Chapter 12
THE PANHANDLE
BUILDING
The parties began to gather at Big D Title Company at 9:30 a.m. Ron Johnson had arranged two conference rooms, one for the sellers and one for the buyers. When I arrived Cynthia Carson was talking to Pete Hall and George Sanders.
"Good morning," I said.
"Hi Stan," Cynthia replied.
Pete and George got up and we shook hands.
"You guys ready to put this deal to bed?" I said.
"I guess so," Pete replied.
"Did the people at Worldwide ever inspect the building?" George asked.
"Yes, they went out to Amarillo Wednesday and they were quite pleased with how it looked," Cynthia replied.
Just then Ron Johnson came in with a secretary carrying a large stack of documents.
"Good morning gentlemen, . . . Miss Carson," Ron said. "Here are all the closing documents for your review."
Ron placed a set of documents on the table and then excused himself to go give a set to the sellers. Shortly after he left Tom Tower arrived.
"Good morning everybody," he said. "Is everybody ready to make some money?"
"I'm ready," Pete said.
"Have you read all these documents Stan?" George asked.
"Yes, but you all need to read them too," I replied.
"If you've read them I don't see why I should," George said. "What do we pay you for?"
"Well, actually you're not paying me, Kurt is, and it's just good business to read everything before you sign it," I stressed.
"Where is Kurt anyway?" Tom asked.
Cynthia went to the window, looked outside and said, "He should be here any minute."
I picked up the closing documents and started passing them around. "Go ahead and start looking these over and if you have any questions I'll be happy to answer them."
I looked at my watch and it was now 10:15. I wondered what had happened to Kurt. It was not unusual for him to be late but this was an important closing and I was surprised he wasn't here. The parties began to get restless so Cynthia tried to call around to find Kurt. At 11:03 we were advised the sellers were going to leave in ten minutes if Kurt didn't show up. Several minutes later Ron Johnson came in and advised us Kurt was on his way and would be there in five minutes. At 11:15 Kurt finally walked into the room.
"Good morning, gentlemen," Kurt said as he walked over to the head of the table and opened his briefcase.
"It's damn near afternoon Kurt," George said.
"I'm sorry I'm late but I had to do a little last minute negotiating with Worldwide Savings before we could close this deal," Kurt replied.
"I thought the financing was all worked out weeks ago?" Tom said.
"It was more or less but they wanted me to pledge all of my profits against your note. I told them I couldn't do that because I needed that money to fund some of the rehabilitation costs on the building," Kurt said.
"So did you get it resolved?" I asked.
"Yes, they're going to let me take two thirds of the money and put one third in a CD and pledge it against the new note."
"How long will it take you to do the rehab?" George asked.
"Well, there are fifteen floors in the Panhandle Building, seven floors have already been done, and they are ninety percent leased. So that means we have eight floors to totally rehab and then lease up. I would say that would take maybe six months. The nice thing is we're already cash flowing with the existing tenants."
Ron Johnson entered the room accompanied by two well-dressed men. "Excuse me, but I want to introduce Lawrence Wylie, the President of Worldwide Savings and his attorney, Mark Pointer," Ron said. "Okay, gentlemen. Are we ready to close?"
Everyone acknowledged they were ready, so Ron collected the three $100,000 checks from the buyers and began passing around documents for signature. When everything had been signed, Mr. Wylie went to the phone and called his office. When he got off the phone he said, "The loan proceeds are being wired as I speak."
Ron left the room and everyone began conversing with one another. During the break I took the opportunity to compliment Kurt on his dealings with Worldwide Savings.
"You're one hell of a salesman," I said. "I've never heard of a banker turning loose of collateral once he got his greasy palms on it."
"They wanted this deal, I could smell it," Kurt said. "That gave me a lot of leverage."
Ron Johnson came back into the room and asked for everyone's attention. "Gentlemen, the funds are in our account so the closing is complete. My secretary has a copy of all the documents for each of you. Thank you for closing with Big D Title and I hope we can serve you again soon."
