CHAPTER 7
THE EX-WIFE
Stan’s sudden departure for Ecuador on July 25 left me stunned and shaken. We were partners after all, and I didn’t expect him to desert me in the middle of the biggest murder trial to hit North Texas in twenty years. I understood that Tex was a good friend, but he didn’t have any obligation to go searching for him on another continent. I regretted not objecting more to Stan’s departure. Maybe had I verbalized my displeasure to him in no uncertain terms, he would have reconsidered. Now it was too late. Dusty Thomas’ fate was in my hands. As I sat at my desk, I made a list of the witnesses I needed to visit.
Maureen Ruth Tuttle - Bobby Tuttle’s ex-wife
Stella Tuttle Morris - Bobby’s sister
Robert Perkins - Bobby’s supervisor at the IRS
Roy Jenkins - Bobby’s best friend
I didn’t know what kind of reaction to expect when I called Maureen Tuttle. Chances were she still had feelings for Bobby so she probably wouldn’t be anxious to talk to me. When I called her she was cool but agreed to meet me for lunch. Since she lived in Highland Park, we met at a little café in Northpark known for its luscious desserts. She was a tall brunette, slender, and good looking. I wondered if the big diamond ring on her finger was a remnant of her marriage to Bobby or the promise of things to come. We were escorted to a small booth and given menus.
“This is a dangerous place to eat,” I said. “I’m addicted to strawberry cheesecake.”
“That’s why I work out every day, so I don’t have to watch what I eat,” Maureen replied.
“God, I wish I had the time to work out. It just seems like I’m always under the gun.”
“Well, that’s what you get for being a career girl. As for me, I’m old fashioned. I believe a woman’s place is at the mall.”
We laughed. The waiter showed up and took our orders. Soup and salad for me and spinach quiche for Maureen. I wondered how to discreetly steer the conversation to Maureen’s deceased ex-husband. She didn’t seem to be in mourning, so I took a gamble that she had gotten over his death.
“Listen, I hate to bother you with a bunch of questions so soon after Bobby’s death, but my client insists he’s innocent. You know how that is. They all claim to be innocent no matter how damning the evidence is, right? . . . Anyway, I’m duty bound to investigate and see if there is any evidence to support his claim. Can’t have an innocent man convicted of Bobby’s death.”
“No, but I seriously doubt you’ll find any evidence to support his innocence. From what I understand your client was caught red-handed.”
“It does appear that way, but appearances can be deceptive. Let me start by asking you to tell me something about Bobby. Describe him—give me a little background information on him.”
“Sure. Let’s see. Bobby was a Leo. He was a leader and liked to be in control. Of course, he was very intelligent, had a big ego, and was exceedingly self-centered. That’s why we’re not married anymore. He treated me like I was his personal love slave—always giving me orders and telling me what I could or couldn’t do. ”
“Why did you marry him? That kind of personality is hard to disguise.”
“He’s very good looking and can charm a girl out of her pantyhose, if you know what I mean. . . . Anyway, I fell in love and, as they say, ‘love is blind.”
“Where did Bobby grow up?”
“California—the Bay Area. His father was a salesman for IBM and his mother managed a bookstore. He joined the Army when he was 17 and, after serving four years as a quartermaster, left the service and went to college under the GI bill. He got his Associates Degree from Richland College and then joined the IRS.”
“So, how long were you two married?” I asked.
“Six years. Fortunately, we didn’t have children. It was a joint decision. Neither of us wanted to be tied down. We wanted to enjoy life while we were young. In retrospect it was probably a mistake. Our life never seemed to have purpose.”
“So, how did Bobby like his job?”
“He absolutely loved it. He liked wielding power over peoples’ lives. He assumed every taxpayer he was assigned was a tax evader and it was his job to prove it. I personally wouldn’t have had the stomach for the job, but Bobby got off on it.”
“Was your divorce bitter?”
“No, not any more than usual.”
“What made you finally break up?”
“One too many nosebleeds.”
“He beat you up?”
“Nothing serious, but he’d knock me around a little from time to time to show me who was boss. I finally decided enough was enough.”
“So, did he knock anybody else around that you know of?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, it seems to me a guy like your ex-husband might have made a few enemies over the years.”
She nodded. “He had his enemies.”
“Do you know who they were?”
“There was another revenue officer, Donald Hurst, who didn’t like Bobby. I never knew why exactly, but I witnessed a few verbal exchanges between them. Bobby would never talk about it, so I can’t tell you what it was about."
“What about taxpayers?” I asked.
“Taxpayers?”
“Yes, did he ever talk about taxpayers that he didn’t like or who might not have liked him?”
“He talked a lot about Dusty Thomas. He was on the top of his ‘hit list’ as he called it.”
“Hit list?”
