Chapter 12
Stan’s investigation into the Shepard murders took a nosedive after he realized Brad Thornton and his bodyguard, Todd Watson, were probably not behind it. It was looking more like Carlos Morales and the Burilo cartel were behind the massacre. Since the FBI was anxious to get information that would advance their investigation of the cartel anyway, Stan adjusted his focus in that direction.
But it was a much more dangerous and challenging proposition to dig into the operation of a drug cartel rather than a simple businessman. Since Stan didn’t have a death wish, he didn’t have any intention of going to Mexico City to continue his investigation. This left him dead in his tracts with no idea where to look next. About a week later, he unexpectedly caught a break when Paula informed him Commissioner Paul Barnes had retained Professor Harry Hertel to represent him in the FBI investigation of the Silver Springs Ventures.
“Professor Hertel tells me you recommended him to Barnes,” Paula said.
“Yes, I did. I figured he was already up to speed on the case.”
“Uh huh,” she said wryly. “So now we’re both going to get an A in Criminal Procedure.”
Stan shrugged, stifling a smile. “More importantly than a good grade will be the fact that I will have access to some good intel that may be helpful in my investigation of the Shepard murders.”
“What makes you think the professor will share what he uncovers? He’s got attorney-client privilege to worry about.”
“He can hire me as a volunteer law clerk so anything I learn will be protected. And, should I uncover any evidence that will help in Barnes’ defense, I’ll share it.”
“Sounds like a fair trade. I’ll talk to him about it.”
“So, you two are still—”
“Yes. I’m not about to break it off until semester break, and my ‘A’ is in the books.”
“Right,” Stan said, shaking his head.
“Don’t give me that sanctimonious look,” Paula spat. “You’re no angel!”
“No, I’m not. Did I say I was?”
“You use women just like I use men.”
“How do you mean?” Stan protested.
“You cozy up to every good-looking woman you meet—flirting with them, patiently listening to every word that comes out of their mouths, making them feel like you really care about them until they’d do anything for you.”
Stan looked at Paula, shocked by her outburst. “I do care about them, even if I can’t take them to bed. Sure, it may be partially a sexual attraction, I don’t deny that, but I have a lot of respect for them too and I’m always up front about being married and just wanting to be friends. Fortunately, honesty doesn’t seem to drive them away.”
“You’re right. I’m sorry. Forget I ever said anything,” Paula said quickly, wiping a tear from her eye.
“I’m not trying to hurt anybody,” Stan added.
Paula nodded. “We better get to class.”
A few days later, Professor Hertel caught Stan after class and thanked him for the Barnes referral. He said Paula had told him about trading information and it sounded like a good idea. Stan worried for a moment about the possibility of a conflict of interest in that he was giving information to the FBI and also to a potential defendant who may be charged with a crime the FBI was investigating. He finally decided both the prosecution and the defense were entitled to know the facts, so as long as he wasn’t privy to trial strategy he wouldn’t have any ethical concerns. Later that afternoon, Stan and Professor Hertel met in his office to discuss their respective investigations.
“I’ve got an investigator looking into Brad Thornton, Calidad Interests, Ltd., and Carlos Morales,” Professor Hertel said. “Barnes claims he didn’t know anything about Morales’ connection to the Burilo crime family. He thought it was a legitimate investment.”
“Did he actually invest $100,000, or was that a sham?” Stan asked.
“Not initially. He signed a note for the hundred grand and then paid it back from profits.”
“That’s a hell of a deal. Didn’t he think that was kind of odd?”
“No. It’s like trading on margin in the stock market. You buy stock on credit hoping the price will go up. If it goes up, you make a nice profit without any additional money invested. If the stock goes down, you still have to pay the loan off, even if you didn’t make any money. Many fortunes have been lost trading on margin.”
“Right,” Stan said. “Leveraging your investment. I studied it in economics at UCLA.”
“So, in this case, had the venture not been profitable, Barnes would have had to pay back the $100,000 loan.”
“Right,” Stan said, “except everybody knew this venture couldn’t lose money because the cartel was pumping so much cash into it.”
