Act Normal, A Stan Turner Mystery Vol 9

by William Manchee

only prerequisite to becoming my client was whether they could pay the fee. After all, practicing law was a business just like any other business. If you wanted our services, you had to be willing and able to pay. That thought led me to ask Stanley about our fee.

  "A hundred thousand dollars?" Stanley gasped.

  "Yes, at least that. Five people died. This will be a long, involved case. It will go on six months or better. They could ask for the death penalty."

  Stanley turned a little green. "Shit. I only have about twenty thousand in savings."

  "What about family. Will anyone loan you the rest of it?"

  "No. I couldn't impose on my family. I've got a profit sharing plan. It has forty-two thousand in it right now. I could borrow off it, I suppose, but I'll have no money for my retirement."

  "The retirement money won't do you any good if you're in Huntsville or six feet under," Bart noted.

  Stanley closed his eyes and shook his head slowly. "Damn it. . . . Maybe they won't indict me."

  "I hope for your sake they don't, but since you're a suspect you'll need us to protect your rights. We can start with a five thousand dollar retainer. That should allow us to begin a preliminary investigation. Maybe we can identify other potential suspects and get the police looking at them rather than you."

  Walter swallowed hard. He went on and on about how unfair all this was, but eventually he wrote us a check. We talked a little while about the parameters of the investigation and then he left. Bart and I brain-stormed a bit longer and came to the conclusion that we should talk to the arson investigator, the architectural control committee chairman, and Brown's neighbor. We'd also have to dig into the Brown family in case the fire had nothing to do with the chain-link fence and the Collin Commons Homeowner's Association, although I thought that unlikely.

 

  9

  Lies

  Stan Turner

  Gary Shepard called the next day and advised me the little girl's body was in the morgue in Greenville, if I wanted to bring Charlotte to see it. The estimated age of the child was five or six. So if it was one of the Wenzel children it would be the eldest whose name was Jill. I knew it couldn't be her since she was on her way to Tarizon, but I had to go through the motions of taking Charlotte there for show. I called Charlotte and advised her of the situation. She became hysterical.

  "Is it my Jill?" she sobbed.

  "They don't know for sure. It's probably not her, but they need you to take a look at the body just to rule her out."

  "Oh, my God! What if it her? How Gabe let this happen? He be dead too, I bet. He never let someone hurt little angels. That what he call them."

  I bit my tongue. If Charlotte only knew the truth about her beloved Gabe. If she only knew he was using her and had planned this abduction from the day he first met her. What would she think about that? This whole Tarizon project made me sick. Trading human beings for technology was obscene and I feared I'd surely go to Hell for being a part of it. Depression swept over me quickly as it often did these days.

  The dread of continuing the charade and dealing with Charlotte's understandable fear held me rigid in my chair as if the force of gravity was twice its normal strength. Finally, I struggled to my feet and went to my car. By the time I'd picked up Charlotte and driven all the way to the Greenville morgue it was late afternoon and near closing time. Storms were lurking about when we pulled up to the curb in front of the building. A gust of wind seemed determined to rip the door off when Charlotte opened it. I ran over and held it for her as she got out. Just as we got inside it began to rain hard.

  "That was good timing," I said. "I hope it's a quick shower. I didn't bring an umbrella."

  Charlotte didn't respond. She just stared straight ahead as I guided her to the reception desk. A sign behind the receptionist's read: Arthur C. Black, M.D., Medical Examiner. I told the person on duty why we were there. She said someone would be out to escort us to the viewing room. We took a seat and waited. Charlotte buried her head in her hands and sobbed. I took her hand and held it, wishing again that I could tell her the truth. A moment later a thin man in a white coat came through a swinging door.

  "Mr. Turner?" he said and extended his hand. "I'm Dr. Ross, one of Dr. Black's assistants."

  We shook hands. "This is Charlotte Wenzel," I said.

  He nodded. "Right this way."

  We followed Dr. Ross down a stark white corridor turning right, then left, through one corridor after another like rats in a maze. Finally he stopped at another set of swinging doors, turned and smiled. "Brace yourself, Mrs. Wenzel. The body is right inside."

  Charlotte staggered a little so I put my hand on her shoulder to steady her. Dr. Ross pushed open the door and we followed him in. The body was on a table covered by a sheet. We walked over to it. Charlotte began to shake. I put my arm around her. Dr. Ross pulled the sheet down exposing the child's peaceful face.

