Tyranny of a Lover...Diary of the Wife of an Undercover informant

by Janet J. White

  "You bet it makes me unhappy," I snapped.

  The attorney stood up. "I'll give you two a few minutes to work this out." He left his office and closed the door.

  Seething with anger, I turned to Dick. "How dare you disinherit my children? So here we are. You have an old Lincoln, one beat-up bureau sitting in the garage and a box of tools--all of which goes to me. I have commercial real estate in Georgia, a variety of stocks, furs and jewelry, and money in the bank. You'd strip my children of every penny, and leave your buddy $10,000--not from your Will, because you don't have anything, but from mine. And the rest would go to you. I'm amazed you thought I'd sign this!"

  "Okay, okay," Dick quickly said. "You can outline what you want. I'll give it back and have yours redone. Let's book now." The silence in the room drew the attorney back into his office, as Dick picked up a pen and executed his Last Will and Testament.

  Ready the next day, the second Will deleted the $10,000 to Dick's detective friend and added the codicil I had requested, but, to my astonishment, it again excluded my children entirely. Dick Lee remained my sole beneficiary. I gritted my teeth and signed.

  The following day, while Dick ran errands, I typed out my new Will. My son and daughter would equally share in whatever I had to leave, aside from personal bequeaths--a ring here, a gold coin there--to other family members and special friends. To Dick Lee, I left the sum of one dollar. Poetic justice. If we were still married at the time of my demise, he would have to take it to court to break my Will and try to claim his spousal share of the estate. I took it to the bank, had it witnessed, notarized and placed in my safety deposit box. I added my brother's name for bank access, just in case.

  Dick and I had a restored l964 Plymouth Valiant station wagon, which remained with our next door neighbors, Jules and Velma, the same neighbors whose house had been burglarized by Dick's former friend, the currently incarcerated Tim Davis. Unable to affect a change in venue for my household furnishings, they were moved to Bud Miller’s Storage in early January, l983.

  Ready to leave the area, Dick loaded his Lincoln with most of his clothes, a few bottles of Jack Daniels and all of his guns. I packed my Oldsmobile Cutlass with my clothes and a few household items. We left no forwarding address.

  Leaving Sarasota, my mind rebelled at having to abandon this handpicked jewel of a city. I wondered if it could ever again be my home. Doubtful. I thought of my mother and father, buried side by side at the city’s Memorial Park. Tears sprang to my eyes and blurred my vision as I followed my husband on the journey to Killeen, Texas. There did exist one bright spot on the horizon, however. Suzie and I would be in the same state, so I hoped to be able to see my child.

  At last, we arrived in Biloxi, Mississippi, and checked into a Blue Angel Inn that Clark and Jackson now controlled. Dick stripped his clothes to shower off the road grime. "Tomorrow morning, Clark wants me to take a lie detector test."

  "You say that so casually," I said, unpacking the next day's outfit. "Aren't you concerned?"

  "Nah. Piece of cake," he said as he headed for the bathroom.

  The next morning, he carefully dressed. "How do I look?"

  "Fine, Dick. You look just fine."

  He laughed and rubbed his hands together. "Oh boy! This is going to fun. I've never taken a lie detector test before, but I'll bet you a dollar to a donut I can beat it! Clark said the test will take about an hour and a half. Gotta run. See ya later, Pussycat."

  Late in the afternoon as I lay resting, he burst into the motel room laughing.

  "Did you pass?" I asked, rousing myself.

  "Of course! How about building me a drink? I deserve one."

  I handed him a Jack Daniels and water. "What kind of questions did they ask you?"

  Sitting at the small table, he gulped down half of his drink. "One of the questions was, `Have you ever taken a controlled substance, such as marijuana, coke, speed or any hallucinogenic?' Another one was, `Have you ever taken anything from a company or corporation while employed?' Stuff like that." Dick doubled over with laughter. "Get this! I smoked a joint on the way to take the test! I lit it with a cigarette lighter that I filched from a car dealer, and I just spent more than a year setting up Clark and Jackson for the Feds."

  I looked at him in wonder. "How in the world did you fool a lie detector?"

