At 9:30 a.m., Walters went back to Scott Winslow's office and was there for a couple of hours. Pretty damn boring, Jerry thought to himself as he waited. When Walters came out, he drove home. Jerry found another discreet place that gave him a view of the residence. He felt frustrated and anxious. He had to make something happen.
At 1:30 p.m., Kevin and Julia Walters came out of their house together. They got into a Volvo talking and oblivious to his presence. Jerry followed them at a careful distance for several miles, where they entered the mall parking lot. He parked a few rows away from them and watched as they entered a main mall entrance. Jerry followed on foot.
This was it. Right here in plain sight he would do this. Jerry walked through the mall until he saw Walters and Julia standing in the Starbucks Coffee line. He positioned himself about thirty feet away and waited until they got their coffees and sat at a small table in the mall area. He pulled a burner phone from his pocket and dialed the number. Jerry stood against the wall, leaving Walters no direct line of vision to his position. People moved between Jerry and Starbucks in every direction.
As he watched, Walters looked at his phone and put it to his ear.
“Hello.” Jerry considered his next words as Walters repeated the greeting. “Hello.”
“Hello, Kevin Walters.”
“Yes.”
“It's time for you to dismiss your lawsuit.”
“What? Who is this?”
“I'm the guy who is going to make sure you do the right thing. You have three days to get your lawsuit dismissed. Do you understand?”
“Who is this?” Kevin looked at his phone. The readout just said unknown caller.
“Three days, Mr. Walters. That is all.” He paused and then added, “Enjoy your coffee,” before hanging up.
He watched as Walters ran from Starbucks, looking around in all directions, searching desperately to identify the caller. Jerry smiled as he walked along slowly, staring into store windows and not looking in the direction of Walters. The adrenalin coursed through him, and he knew that he was on his way to redemption and to earning Michael Constantine's respect. Maybe he would find a place to celebrate this great day.
* * *
Lisa Winslow stood behind a lectern and addressed the local association of Realtors at the monthly meeting. “We all want our deals to work. If we don't get the deal to the finish line, we don't get paid, right?” Nodding all around. “But not at any cost. Look, we have a legal and an ethical obligation to our clients to disclose what we are aware of. And we have a legal obligation to the other side to disclose what might make a difference to them in whether they go through with the transaction. I'm a believer that if we do it right, a deal may or may not work, but the folks we take good care of will come back to us and will recommend us. And on the practical side, anyone who has ever been named in a lawsuit because of some condition on a property knows that it is stressful regardless of whether there is merit to the claim.” She stopped and took a drink of water as heads nodded around the room.
“In conclusion, let me say that my rule is easy to remember. If I know something about a property, I disclose it. If it concerns you at all, disclose it. When in doubt, disclose it. Nobody ever got sued for disclosing too much information about a property.” There were smiles around the room. “You will still close most of your deals, and the ones that don't go forward may have caused you heartburn for some time if they did. Thanks, everyone. I have to run off to my next presentation today, at my son's school.” There was enthusiastic applause as Lisa walked from the lectern.
An hour later, Lisa walked into Joey's class and was introduced by Ms. Hammond. She was not only Joey's teacher, but a former client who had purchased her house through Lisa. Audrey Hammond addressed her class. “Boys and girls, we have a real treat today. Joey's mom, Lisa Winslow, is here to talk to us about her career in real estate. She is not only a successful real estate broker, she is a friend who helped me find my house. Let's welcome her,” Audrey Hammond said to the class and began clapping. The class followed suit.
“Good morning, everyone. I'm happy to talk to you this morning about what I do because I really like it. You guys all have a home you go to every day, right?” Nodding all around. “Ever wonder how that ended up being your house?” Some head-shaking, some vacant stares. “Well, if your folks bought a house, they probably used someone like me to help them find it. Part of my job is to figure out what people are looking for in a house, such as the number of bedrooms and bathrooms, how much space they need, what they need in a kitchen, and where they would like to be so that they can get to work. After we have that figured out, I find houses that come as close as possible to what they want, and then I show them those houses. We try to find the one they like the most and that they can afford.” She glanced at Joey, who didn't look embarrassed yet.
“If you think about how your house is different from some of the houses where your friends live, you can see that there are a lot of choices when a family is buying a house. You want your house to be comfortable and a good place to raise your family. So part of my job is to help people find a house that they can afford and that works really well for their family. Another part is helping them make the deal once they find that house. Does anyone have questions?”
A girl in the front row raised her hand. “Yes. What is your name?” Lisa asked.
“My name is Sophia Sanchez.”
“And what is your question?”
“Houses cost a lot, right? So where do people get money to buy them?”
“A very good question, Sophia. You are right, houses are expensive, so most people get loans from banks that they pay back every month for about thirty years.”
“Thirty years?” a boy in the back said, incredulously.
“Put your hand up first, Phillip,” Ms. Hammond said. Phillip's hand flew up.
