Chapter 31
LOTTIE'S KILLER
Tex called to tell me he'd been sued by Metroplex Savings and Loan. I told him to bring me the citation and we could talk about his options. Before he arrived, I got on the telephone with Jimmy Bennett. I hadn't discussed our potential conflict of interest and wanted to get that over with before Tex arrived. I asked Jodie to get him on the line. Her voice came over the intercom advising me that he was on line two.
"Jimmy, how are you feeling?"
"A little better, but it's hard to cope with the damn press stalking me wherever I go. They won't leave me alone."
"How did you lose them the other night?"
"I had to sneak out of the office down the back stairway and walk through the alley to get back to the parking garage. What a pain in the ass that was."
"Well, it worked. Lucky for you they didn't see you leave with your bags packed."
"Right."
"Hey. Listen. I need to talk to you about something."
"What's up?"
"You know one of our long time clients is Tex Weller."
"I've heard that name. Should I know him?"
"He went to your wedding—one of Don's friends and a customer at Metroplex."
"Oh, right. He owns all those health stores."
"Right, and they were financed by Metroplex."
"Okay."
"Well, he took a big hit on Black Monday and Metroplex responded with a big margin call."
"Oh, God. That's why I don't invest in the market—it's hard to predict what a bunch of tight ass Yankees will do on any given day. I like a nice piece of real estate that's guaranteed to appreciate ten or 20 percent every year."
"I agree with that. Anyway, he was pretty upset and sent a nasty letter to your father-in-law. Technically the margin call gave him motive to kill Don. I don't think he did, but it creates a conflict of interest for us."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean to properly defend you; we should be looking at Tex from all angles to see if he might possibly be responsible for Don's death. The problem is, he's a friend and it's hard for me to conceive of him being a killer. I can't be very objective on that subject."
"He's not Paula's friend though, right?"
"No. She doesn't like him much, actually."
"Well, then I'm not worried."
"Still, technically we shouldn't represent you. Your life's on the line and you should have impartial counsel."
"Ah. That's bullshit. You're gonna do the best you can, right?"
"Sure. But–"
"Then don't sweat it."
"You sure? I'll have to have you sign a waiver."
"Whatever."
It was a great relief that Jimmy hadn't fired us. Paula would have had a stroke had she been booted off the case. I went into her office and gave her the good news. She was elated, of course. I cautioned her not to write off Tex as a suspect. We had a duty to check him out thoroughly. She said she'd hire an independent private investigator just to remove any question of our diligence in that regard. When I got back to my office, Jodie informed me that Tex had arrived. She escorted him into my office. He was in a somber mood.
"Let me see the paper," I said.
He handed me the citation. He'd been sued in the 101st District Court of Dallas County for $343,000, plus interest at 18% per annum, and attorney's fees of $75,000. They were also asking the court to compel Tex to assemble all the property that collateralized the loan and turn it over to an auctioneer to be sold to reduce the balance on the note.
"This is so humiliating. The dirty bastards are trying to put me out of business and I've never even been late on a payment. Can't you do something about this?"
"Yes, let’s just file a chapter 11. That will stop them in their tracks."
"Yeah, but I hate to file bankruptcy," Tex moaned.
"Well, it's that or give 'em the keys to all your stores."
"I wish Don Baker were alive so I could have the pleasure of killing him myself."
"Don't talk like that. If we file right away, there won't be any disruption in your business. The lawsuit will be dead in the water and we'll have six months or better to get it approved and implemented. During that time, you may not even have to pay Metroplex a dime."
"I don't have to pay Metroplex anything?"
"Maybe a little—adequate protection payments they call it. Basically it's just interest on what you owe them."
"Okay, Stan—you're the boss. If that's my only alternative."
"I think it is."
For the next four hours we worked on Tex's chapter 11 bankruptcy. We had to file it the next morning to stop the bank from seizing any property that Tex needed to operate his stores. When we were done, he left with a long list of information that he needed to collect and bring back to me. In the meantime, Jodie worked hard to get his schedules typed up and ready for filing the next morning. While I was working, I got a call from Detective Besch. He wanted me to come in and observe him question Otto Barringer. I needed a break, so I said I'd be right over.
It was rush hour when I got onto Central Expressway so the drive over to police headquarters was very slow. A young dispatcher was waiting for me when I walked in. She escorted me to the interrogation room where Besch was waiting. Otto looked very nervous sitting at the small table in the big, otherwise empty room. I figured he must have been pretty shaken up when he was invited to police headquarters. I wondered why he didn't have an attorney. He had to realize he was a major suspect now in Lottie West's murder. Besch read him his rights again. He said he understood them.
"Mr. Barringer," Besch said. "I brought you down here because there are some discrepancies in your story."
"What do you mean?"
"You told us you didn't have any kind of relationship with Lottie West, yet we have witnesses who saw you working across the street from her house just a week before she was murdered. What were you doing there?"
"Ah. Well, I do odd jobs around town for people sometimes. I didn't know Lottie lived in that neighborhood."
Besch looked up at the two-way mirror and shook his head. "Do you really expect us to believe that, Otto? Come on, We've talked to Mrs. Riddle. You weren't even hired to mow her yard. She doesn't even know you."