  Dick tapped the side of his skull. "It's all mental, Jen, darlin'. On the drive there I told myself that whatever I said would be the truth. I convinced myself I wouldn’t lie, that all my lies would be the truth. You know how convincing I can be."

  "Yes, I know," I said, trying to smile.

  He got up from the table and poured himself another hefty one. "Then, as soon as the test results were in, Clark and Jackson came by and patted me on the back. Clark apologized for putting me thought the test, citing company policy. Telling me that the results as they had expected, he said that you and I were all set at the Blue Angel Inn in Killeen."

  "Oh, lest I forget," Dick beamed. "He told me my manager's salary will be $500 a week, and you'll get $300 per week as assistant manager. And dry cleaning and meals are included in the deal, so we should be able to save almost everything we make. Clark said we'll be in the ground floor apartment that's been done over. And there's a private fenced-in patio. I've already got it worked out in my mind. That built-in escape route is gonna come in real handy. What do you think of all that, Pussycat?"

  "Congratulations, Dick. I'm overwhelmed."

  Dick picked me up and swung me around the room, then gently put me down, held me at arm’s length and looked into my eyes. "Well, Pussycat, what do you think of your husband now? I told you that I could take care of you. What do you say we go out and have a T-bone steak and a bottle of bubbly to celebrate?"

  "There's no question about it Dick," I said. "You are truly amazing."

  We arrived in Killeen, Texas late in the evening during the first week of January 1983. Stepping into the dimly lit motel lobby, the burned-out overhead light bulbs could not disguise its shabbiness. Layers of grime clung to end tables adjoining sparse clusters of threadbare chairs and couches. Underfoot, the stained and filthy carpeting almost squashed when you walked on it. The floor to ceiling glass windows and doors, spattered with dead bugs and their juices, further attested to the lack of care and maintenance.

  "Everything's gong to be redone," Dick assured me. "Clark warned me that the place had been taken over by pimps and prostitutes. It's my job to get rid of them and get this place back on track."

  The current management couple moved out of the manager's apartment and into one of the suites in order to remain for a week to show us the ropes and fulfill their contract with Clark.

  My spirits lifted at seeing our quarters. The newly decorated and spacious apartment, located at the end of a long corridor off the lobby, had an ample living room, a huge master bedroom overlooking the interior courtyard, two full baths, and room-sized walk-in closets. The new kitchen contained everything from small appliances to elegant dishware and fine cooking utensils. And most important to Dick, the back door of the kitchen led directly into a patio. An eight-foot high wooden fence made for total privacy.

  The Killeen Blue Angel Inn had eighty rooms in all, twenty of which were virtually unusable. Virulent motel guests had set a number of the rooms ablaze. The walls and ceilings of other units were covered with obscene graffiti. Still others had been stripped of every stick of furniture. Even the pictures on the walls had been prided loose and carted off.

  Killeen, located in central Texas, lay halfway between Dallas and San Antonio, and was home to the largest military installation in the Western Hemisphere. Army personnel at Fort Hood numbered about 5,700.

  Their contractual obligations fulfilled, outgoing managers packed their car and sped off at dawn the first day of the second week. It seemed that they couldn't wait to distance themselves from the woebegone motel.

  Dick, with his usual gusto, tightly gripped th
e manager's reigns and began the motel metamorphoses.

  One evening, as I agonized over the newly learned trial balance form at the makeshift desk in the apartment, I heard a loud commotion in the lobby. Laying aside the work, I hurried down the long corridor and into the lobby in time to see Dick literally pushing a young couple toward the front exit. As he propelled them closer to the double front doors, the mustached man cussed and screamed at him, while the man’s companion attempted to claw at Dick's face.

  Bristling mad, Dick shouted in their ears as he shoved them along. "If you're gonna beat up your hooker, you lousy pimp, you'll do it somewhere else. Get out of my hotel and stay out!"

  "I'm coming' back for ya, man," the pimp screeched. "And it won't be just me. I got friends that don't take no shit from no fuckin' smart-ass, white honky. You gonna get it long, wide, and deep...!" Out the door they stumbled, leaving a trail of cuss words in their wake.

