Her voice fit her description, “Mr. Reno, I am confused.”
“Please, how may I ‘UN-confuse’ you?” I think I knew where this was going.
“Your friend Rita, at the Starlight, suggested I discuss my problems with you. But I couldn’t find a Carson Reno on the hotel directory or even in the phone book – just on the door of this office. Do you work for the Drake Detective Agency? I certainly didn’t get that impression from Rita. I feel rather odd asking, but something is strange.”
“Mrs. Jeffers, please don’t feel that way – it confuses everyone. Rita should have explained it to you. I own and operate the Drake Detective Agency – I AM the Drake Detective Agency – there is no one else. The name was just the result of my not wanting to use my name, Carson Reno, as the title. I realize it is odd to some, but I assure you I offer quiet and discrete investigations. I can offer some client references, if you desire.”
“Rita is reference enough for me. She and I go way back – probably further than each of us want to remember. And please call me Monica – I hate that Mrs. Jeffers tag. Seems I hear it too much already.”
“And please call me Carson,” I said with a big smile. “Monica, how may I help you?”
At this point, she took the dog from her lap and put it on the floor. It immediately headed for my beautiful fake rubber plant that always sits in the corner of my office. With no outside windows, the only natural light I have is through my glass door and glass office front that face the South lobby entrance – so a plastic plant was the only option if I wanted a plant. A former client had given me that rubber plant as a ‘thank-you’ for a job well done, and I really enjoyed its company.
“Carson, I need to apologize for Daisy – oh, I forgot to introduce you,” she interrupted herself. “This is my dog Daisy.”
I wasn’t sure how to introduce myself to a dog. I love dogs and love all animals, but have never been instructed on proper etiquette for an introduction to a dog.
So, I just said, “Hi, Daisy. Welcome to my office and welcome to the Peabody.” For some reason I don’t think Daisy was listening to me – she was studying my rubber plant.
“Daisy was a ‘bad dog’ when we came into the hotel. I’m afraid she got after the ducks and chased them all over the lobby. If it hadn’t been for that nice man, ‘Booker something’ I’m afraid she might have hurt them.”
“That would have been Mason Brown – we call him Booker –T. Yes, he is a very nice man and I suggest you extend your apology to him – not me. He is the one who cares for the ducks.”
“I will do that, thank you for telling me,” she said dismissing my suggestion. “Now, Carson, as to why I am here. I need a divorce and I need your help.”
“Monica, I don’t do divorces. I do discrete investigations. However, I do know some good lawyers if you would like me to recommend one.” She never flinched.
Glancing at Daisy, I noticed she had started to nibble at the lower leaves of my rubber plant. This dog had probably never seen a ‘fake’ plant and didn’t understand why it had no taste. So she continued to chew on one leaf, and then move to another.
“The last thing I need is another lawyer or to even KNOW another lawyer. My life has been full of lawyers for the past 20 years, and I certainly don’t need another one. No, what I should have said is that I – and one of those damn lawyers I mentioned - need your special talents. I need dirt. I need names. I need photos. I need names, dates and places. I need evidence to crucify that son-of-a-bitch Brian Jeffers.”
Monica Jeffers was one unhappy spouse. And, based upon what I saw sitting across my desk, she is not someone I would want to get on my bad side.
Meanwhile Daisy continued to eat my rubber plant.
“Okay, I’m going to need some specific information. Why don’t we walk over to the restaurant and have some coffee while you tell me about it?”
“I’m afraid I shouldn’t take Daisy out into the hotel just yet – she is still upset. Can we just have coffee here in your office?”
What about the DUCKS? Did she think they might still be upset?
“Absolutely.” I picked up the phone and ordered coffee delivered. Daisy had now progressed up to the second layer of leaves and seemed quite content to continue her attack on my rubber plant.
Over the next hour Monica shared things with me that only a woman looking for revenge would do. As a successful criminal attorney and as Memphis Mayor for 6 years, it seemed that Brian Jeffers had sowed a lot of wild oats across Shelby County.
Monica had held her tongue and tolerated what most women would not. Since none of these oats had seemed to sprout, she expected he would eventually get tired of his ways and settle down. Half way into his second term as mayor, Brian was doing just that – settling down. Then, after he lost the election, something happened. One of his closest aides died under strange circumstances – he fell off the roof of the 100 North Main building! The coroner had ruled accidental death, but at least privately, Brian had never accepted that. The aide’s name was Barry ‘Butch’ Lassiter, and according to Monica, Barry’s wife, Darlene, took over his duties. It seems she also began to take on a more active role in the new mayor’s office and a more active role with Brian as he transitioned out of office. So active that they traveled together, took extended trips for business and seemed to always be seen together. Monica was absolutely certain that this was not just jealousy on her part – she actually believed Darlene was in complete control over Brian and the mayor’s office. After her husband’s death, Darlene didn’t go away – she just got closer to Brian. So close that Monica had ordered Brian to move out – which he had done over a week ago. Her attempts to follow him didn’t work and that is why she was sitting in my office.
“Can you help?” she asked in a very businesslike voice.
“I can certainly try. Let me do some background work and I’ll get back to you in a couple of days. Will that be OK?”
