Chapter 29
LEGAL ETHICS
That night I slept better than I had for months. When I awoke the next morning, however, the harsh reality of Rebekah's predicament finally hit home when I realized we had only two weeks until her trial. We had made some progress on proving Rebekah innocent, but time was running out and there was much work to be done.
After I had talked to the witness to the accident, one of Rebekah's friends in the ER was kind enough to get me a census for the day of the murder. What I was looking for were family members of patients who might have been waiting with Bird Logan. After an exhaustive search I found three people who remembered Bird. They all said that he was in the waiting room the entire time except for about ten minutes when he went to the restroom. None of them could verify exactly what time that was nor did they remember his condition when he returned.
Rebekah had met earlier in the week with some of her nurse friends and Ken Sherlock. The purpose of the meeting was to brief Ken on hospital procedure, the treatment Sheila Logan was receiving and the manner of her death. The more Ken knew about all of these things the more effective he would be at defending Rebekah.
While all of this was going on I had hired a private investigator in Corpus Christi to dig up as much information on Bird Logan as he could. The private eye's name was Miguel Valdez. When I got to my office I put a call in to him to see what he had found out.
"How's the investigation going?" I asked.
"Oh Stan, yes. Let me find your file. One momento, please."
"Okay."
"Stan. Yes . . . let me see. Mr. Blackbird Logan. Yes, he was born in Midland, Texas in 1932. He lived with his mama and papa and three sisters in a little house on the south side of town. Ah, his daddy ran a filling station and his mother worked in a general store. Let me see, . . . while he attended college he worked part time as a roughneck and learned the oil business. He signed up for the Navy in 1949 and . . . let me see . . . he was a medic in Korea. Okay, . . . it was 1955, yeah . . . 1955 when he was discharged and entered SMU. There he studied geology and got a Bachelor's degree in 1959. After he graduated he got hitched to a Molly Rutherford and they lived together until 1965 when she died in a car wreck."
"A car wreck?"
"Yeah man, is that important?" Miguel said.
"It might be, go on."
"After he graduated, you know, he went to work for Central States Oil Company. He was a geologist there. He worked there for twenty-one years. Can you believe that? Then he unexpectedly quit and went into partnership with a guy named Tomlinson," Miguel said.
"Yes, Brice Tomlinson."
"Right. Inca Oil Company. Ah . . . Then he married Sheila Morales from Monterrey, Mexico. I'm told they met at a fraternity party at SMU for Bird's 15th year college reunion. Sheila belonged to a sorority, you know, that was helping out with the festivities."
"What else do you know about Sheila," I asked.
"Her father owned one of the biggest ranches in Mexico. It's supposed to be over 10,000 acres."
"What do you mean owned? Did he sell it?"
"No, he died last summer."
"Who inherited the property?"
"It's been tied up in probate, man. Before Sheila died she and her three brothers were in a big fight with their step-mother for control of the ranch. Apparently their natural mother had died when they were young and their father remarried."
"Who’s running the ranch during this fight?"
"The executor . . . you know . . . of the estate."
"Was Sheila getting any money from the estate before she died?"
"No way, everything was being kept by the executor . . . you know . . . pending the final outcome of the probate."
"How long is the estate expected to be tied up?"
"Oh man, a probate in Mexico can take three to five years."
"Oh really? Huh."
Up until now I had assumed Bird was the killer. But after talking to Miguel I realized there was no motive. For the life of me I couldn't conceive of a way Bird would gain by Sheila's death. If her money was tied up in Mexico it was unlikely Bird would ever see any of it for years, if at all. I began to wonder if Bird was really responsible for Sheila's murder. But if he didn't do it, who did? I began to think about probable suspects. It wasn't long before I had constructed a short list of suspects in my mind. Heading the list was Melissa, Bird's secretary. She obviously wanted Bird all for herself and as long as Sheila was around the likelihood of that happening was pretty remote. Other possibilities were one or more of Sheila's brothers who may not have wanted to split the ranch with her, her step-mother for the same reason, or some other enemy out there that I knew nothing about.
"What are you going to do now?" Miguel asked.