“Maybe, but that’s going to be awfully hard for the feds to prove. Barnes may have simply been an unwitting pawn of Brad Thornton’s criminal venture.”
“Sounds like a good defense to me,” Stan said. “Rob claimed it was a legitimate investment too.”
“He told you that?”
“Un huh—before the FBI questioned him.”
“Good. I may have to call you as a witness.”
“Whatever helps.”
“Okay. I’ve told you what I have. What do you have for me?”
Stan told Professor Hertel everything he’d learned since their last conversation, in particular what he’d given the FBI.
“That prospectus could be helpful. I’ll have to request a copy from the FBI.”
“Yeah. It would be interesting to know if Barnes had ever seen it. Hopefully he hasn’t.”
“Yes. Fortunately, he doesn’t have to testify, so the feds won’t ever find out the answer to that question.”
After his meeting with Professor Hertel, Stan went to Cosmopolitan Life to turn in his applications for the week and talk to his boss. The offices were downtown, across the street from Neiman Marcus. Stan had to park in the nearest parking garage and then walk several blocks to the Cosmopolitan Towers. Their offices occupied the eighth through eleventh floors, but the agents’ cubicles were on the ninth. The elevator attendant looked expectantly at Stan when he stepped in. Stan told him he needed to go to the ninth floor. The man closed the gate and pushed a lever. The elevator creaked and moaned as it climbed upward.
The seasoned agents at Cosmopolitan Life had cubicles or small offices, but the debit agents were lucky to get a desk. Stan’s desk was one of eight in a small, stark room called “the bull pen.” A tall, skinny man with glasses looked up at Stan as he sat down at his desk.
“Stan. Haven’t seen you in a while.”
“Hi, Ned. Yeah, I’ve been busy.”
“Read about you in the paper. You’re going to be Kristina Tenison’s campaign manager. huh? She’s hot!”
“Yeah. She does look good, doesn’t she?”
“If you’re such a hotshot politician, why are you selling insurance for Cosmopolitan Life?”
“I’m a poor hotshot politician with a family that likes to eat,” Stan replied.
“There was a woman around here looking for you,” Ned said.
Stan looked at Ned, startled by the revelation. It would be unusual for anyone to come to his office. Agents almost always went to their prospects’ homes or places of business.
“Who was it?” Stan asked.
“I don’t know. I never saw her before. She was good looking, but a little old—thirty-five, I’d say.”
“Did she leave a number?”
“Check with Becky at reception. I saw her talking to her.”
“Okay, thanks.”
Stan went to the receptionist and asked if there were any messages for him. Becky looked through a stack of pink message slips and handed one to Stan. He looked at it and was surprised to see that it was from Melissa Thornton. Stan put the message in his pocket and went back to his desk.
“So, what’s her name?”
“Melissa Tho
rnton.”
“Oh, the mobster’s wife?” Ned said.
“Why do you say he’s a mobster? He hasn’t even been indicted yet.”
“It’s just a matter of time.”
“Even if he is indicted, there’s still a presumption of innocence.”
“Just a technicality.”
“Well, I hope you don’t ever show up on one of my jury panels.”
Ned laughed. “So, what does she want from you?”
“I don’t know. I guess I’ll have to call her to find out.”
Stan picked up the phone and dialed the number. The phone rang several times before Melissa picked up. “Hello.”
“Mrs. Thornton? This is Stan Turner.”
“Hi. Stan. How are you?”
“Fine. Hey, we really enjoyed your party. I’m sorry about all the hassle with the FBI.”
“Thank you. It has been a rather nasty affair.”
“I bet. So, what can I do for you?”
“I need to buy some life insurance.”
“Really? For you or for Brad.”
“For both of us. I suddenly realized that if something happened to Brad, I’d be destitute.”
“What about all your property—your home and the house on Maui?”
“Oh, none of that’s in our name.”