“Sure, Phillip, go ahead,” Lisa said, with a smile.
“So you have to pay this money your whole life—until you're almost dead?”
“Well, hopefully, you are not almost dead by then,” Lisa replied, “but a big loan is really the only way most people can buy a house.”
“The young man in the middle. What is your name?”
“Ethan Thomas.”
“Okay, Ethan, go ahead with your question.”
“How do you get money?”
“Well, I get a very small percent of the price of the house when it sells.”
“That could be a lot,” someone added.
Another hand went up. The young lady looked perplexed.
“Yes, ma'am,” Lisa said. “Your name?”
“I'm Megan Littlefield. So you get paid from the money the guy selling the house gets, right?”
“Yes, Megan, that's right.”
“So you help someone find a house and that person doesn't pay you anything. Instead, the person who sold his or her house pays you?”
Kid is brilliant, Lisa thought. “Yes, that's right. Seems a little weird to you?”
Megan nodded.
A young man at the back of the room raised his hand, and Lisa pointed to him. “Your name?”
“Jackson Oliver.”
“Go ahead.”
“What if there is something wrong with your house when you buy it. My mom and dad bought a house, and the heater did not work.”
“Another great question. So there are now insurance policies available in case there is a problem with the house. Also, sellers and real estate representatives like me are required to tell buyers what we know about the house that might affect whether someone wants to buy it. If I know that there are problems with the air conditioner or heater or some system in the house, I have to write that down for the buyer.”
Another hand shot up. “Your name?”
“Lucas Crandall.”
“Go ahead, Lucas.”
“Well, my mom and dad sold our old house, and we moved this year, and they had to tell people that grandpa died upstairs.” The class wen
t silent.
“That's right, we are required to write that down, too.”
“Why?” someone asked. “Is it in case they know your grandpa?”
They are so cute, Lisa thought, trying hard not to smile. “No, it is because some people don't want to buy a house where someone recently died.”
Lucas said, “Why not?”
“I'm really not sure, Lucas, but for some people that is important.”
Ms. Hammond stepped back in front of the class. “All right, class, let's thank Mrs. Winslow for sharing her time and talent here today.” Rousing applause from the class.
“Thank you all; it has been great having the chance to speak with you.” Lisa just couldn't help it. In a moment of weakness, she looked at Joey and winked. He rolled his eyes and then furrowed his brow as she turned to walk from the room. Damn, she thought. She had avoided embarrassing him until the very last minute. Well, at least she hadn't blown him a kiss.
Chapter 23
June 15, 2016
“Lisa is on line three,” Donna told me through the intercom.
“Okay, thanks.” I punch a button. “Hi, babe. How did you do?”
“Well, I think I almost pulled it off.”
“Almost?”
“Yeah, you know those kids are really sharp.”
“Tell me about it. They sure have penetrating questions.”
“And they say exactly what they think.”
I laugh. “So tell me about the shortfall—what's the almost?”
“Well, I did my pitch, and they listened carefully. Then I answered their amazing questions. All was good. Then I got ready to go, and, in a moment of weakness, I looked at Joey and winked.”
“Ow. I bet he loved that.”
“He rolled his eyes at me, and I know he'll have something to say about it tonight.”
“Well, congratulations. Mostly well done.”
Donna came through the door and handed me a note.
“Lisa, I have to go. Looks like I have an emergency. I'll call you back later.”
“Okay, call me sooner and tell me what the emergency is.”
“You got it. Bye.”
I pushed the button for line one and said, “Lee, what's happening.”
“I got him.”
“Miller, you have Miller?”
“Yep, and I am going to bring him back.”
“How did you get him to agree to that?” I ask.
“Agree might be a little strong. I told him he comes with me and takes his chances on testifying, or I turn his ass over to the cops and the FBI now. You may want to set up his deposition because I don't know that I can contain this guy until trial happens.”
“Lee, I'm worried that he has to admit on cross-examination that he was threatened with criminal prosecution if he didn't testify.”
“I understand, but we either leverage this son of a bitch, or he doesn't show.”
“All right, we'll figure that one out. You think he will come back?”
“Not if we give him five minutes to find an exit. He's living under an assumed name with a dead guy's Social. He's a major flight risk and will blend into a small community in another state if we give him a chance.”
“So how do you get him here?”
“I persuaded him that he and I should drive back together.”
“Persuaded? As in convinced him with compelling and reasoned arguments?”
“Yeah, something like that. I convinced him that it was better to ride up front with me than in the trunk.” He pauses a moment and then adds, “Mr. Miller and I are going to have some discussions about who approached him and how it all happened. It should keep us entertained all the way home.”
Donna came in with another note. “Kevin Walters has an emergency. Line one.”
“Okay, Lee. Good work, but try not to do bad things to him before you get him here. Another emergency.”
“See you soon,” followed by the click.
