Chapter 6
MISS DOVE
General Burton was sitting at his desk drinking coffee when I walked in. He was an early riser; I guess from all those years in the Army. I felt kind of embarrassed after my dream the previous night, if it was a dream. Everything the past few weeks seemed like a dream. I went into his office and told him about Melba Thorn's call.
"Did you happen to find out anything on her?" I asked.
"Yes, I did find out her son's name and address for you."
"Good. Maybe I need to give him a call."
General Burton handed me a piece of paper with the number. I thanked him and went into my office. After I had two cups of coffee and was almost fully awake, I gathered my things together and went over to Kurt's place. As I approached the front gate I saw that it was open, so I drove in all the way to the front door. All of the expensive vehicles that usually were parked in front of the mansion were gone. The place seemed deserted. I went up to the front door and pushed the doorbell. The sound of magnificent chimes resounded through the house, but no one stirred. I stood in front of the door nervously wondering where everyone went. I pushed the doorbell one more time but there still was no answer. Becoming impatient, I went around to the side yard, but I saw no one. I returned to the front door and rang the bell one more time.
As I turned to leave I saw the most beautiful woman I had ever seen, wearing a white knit nightgown and clutching a short matching wrap, descending the spiral staircases. She had long golden blond hair, a perfect figure and deep blue eyes. She walked nonchalantly toward me, pulled the wrap up onto her shoulders and opened the door.
"Can I help you?"
"Yes, I'm Stan Turner. I have a 9:30 appointment with Mr. Harrison.
"Gee, I don't know where everyone is. I was asleep upstairs. Come on in. You can wait for Kurt in the den."
"Thank you."
"I'm Gwendolyn Dove."
"Oh, pleasure to meet you."
She pointed the way to the den and then went back upstairs. I strolled casually toward it taking in as much of the place as I could along the way. I noticed to the left swinging doors which led into an enormous kitchen. I heard a noise in the back yard so I went to the window. Workmen were building a gazebo behind the Olympic size pool. The yard had a European flare to it as there were Italian marble statues, fountains and a formal garden.
Miss Dove came up from behind me silently and said, "Did Kurt ever show you around the place?"
Startled, I jumped slightly as I turned toward her. "Oh, I'm sorry, you scared me, Miss Dove. . . . No, he didn't. Cynthia was going to but she never got around to it."
She had changed into white denim shorts and a lavender top. Her skin was lightly tanned and smooth as silk. I couldn't help but smile.
"You can call me Gwen."
"Okay, Gwen."
"Come on then, I'll show you around."
"Thank you."
She led me into the kitchen, out into the six car garage, through the living and dining rooms, the library and finally to a small movie theater and TV room.
"This is pretty neat to have your own theater," I said.
"Yes, we invite people over to watch movies or sporting events. The room seats 27."
"Well, you certainly have a wonderful home."
"Kurt and I enjoy it a lot," Gwen said. "Gee, I don't know where everyone went. Would you like some coffee while we wait?"
"If you have some made."
"Go sit down at the kitchen table. I'll be right back."
After a minute Gwen returned with two mugs of coffee. "Here you go," she said. "So what do you do for Kurt?"
"I'm an attorney."
"An attorney. Good, it's about time Kurt got his own attorney. He needs someone to keep him out of trouble."
"Oh really?"
"Well, he just moves so fast sometimes he forgets details that come back to haunt him. I hope you can help him be more thorough."
"I'll do my best."
As we talked we could hear the sound of the garage door going up. "Well, that's either Kurt or Edward, the driver,” Gwen said. A moment later Kurt walked into the kitchen and smiled when he saw us drinking coffee.
"Well, I'm glad Gwen is taking care of you. I'm sorry I'm late, but I had to go make some arrangements for our visitors coming in tomorrow from Montreal."
"All the way from Montreal?"
"That's right. They're due in just before noon, so I had to make all their arrangements," Kurt said. "Let's go into the den so I can fill you in on what I need for tomorrow."
"Okay."
I followed Kurt into the den and to his desk which had a neat little stack of folders on it. Kurt pointed to the pile and said, "There's all the information I believe you'll need. This is just a simple apartment complex which I'm going to pick up and then sell to the Canadians for a condo conversion."
"I'm buying it for just $24,000 a unit and selling it a week later for $28,000," Kurt said.
I pulled out my calculator and asked. "How many units?"
"167."
"Damn, that's $668,000 profit."
"Not a bad week's work is it?"
"No, but if the Canadians buy it for such a high price how will they make any money?"
"Oh, don't worry. After they buy it I'm going to convert it to condominium use for them and then each unit will sell for $38,000. I'll get a nice profit for the conversion and once Cynthia gets her real estate license, she’ll be able to sell them and make a six percent commission. Everybody wins"
"Pretty slick," I replied. "But how do find your investors for that kind of deal?"
"My family is from Montreal. My parents were very wealthy. They didn't have much time for me and I didn't like them much, but one thing I did learn was how to wine and dine the rich and powerful and, most importantly, gain their confidence."