Kurt then stood up and spoke to the gathering. "Before everyone leaves, I want to invite all of you to a luncheon celebration at Pierre's Place at the Plaza of the Americas at noon. This transaction is going to be very lucrative for all of us and I think we have good reason to celebrate. Pierre's has valet parking on the Pearl Street entrance which I would recommend. So, I hope to see all you very soon."
The closing broke up and everyone headed downtown for the party. As I drove up in front of the Plaza of the Americas I noticed Kurt right behind me in his Maserati. After they took my Pinto I waited for him. The parking attendant's eyes lit up when he saw Kurt's car. Kurt got out, handed the attendant a $20 bill and said, "Take good care of this one. I don't want any scratches."
After everyone was seated in the restaurant Kurt thanked them for their help in putting the Panhandle Building deal together. He promised the buyers they were going to make lots of money when the project was completed and resold. Then the waiters poured everyone a glass of champagne and Kurt gave a toast to the new venture. After a lavish lunch Kurt handed me an envelope. I opened it to find twenty-five one hundred dollar bills along with a copy of my last statement for $2,122.50."
"Thank you Kurt. But that's more than you owed."
"The rest is a little bonus for the special attention you've given me. I know I'm not an easy client at times and I appreciate your patience. Oh . . . and tell Ron Johnson that was an excellent closing, I may want to use Big D from time to time in the future."
"He's a great guy. He'll be glad to hear you were happy with the way things went," I said as I looked down at my watch. "Oh . . . I've got to get going I've got a meeting a 2 p.m. at the Federal Building."
I got up, shook hands and left. The payment from Kurt was unexpected but couldn't have come at a better time since Rebekah and I were virtually out of money. As I counted and recounted the money I remembered I needed to call Bird to advise him about Saturday night and to tell him my decision on Parker #3. Now that I had a few dollars in my pocket the decision on whether to gamble or not became more difficult. Had Kurt not paid me I wouldn't have had any choice but to ask for a check. I figured if Inca paid me now it would be about twenty-five hundred dollars. That was a lot of money to me at the time as just three months earlier I had been making three hundred dollars a week.
By the time I got to the Federal Building I still didn't know what to do. I felt like Parker #3 was almost a sure thing based on the information I’d seen, but I had never had any luck gambling in the past, so what made me think my luck would be any different now. In desperation I pulled out a coin and decided to flip for it, heads gamble, tails take the check. I threw the coin in air and let it fall to the ground. I knelt down and saw that it was heads. A sick feeling came over me. Glancing at my watch I saw it was nearly two o'clock so I went to telephone booth to call Logan.
"Hey, Rebekah was able to switch around her shifts so we’ll be available Saturday night."
"Good, Sheila is really looking forward to meeting Rebekah."
"Rebekah is anxious to meet Sheila, too. How about 7:30?"
"Fine."
"Listen, about Parker #3. I decided . . . to . . . ah, I decided to . . . I guess, go ahead and invest in the well," I stuttered.
"You're going to invest?"
"Right."
"Great. I think that's a wise decision. You'll need to drop by and sign an investor letter. Or, if you want, I'll just bring it by Saturday night to save you a trip over here."
"No, that's okay. I'll just drop by," I said. There was no way I wanted the topic of Parker #3 to come up with Rebekah around.
"Good then, we'll see you and Rebekah tomorrow."
"Okay, see you then."
It was getting late so I took the elevator up to the ninth floor to the trustee's meeting room. Gena was leaning against the wall across from the doorway. She was wearing a short red baby doll dress and carried a matching purse. As I approached her she stood up straight and smiled.
"Stan, you made it. I was worried you wouldn't come," Gena said.
"I told you I would be here."
"I know, but I'm just nervous. Do think any of my creditors will be here?"
"No, this should be really easy. All I am going to do is ask you if everything on your bankruptcy schedules is true and correct and why you had to file bankruptcy. There's going to be five or ten other people having their creditor meetings now too, so you won't be alone."
"Okay."
"Come on, we better get inside before they call your case."
We went inside and sat down amongst the crowd of debtors, creditors and attorneys. The trustee walked in with his secretary and sat down. He fumbled with his tape recorder and after he got it going he commenced the meeting.