“It will. What do you charge?” she asked just like she was hiring me to paint her house.
Daisy had now completely destroyed my rubber plant. There were little green plastic pieces scattered all over the floor – obviously these were once the beautiful leaves from my plant. Should I add the cost of one fake rubber plant to my quote?
“$100 a day plus expenses. Is that acceptable?”
“Definitely.” With that, she handed me a business card with just her name and phone number.
Monica Jeffers
901-463-9893
“I’ll have a contract drawn up for your signature the next time we meet,” I said graciously.
She nodded acceptance and we agreed to talk in a day or two. She picked up Daisy and left through the 2 nd Avenue exit, never mentioning my poor rubber plant!
~
I grabbed a rolling trashcan from the lobby and deposited what was left of my beautiful plant. I also added all the small pieces Daisy had left – making sure my plant could at least get a decent burial with all it former parts. Resisting the urge to cry, I pledged to have a drink later in its honor.
Back to the mail. One letter was from my fraternity, Pi Kappa Alpha, reminding me that payment was now due on my UT season ticket package. I needed to take care of that – college football was a vice I was proud to have.
The other letter was postmarked Humboldt and return addressed to Mary Ellen Maxwell. It was an invitation to a birthday party for her son, Lewis. He was turning 21 and she was planning a large event – happening at both her residence and the Humboldt Country Club. I wasn’t sure this was something I wanted to do, but since it was RSVP, I needed to let her know my answer.
As I was pondering my decision, Jack entered the office.
“Hey buddy. Sorry I’m late, but I got tied up on the phone. Where are the ducks? They get put up early today?”
“Yes, I suppose so.” I wasn’t going there with him – but am I the only one who wouldn’t notice the ducks weren’t in the fountain? “Tell me about your client.”
&
nbsp; “I’ve been retained by a Mrs. Kathy Ledbetter. Her former employer – the Bosley Buick dealership of Milan, Tennessee has charged her with embezzlement. You familiar with them?”
“Yep, I have certainly heard of them, but haven’t ever done any business there, that I remember. As I recall they are a big dealer serving several counties across West Tennessee.”
“That’s the story I got too. Mrs. Ledbetter had been bookkeeper at the business for over 12 years. One day the two owners walked into her office with the sheriff and had her arrested. I’ve stalled the preliminary hearing, and she’s free on a $100,000 bond – but I need some ammunition for the judge to keep her out of jail.”
“Interesting. What is her story?” I asked.
“Complete innocence. Her husband, Sam, is a shop foreman at the AT&T plant. They live modestly and I’ve not been able to find one evil thing either of them have done.”
“And the money?” Now I was curious.
“It’s missing all right. An external audit has uncovered 2 million dollars missing over the course of the last 5 years. But if Kathy and Sam have the money, they have it well hidden. Carson, I believe her. I believe she is innocent and, for some reason, is being set up.”
“Why her?”
“Good question and one somebody will answer when we get to the preliminary hearing. But, she is an obvious culprit – one of a limited few who had the opportunity and authority to skim money from the business.”
“The others with the opportunity and authority would be the owners. Right?”
“Right. Charles and Carlon Bosley – brothers. They have owned and operated the business for the past 25 years – same location.”
“Jack, who requested the audit? Was it a routine matter of business or something that came from a vendor or supplier request?”
“Carson, you are one sharp guy. The audit was requested by GMAC, their primary auto loan lender, and they hold the floor plan on their cars.”
“So, you smelled the same rat I did – correct?”
“Correct, and I need you to look into it and see what you can come up with. Something I can take to the hearing and maybe get this dismissed before it ever gets started. I have a hunch these guys are stalling and, for some reason, are using Kathy Ledbetter as a delay to the inevitable. I hate to ask you to go back to Humboldt – but somehow I don’t think you’ll mind that much.”
“Ha! Well it just so happens I have here on my desk a formal invitation to a party in Humboldt. Perhaps I’ll just make that party and use that as an excuse to look into the Ledbetter/Bosley case. Will that be okay with you?”
“Yep. Keep me up to date – you know the routine. By the way – what happened to your rubber plant?”
“It died – lack of water.”
“A plastic plant? Are you crazy?”
“Yes, I am crazy. Go away. I’ll call you when I make my trip.”
As quickly as he closed the door Marcie opened it.
“My, you are a busy man today. Mrs. ‘Ex-Mayor’ already gone?” she asked looking around.
“Yes, and she took that mutt Daisy with her.”
“So that is what she was yelling – ‘Daisy’. I couldn’t understand what she was yelling across the lobby while that dog was chasing the ducks. Funny.”
“Not really. Marcie, please take this invitation from Mrs. Mary Ellen Maxwell and offer my positive RSVP. Do whatever it is you do – send a note, phone, letter or whatever. Just tell her I would be happy to attend. Okay?”
“Can do. I’ll also put it on your calendar. By the way – what happened to your rubber plant?” Marcie asked pointing to the empty corner.
“It died – lack of water.”
“Water? I thought it was a plastic plant?”
