Cactus Island
THE STAN TURNER MYSTERIES
by William Manchee
Undaunted (1997)
Brash Endeavor (1998)
Second Chair (2000)
Cash Call (2002)
Deadly Distractions (2004)
Black Monday
(2005) "...appealing characters and lively dialogue, especially in the courtroom . . . " (
Publisher's Weekly)
"...plenty of action and adventure . . . " (Library Journal)
"...each plot line, in and of itself, can be riveting . . . " (Foreword Magazine)
"...a courtroom climax that would make the venerable Perry Mason stand and applaud . . . "
(Crescent Blue)
"...Richly textured with wonderful atmosphere, the novel shows Manchee as a smooth, polished master of the mystery form . . . " (The Book Reader)
"...Manchee= s stories are suspenseful and most involve lawyers. And he= s as proficient as Grisham . . . (Dallas Observer)
"...fabulous-a real page turner-I didn't want it to end!" (Allison Robson, CBS Affiliate, KLBK TV, Ch 13)
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Also From
William Manchee
Twice Tempted (1996)
Death Pact (1999)
Plastic Gods (2003)
Yes, We're Open (2004)
For more information visit:
http://williammanchee.com
http://toppub.com
http://mancheelawfirm.com
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CACTUS ISLAND
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To my wonderful daughter-in-law,
Danell Manchee.
We are blessed to have you as part of the family.
* * *
Cactus Island
A Stan Turner Mystery
Book 7
by
WILLIAM MANCHEE
Top Publications, Ltd. Dallas, Texas
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Cactus Island
8 COPYRIGHT
William Manchee
2006
Cover Design by William Manchee
Top Publications, Ltd.
3100 Independence Parkway, Suite 311-349
Plano, Texas 75075
ISBN #1-929976-36-4
Library of Congress #2006902487
No part of this book may be published or utilized in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or information storage and retrieval systems without the express written permission of the publisher.
This work is a novel and any similarity to actual persons or events is purely coincidental.
* * *
Prelude
March 8, 1991 Complete honesty in marriage will likely lead to an early divorce. At least that's my experience. In the beginning I told Rebekah everything but it soon became apparent she couldn't handle many of the perils and predicaments I often found myself in. She was a worrier and panicked easily. If I had told her everything she'd have gone crazy with worry and driven me nuts in the process. Our marriage wouldn't have survived. So over the years when I came home at night I talked less and less about work and if there was a problem I wouldn't tell Rebekah about it until it had been solved. This had worked well and helped us make it to our twentieth anniversary, but the secret that I shouldered alone this day could well destroy us.
It was a cold drizzly day in March when family and friends had gathered at St. Ann's Catholic Church for a funeral mass. It was my son Peter who was supposed to be in the coffin that lay on the table in front of the onlookers who had gathered to pay their last respects. I say supposed to be in the coffin because this coffin was empty. The official story was that Peter had drowned in a flash flood. He was driving Rebekah's car, got into some high water, and was swept away into a storm drain. When the car was found, Peter wasn't in it. Speculation was that he left the vehicle and tried to swim to safety but drowned in the process. His body was never found.
Peter was our third child and our youngest son. He had two older brothers, Reggie and Mark, and a younger sister, Marcia. At sixteen Peter had developed into a handsome boy with a slender build, dark hair, and olive skin. He looked more like Rebekah than me, but he had my easygoing personality and independent spirit. God had also blessed him with a natural charisma and a near genius IQ. He had everything going for him in this, his sophomore year of high school--an accomplished debater on the school's championship debate team, a varsity swimmer, and a member of the student council. But now he was missing and presumed dead. Tears welled in my eyes as I struggled to keep my composure. This was all too much for any parent to bear. Rebekah looked over at me with bloodshot eyes. I tried to force a smile, but couldn't manage it. Her empty gaze went back to the coffin.
Over my shoulder I saw my law partner, Paula Waters. She looked at me sorrowfully. She knew better than anyone what I was going through. She loved me and I loved her. But our love was like a rose that lacked an essential mineral and would never blossom. It was not our fate to be man and wife, yet our bond was too strong to allow us to drift apart. For me it wasn't so bad because I had Rebekah and the kids, but Paula didn't have anyone she truly loved before she met me. She'd married Bart, and they were good together, but it was a marriage more of convenience than passion.
I looked back at Peter's casket as the funeral mass began. Father Michael, who had known Peter well over the years, gave the mass. In his homily he spoke of spending time with Peter at summer camp and youth retreats he had attended. I thought back to one of those retreats that I had been a chaperone. We had gone to Lake Murray in Oklahoma and everyone was taking a swim. Peter saw the water moccasin first and pointed excitedly to its head sticking out of the water. I almost laughed out loud as I recalled how quickly everyone frantically evacuated the swimming hole. Peter and I hadn't moved. We knew the snake wouldn't bother us if we left it alone. Everyone was amazed at our nerve, particularly Peter's friends who thought him somewhat of a hero over the incident. Rebekah looked at me, probably wondering how I could be smiling at a time like this.