Stan didn’t know what to make of Melissa’s sudden interest in buying life insurance. He didn’t want to turn down a legitimate sale, but the thought occurred to him that maybe she knew Brad was about to get whacked and wanted to be sure she cashed in on his death. He finally decided it wouldn’t hurt to talk to her if he took precautions.
“Okay. We should meet. Can I come by your house? Brad will have to sign the application.”
“He’s out of town. We can work out all the details, and then he can sign the application when he gets back.”
“Okay,” Stan said. “When should I come by?”
“Tonight. Say seven?”
“Alright. I’ll see you then.”
Stan looked at Ned and shrugged. “She wants to buy life insurance.”
“You lucky son of a bitch,” Ned moaned. “I don’t think in ten years I’ve had one lousy call-in. She’ll probably want a big policy too. Be sure and tell her if she murders her husband, the company won’t pay.”
Stan laughed. “Of course. That’s the first thing I’ll tell her.”
“She doesn’t really want to buy a policy, does she?” Ned questioned.
“I don’t know. She may just want to talk to me.”
“Well, I hope she does buy a big policy, for your sake. Either way, be careful.”
“I will,” Stan said thoughtfully.
When Stan got home, he told Rebekah about Melissa’s call. He knew if he was going over to Melissa’s house, Rebekah needed to know about it so she wouldn’t be upset if she somehow heard about it later. She didn’t like the idea.
“Can you get life insurance when the FBI is investigating you?”
“Well, there hasn’t been an indictment yet, but it could get held up in underwriting pending the outcome of the investigation. I’m inclined to think she just wants to talk.”
“You should call the FBI and tell them you’re meeting with her.”
“Yeah. I should.”
Stan went to the telephone and dialed Agent Rutledge’s number. “Yes,” Agent Rutledge said.
“Hi. This is Stan Turner.”
“Oh. Hi, Stan.”
“You said to call you if I needed backup.”
Agent Rutledge laughed.
“Who’d you piss off now?”
“Nobody yet. I got a call from Melissa Thornton. She says she wants to buy some life insurance, but I kind of doubt that’s why she wants to see me.”
“That is rather odd. Why don’t you come by? We’ll put a wire on you in case she says something incriminating.”
“I don’t need a wire. I’ve got a recorder in my briefcase that we use for sales training.”
“You sure it’s reliable?”
“Oh, yeah. It works great, and the customer never knows they’re been taped. I didn’t call you really for backup. I doubt Melissa Thornton is going to try to hurt me. I just wanted to give you a heads up so you wouldn’t be surprised if you saw us together or heard us on one of your wires.”
“When are you meeting?” Agent Rutledge asked.
“Tonight at seven at her home. Her husband’s out of town apparently.”
“He is? I wasn’t informed he’d left the city.”
Stan chuckled. “Maybe he gave you the slip.”
“Or Melissa is lying.”
“Right.”
“Okay. We’ll be close by if you need us. I want that tape when the meeting is over.”
“Not a problem. Just come by the house later, and I’ll give it to you.”
Stan hung up the telephone and looked at Rebekah. She shook her head and went back into the kitchen to finish cooking supper. Stan heard the kids playing in the back yard and went out to join in the fun. After supper, Stan got his briefcase, put in fresh batteries in the recorder, and made sure he had applications and the right rate book in case she was serious about life insurance. He kissed Rebekah goodbye and left.
When he got to the Thornton residence, he looked around to see if he could see any FBI agents lurking about. He didn’t see anybody. There were a few cars on the street, but they all seemed unoccupied. After a minute, he got out, went to his trunk, and pulled out the briefcase. The house seemed dark, which he thought was unusual, but he figured Mrs. Thornton was just in a back room. It was a big house. He knocked on the door and waited. After a moment, the door opened a crack, and Stan heard Melissa say to come in. Stan stepped inside and closed the door. He heard footsteps walking quickly away, and when he glanced that way he saw Melissa, half naked, slipping into her bedroom. He looked away embarrassed.
“I’m not dressed yet!” Melissa yelled from her bedroom. “Have a seat. I’ll be right with you.