“It was. Just go away and send that RSVP. I’m headed down to the public library and then to the Starlight for the rest of the afternoon. I will see you tomorrow.”
Marcie left, still staring at the empty corner my rubber plant once called home.
~
I stopped at the Memphis Public Library. If I didn’t find what I wanted here, I would run over and look in the Commercial Appeal archived files.
If you didn’t know it already, reading the newspapers would tell you these are strange, tough and violent times. Our President, John Kennedy, is on the verge of sending federal troops to the University of Mississippi to protect James Meredith. Some countries, mostly our country, were conducting a nuclear test explosion in some remote part of the world every week. If that wasn’t enough, President Kennedy has issued a blockade of Cuba - stopping all shipping into and out of the Cuban port of Havana. Besides making it difficult for me to get Cuban cigars, I believed this situation would have much more serious consequences.
I was looking for local news surrounding Barry ‘Butch’ Lassiter and his accidental death. There were many articles by a number of reporters, but most of those were reported immediately after the incident and were thin and full of speculation. I located one interesting article by a Watson Clark who seemed to have some inside information but, for whatever reason, the details never made it to print. He hinted that the political problems surrounding city and county consolidation could have been behind the incident and would have been a topic of discussions at the roof top meeting. I needed to talk with Mr. Clark.
The facts of the incident, as reported, seemed simple. It was a political fund-raiser for Brian Jeffers. At some point during the cocktail party, Barry Lassiter became drunk and accidentally fell over the railing – falling 300 feet to his death. End of story.
Reported present at the fund raiser were (among others):
Brian Jeffers - Mayor
Roger Thurbush – Vice Mayor (now the newly elected mayor)
Barry Lassiter – Chief Aide
Darlene Lassiter – Wife of Barry Lassiter
Steve Carrollton – Major contributor to Mayor Jeffers
Susan Oakley – Mayor’s political advisor
Sandra Thurbush –Wife of vice mayor
Randy Price – Mayor’s bodyguard
Chuck Hutchinson – Memphis Police Chief
Carlton Scruggs – Shelby County Sheriff
And if you can believe this:
Bubba Knight – Associate of Steve Carrollton
Bobby James – Associate of Steve Carrollton
Steve Carrollton was currently in jail. He had been indicted on a Federal weapons charge stemming from incidents related to stealing weapons from military institutions. He was also known as the head of the ‘Memphis Mafia’, with a center of operations on Beale Street. I was familiar with Steve and his criminal operations and surprised to see him as a major contributor to Brian Jeffers.
Bubba and Bobby were the strong arm of Steve’s operation and we had previously had some unfriendly contact. I didn’t know their current whereabouts.
I made note of the names of those at the fundraiser, with plans to talk with as many of them as I could.
~
H appy hour (2PM – 4 PM) had long passed by the time I reached the Starlight. Rita seated me at my usual table and promised to make sure my waitress, Ruthie, got me a Jack and Coke as quickly as possible. As she walked away, I asked her to join me when business permitted – she agreed.
I know I have said this before but Rita is one class act. She was a former beauty queen and once crowned Miss Memphis. This lady hasn’t lost a thing with age – she still has those terrific looks and manner that won her so many awards and titles. I must also add that she is one of my best friends.
Rita casually sat down while directing one of the other hostesses to handle the door. “Well, handsome, what can we do for you? You are well behind schedule – tough day?”
“Yes, I lost a close friend today.”
“Oh NO. I am so sorry. What happened?”
“They were eaten by a small white dog!”
“Carson, what are you talking about?”
“Never mind. Tell me about Monica Jeffers. I saw h
er today and she said she had talked with you. She a friend?”
“In fact – yes. She and I went to Whitehaven High together and did some beauty pageants in our earlier years. I even had her daughter enrolled in my ‘beauty training school’ a few years ago. The daughter has moved on and gotten married, I understand, but Monica and I have remained close. She has a lot of baggage, mostly from that asshole, Brian, but I think of her as a friend and basically good people.”
“Beauty School? When do you find time to do that? I never knew you not be standing at this front door!”
“Well, we all must make ends meet. It’s something I’ve been doing for a few years, and only during the mornings and evenings I have off. I mostly work with young girls who want to join the beauty review circuit. Not a big deal, but something I enjoy.”
“I never knew and, as I have always said, you amaze me.” I was honest.
“Please help Monica if you can,” Rita said squeezing my hand. “She is in more trouble than she probably revealed to you. It’s political, and unless she gets rid of Brian, it will probably spill over to her personally.”
“Other than what you have said and what she told me, is there anything that I should know before I go kicking over political cans?”
“No. But I promise to stay in touch with her and feed any information back to you. That okay?”
“Certainly, and you know it is. I’m going to start looking into the death of Barry Lassiter and see where that takes me. Is that a good idea?” I asked Rita.
“Excellent idea. I’ve got to relieve Ruthie. I’ll watch over you and talk with you later!” She turned to leave and then came back.
“You asked me about my ‘beauty training school’. Did you know I once had an ex Humboldt Strawberry Princess enrolled?”
“No, but I don’t spend a lot time in Humboldt. Who was it?”
The Price of Beauty in Strawberry Land Page 2