"So you have a lot of connections in Canada?"
"Not connections as such, but I've developed a reputation for putting together first class real estate deals in Texas and making people lots of money. With the rich it's just a matter of perception."
"Perception?"
"It's not what you are that counts but what people perceive you to be."
"Oh, I see," I said.
I didn't see and I was a little afraid to gain a complete understanding of what Kurt was saying, so I changed the subject.
"So, what's the game plan tomorrow?"
"We want to close at nine a.m. so bring all the papers over about eight, okay?"
"Sure, where will you be this afternoon if I have any questions?"
"Just call over here to the house and someone will know how to track me down. You can call Dan in California if you can't find me."
This second job for Kurt was much harder than the first one. After several hours of trying to figure out exactly how to do it I finally gave up and called Ron Johnson at Big D Title Company. Ron got me back on the right track and then wanted to know when I was going to send some title work his way. I assured him that at the first opportunity I would do just that.
The following day I handled the closing at Kurt's place and then hit the road for Cisco, Texas. It was a three-hour drive so I sat back and relaxed. I got there at 12:30 p.m. and headed for the courthouse only to find it closed for lunch. Rather than hang around waiting for the clerk's office to open, I walked across the street to a café to get something to eat. Next to the café was an abstract company and as I walked across the street I noticed a thin grey haired man had just walked out of it and into the café. The man was wearing a loose fitting grey shirt and khaki pants. He went to the counter and opened a menu. I decided to sit next to him hoping to strike up a conversation and maybe get some tips on doing title searches in Cisco.
"Hi, I couldn't help but see you come out of West Texas Title Company," I said. "My name is Stan Turner and I came up here to do some title work myself."
"Howdy, I'm Roscoe Wilder, I own the title
company."
"Well, I'm glad I met you, I may need your services one day."
"What kind of title work are you doing?”
“Well, I'm doing a job for Inca Oil Company. They've targeted an old plugged well to reopen and get back into production."
"What wells are they looking at?"
"Well, . . . they're looking at the old Parker #3 if you've ever heard of it."
"Yeah, I've heard of it. I think I did some title work on the Parker wells many years ago."
"If you have any suggestions on how to expedite a search of that property I would be most obliged."
"If you'd like, you can come over to my shop after we're done here and maybe I can find the work I did. If so, that will give you a big head start."
"That would be fabulous. I was worried about getting this done today. I didn't want to have to come back Monday."
After lunch I followed Mr. Wilder over to his shop. He led me into a back room filled with hundreds of books, plats and maps of all sorts. After putting on his glasses, he opened a big book and ran his finger down several columns of entries.
"I think it was 1963. Let me see, here it is. The Parker Prospects - 2914. Okay, let's see if we still have 2914."
I smiled in hopeful anticipation and followed Mr. Wilder through a maze of dusty shelves filled with large brown file jackets.
"Here it is . . . 2914. Parker prospects. Let's take it to an examination table."
"Yes, please."
"Gee, we even have some production reports in here."
"Oh, really?"
"Yeah, let's see, this baby was pumping two hundred and twenty-five barrels a day when they shut her down."
I pulled out my calculator and began to figure out what the annual production of the well should bring.
"Damn, at forty dollars a barrel that would bring in over three million dollars a year after expenses."
"Well, back then I think oil was four dollars a barrel so it wasn't such a great well. Anyway, here's a report showing the ownership of the property as of the date the well was drilled."
"Boy this is going to save me a lot of time. What do I owe you?"
“Well, if I charged you my normal rates it’d be about $900, but I’ll tell you what.”
“What?”
“You can have a copy gratis, if you promise to do all Inca’s title work here in the future.”
“Absolutely!”
“Good then. I’ll be looking forward to working with you in the future.”
“Yes, definitely. Thank you so much.”
Mr. Wilder’s generosity made my day. Had I done all that work by hand, it would have taken another day or two. But with most of the work done for me all I had to do was update the file from the date of the abstract. I finished just before five and headed back to Dallas. All the way home I couldn't think of anything except the production report on Parker #3. Tomlinson had offered to give me a three percent interest in the well in exchange for my legal services. Three percent of three million dollars would be ninety thousand and that's every year the well is in production. Since the most I had ever made prior to becoming a lawyer was twelve thousand dollars a year, the thought of making an extra ninety thousand dollars every year was overwhelming. By 9 p.m., when I finally got home, I couldn't wait to tell Rebekah what I had learned. When I walked in the door Rebekah was watching TV. She was wearing her black silk nightgown and looked very sexy. She looked up at me and smiled.
"Hi, Babe," I said.
"Hi, honey, you finally made it home."
"It's a hell of a drive to Cisco, let me tell you."
I walked over and sat down next to her. The sweet aroma of her body drew me to her. I began gently stroking her smooth, soft leg.