  Dick held the glass door open and shouted after them. "I'll be ready for you...if you make the bad mistake of coming back here!"

  At midnight, the pimp returned with three other men. The unsavory group took a few bold steps into the lobby, then stopped dead in their tracks. There stood Dick with his legs wide apart, a grin on his face, and his Thompson sub-machine gun cradled in his arms. They looked at one another wide-eyed, as Dick gave each man a long, hard look. "Good evening, gentlemen," he said in a quiet deadly voice. "Now, you boys don't really want any part of this, do you?"

  Dick patted the weapon, then slapped at the spare banana clip protruding from his waistband. "This little baby makes one hell of a mess out of a body."

  The four men backed up a few paces in unison. Dick's laser blue eyes narrowed, as he hissed at them through clenched teeth. "Let me tell you fellows what it is. If you take one step forward, instead of moving backward like you're doing, and I have to use this thing.… Well, before the funeral director snaps the casket lid down on your faces, if any of you still have a head on your shoulders...somebody will have to come along first with an armful of plastic bags and a doggie scoop just to get all the bits and pieces. You dig? Now, none of you need to say a word. Just turn around and take it on down the road."

  Blanching, the men nodded as they backed silently out of the double doors. "Oh, and another thing, you shitheads," Dick followed them out, yelling. "Pass the word around town that we don't want you or any of your friends here anymore. That was yesterday's action. Today's a brand new day at the Blue Angel Inn in downtown Killeen, Texas."

  Outside the motel, with Dick on their heels, the four men quickened their pace and scrambled into a car parked near the entrance. Just then, a police cruiser turned the corner and slowed to a crawl. The two cops in the patrol unit surveyed the situation, smiled and waved at Dick. He grinned and held up an arm in greeting. The scout car continued on its way, the driver tapping his horn in acknowledgment and ignoring the machine gun resting at Dick's side. The pimp and his three friends started their car, burning rubber as they disappeared into the night. Over time, we learned that they had taken Dick's sage advice. As long as he held the reins at the Blue Angel Inn, they never returned.

  The weeks rolled by, while Dick used his savvy street smarts and the barter system to upgrade the motel. Soon fresh flowers, replaced daily, graced white linen-covered tables in the dining room. Dick cut a deal that exchanged flowers for leftover food. It seemed that the local florist had a large family to feed.

  Dick hired an excellent chef. The redecorated lobby now sparkled, and most of the rooms had fresh paint and new furniture. He renovated the motel's convention facilities to attract Killeen's business and fraternal organizations. The motel's occupancy rate started to soar. Dick even charmed the women’s clubs into returning for banquets and weddings. Within six weeks after our arrival, he had business booming at the Blue Angel Inn. This Dick reminded me of the one I had married.

  In early February, he told me that the FBI had some money for us. "It's about time! We haven't received a cent since we've been in Texas. The Feds know Clark is paying us so they're not concerned about how we're getting along. I've been after Sonny every time we talk and he's finally arranged for us to pick up some cash today from the FBI office in Temple, about twenty miles east of here. How about finishing the accounts later and coming with me?"

  I warmed to the idea. "Sure. I'm getting a severe case of cabin fever."

  "Yeah, the motel business, especially this mess, is a rough twenty-four hour, seven day a week job. We'd better start getting out once in a while. We'll start by picking up some spare cash this afternoon. The Temple boys will be meeting us in front of the post office."

  Through past experience we knew that FBI agents traveled in pairs for any meeting outside their offices. Following procedure, they would first scope out the area before showing themselves. True to form, the two Feds pulled up in a standard four-door, gray government-issue vehicle within seconds after we had parked in front of the Temple post office. We climbed into the back seat and, after a few minutes of casual chitchat, one of them handed Dick an envelope.

  Back in our car, he tore it open. "Damn! Look at this. Chump change. Six hundred bucks, which is a hundred and fifty less than what we make in one week at the motel."

  "Did you expect more?" I asked.

  "Yeah, but I didn't ask Sonny how much and he didn’t say.”

  "Did he mention when the arrests will take place?"

  "Hell, no!" Dick started the car. "He didn't tell me diddly squat."

