Deadly Defiance

  DEADLY

  DEFIANCE

  A Stan Turner Mystery

  Volume 10

  BY

  WILLIAM MANCHEE

  Top Publications, Ltd.

  Dallas, Texas

  VOLUME 10

  © COPYRIGHT

  William Manchee

  eBook Edition 2011

  Cover Design by William Manchee

  Published by Top Publications, Ltd.

  ISBN 978-1-935722-69-4

  Library of Congress 2011927403

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each reader. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author

  This work is a novel and any similarity to actual persons or events is purely coincidental.

  Chapter 1

  Rollerblades

  February 20, 1995

  One of the most difficult events in a parent’s life is when their youngest child leaves home. This was particularly true for Stan Turner’s wife, Rebekah, when Marcia left home to attend Texas A&M University. For twenty-two years Rebekah had been a devoted mother, friend, nurse, confidante, and personal taxi driver. She’d spent every waking hour tending to their needs, worrying about them, and encouraging them as they grew into adulthood. These motherly duties, although demanding and tedious at times, kept her busy and fulfilled her as a person. It was good that they’d had a large family as Stan’s law practice had been quite demanding and he hadn’t spent as much time at home as he would have liked. Now, with the kids gone, Rebekah found herself alone with little to do.

  It was a difficult time for Stan financially, too, with two kids in college and one in law school. Stan suggested to Rebekah that she might want to go back to work to help out with college expenses, but she adamantly refused. Stan didn’t quite understand why that was. She was an RN and could have made good money working at a hospital or for a doctor, but she argued she’d been away from it too long and forgotten most everything she’d learned in nursing school. In reality, Stan figured it was more likely the trauma she’d suffered when she was arrested for the murder of a patient, Sheila Logan. Stan and Sheila had been lured into a relationship by Sheila’s husband who wanted Sheila dead. He had murdered Sheila and made it look like Rebekah had done it. She was subsequently cleared of the charges, but she’d never gone to work after that.

  Stan wasn’t the type of person to force anybody to do anything they didn’t want to do, so he didn’t press the issue with Rebekah. Fortunately, in the legal profession there was plenty of money to be made if you were willing to put in the hours and could take the stress dumped on you on a daily basis by overzealous opposing counsel, irritable judges, and demanding clients. So they had enough money to get by without Rebekah working.

  It was a Monday morning; Stan had just walked into his office and was sipping a cup of coffee as he went through his phone messages. The offices of Turner & Waters were on the seventh floor of one of the Park Central office towers and Stan had a nice view of Medical City Hospital and downtown Dallas. It was a mesmerizing view and he often found himself daydreaming, or in deep contemplation, as he liked to call it.

  Off in the break room he could hear his law partner, Paula Waters, and an associate attorney, Jodie Marshall, talking. Jodie was like a daughter to him. She had started out as his secretary when she was just nineteen, worked her way up to a legal assistant, and then associate attorney when she finished law school and passed the bar. Stan couldn’t believe she’d been with him for nearly fifteen years. Where had the years gone?

  His intercom buzzed and Maria, his secretary, advised him that his 9:00 appointment had just rolled in. “Rolled in?” he asked.

  “You heard me,” Maria said, stifling a laugh.

  Curious as to Maria’s choice of words, Stan got up and came out into the reception area where he found an attractive brunette, in a white sweatshirt and blue jeans, carefully removing her Rollerblades. She had exotic eyes, a trim body, and looked to be in her mid to late twenties. She looked up at Stan nervously. He extended a hand.

  “Hi, I’m Stan Turner.”

  “Hello, I’m Maureen Thompson,” she said as they shook hands.

  Stan noticed her hands were cold and clammy. He could tell she was scared and nervous.

  “Did you skate all the way here?” Stan asked.

  “Yes, my car was repossessed. It was the only way I could get here.”

  “Oh, Jesus. Where do you live?”

  “Oak Cliff.”

  “Gee. That’s what—five miles from here?”

  She nodded. “That sounds about right.”

  He took a deep breath. “You should have said something. We could have sent someone to pick you up.”

  She shrugged. “It’s all right. It’s good exercise.”

  “I suppose,” Stan conceded. “Come on back to my office. You can leave your skates there. I don’t think anyone will bother them.”

  Maureen grabbed her purse and a backpack full of papers and brought them back to his office. She dropped the backpack into one of the two side chairs across from Stan and collapsed into the other one. She looked tired, pale, and depressed.

  “So, tell me what’s going on,” Stan said, trying to seem upbeat. “What happened with your car?”

  She sighed. “My husband left me about three weeks ago and I discovered he hadn’t paid any bills for the last three months.”

  “Oh, wonderful. Nice guy.”

  “Yeah, the love of my life,” she said bitterly.

  “What does your husband do?”

  “He’s a home builder.”

  “Self-employed?”

  “He has a company, Thompson Construction, Inc., but he’s the owner.”

  “So, do you work?”

  “I’m a hairdresser, so I don’t make a lot of money and I have two young children. There was no way I could catch up on everything. It was either the car or the house.”