"I don't know. I'll have to give all this information to Ken Sherlock and see what he wants to do. Anyway, Miguel you've done an excellent job so far. Keep digging and if you come up with anything else call me, okay? Oh, and send me all the documentation for all this stuff you've been telling me. We may need it for evidence."
"I will, catch you later."
"Bye."
After talking to Miguel I was anxious to talk to Ken, so I called and made an appointment to see him immediately. Several hours later I was sitting in Ken's office relating to him what I had found out from Miguel.
"So, all along I just knew Bird must be the killer, but now I'm not so sure. There doesn't appear to be any motive, "I said.
"Motives aren't always readily apparent," Ken replied, "but you’re right, this does bring us back to square one."
"It seems now like Melissa had the best motive for killing Sheila."
"You actually caught them in the act once?"
"Well, I didn't actually see them doing it, but it wasn't hard to figure out what had been going on. Besides, Bird admitted he was having an affair with her."
"What do you know about Melissa?"
"Nothing, absolutely nothing. Well other than she's one hell of a good looking woman."
"I guess I should go talk to her?" Ken said.
"You think she'll talk to you?"
"If she won't then I'll take her deposition. I'd rather talk to her alone though."
"I'd like to go with you?"
"I don't know; she's going to be intimidated enough talking to one lawyer. I don't want her to be so scared she won't talk."
"I'll let you do all the talking. I won't say a word. She probably won't even notice me."
"Yeah, right. . . . Okay, but if she seems uncomfortable with you there, I want you to make a hasty departure."
"No problem."
"I'll call her and make an appointment. I'll have my secretary call you to tell you when and where it's at."
"Great, thanks."
After I left Ken's office I went straight home. It was only 4:45 p.m. so Rebekah wasn't expecting me yet. I slipped in the back door quietly hoping to sneak up on her. Peter spotted me and started to scream. I quickly grabbed him and covered his mouth so he couldn't be heard.
"Be quiet Peter, I'm trying to surprise your Mama."
"Ehhh . . . ehhh . . . ehhh," Stanley said.
I put Peter down and said, "Shhh . . ." Then I crept around the corner and spotted Rebekah. I came up behind her silently and grabbed her shoulders. "Hi, Babe!"
"Ahhh!" Rebekah screamed. "Oh, you scared me Stan, what do you think you're doing?"
I put my arms around Rebekah and held her tightly.
"I'm sorry. There's been some interesting new developments in your case," I said. "I just wanted to fill you in."
I told her about Miguel, the fact that Bird had no motive to kill Sheila and that Melissa was now a suspect.
"What are you going to do now? We've got less than two weeks to my trial."
"Ken and I are going to see Melissa tomorrow. We're hoping we'll learn enough from her to give us some insight into what really happened. After that I'm sure Ken will put a PI on her to dig up as much info as possible."
"Well, I hope you guys work fast because I'm running out of time."
"I know, Babe. Everybody will be working eighteen hours a day from now on. We'll figure out what happened. I promise."
"I hope so; I'm really getting worried."
After our conversation I headed for the sofa to watch the five o'clock news. I turned on the TV, grabbed a pillow, kicked off my shoes and laid down. It was about 5:05 p.m. so the news was in progress with anchor Sandy Star reporting.
"Now we take you to correspondent Paulette Barclay in Johnson City, Texas for the latest in the Robert Thorn trial. Paulette are you there?"
"Yes Sandy, Robert Thorn was brought into State District Court today to be arraigned for the murder of his chauffeur, Robert Sage. Sage's body was found in a landfill near Thorn's ranch in Johnson County. Police believe that Sage had been blackmailing Thorn and his partner, Taylor Brown, over information he had about the death of Melba Thorn in a mysterious single vehicle automobile accident near Florissant, Colorado. Judge Clayton Brooks set bail for Brown at 1.2 million dollars," Sandy said.
"Thank you, Sandy," Paulette continued. "Shortly after the bond was set it was posted and Robert Thorn has now been released. In a brief encounter with reporters Thorn insisted he was innocent and promised he would eventually be vindicated. Asked about whether he thought his mother, Melba Thorn, had really contacted local attorney, Stan Turner, from the dead and asked for his help, Thorn said such claim was ridiculous just as were the charges against him."