"Ladies and gentlemen, I'm Robert Olson. I have been appointed as Interim Trustee to administer your case. The cases will be called in the order in which they were filed. Everyone making an appearance will need to sign in. The first case is Gena Lombardi."
I stood up and motioned for Gena to come forward and sit at the table in front of the trustee. She reluctantly got up, walked to the table and sat down.
"This is case number 79-43217 in the United States District Court for the Northern District of Texas. The debtor is here with her counsel of record. Please state your name, "the trustee said.
"Gena Lombardi."
"All right counsel, you may question the witness."
"Miss Lombardi, I'm going to show you the original petition that you filed in this case along with the schedules attached to it. Is the information contained in these documents true and correct?"
"Yes."
I asked her the standard questions. There were no creditors present, so the trustee took over questioning and went through his list of questions. I was relieved that the meeting had gone so smoothly. As we got up two well-dressed men approached Gena.
"Are you Gena Lombardi?" one of them asked.
"Yes," Gena replied.
"Miss Lombardi, you're under arrest. Please place your hands on the table."
"Under arrest! For what?" Gena protested. "Stan you can't let them do this."
"Who are you guys?" I asked.
"We're deputy U.S. Marshalls. . . . Now stand back and don't interfere."
One of the officers frisked Gena for weapons and then made her put her hands behind her back. Gena began to cry.
"Stan, come with me. Don't leave me alone, I'm scared."
"Okay, if they'll let me," I said. "Where are you taking her?"
"To the U.S. Marshall's office on the 16th Floor," the deputy said.
"I'll come up with you Gena, don't worry."
I followed the marshalls as they escorted Gena to the elevators. When the doors opened they entered, but when I tried to follow them in one of them said, "You'll have to take another elevator, sir."
By the time I got to the 16th floor Gena was nowhere to be found. I went to the main entrance to the U.S. Marshalls office and entered. There was a deputy busy doing paperwork at a front desk.
"Did they just bring in Gena Lombardi in here?" I said.
"I wouldn't know, they bring prisoners in the back door," he replied.
"Can you check and see if she's here?"
"Who are you?"
"I'm her attorney."
"Wait a minute, I'll go check."
After a few minutes the deputy returned and said, "She's here but they're checking her in now, so you can't see her for thirty minutes or so."
"Can you tell me what the charges are?"
"Mail fraud," he said.
When he said mail fraud I suddenly remembered the telephone call from the postal inspector’s office. Obviously Gena had not contacted her criminal attorney after I had informed her of that call. I waited around about forty-five minutes and finally the deputy said I could go see Gena. They led me into small detention room where Gena was sitting behind a steel mesh screen. We had to talk through an intercom.
"You all right, Gena?"
"I guess," she replied.
"I'm sorry this happened to you. Didn't you call your criminal attorney about the postal inspectors that called me?"
"Yes, but he wouldn't do anything unless I brought him a $5,000 retainer."
"Oh, no."
"Well they have to give you a court appointed attorney," I said.
"Yeah, but Court appointed attorneys are no good. Won't you defend me, Stan?"
"Me? . . . No way. I am not a criminal attorney. The only criminal case I've been involved in was when I was tried for murder."
"You were charged with murder?"
"Yes, when I was in the Marine Corps."
"I can't believe my attorney was charged with murder? That is so cool."
"I was acquitted."
"Now, I definitely want you to defend me. I know you'll be better than anyone the Court appoints. If it's the money, I promise you I'll pay you every cent of your fee no matter how much it is," Gena said.
"I'm sure you would try, but what if you were convicted and went to prison. You obviously couldn't pay me then."
"My mom would pay you."
"Just like she's sent me that five-hundred-dollar retainer on your bankruptcy."
Gena fell back in her chair and took a deep breath.
"I could kill Tony, that bastard. He better hope I never see his pretty face again."
"Maybe the Trustee will find him and make him pay the twenty thousand dollars back."
"Oh Stan! I just remembered . . . my Corvette is down in the parking lot. You can't let them take it."
"I don't know if they'll let me have it," I said.
"Please, make them give it to you and keep it for me."
"Well, I guess I could take it and park it at your house."
"You can take it and drive it if you want, just don't let anyone take it away from me," Gena said.