  “Right. It must have been very difficult for you.”

  “I tried to work something out with the bank but they weren’t at all sympathetic.”

  “No, they usually aren’t,” Stan agreed. “So, what’s the damage? How much in the hole are you?”

  She started sifting through her stack of papers, and Stan made a list of what she owed. It turned out she had about five thousand in medical bills, thirty-five thousand in credit card debt, and an auto deficiency of seventeen thousand for a total exceeding $57,000.

  “So, there is no way you’ll ever be able to pay that, right?” Stan asked.

  She shook her head. “I don’t see how.”

  Maureen’s story wasn’t at all unusual. Bankruptcy was a fact of life in the current credit-driven economy and Stan knew the first casualty of insolvency was usually the marriage.

  “So, tell me about your marriage. Is it over, or do you think your husband will come back?”

  “No. He won’t be back. Not this time. The IRS is looking for him.”

  Stan cringed at the mention of the IRS. He was painfully aware that if a husband was dodging the IRS, more often than not the innocent spouse would end up getting stuck with the delinquent tax bill.

  “How much are they trying to collect?”

  “Almost a hundred grand.”

  “Tell me you filed separate returns,” Stan asked, holding his breath.

  “No. Our accountant said we’d save taxes if we filed jointly.”

  “So, you signed the return?”

  “Yes. Rod told me he was sending a check in with the return. I watched him write the check and put it in the envelope. ”

  “So, what happened?”

  “An emergency came up and Rod withdrew the money before the check cleared. Three weeks later I got a certified letter stating I had thirty days to make the check good.”

  Stan shifted in his chair uncomfortably as tension started to build in his neck and shoulders. This often happened when clients began unloading their problems on him. There wasn’t any satisfactory solution for Maureen’s predicament. Stan told her she could file bankruptcy but that wouldn’t solve the IRS liability since a government agency like the IRS had a priority debt.

  “You mean I’ll have to pay the taxes?”

  “Not necessarily. If we waited to file for three more years then you might be able to get the taxes discharged.”

  “So we’ll wait, then,” she said.

  “We could, but eventually your creditors will start filing lawsuits against you and defending them could get expensive.”

  “Damn it! Isn’t there anything we can do?” Maureen spat. “I’m going to kill that son of a bitch for leaving me like this!”

  Stan sighed. “I didn’t say there wasn’t anything we could do. I just said it’s a complicated situation and we’ll have to consider what options would be best for you. In the meantime I can write letters to your creditors and keep them from harassing you.”

  “Good. They’ve been driving me crazy—calling at all hours, at work, talking to my neighbors.”

  “Well, we can put a stop to that, but I can’t keep them from suing you.”

  Maureen shrugged. “What about your fees? How much will this cost me?”

  “I don’t know yet. It depends on what we end up doing. A bankruptcy
is $1,200. Defending you against creditors is $200 per hour.”

  Maureen’s mouth dropped. “Twelve hundred dollars? Jesus! Where am I supposed to get that kind of money?”

  “I don’t know. Can you borrow it from friends or family?”

  “Maybe, but I’ll be totally humiliated having to do that. I can’t believe my life has come to this,” she moaned.

  “I’m sorry. I wish there was a simple solution.”

  “Rod’s got a half million dollar insurance policy. What if he should die? I’d get the money, right?”

  “Ah, not if you had anything to do with his death.”

  “But how would they know?”

  Stan looked at Maureen and shook his head. He couldn’t believe how often clients would suggest an illegal act as a way out of their problems. He often wondered what they would say if he agreed that was an option.

  “Okay. Don’t even go down that road,” Stan said sternly. “If you kill him you won’t get the insurance proceeds and you’ll end up in prison for the rest of your life. You wouldn’t want your children to grow up without their mother, would you?”

  Maureen shrugged. “So what do I do, then?”

  “If you pay me $200 I’ll send out letters to your creditors so they’ll leave you alone. Then in a week or two we’ll get together and come up with a long-term game plan. If we decide to delay filing bankruptcy for three years, you’ll have plenty of time to raise the money.”

  Maureen didn’t seem too thrilled with Stan’s consultation but she left her papers with him and promised to send him a check for $200. Stan gave the papers she’d left to Maria to make a file. He offered to give her a ride home, but she politely declined the offer. When she’d gone Jodie walked into Stan’s office with a grin on her face.

  “Did that woman skate to our office?” Jodie asked.

  Stan smiled. “Yes, her car was repossessed.”

  “Oh, my God! The poor woman.”

  “That’s the least of her problems. The IRS is after her for almost a hundred grand.”

  Jodie shook her head. “So, that’s why she didn’t look so happy?”

  “That and the fact that I couldn’t come up with a miraculous solution to her problems in five minutes. I don’t know what she expected from me. Her situation is pretty much hopeless—at least right now. In time I think we can resolve it.”

  Jodie smiled sympathetically. “Well, it looks like you’ve got a busy day. There’s a crowd of people in the reception area waiting for you.”