"In a related story Taylor Brown was transported to Florissant, Colorado today to stand trial for the murder of his mother-in-law, Melba Thorn. Brown is set to be arraigned tomorrow and should be out on bond before the end of the day. Brown too claims his innocence and vows to clear his name. Robert Thorn is also expected to be indicted by the Colorado court in the near future in conjunction with his mother-in-law's death."
That night I fell asleep quickly, drifted into a deep slumber and began to dream. It wasn't long before I woke up Rebekah.
"Wake up Stan. You must be having a dream. You've been moaning like you're in pain," Rebekah said as she shook my shoulder.
"What? . . . What time is it?" I said.
"3:33 a.m."
"I'm sorry I woke you up, Babe, but I dreamt I was back at the Holiday Inn in Colorado. I re-lived the night I was attacked. That big black boot hitting my face seemed so real."
"Go back to sleep, it was just a dream," Rebekah said.
"I've seen that big black boot somewhere before."
"When you got assaulted in the motel?"
"No, I mean I've seen it somewhere else," I replied.
"Where?"
"I don't know. Somewhere."
"Well, go to sleep, maybe tomorrow you'll remember," Rebekah urged.
"I can't sleep. I'm awake now."
"Great,” Rebekah moaned. “It's 3:30 a.m. and you're wide awake."
"I've got to figure out where I saw it. I remember. It was ah . . . let me see . . . oh. Now I remember, Jane Brown."
"Jane Brown wore big black boots?"
"No, but her chauffeur did."
"Really? So, what does that mean?"
"Her chauffeur is the one who assaulted me. He's the one who kicked me with his boot," I said.
"Do you know his name?" Rebekah asked.
"Ralph. I don't know his last name. That means Jane was behind this whole thing."
"Jane killed her own mother?"
"She must have. They didn't get along too well and Jane was very jealous of her brother and even her husband. She wanted to help run the company, but no one took her seriously," I said, thinking out loud.
"So, you think she killed her mother and then framed her own brother and husband?"
"Yeah, it all makes sense now. Ralph must have taken the Thorn limousine and followed Melba. Then he forced her off the road and she crashed to her death. But getting rid of Mom wasn't enough . . . she had to get rid of her brother and her husband because they controlled Thorn Enterprises after Melba died. So, she got Ralph to kill Ronald Sage and planted the evidence needed to be sure both Taylor and Robert were charged and convicted of her mother's murder."
"But who made the phone calls?" Rebekah asked.
"Jane did. She needed someone to start poking around so Sheriff Barnett would figure out Melba was murdered," I replied.
"Why did they pick you?"
"That I don't know."
"Okay . . . why did Ralph beat you up in the motel?"
"Jane must have been impatient with progress on investigating Melba's death. She needed to give my investigation some credibility, so Sheriff Barnett would reopen her mother's case. It was an incredible plan," I said.
"How can you prove it though? No jury will convict Jane just because you think you recognize her chauffeur's boot," Rebekah replied.
"That's true, but all they have to do to prove their case is get his boots and check them for my blood. When he kicked my face my nose was bleeding so he must have got some of my blood on his boot. I'll call the Sheriff in the morning and have him check it out."
"Wait a minute. Isn't Jane Brown your client? Didn't she just give you $10,000.00?"
"Oh shit! You're right. . . . I've got to keep my mouth shut. That's why she paid me the ten grand. She didn't want me to spill the beans if I figured out what had happened. Jesus, she is one smart son of a bitch. I can't believe this. I'm going to have to sit back and watch two innocent men be convicted of murder and there's not a damn thing I can do about it."
"You can't let two innocent men go to jail."
"I know, but if I tell the police my suspicions, I'll be violating my duty to my client and I could be disbarred. Not to mention the fact that she could sue me for malpractice."
"Stan, what are you going to do?"
"I don't know. . . . I really don't know."
Brash Endeavor, A Stan Turner Mystery Vol 3 Page 33