  Days turned into weeks and weeks into months while Dick and I stayed continually busy running the motel. Unable to take time off to visit my daughter, we managed to stay in touch with phone calls and letters. I spent my days at the apartment desk handling payroll, banking, check writing and daily balance sheets, which were then sent to Clark in Biloxi. Dick's hectic schedule ran from dawn until eight or nine in the evening. The non-stop schedule became slogging hard work for me. Not surprisingly, the fourteen-to-sixteen hour workdays didn't faze Dick. Through it all, though, a happy type of resignation prevailed, with the two of us sharing the ongoing duties.

  Dick's high energy level was surpassed only by his stellar performance in devising new ways of churning up business for the motel. In a city the size of Killeen, it didn't take long for the local folks to realize that they had a shaker and a mover in their midst. It wasn’t long before he made the front page of the local newspaper in a positive article about the improvements he was making.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  The Bust Goes Down

  “The angel of the Lord encamps around those who revere Him and delivers them.”

  -- Psalm 34:7

  I hired a night desk clerk named Kim, not a knee-weakening beauty, but a fairly attractive married woman in her mid-thirties. Soon, Dick began to spend an inordinate amount of time hovering around the lobby during her shift. Before she had arrived, Dick usually wrapped up his day around seven in the evening. We'd have dinner in the apartment, discuss the day's events, watch a little television, and then settle in for the night. Now, however, he would call from the lobby office telling me that he still had work to do and would grab a bite in the motel restaurant.

  One evening, after a particularly trying day because I had to fire one of the maids, Dick put in a rare appearance early in the evening for a shared dinner. After clearing away the dishes, I decided to turn in early. Dick turned on the television as I said, "Goodnight."

  "Why don't you take something to get a good night's sleep, Jen. I know you've had a rough day. I'm going to watch a movie, then turn in myself."

  I rarely took a sleeping pill and decided my exhaustion would do the trick. I climbed in bed and quickly fell asleep. Waking shortly before midnight, I found Dick's side of the bed empty and wondered why. Born with a huge bump of curiosity, I got up, put on slippers and a robe and padded out of the apartment, then walked down the long, glass-lined, heavily draped corridor to the lobby. The door, set at a forty-five
degree angle to the lobby, allowed observation without being seem. I pushed it open a crack.

  The lobby was deserted, except for Dick and our night clerk, Kim. They stood behind the front desk with Kim's body arched toward Dick, as she gazed intently up at him. He smiled down at her with both arms extended to the wall on either side of her as though to keep her captive. At first, I could not decipher the low, cooing sounds they were making to each other. Then Dick's voice heightened. "How about meeting me upstairs in the lounge in five minutes, when your shift ends?"

  Kim murmured seductively. "I'd like to Dick, but I don't want any trouble with your wife."

  "Not to worry. She's sleeping."

  Kim's shift ended at midnight and the cocktail lounge closed around 12:30 A.M. on weekdays, which meant they'd soon be alone in the bar. Feeling like I had stepped on an exposed electric wire, I backed away from the scene before me shocked and in pain. Then anger charged through my body, replacing the grief. I began to tremble with a hatred I had never known before. In disgust, I realized I had believed that this womanizing, Michelle-type of escapade would not happen again--at least not so soon. I waited breathlessly for a few moments more, started to speak, and then changed my mind. I turned and retreated back down the hall and into the apartment. I tried to deal with this unemotionally, but that didn't work. Back in bed, I banged my fists into the pillows, before finally dozing off. Dick woke me when he returned to our bed at dawn. Climbing into bed beside me, he leaned over and kissed me on the brow. Then he rolled over and instantly fell asleep, evidenced by his heavy breathing.

  Within days of the 'Kim' episode, Dick came into apartment as I was frantically searching the bedroom.

  "What's the matter, Pussycat? Lose something?"

  "I can't find my ruby ring! I always put my jewelry in the case inside the bureau drawer. Now, it's gone!"

  "Did you look everywhere?" Dick got down on his hands and knees and looked under the furniture. "Maybe you left it sitting on top of the bureau and the housekeeper grabbed it. You know you can't trust those blacks, they'll steal anything that's not nailed down."