Chapter 6
SURPRISES
After meeting with Jimmy Bennett I was anxious to talk to his wife, Betty Baker-Bennett. She would obviously have a different perspective on the conflict between her father and her husband. I wondered how she would be taking her father's death and whether she thought her husband could have killed him. She agreed to meet me at her spacious home high upon a hilltop looking over Lake Lewisville. As drove up I35 from Dallas, I noticed a storm was brewing to the West. In fact, it was getting so dark I had to turn on my headlights. Several press vehicles were parked at the front entrance to the estate. The reporters milling around watched me as I showed my credentials to the gate attendant and he waved me in. It was another half mile to the main house where I parked my car and waited until precisely 9:00 a.m.
I grabbed my umbrella just in case the brewing storm let loose, walked to the front door, and knocked. Betty opened the door and invited me in. She was a friendly, darkly tanned brunette about 5'1" in height. She wasn't the type of person I would have expected to be married to Jimmy since he was more than six feet tall. I pondered a second on how that would work in bed. . . . Anyway, she wore sky-blue pedal pushers and a short yellow top which seemed rather cheery considering she'd lost her daddy just days before. She showed me around her house and then led me to a sun room where she had coffee and pastries for us to munch on while we talked.
"I'm sorry about your father. I appreciate you taking the time to talk to me during what must be a difficult time for you."
She shrugged. "You have to do your job. I understand. I want to help in anyway I can."
"I appreciate that. It must be difficult to be around your husband knowing he might be responsible for your father's death."
"I don't believe it for a minute. Jimmy didn't kill my father. I'm absolutely sure of that."
"Why are you so sure?"
"Jimmy's a lot of things, but he's not a murderer. Anyway, he loved daddy just like I did."
"Really?"
"Yes. I don't have any brothers, just a younger sister, Margo. Daddy always wanted a son. When I started dating Jimmy in high school, Daddy kind of adopted Jimmy as his own son. They went fishing, hunting, and played golf together. It was pretty sad actually, since I had to compete with my father for Jimmy's attention."
I wondered if she had intentionally left bar-hopping and picking up loose women off her list, but I didn't ask. "Wow. That would be difficult," I said.
"Daddy just assumed I would marry Jimmy—not that I didn't want to marry him. I love Jimmy and we have three great children. We've been together for nearly ten years now. When you've been with a person that long, you get to know them."
"Sure, so you don't think he had anything to do with your father's death?"
"No. It must have been a business associate or one of his customers at Metroplex. God knows he had plenty of enemies."
"Really? What kind of enemies?"
"Metroplex was in trouble. Examiners from the OTS were out there every day."
"OTS? Let's see. That's the—"
"Office of Thrift Supervision."
"Oh, right."
"They're like the FDIC."
"Uh huh."
"They demanded the board of directors put another two million dollars of capital into the business. Many of the board members blamed daddy for Metroplex's problems."
"I can understand why the board would blame him, but why would his customers be angry with him?"
"The examiners reviewed every loan and if they didn't think there was adequate security or if the paperwork wasn't perfect they'd require it be fixed within ten days. If the problems couldn't be fixed in that time frame, they'd make daddy call the note."
"Oh, boy. That would make a customer angry."
"Yes. I can't tell you how many poor souls daddy had to put out of business. He read me some of the letters he received. It was pretty scary."
"Can you think of anyone in particular who was angry with your father? Did anyone threaten him?"
"There's a file at the office where he kept all the hate letters. He liked to show them to his friends when they came in to visit him."
"Really? Why?"
She shrugged. "I don't know. He would jokingly say that if he ever got knocked off, we'd only have to check out the alibi of each person who had sent him hate mail."
We looked at each other intently for a moment. We must have both been thinking the same thing. Was the murderer's identity in the hate mail file? I said, "I doubt the person who killed your father would be dumb enough to send a letter threatening him."
She nodded. "My thoughts exactly. It would be too easy."
"Nevertheless, I'd like to see that file," I said.
She nodded again, "No problem. I suppose you'll be going over to the office to interview the staff."
"Right. I'll need to do that."
"Just have Ruth, Don's secretary, find it for you."
"Ruth?"
"Ruth Rutherford. She's actually my aunt—my mother's sister. She's been dad's secretary for years."
Despite Betty's insistence that her husband was innocent, I had to discuss the possibility that he might have killed her father. I wasn't sure how to lead into that question, but eventually figured there wasn't any easy way to do it.