“Yeah, it’s a list of cases that he has where he suspects fraud or criminal activity. He devoted 80 percent of his time on those cases.”
“How many are on the ‘hit list?”
“A dozen or so, I think. I didn’t pay that much attention to it.”
“Do you know where he kept the list?”
“In his office at work, I believe.”
“Do you remember any names that your ex-husband had on the list other than Dusty Thomas?”
“Frank Milborn. You know, the professional golfer. He audited him for the last three years and turned up a lot of bogus deductions. Frank got rather irate one time and his CPA had to intervene to prevent a fight between the two.”
“Really? Any others?”
“Well, there was some charitable foundation. I don’t remember the name, but Bobby thought it was a sham and was gathering evidence to prove it. The leader of the organization was a self-righteous ignoramus and was always sending Bobby incoherent letters trying to justify the activities of the organization."
After eating lunch, including a piece of cheesecake, I thanked Maureen and went back to the office. It had been a very interesting lunch and I had learned a lot about Bobby Tuttle. He definitely was a man who had enemies. Enemies who could have killed him just as easily as Dusty. I wrote down more names on my legal pad.
Donald Hurst – revenue officer
Frank Milborn – golfer
charitable foundation – possible front for other entity
It was late in the afternoon and I was tired. As I was preparing to leave, Jodie came into my office. She seemed despondent.
She said, “Did you hear from Stan?”
“No,” I said. “Did you expect him to call?”
“Well, Rebekah and Toni have both called several times today wondering if we heard anything. I told them I hadn’t, but that I’d check with you.”
“No, not a word,” I said. “He got there okay, didn’t he?”
“Yeah, he called Rebekah when he got to Ecuador late yesterday. He told her he and Monty were going to the bank first thing this morning. They were just hoping he might have called.”
“Are they in the same time zone?” I asked.
“No, I think it’s an hour or two earlier there.”
“Well, I bet he’ll call Rebekah at home tonight. Anyway, I wouldn’t worry about it.”
Jodie nodded and went back to her office. She stuck her head in a few minutes later and said she was leaving. I told her goodnight and started
to gather my things together to go home when the phone rang. I considered whether to answer it or let it be picked up by the answering service. On the last ring I picked it up.
“Turner & Waters,” I said.
“This is the oversees operator. I have a collect call from Tex Weller. Will you accept the charges?”
“Yes, of course.”
“Hello,” Tex said.
“Hello.”
“Jodie?”
“No, this is Paula—Stan’s new partner.”
“Oh, is Stan there?”
“No, he’s in Ecuador looking for you.”
“You're kidding.”
“No, where are you?”
“I’m in jail in Quito. They finally let me make a phone call. Would you tell Stan I need his help?”
“Yes, just as soon as he calls. What are they charging you with?”
“Theft, forgery, and a long list of other charges. Please tell Stan I’m in a jail in Quito, Ecuador. It’s in the old city and they say they’re going to move me to a prison nearby in a few days.”
“I will. I’m glad you're okay. Stan will figure something out. Don’t worry.”
I hung up the phone shaken by the conversation. It hadn't occurred to me that Tex might be involved in criminal activity. Stan hadn't told me much about the purpose of Tex's visit to Ecuador. What bothered me was that Stan had Tex's money. The Feds might think he was involved with him. I had to get in contact with Stan and warn him. Unfortunately, I didn’t know how to reach him. I would just have to wait. In the meantime I called Toni.
“Toni?”
“Yes.”
“This is Paula Waters—Stan’s new partner.”
“Oh, yes. How are you?”
“Okay, listen. I just got a call from Tex.”
“Oh my God! Is he all right?”
“Yes, he sounded fine.”
“Oh, I’m so relieved. You can’t believe how worried I’ve been. . . . So when will he be back?”
“Listen, I’m sorry to have to tell you this but Tex is in a bit of trouble.”
I explained the situation to her.
“I told him not to get involved in any more shady deals. We don’t need the money.”
“Well, Stan is down there so just as soon as he calls I’ll have him go see Tex. Maybe he’ll be able to straighten things out.”
“Oh, God. He’s got to help him. Should I get on a plane and go down there?”
“No. Don’t do that. Let Stan handle it for now.”
“Okay, but I’m so worried. I won’t be able to sleep until he comes home.”
“I know. I’ll keep you posted. I’m sure everything will work out.”
That was a lie. I had no idea how Stan was going to handle this one. He knew nothing about the criminal justice system in Ecuador, nor did I. Tension was building in my neck and my head was starting to ache. It was time to retreat to the condo and a hot shower. Maybe I’d call Stewart, my secretary, or Bart to come over and give me a massage. I didn’t feel like being alone. They would help me keep my mind off of Stan. Why hadn’t I heard from him? He should have called by now. I prayed he was okay.
Deadly Distractions, A Stan Turner Mystery Vol 6 Page 7