"Sure, I was. I talked to somebody there and—"
"Quit lying," Besch said sternly. "You were there casing out Lottie's place so you could steal her art collection."
"What. I don't know anything about her art collection."
"The hell you don't. You knew her husband had stolen it from Germany after the war. Your sister told me all about it. You knew it was priceless, so you made sure you had access to her house so you could steal it."
"That's not true. I wouldn't do that."
"It was pretty clever filling the house up with gas so Lottie and the dogs would pass out and make it easy for you to steal everything."
Otto shook his head. "You've got this all wrong. I didn't know anything about Lottie's art collection for godsakes."
"Where did you learn to handle natural gas? Did you ever work for the gas company?"
Otto's face turned a shade whiter. "Well, a few years back I did."
"You bet you did. I checked it out. You worked for Lone Star Gas for over three years. I bet it was a breeze rigging the line so it would fill up the house with gas."
"I didn't do that," Otto muttered.
"Did you go in with a gas mask when you looted the place?"
"Lottie didn't keep them in her house."
"How do you know what was in her house if you've never been in there?"
"Ah, come on. You know what I mean—she wouldn't keep any art treasures in her home. Uncle Bill kept them in a safety deposit box somewhere."
"Uncle Bill?"
"That's what I called him before he died."
"So, you had more of a relationship with Aunt Lottie and Uncle Bill than you've led us to believe."
"I saw them
a couple of times over the years."
"You know you should have worn gloves, Otto. You left some fingerprints in the house."
Otto was speechless. He just looked at Besch with his mouth open. "That's not true," he finally said.
"Oh, you wore gloves?"
"No, I mean—I didn't wear gloves 'cause I didn't go in her damn house. You're trying to confuse me."
"Well, it would be a lot less confusing for us all if you just tell the truth."
"I am telling you the truth. I don't know anything about Lottie's death."
"Yeah, right," Besch replied.
Besch left the interview room and joined me at the window. Otto was running his hands through his hair nervously. Besch had shaken him but hadn't broken him yet. Besch took a deep breath.
"So, what do you think, Stan?"
"He's acting like he's guilty. He's obviously not telling you everything he knows. Did you really find his fingerprints inside the house?"
"Not inside. We found a print on the door knob of the front door."
"Hmm. That proves he was there. Are you going to charge him?"
"Not quite yet. First I want to search his house. I should have a warrant here in a minute. As soon as it comes in we can take a ride out to his place and see if he has any art treasures stashed away."
"I doubt he'd keep them at his house."
"Yeah, well you never know. Otto's probably not the brightest kid on the block."
When the warrant came in we took Besch's unmarked Crown Victoria to Barringer's house. The place was already being searched by several officers. The three-bedroom apartment was nicely decorated. Judging by a group of photographs on the TV, Otto had an eight or nine-year-old daughter and a teenage son. One of the bedrooms had been converted to a study and was richly decorated with World War II memorabilia. Besch looked around and then shook his head.
"These aren't art treasures but Otto certainly is into World War II."
"Yes, I get the impression the whole family has been obsessed by West's art theft. It's torn apart the entire family."
"I wonder why that is?" Besch asked. "A lot of families have members who have turned to crime, but the rest of the family usually copes with the situation. Why has this family been so affected by William West's crime?"
"Perhaps it's because of the great value of the Ludinburg Collection," I suggested.
"Or the high profile nature of the theft. Either way this family has been hiding a big secret for over forty years. I guess that's a lot of guilt to live with."
As we were talking, an officer came in the room and reported they'd found something in the basement. We immediately followed the officer into a hallway that led to a stairway down to the basement. Two crime scene investigators were knelling over some tools, hoses, and other equipment.
"What did you find?" Besch asked.
One of them said, "A tool box."
Besch squinted. "Just a tool box?"
The man closed the box and on its lid was a label that said property of Lone Star Gas.
"He kept his tool box," I said.
"It appears so," Besch replied. "I wonder if he used any of those tools to pipe natural gas into Lottie's place?"
"Take all this to the lab," Besch told the investigators. Let's see if we can somehow prove Otto was at Lottie's place on the day of the murder."
On the way back upstairs another investigator called out to Besch. Besch quickened his pace and headed to where the investigator was going through a freezer. The investigator pointed to a box of labeled Black Angus Beef. Besch opened the box and discovered it was full of neatly stacked, very cold cash—hundred dollar bills to be exact. I made a quick mental calculation as Besch looked through the box. There were eight rows across, six rows down, and six deep—$288,000.
Besch looked up at me and smiled. "Well, this ought to make the DA happy. It appears Otto was able to unload the art treasures pretty fast."
"I guess so," I said, although I wasn't ready to draw the same conclusion that Besch had drawn. If he only got $288,000 for the art treasures, he'd only been paid pennies on the dollar. I suspected there was more to this than met the eye. Later that day Otto Barringer was charged with the murder of Lottie West. I had no doubt that he was the murderer and would be convicted, but I knew there were more family secrets to be discovered and I was determined to discover them.
Black Monday, A Stan Turner Mystery Vol 7 Page 31