"You know. The police will be probing deeply into Jimmy's life to try to prove him guilty. In order to defend him I've got to know everything—personal as well as business."
She sighed. "So, where do we start?"
"Tell me about your relationship with your husband. I've heard that you were unhappy with Jimmy's long hours and . . . and—"
"Infidelity? Is that what you're trying to say?"
"Right. I'd heard—"
"That he had a mistress stashed up at the condo?"
"No. I hadn't heard that. Did he?"
"No. Daddy did, but not Jimmy. I'm sure he screwed around a time or two, but it didn't mean anything. He's an attractive guy and the women flock to him."
Betty didn't sound so sure that it was just a time or two, but I didn't question her assessment of the situation. She was being remarkably candid and I didn't want that to stop.
"I understand your father encouraged it?"
She took a slow deep breath and twisted her neck slowly around in circles apparently trying to relieve the stress she must have been feeling. Finally, she said, "Yes, he did." She confirmed what Jimmy had told us earlier that her father insisted Jimmy be his drinking companion. She denied knowing any of the details of their escapades, but only that Jimmy was gone most of the time and she was sick of it.
"So, when did Jimmy get home that night?"
"Late. I went to bed at midnight. I was asleep when the police came at about 12:30 a.m. I told them he wasn't home so they left, but they apparently left one patrol car down the street to wait for Jimmy to come home. I had no way to warn him. They arrested him a little after 6:00 a.m. in the driveway right after he got out of his car. I didn't even get to talk to him before he was taken away."
"What did he tell you the next day when he was released on bond?"
"He told me about the fight and said he'd taken a drive to cool off. I told him he should have come got me. I would have kept him company." She confirmed the story Jimmy had told us pretty much verbatim. I wondered if it had been rehearsed. The thought occurred to me that Betty might have a lot to gain by her father's death too. I wondered if he had a will. Surely the chairman of a major thrift would have a detailed estate plan. I needed to know who stood to gain by Don's death.
"Did you father have a will?"
She nodded, "Yes, and a trust—a living trust, I think."
"Really. Who's the trustee now that your father is dead?"
She didn't answer right away. Her eyes glazed over like she was in deep thought.
"Is your mother the trustee?"
My question jerked her back to the present. She shook her head. "No, I'm the trustee. Mom can't bal
ance her checkbook."
I didn't say anything. At least Jimmy wasn't the trustee. That would have really put a nail in his coffin. I couldn't help wondering though, if both of them were working together to hide the truth. They had plenty of motive and apparently no love for dear old dad.
After a couple of hours, I had exhausted my welcome and knew it was time to leave. There was a lot more to learn about Betty and Jimmy Bennett, but it would have to wait for another day. "Well, I've got to be in court at one, so I better get going," I said and stood up and began packing my briefcase to leave. I looked up, smiled at her, and continued, "I appreciate you taking the time to fill in all the blanks. It's very important that I know everything if I'm going to effectively defend your husband. If you think of anything else that I should know, give me a call, would you?"
Our eyes met as I started to leave. She forced a smile. I sensed she had something more to say. I braced myself for I knew it couldn't be good by the look on her face. She took a deep breath and said, "There is one other thing apparently Jimmy didn't tell you. You're gonna find out anyway, so I better tell you now."
"What's that?" I said and then held my breath.
"I filed for divorce last week."
My heart sank. "Oh, my God!
We talked a few more minutes about the pending divorce. I could feel Betty's agony as she talked to me. She said she told Jimmy about it the same day her father had been murdered. Obviously the filing of the divorce was what prompted the argument between Jimmy and Don. What they argued about exactly, I didn't know, but I assumed Jimmy had blamed the destruction of his marriage on his father-in-law. I asked Betty if there was any hope of reconciliation. She said all the lonely nights had taken their toll. She didn't think the love she had once felt toward Jimmy could ever be rekindled.
I thanked her and showed myself out. As I stepped out the front door, I was awed by the light show in progress. Frequent burst of lightning illuminated the turbulent waters of Lake Lewisville. Miraculously it hadn't started to rain yet. There was a big jet drifting through the clouds on its final descent into DFW Airport. I watched it for a moment thinking about Jimmy and Betty and how turbulent their lives had suddenly become. They had been given everything a person could ever want in this life, yet they never found happiness, and now they were both alone. I got in my car and drove off feeling sad, not because I felt sorry for Betty, but because I knew all about loneliness.
Black Monday, A Stan Turner Mystery Vol 7 Page 6
