Chapter 30
Bill Ross flew into DFW Airport and rented a car. It was his last lead and he was afraid it wouldn’t pan out. Matt had been told by the warden’s secretary that he needed to talk to an inmate named Cecil Walker. Matt had tried to locate him before he was released but had been unsuccessful. Bill hoped that Cecil Walker would talk to him. He didn’t know how he would react when a stranger came to visit him. When he got to Texarkana he went straight to the visitor’s center and put in a request to see him. Two and a half hours later Bill was directed into a visiting area and told to go to booth eleven. He sat down and waited.
“Mr. Walker, I’m Bill Ross, a private investigator.”
“Okay, so what do you want with me?”
“Well, we got a tip that you had some information that might be helpful to our investigation.”
“So what are you investigating?”
“MidSouth Bank and its chairman, Frank Hill.”
“I don’t know anything about them.”
Bill took a deep breath wondering if he was the victim of a practical joke. He pulled out a notepad and flipped a few pages.
“Okay, I’m going to read off the names of some people involved in our investigation. If you’ve heard of any of them, let me know.”
“Why should I help you?”
“You don’t have to, of course. But if you do know something, we’ll need you as a witness and they’ll have to send you to Washington, D.C. for God knows how long. They’ll probably keep you in a hotel somewhere while you testify.”
Walker smiled. “And when I get back here, how long 'till I get knocked off for having a big mouth?”
Bill took a deep breath. “Listen, I don’t know how you fit into the puzzle I’m trying to solve, but if you lead me to the missing piece, there will be ten thousand dollars immediately wired to any bank account you name.”
Walked raised his eyebrows. “Okay, you got my attention. Let me hear the names.”
Bill looked down at his notepad and said, “Martha Simonton,” Walker shook his head no. “Roxanne Witherspoon?” He responded with another negative nod. “Matt Coleman.”
“I’ve heard of him. He used to be in this prison, didn’t he?”
“Right. Do you know anything about him?”
“No, not really—just that he’s planning some big scam against that bank you mentioned. MidSouth I believe.”
Bill listed a half dozen more names and Walker shook his head no. Then Bill asked him about Doug Barnes.
“Yeah, I’ve heard that name. My girlfriend knew him.”
“Really? Who’s your girlfriend?”
“Debbie Rallston. She’s a massage therapist at Beverly Hills Spa & Massage in Dallas. One of her customers was a guy named Hans Schultz. He came in for a massage a couple times a week and they would talk. One day he was in the middle of a massage when this Barnes guy shows up. They tell her to get lost but she’s curious as to what’s so important to interrupt her work, so she doesn’t go off too far. She listens and hears them talking about your friend, Matt Coleman, and how he’s up to something. Barnes is really upset about it and insists Hans go look into it right away.”
“So, your girlfriend saw Hans Schultz and Doug Barnes together discussing Matt Coleman?”
“Exactly.”
“Thank you, Cecil. You’re just what we need to put Frank Hill out of business. . . . I’m curious though, what are you in here for?”
“Theft. I helped sell the contents of a hijacked eighteen-wheeler. I was on drugs at the time and desperate for money.”
Bill nodded sympathetically. “Do you know the warden’s secretary?”
“Sure. I was assigned to janitorial duty in the warden’s office for a couple of months. I got to know her pretty well.”
“You must have talked a lot?”
“Yeah, she’s a very friendly lady.”
“Thank God for that,” Bill said, feeling exhilarated as the case against Frank Hill and MidSouth Bank finally came together.
“You don’t happen to know her connection to Matt Coleman, do you?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, she seems to like him a lot.”
“Oh, yeah. She mentioned that. His firm filed bankruptcy for her sister in Dallas—said it was the best thing that ever happened to her.”
Bill chuckled as he took down Walker’s wife’s bank account number so he could wire him his reward. A wave of relief washed over him as the final piece to his puzzle was now in place.
Plastic Gods, A Rich Coleman Novel Vol 2 Page 48