He went into the study, took a seat, and set his briefcase down where he could stealthily engage the record button on the audio recorder. When she appeared fully dressed ten minutes later, Stan stood up and engaged the recorder. He wondered if she knew he’d seen her naked breasts. She seemed at ease, so he guessed she hadn’t realized it or had wanted him to see them. Either way, he knew it was going to be an interesting evening.
“We can’t talk here, Stan. I’m sure they have the place bugged.”
“Oh, really?” Stan said, trying to act surprised.
“Yes. Let’s go up the street to IHOP and have a cup of coffee.”
“Okay,” Stan said tentatively.
She got up, and Stan followed her into the garage. A red Corvette Stingray sat majestically in the big garage that was as clean and organized as her study. She opened the door, and Stan ran around to the other side and climbed in. There wasn’t much room, so he held the briefcase in his lap. After they’d shut the doors and buckled up, the garage door opened, she started the engine and backed quickly out of the garage. Stan looked in his rearview mirror but didn’t see anyone following them.
“So, Kristina’s running for state representative?”
“Right?” Stan replied, wondering if IHOP was really their destination. Much to his relief, Melissa turned into the IHOP parking lot and found a parking spot. They went inside and were seated immediately. After they’d been served, Melissa got to the point.
“Listen, Stan,” Melissa said softly so no one around them could hear. “You’ve got to stop your investigation.”
Stan frowned. “Why?”
She swallowed hard. “You’re upsetting some very powerful people. I know you’re just trying to clear Rob’s name, but in the process, you’re giving the FBI some damaging evidence against them.”
“Who are we talking about? Carlos Morales?”
“He and others more powerful. You need to call off your investigators.”
“I don’t have any invest
igators,” Stan protested.
“Well, there is some professor at SMU who’s hired investigators. I was told you and he are working together.”
“Who told you that?”
“I don’t know.”
“Well, Professor Hertel is representing Commissioner Barnes. He’s got some investigators working the case.”
“They must be the ones. Stop them or the consequences will be most tragic.”
A cold chill washed over Stan. He stared at Melissa for a moment and then said, “Who told you to give me this warning?”
“Nobody. I’m doing it because I don’t want any more bloodshed.”
“Do you know who killed Rob and his family?”
She turned away. “That’s all I have to say. Get out an application. I want to buy an insurance policy on my life.”
“Are you serious?”
“Yes. This meeting must look like business. Make my daughter the beneficiary—Amanda Sue Thornton. She’s a sophomore at A&M. She wants to be a doctor, and I promised her I’d help her get through medical school.”
Stan reluctantly opened his briefcase slightly and pulled out an application. He closed it quickly so she wouldn’t see the recorder and then started filling it out.
“How much do you want?”
“Give me $500,000.”
“Whole life or term?”
“What’s the difference?”
“Whole life is more expensive, but the premiums won’t go up. It’s got an investment aspect to it.”
“Give me term if it’s cheaper.”
Stan nodded and completed the application. When he was done, he had her sign it and got a check for the first month’s premium.
“This isn’t effective until the company issues the policy. You’ll have to have a physical for a policy this size.”
“How long will that take?”
“I can have a doctor come by tomorrow.”
“Good. Have him call to make sure I’m here.”
“Right,” Stan said and returned the application to his briefcase.
“Thank you for meeting me, Stan. Please quit worrying about Rob. He’s dead. Think about the living.”
Stan nodded but didn’t reply. Shortly thereafter, they drove back to her house and parked the Corvette back in the garage. Stan admired the vehicle as he got out and wondered if he’d ever be able to afford one for himself. Melissa noticed Stan admiring the car and smiled.
“Pretty nice ride, huh?”
Stan nodded and followed Melissa back into the house. As she stepped into the kitchen, a man came out of the shadows and grabbed her. He put one hand over her mouth and the other one around her waist. Seeing the attack, Stan rushed in to help her. Just as he cleared the door, another man grabbed Stan and wrestled him to the ground. Stan smelled a strong odor before he felt lightheaded and became limp.
Disillusioned, A Stan Turner Mystery Vol 2 Page 12