  "Jill! My poor baby! What has he done to you!" She screamed. She started to go to her but I held her back. What was going on? How could this be Jill? Had Mo and Kulchz lied to me? Dr. Ross covered the body again and I escorted Charlotte out of the room. She was crying hard now, so I just held her until she started to calm down. This couldn't be Jill I kept telling myself. How could it be Jill?

  "I'm sorry," I said. "I didn't think it would be Jill. So often it's a false alarm."

  "Who killed my baby? Was it Gabe? How could he have done this? Are all my angels dead?"

  I held her tight again. "I don't know, but I'm going to get to the bottom of this. I promise you."

  Somehow I found my way back through the maze of corridors to the door to the reception area. As we passed through it, I was shocked to see Detective Kramer and Gary Shepard.

  "Oh, shit! You've got to be kidding me?" I spat. "Not now. Can't you see my client's been through hell."

  "Sorry, Stan. If she's in hell it's of her own making."

  Kramer grabbed Charlotte's shoulder and swung her around to cuff her. "Mrs. Wenzel, you're under the arrest for the murder of Gabriel Wenzel and your children."

  He read Charlotte her rights and escorted her outside.

  "Don't talk to them! Not a word, Charlotte," I shouted. "Not a goddamn word!"

  Shepard stepped in front of me and said, "Don't worry, counselor. We don't need a confession. We've got all the evidence we need to send your client to death row."

  "Don't count on it, Gary. She's innocent and I'm going to prove it."

  Shepard smiled, shook his head, and started to leave.

  "And I'll make you pay for what you did to Bart and now Charlotte."

  Shepard spun around and glared at me. "And just how are you going to do that?"

  "I'm going to make sure you never become district attorney in this county. You might just as well pack your bags and leave town, because if you think you're going anywhere in Collin County, forget it."

  Shepard rolled his eyes, let out a snort, and stormed out of the morgue. I just stood there a moment trying to fathom what had just happened. Suddenly I realized Dr. Ross and a half dozen of his staff were staring at me. I forced a smile, nodded, and forged out into the torrential downpour. By the time I got to my car I was drenched. I drove around for a while confused and disoriented. I wondered what I should do. I saw a bar coming up on my right. I didn't usually frequent bars, but a lot of attorneys did and seemed to enjoy what they found there. Maybe I could wash away my troubles with a bottle of booze. What the hell did I have to lose?

  I went inside and ordered a bourbon straight up. I didn't usually drink straight liquor, but today it seemed like the thing to do. It tasted horrible, but I endured the sting in anticipation of the buzz I was expecting to make me feel better. Before I knew it I'd had four or five drinks and was feeling light headed.

  Fortunately, I had a knot in my stomach that wouldn't go away. It was a painful reminder that Charlotte was being processed into the county jail and I had to arrange bond. I needed to go see Roger Rand and quickly. I
left the bar and headed for my car. The sun had come out by then and the combination of the bright light and alcohol in my system made me stagger a little. I looked around for cops. I didn't want to get arrested for public intoxication. I wondered if I could drive.

  After giving myself a little sobriety test, I decided I could manage it, and got in my car. Luckily Roger Rand's office wasn't too far away. I could have just put up the cash that Mo had given me, but then I might have to explain where it came from. With a bond only Roger and I would know the cash existed. I felt sure he wouldn't mind since he'd get to pocket twenty-five thousand dollars for an afternoon's work and there'd be no risk at all since the cash was up for collateral. The only problem was getting his cooperation without making him suspicious. A few minutes later I was sitting in his office.

  "Sure, but what's the catch?" Roger asked.

  "Nothing. This is just payback for all the favors you've done for me over the years."

  "I haven't done you enough favors to deserve twenty-five grand for doing nothing."

  "Listen," I said. "The truth is this money is coming from someone who wants to remain anonymous."

  "A boyfriend?"

  "Yeah, right. A well-known boyfriend who can't afford the questions if the relationship is exposed."

  "Hey, I can't afford to get nailed for obstruction of justice or nothing like that."

  "You won't. We'll dot all the i's and cross all the t's. This is strictly a legitimate deal and if there are any questions, I'll take the