"I'll go ask them about it. I've got to get going anyway I've got my mother-in-law at home babysitting."
"When can I get out of here?"
"I don't know for sure, but probably tomorrow morning after they set your bond, if someone will post it. Your court appointed attorney will arrange to get you out."
"Would you call my mother for me?"
"Sure. You hang in there now. I'll take care of your car and call your mother."
"Thank you, Stan. You’re the best attorney I've ever had."
"The cheapest too, I bet."
"Someday you'll make lots of money off me, don't you worry."
I was severely shaken by Gena's arrest. It was totally unexpected and I felt guilty about not helping her with the postal inspectors. The Marshall's office released Gena's car to me so I was now faced with the logistical problem of getting her car back to her house. I drove the Corvette home and then had my father-in-law drive me back downtown to pick up the Pinto. I thought about leaving it there hoping it would get stolen but figured with my luck it would just get towed off and I'd have to pay to get it released. It wasn't until nearly 6:30 that I finally got home and relieved my mother-in-law from babysitting.
With all the excitement of the afternoon I hadn't been able to stop at the bank and deposit the money Kurt had given me. After dinner I sat down on the sofa and began playi
ng with the twenty-five hundred dollar bills. Peter came over and sat down next to me to watch.
"Is that play money, Daddy?"
"No, actually this is real."
"Is that a million dollars?" Peter said.
"No, I'm afraid not," I replied.
"Are you sure? It looks like it, Dad."
"It's two thousand five hundred dollars. If you multiplied this by four hundred it would be a million dollars," I said.
"Can I have it?" Peter said.
"No, we need it to pay bills and buy groceries."
Seeking to avoid further discussion about the money I put it away and suggested we all play fish. I put Marcia in my lap and leaned against the sofa in front of the coffee table. The three boys sat around the table and the game began. We played about an hour until Reggie had beaten us all pretty badly. I don't why but he was a whiz at any kind of game. It was late, so I put Marcia and Peter to bed and Mark, Reggie and I watched TV for another hour until it was their bedtime.
At 11:30 p.m. Rebekah came home. I was asleep on the sofa and didn't hear her come in. She sat down next to me and gave me a kiss. I opened my eyes, looked at her and smiled.
"Tough day, Honey?" she said.
"Yeah, it was. How are you?"
"Upset."
I sat up and looked at Rebekah. "What's wrong?"
"There was a boating accident this afternoon at Lake Dallas. They brought in a man whose head had been sliced up pretty badly by a propeller."
"Oh no."
"He was damn near dead when he came in but the doctors tried everything to keep him alive. His wife was hysterical, she kept asking me if he was okay. I told her we were doing everything we could but I knew in my heart he would die."
"I’m sorry, honey."
"I kept thinking what if that were you or one of the kids. I don't want you or the kids to ever go skiing."
"Accidents can happen anytime doing anything," I said.
"If you had seen what I did, you'd feel the same way."
"Maybe so."
"I'm kind of upset too," I said.
"Why?"
"Gena Lombardi got arrested today at her creditor's meeting."
"You're kidding?"
"No, it was horrible. . . . She was so upset. Of course, she was worried more about losing her yellow Corvette than being in jail. Oh, guess what else," I said.
"What?"
"Kurt paid me today, twenty-five hundred dollar bills."
"Oh! That's nice."
"Peter thought it was a million dollars."
"That's a sweet thought."
"Oh. I guess I better tell you one other thing."
She looked at me intently. "I don't like the tone of your voice."
"I took the plunge on Parker #3."
"You didn’t? We agreed not to do that.”
“I don’t remember agreeing to anything.”
Rebekah glared at me. “Oh! I am so pissed, Stanley Turner. We could have really used that money. Now we’ll probably lose it all."
"I know. but since we never got it we won't miss it. Maybe we'll get lucky and the well will come in."
"It better for your sake."
"Just think, over seven grand a month. Can you imagine getting that before you even got up in the morning. Wouldn't that be sweet?"
"You're a dreamer, Stan. It’ll never happen."
"Why not? It happens to other people."
Brash Endeavor, A Stan Turner Mystery Vol 3 Page 14
