Chapter 40
BLACKMAIL
Now that the media was focusing on Lottie West and her stolen art, I figured I better spend whatever time it took to discover what had happened to it. The obvious place to start was Otto Barringer, but Besch had interrogated him at length and got nothing. The next best source of information had to be his parents, James and Loretta Barringer. They must know more than they had told me during our first visit. They weren't thrilled when I told them I was coming to see them again—particularly when I told them Detective Besch was coming with me. They knew he was the Detective assigned to help the DA prosecute their son Otto Barringer for murdering Lottie West.
Besch picked me up and we drove up to Dennison just south of the Oklahoma border on Highway 75. It was a pleasant forty-five-minute drive and Besch filled me in on the progress of his investigation along the way. When we knocked on the front door, Mrs. Barringer opened it quickly and invited us in. James was standing in the living room near the fire place with a grim look on his face. After making introductions I told them the purpose of our visit.
"We told you everything we know the last time you were here," James said.
I shrugged. "Well, maybe so, but I've learned a lot since I saw you last. Now maybe I can ask the right questions and get some answers. . . . Detective Besch probably has a few questions too."
James took a deep breath and shook his head. Loretta said, "Well, we'll try to answer them as best we can."
"Good," I said. "Did you know that Otto had a nice stash of cash in his apartment?"
"Why no," Loretta said. "How much cash?"
"Over a quarter million dollars."
Loretta and James' mouths dropped. They obviously were not aware of the stash of money, or the amount was more than they expected.
"Do you have any idea where he might have gotten that kind of money?"
James said, "How should I know? That boy had a mind of his own. He didn't consult with us about anything."
"Did you ever see any of William West's art treasures?"
James pondered that question for a moment and then said, "What art treasures?"
James looked like he truly knew nothing about the stolen art, but Loretta looked so tense she was going to explode. Just to humor them, I recited the story of the Ludinburg collection again and how we suspected William West had stolen the art treasures. It was obvious by their reaction that they'd heard the story before. I was sure they could have given me a better rendition of the story had they wanted to.
"I never saw them," James said.
He was a good liar—cool and unemotional. I was sure he'd have no trouble beating a lie detector. Loretta didn't say anything. She suddenly became obsessed with a piece of lint on her skirt.
"How about you Mrs. Barringer? Otto certainly knew about it and even your daughter mentioned it."
"Well. I heard Lottie talk about it once or twice. I've never seen any of the pieces, though?"
"How about pictures?"
"Pictures? Well, yes I think she showed me a picture once."
Detective Besch raised his clinched hand and slammed it hard on the coffee table. Lottie nearly fell out of her rocking chair. He said firmly, "I hope you two understand how serious this matter is. Your son has been accused of murder and may go to jail for the rest of his life. Stan's been trying very nicely to get information out of you but you're not cooperating at all. We're not stupid. We know you know all about William Wells and his shenanigans. Now you better start coming clean or I'm going to lose my temper."
"Okay, okay," Lottie said. "We'll tell you what we know. We just don't like talking about it. You know. It's just been such an embarrassment to the family."
Besch looked at me and nodded. I continued, "So, how did Otto get a quarter million dollars?"
Lottie looked at James and then at Besch. Finally, she replied, "I'm afraid he was blackmailing them."
"Otto was blackmailing William and Lottie?" I asked.
"Yes, it started right after he graduated from college. He couldn't find a job and needed money so he could move out on his own. We told him he could stay with us, but you know kids. He wanted his own place."
"Right. So, how did it work?"
"Well, Otto and Lottie got along pretty well and he had spent some time at their place. On one of those occasions, she had shown him some of the pictures. He was very impressed that Lottie and William owned such valuable treasures. He talked about it all the time when he was here at the house. He took some art classes at Denton County Community College and found out how valuable they were."
"Okay."
"So, at first he just asked them for a loan since he knew they were so rich, but William refused to give him a dime. Lottie would have, but she didn't have any money of her own. Otto was pretty upset that they wouldn't loan him any money so he got this idea that he could blackmail them. He knew the treasures had been stolen so he threatened to call the police and blow the whistle on them.
"I never knew how much money he had taken from them until you told me just now. I guess that's why they had to sell two of the pieces—to get money to pay Otto."
I looked at Besch and said, "So, that explains how Zimmerman got them."
Loretta said, "Zimmerman. Yes, that's his name. . . . Lottie refused to pay Otto after William died. Otto must have threatened her because that's when she went to the SPCA and adopted all those dogs. Otto hated dogs and Lottie knew it. He had been bitten as a child and was scared to death of them. She figured she was safe, but I guess she was wrong."
On the way back to Dallas Besch and I discussed what we'd learned. It was obvious both Otto and Zimmerman had been withholding information. They both had lucrative enterprises going that they wanted to protect. Besch said it was time to put some heat on Zimmerman. We agreed he must know where the rest of the collection had gone. In fact, it was likely he had brokered the sale of the ancient manuscripts. Besch said he'd have Zimmerman brought in for questioning and promised to let me know when the interrogation was going to take place so I could listen in.
Black Monday, A Stan Turner Mystery Vol 7 Page 40