“Then what happened?” I asked.
“When I got back to the house I went inside and to see if Martha was back. She wasn’t, so I was about to turn on the TV when I heard a shot. It startled me, so I grabbed my gun and went outside to see what was going on. The agent was lying on the ground with blood gushing from his chest. I looked around to see who had shot him, but I didn�
�t see anyone. Whoever did it was long gone.”
“Did you see or hear a vehicle?” Paula asked.
Dusty thought a moment and replied, “Not that I can recollect. Unfortunately, the wrecker driver showed up about that time and all I could think about was how it must look with me standing over the body with a shotgun in my hand. I know it was a mistake to run, but I was just plumb scared. I just wanted to get away where I could think things through.”
“When you ran, did you see anybody or anything?” I asked.
“No, there were some fresh tire tracks on the driveway that I hadn’t seen before. Since it had been raining, they were really easy to spot. I’d guess they were from a big car or a pickup.”
“You sure they were fresh?”
“Oh, yes. They were still wet.”
“I wonder if the FBI or the sheriff’s crime scene crew found those tracks?” I said.
“I don’t know, there were so many vehicles out there that night they may have run right over them,” Paula said.
“Why don’t you see if the tracks are still there, Dusty?” I suggested. “If they are, we can send somebody out there to make a plaster imprint.”
“They're gone. It's rained hard since then.”
"Hmm."
After our interview with Dusty was over, Jodie brought me a message from Toni. The message said she had found something in Tex’s office that I should see. She wanted me to come over immediately. Tex lived in Grand Prairie so it took me an hour to get there. They lived in an old English style home that had been built in the late 70s. Toni was an interior decorator by trade, so the home was a showpiece. She was a Hispanic woman and still was quite attractive at age fifty-five. Toni seemed much more upset than she had been earlier on the telephone. She led me inside to Tex’s office.
“I was going through Tex’s desk and I found this file,” she said pointing to a manilla file folder labeled "Wells Estate."
“I flipped through the file and found a letter.”
14 July 1986
Victor Alaro
Credit Officer
United Peoples Bank of Ecuador
1 United Plaza
Quito, Republic of Ecuador
Dear Mr. Weller:
I write you this letter of assistance with a great sense of honor and responsibility. The decision to write you was arrived at after a critical consideration of the urgency of this transaction. Before I go further, let me seize this great opportunity to sincerely apologize for shock this letter will certainly cause you as we have not had any correspondence in the past.
Let me introduce myself. My name is Victor Alfaro and I am a credit officer with the United Peoples Bank of Ecuador. I came to know you from a private search for a reliable and reputable person to handle a confidential transaction which involves the transfer of a large sum of money to a foreign account requiring maximum discretion. I shall very much appreciate your kind consideration of this proposal and stand ready to provide further enlightenment on this issue as you might require.
A U.S. citizen, the late Dr. John Wells, a mining engineer working for the federal government of Ecuador, died during the coup instituted against Gen. Guillermo Rodriguez Lara in 1977. At his death, he had a balance with our bank of $1.8 million U.S. The money remains at the bank in expectation of a next-of-kin as beneficiary.
Frantic efforts have been made by the United Peoples Bank of Ecuador to get in touch with any of the Wells family or relatives but to no success. It is because of this perceived possibility of not being able to locate any of Dr. Wells’s next-of-kin (he has no wife or children that are known to us) the management of our bank, under the influence of the Chairman and the Board of Directors, has determined that the funds should be declared unclaimed and turned over to the military dictators now in control of the government. In all certainty these funds will end up in one of the general’s pockets. To avert this negative development, some of my trusted colleagues and I now seek your permission to have you stand as next-of-kin to the late Dr. John Wells, so that the fund US$1.8 million will be released and paid into your account as beneficiary’s next of kin.
My colleagues and myself have made several attempts at locating persons that could be remotely related to Dr. Wells and we have been doing this diligently since his death. We are therefore requesting for your help and we will be immeasurably grateful if you would be willing. We have access to most of what it will take to transfer the money. The only thing we do not have is someone who will work with us and act as the late Dr. Wells’ next-of-kin. We will provide you with answers to all the security questions which you will have to answer to acquire possession of the money. You will also be given answers to questions that only a person related to Dr. Wells would know. At the end of the transaction you will stand to get 35% of the fund with the rest for me and my colleagues. If you are interested and agree to work with us, then contact me immediately at my private number 593-2-222-5555.
Our sincere thanks for your consideration of this proposal and your anticipated assistance.
Best Regards,
Victor Alfaro
“You don’t think he accepted the proposal, do you?” I said.
“Well, you know Tex and he did go to Ecuador. I found a credit card receipt for the plane ticket—Dallas to Miami and then to Quito, Ecuador.”
I did know Tex and the $1.8 million also coincided with the amount of money that was deposited into my trust account. I couldn’t believe Tex would get involved in something so clearly fraudulent and illegal. But the fact that he actually got the money was the real shocker. Rarely do these types of schemes pay off.
“Apparently the scam worked. The 1.8 million is sitting in my trust account,” I said.
“Oh, my God!” Toni said.
“I just wonder what went wrong. Tex should be back by now.”
“What should we do?” Toni asked. “I’m so worried.”
“I don’t know. I’ve got to think this through. Let me take this file and I’ll call you if I figure anything out. If you hear from Tex, call me immediately, okay?”
“Yes, the minute he calls. . . . Thank you so much for coming over.”
“No problem. I’m just sorry all this happened. If you need anything call me or Rebekah. We’ll be happy to help.”
My mind raced as I drove home trying to sort out Tex’s little scam. Something must have happened after he had the money wired. Was it a double-cross? Did Mr. Alfaro and his colleagues kill Tex once the money was transferred? If so, how would they get the money out of the bank account? Or was Tex trying to keep all the money for himself? Maybe that’s why he sent it my trust account? All these questions gnawed at me the entire evening. I didn’t know what to do. I couldn’t go to the authorities without compromising Tex and perhaps myself. Like Dusty standing with his shotgun over the body of a dead IRS agent, here I was in possession of $1.8 million in stolen money. We both were innocent, but was there a chance in hell anyone would believe us?
Deadly Distractions, A Stan Turner Mystery Vol 6 Page 5