I pushed line two. “Kevin, what's up?”
“I got a threatening phone call while I was at the mall. I was in Starbucks' and the caller said I should enjoy my coffee after telling me I had three days to dismiss my lawsuit.”
“What?”
“Yeah, three days.”
“Or what?”
“He didn't say.”
“Call the cops, Kevin. I'm on my way over.”
“You think so? I didn't know how seriously to take it. The case is getting media attention, so this could just be some crank.”
I said, “It could be, but don't chance it. Take it seriously. Get the cops on the way, and I'll be at your place in twenty minutes.” I hung up and looked up at Donna, who was staring at me with wide eyes.
“Kevin was just threatened. Somebody called him and said that he has three days to dismiss his lawsuit. I'm going over there.”
She nods and says, “Call me if I can do anything from here.”
On the way to the Walterses' house, I call Lisa and tell her what had happened.
“Oh my God. What do you think they should do?”
“I think we let the cops handle it. They are equipped to deal with this kind of thing.”
“I suppose. Pretty damned scary though,” she adds.
“Yeah,” I respond. “We really have no idea who this person is or what he might do. Hopefully, nothing. I have to run. I'm pulling up to their house now.”
“Okay, call me later.” She pauses. “And tell them we're both with them.”
* * *
A uniformed officer with a name tag that says “Braddock” sits in one of two armchairs in the Walterses' living room and scribbles in a small notebook as Kevin describes what happened at the mall. Julia Walters sits in the other armchair while Kevin talks. There are brief introductions, and then I take a seat on the couch looking across the coffee table at Braddock.
“So you never saw anyone that you thought might be the caller?” Braddock asks.
“Right. I looked around the mall but couldn't identify anyone,” Kevin responds.
“Is there anyone that you believe would want to threaten you?”
“No, not in terms of a specific person, but given this was a threat requiring me to dismiss my lawsuit against my former employer, it seems reasonable to think it may be someone connected to the company. Not sure who else would care about getting my lawsuit dismissed.”
“Right,” Braddock says, and then he is silent for a few moments as he considers the matter. “Can I take your cell phone?”
“You want to take it with you?”
“Yeah. I want our techies to look it over and see if there is any evidence to be gathered from the caller info. I can get it back to you tomorrow. We'll also chase phone records, but it won't get us far if the call was made from a burner.”
“Okay, sure,” Kevin says.
“What's next, officer?” Julia Walters asks with concern. “I'm worried about the fact that there is only about two and a half days before this person carries out some unknown threat.”
“Yes, Ma'am,” Braddock responds. “Given the tight time frame here, a detective will be getting back to you today, after my report is turned in. You have voice mail set up on your cell?”
“Yes,” Kevin says.
“And on your home phone?”
“Yes.”
“All right. We have your cell and will monitor anything incoming. Write down your voice mail retrieval numbers for me.” Kevin complied and handed Braddock the note. “Okay, now don't answer your home phone if it rings. At least not until you hear from us. Anyone who needs to talk to you can leave you a message.”
Kevin nods. “Sure.”
“What about Julia's cell,” I ask. “Same procedure?”
“Right,” Braddock says. “And if there is any further contact of any kind, call us right away.”
“Thanks for your help, officer,” Kevin says, extending a hand. They shake and then Julia and I each shake his hand.
“If the phone is
in your possession when a call comes in, can you get info about a private caller?” I ask.
“I'm not a techie, but I know that the answer is sometimes.”
I nod, and we watch Braddock walk out the front door. “You guys okay?” I ask Julia and Kevin.
Julia nods. Kevin says, “Sure, Scott.” He thinks for a moment and adds, “I don't know who is doing this, but it really pisses me off. I will not dismiss this lawsuit, and these guys can go pound sand.”
I looked at Julia, who shrugs. “Yep. We're both okay. And these guys should know that this kind of shit will never work with Kevin.”
“Call me if anything else happens, okay?”
“Yeah,” Kevin says. “Thanks for coming, Scott.”
As I walk out of the house, I find myself looking up and down the street—looking for some clue and seeing nothing out of place. I hear the phone ring behind me, and I run back inside, I join Kevin and Julia in staring at the phone readout. It said private caller. The temptation to pick it up is almost overwhelming, but we resist and wait for a voice mail. Instead the caller hung up and we had no idea whether it was him or just a solicitation. Even more unsettling.
* * *
Lee began the drive with Carl Miller as his reluctant passenger. “So tell me who approached you.”
“About what?” Miller asked.
“Don't fuck with me,” Lee said. “About switching the Wheeling and Ruston records for Consolidated and making some records disappear.”
Miller was quiet.
“What now?” Lee asked.
“I'm not sure I want to do this,” Miller replied.
“What?” Lee snarled. “We've been through this shit.”
“I don't think you know what you are asking here,” Miller said, defensively.
[2017] The Whistleblower Onslaught Page 18