  “Oh, really,” Stan said, grimacing. “What do they want?”

  “I don’t know. Something about a suspicious death.”

  “Hmm. Have Maria seat them in the conference room. Why don’t you sit in on the interview? If it doesn’t turn out to be something we can help them with, I’ll excuse you from the meeting.”

  “All right. I’ll join you in the conference room in five minutes.”

  Stan nodded and Jodie left. After answering a few phone calls, Stan got up and went to the conference room where he found a large Hispanic woman, her two sons, and three daughters waiting patiently for him. Jodie walked in right behind Stan and they both took a seat.

  “Hello. I’m Stan Turner and this is my associate, Jodie Marshall.”

  The woman, who seemed tired and profoundly sad, forced a smile. “I’m Pandora Alvarez. These are my children—my sons, Ganix and Nehemias, and my daughters, Luz, Jade and Louisa Cervantes. Louisa was just married three weeks ago.”

  “Oh, congratulations!” Jodie said, smiling at Louisa.

  “Yes, that’s great news,” Stan agreed. “So, what can we do for you?”

  Pandora sighed. “It’s my husband. He recently died.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. How old a man was he?”

  “Fifty-three,” Louisa replied. “But his death wasn’t by natural causes; he was murdered.”

  “Murdered? What makes you think that?” Stan asked.

  “My father was in perfect health. He didn’t drink or smoke and he hadn’t taken drugs since he was a teenager.”

  “Okay, what was the cause of death?”

  “The medical examiner ruled it a drug overdose,” Pandora replied. “But Louisa is right; Romildo didn’t take drugs, so the medical examiner is wrong.”

  Stan knew the medical examiner wouldn’t rule a death as a drug overdose without substantial evidence to that effect. He also knew that family members were often in denial when it came to the habits of parents and spouses, but he didn’t say anything.

  “So, did your husband have any enemies?” Jodie asked.

  “Yes, our boss, Icaro Melendez. My father recently reported him to the Department of Labor. Icaro was livid. He told my father he would pay for his disloyalty.”

  Stan thought this was an interesting case, but he wondered why the family hadn’t taken their suspicions to the police or the Department of Labor. It didn’t seem like a civil matter.

  “So, what did the police have to say about all this?” Stan asked.

  “They say there is no evidence of foul play. They refuse to do anything about it.,” Louise replied bitterly.

  Stan looked at Jodie and then back at Pandora. He tapped the conference table with his finger nervously. “Well, you may be right about Icaro, but this really sounds like a matter for the police or the FBI. Before we could institute a wrongful death suit, we’d have to conduct a thorough investigation and that would be quite expensive. Right now it sounds like all you have is suspicion and conjecture. We’d have to have a lot more evidence of foul play to take on a case like that. I’m sorry.”

  Pandora sighed. “I understand. I was afraid you wouldn’t take the case, but I tried anyway. So, do you handle probate?”

  “Sure, we could probate your husband’s will for you.”

  “While you’re probating his will, would you be willing to help us find the evidence we need against Icaro?”

  Stan laughed. “Maybe. It depends on what kind of help you’re talking about.”

  “Tell us what kind of evidence you need. There are six of us. We’ll find the evidence. Just help us out.”

  Stan took a deep breath. “Okay, but I’m not promising anything. Our only commitment will be the probate. We’ll try to help you find some evidence against Icaro, but no field work—strictly advice and counsel.”

  “That’s all we need,” Pandora assured them. “You are very kind.”

  Stan didn’t really think there was a chance in hell anything incriminating would come out of their investigation, but he felt sorry for the family and didn’t want to dash their hopes so soon after their father’s death. He wondered if there was anything to their suspicions. After they’d left he discussed the case with Jodie.

  “So, what do you think, Jodie? Is this a big waste of time?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t know. I think they all truly believe their father was murdered and, since they all work for Mr. Melendez, they should know as well as anybody what he is capable of.”

  “Right. Find out as much as you can from each of them about Mr. Alvarez and then I’ll talk to the police and the FBI. I wonder if they took a serious look at the case. If they did, we might be able to nudge them into doing something.”

  “Sounds good. I’ll get right on it.”

  “In the meantime I’ll get the will probated and get Pandora approved as independent executrix.”

  Jodie left and Stan went back into his office. He looked at the clock on his credenza and noticed it was nearly noon. He remembered he’d promised to have lunch with Rebekah so he dropped the legal pad and the papers Pandora had given him on his desk and left for the Black Eyed Pea where he’d promised to meet her. Fortunately, it was only five minutes away so he arrived just as Rebekah was driving up. They walked in together and were seated immediately and given menus.

  “How was traffic coming in?” Stan asked as he leafed through the menu.

  “Not bad. It only took about twenty minutes,” Rebekah responded.

  A waitress came over, deposited a basket of rolls, and then flipped open a pad to take their orders.

  “I think I’ll have the pot roast,” Rebekah said. “And a Diet Coke.”

  Stan closed his menu and smiled up at the cute waitress. “I’m going to have the turkey sandwich and ice tea.”