"I just put the kids to bed. They were terrible tonight. Whenever you don't come home on time they get really rowdy."
"I'm sorry, honey. I know it's hard on you when I come home late. I really missed you."
She put her hand on top of mine. "I missed you too."
"You won't believe what I found out today."
"What?"
"You know that new well Inca's going to drill, Parker #3?"
"Yeah, I remember you telling me about it."
"Well, I met this old abstractor in Cisco and he found an old file where he had done some work on this property in the past. In the file was a production report that showed that the well was pumping two hundred barrels of oil a day when it was shut down and plugged."
"So?"
"So at forty dollars a barrel that would bring in almost $3 million a year after operating expenses."
"Sounds like it's going to be a nice well."
"Do you know what three percent of that is?" I asked and waited for her to respond. She shrugged so I said, "Ninety thousand dollars a year."
"You're not thinking what I think you're thinking, are you?"
"Baby, Tomlinson offered me three percent for the legal work on the well. I told him no, but he said I could change my mind."
"Stan, what if the well is dry?"
"Rebekah, it was pumping over two hundred barrels a day when they plugged it. I don't think even Tomlinson knows how good a well it is. He was only projecting seventy-five to one hundred barrels a day in his prospectus."
"Stan, we can't afford to gamble. We need every cent we can get just to survive. I'm glad you told him ‘no.’"
"But if we make it big on this well can you imagine how that would impact our lives? We could hire a maid so you wouldn't have to work so hard. We could get a bigger house and start putting money away for the kids' education. Hell, it's only a few thousand dollars which I don't have yet anyway. It's not like I'm taking money out of the bank."
"It won't happen? Nothing comes easy for us. Besides, I've already got a call from American Express. You're forty-five days late on your payment to them."
"When did they call you?'
"This morning?"
"Damn."
"So, I think you ought to just take your fee and forget the well. We need the cash now to pay bills."
"Maybe you're right, but I have a feeling this well is going to be a gusher and we're going to regret not getting a piece of it."
"That's all right, I'll risk it," Rebekah said strongly.
"Doesn't the thought of having an extra ninety thousand dollars a year tempt you at all?"
"No."
"No?” I said frowning. “Okay, whatever. How about a little back rub then for a tired traveler?”
"I might manage that, but if that gleam in your eye means you're looking for what I think you’re looking for, then your luck just ran out."
"Why? . . . Are you mad at me over Parker #3?"
"No, but your children have worn me out and I'm too exhausted to enjoy sex right now."
"Then why did you wear that nightgown?"
"I don't know; it was the only thing that was clean."
"Hmm. . . . All right, go to bed then, . . . I'll be there later. I'm too keyed up to go to sleep now."
The next day I telephoned Bird Logan to advise him of the results of my work in Cisco. He asked me to come by the office around at five and deliver my report. I spent the day neatly typing my notes and organizing the material I had gathered. At 5:00 I walked through the front door at Inca Oil. No one was in the reception room, so I began to wander around looking for Bird or his secretary. My recollection was that Bird's office was the last one down the main hall on the left. As I made my way in that direction I could hear faint voices in the distance.
When I got to Bird's door I knocked vigorously. There was a commotion inside and then suddenly the door opened and Melissa rushed out. She didn't smile as she quickly passed me. I peered inside and Bird was sitting on his blue leather sofa with a big grin on his face.
"You caught us," Bird laughed. "I forgot I told you to come by. Come on in."
"I'm sorry. I can come back another time."
"Nonsense, we were just getting a he
ad start on happy hour. Don't mind Melissa. She'll get over it."
"Are you two serious?" I asked.
"No, strictly recreation," Bird replied. "It gets lonely up here in Dallas during the week. Sheila's my first and only love."
"Don't you worry about getting caught?"
Bird smiled. "No, you're not going to tell her are you?"
"Of course not, but women have a way of figuring things out. Rebekah would know I'd been unfaithful the moment she laid eyes on me after it happened."
"Sheila's too caught up in her social life to give my fidelity a second thought. Besides, I'm not so naive to think that she's been totally faithful. I'm quite a bit older than she is."
"You think she's cheating on you?" I said. "Oh God! I can't believe we're having this conversation. I'm sorry, it's none of my business."
Bird laughed, "It's okay. But you're right. We have strayed a bit. So, do you have a report for me?"
"Yes."
After giving Bird the report on Parker #3 I drove home. While I was sitting in heavy traffic on LBJ Freeway, I decided not to mention what had happened at Inca Oil to Rebekah as she wouldn't want me to work for someone who cheated on his wife. Although she would never say it, she would be afraid Bird might corrupt me. It would drive her nuts. Since I only had three active clients I couldn't afford to lose one of them at this critical stage of my practice. With that issue decided, my thoughts turned to Melissa. Did she know her relationship with Bird was strictly recreation? Somehow I didn't think so judging by the look she had given me in the hallway.
Brash Endeavor, A Stan Turner Mystery Vol 3 Page 7