When the moment came to hear from those who wanted to say a few words about Peter, a long line formed at the lectern. Reggie was the first to speak. He said, "What was most remarkable about Peter was his respect for everyone he encountered. He loved to talk with anyone who would listen. Whether it was the school principal or the janitor, it didn't matter. Peter treated everyone with respect and admiration. He was never judgmental or condescending. He loved everyone and everyone loved him. I will miss him."
Reggie smiled and then nodded to Marcia who was next in line. She was fourteen but with three older brothers she had matured early. Her face was solemn as she began to speak. "Peter was not only my brother but he was my best friend. We spent a lot of time together and would talk endlessly about everything. He always had time for me no matter how busy he was. I couldn't have asked for a better brother."
Marcia broke into tears and someone handed her a handkerchief. She left the lectern and took a seat next to Rebekah. Mark was next. He got up, swallowed hard and said, "What I remember most about my brother Peter was his imagination. He loved to write and tell stories, particularly science fiction and fantasy. We played a lot of games together, talked about exploring space, and planned trips to far away places that we wanted to visit some day. He often said he'd like to be a lawyer like Dad or maybe even a writer. I think he could have done either one. I think he could have done anything he wanted. Goodbye, Peter. I'll miss you."
When the mass was over, there was a reception and then we went back to the house. It was very late that night before everyone left and we were alone. After saying goodbye to the last of the relatives and friends, I went into the living room where Rebekah was lying on the sofa staring up at the ceiling. I loved her with al
l my heart and soul and it killed me to see her suffering the way she was. I wanted so much to tell her the truth---to reveal to her the secret that was weighing so heavily on my mind, body and soul. But that was unthinkable. For anyone who discovered the truth would suffer the same fate as Peter.
* * *
Chapter 1
Windsor V. Windsor
6 Months Earlier
Since the first day out of law school I'd pretty much been a workaholic. It comes with the territory when you're a young attorney trying to get established. I went directly to the DA's office out of law school and as an assistant DA was expected to work eighty hours a week. Nothing changed when I came to work for Stan Turner and we formed the law firm of Turner and Waters, P.C. I suppose I could have cut my hours a bit and started living a more normal life, but now I was a partner and things were different. Stan didn't have the time or inclination to hover over me to make sure I was doing my job. He expected me to do it and never questioned how I went about it. I appreciated his attitude but also felt the weight of responsibility thrust upon me.
When we first formed the partnership, I was in love with Stan and hoped he'd fall in love with me. Unfortunately that hadn't happened and I was forced to face reality and move on. Not that I had gotten entirely over Stan, for I hadn't, but I finally realized that our relationship could only be professional and decided that was better than nothing. Things had certainly changed now that I was married to Bart Williams. He was a strong, patient, thoughtful man who would do anything for me. I certainly didn't deserve him, but I was glad he had stuck by me. Now it was hard to get up early each morning and when afternoon came, I started thinking of getting home and being with him. It was amazing. I actually had a life! Unfortunately, we were as busy as ever and as much as I wanted to go home early, I found myself hard at work until seven or eight every night. Fortunately, Bart had the same problem working at the Collin County DA's office in McKinney thirty miles north of Dallas, so we learned to appreciate what little time we did have together.
As I sat at my desk early one morning I gazed at my calendar to see what was on tap for the day and noted that I had an appointment at 11:30 a.m. with Cheryl Windsor about a possible divorce. I didn't usually do divorces, but Jodie, our legal assistant, informed me Ms. Windsor had been indirectly referred by Stan's wife, Rebekah. She said the least I could do would be to talk to her. The funny thing is, once you talk to a prospective client, it's hard to turn down their case, even if you know you should.
It was late August and there was no sign of an end to the summer's heat, so I wasn't surprised to see Cheryl was wearing a tank top with a short jean skirt. She was gorgeous. I wondered how she managed to look so good since I knew from our phone conversation that she had three children. I hoped I would be so lucky, that is, if Bart and I ever decided to have kids. As soon as she sat down and crossed her long tanned legs, she began telling me what had gone wrong with her marriage.
"My husband is having an affair."
"Really? How do you know?"
"He's been working long hours lately and seems to use any excuse to be out of the house. We haven't had sex in months. I didn't want to accuse him of anything until I knew for sure he was being unfaithful, so I followed him after work one night."
I raised my eyebrows and replied, "That's quite gutsy of you. Most women would have hired a private detective."
"Hey, I'm not most women," Cheryl said, "I'm not going to let that son of a bitch humiliate me. If he's screwing around, he's gonna pay."
"And he should, but there's no reason to take chances. We live in a dangerous world and you shouldn't take risks like that."
Cheryl shook her head. "Don't worry about me. My father was an ex-Marine, so he taught me how to defend myself."
"Even so---"
"Besides, I grew up with three older brothers, so I learned how to handle men early on."
I nodded. "So where did your husband end up?"
"At the Fairmount Hotel, room 1612. I got the number from the desk clerk. I told him I'd forgotten what room my husband and I were in. You know. They all look alike. He made me show him my ID but that wasn't a problem. I watched the elevator and thirty-five minutes later a woman took the elevator to the 16th floor."
"So, that doesn't necessarily mean---"
"I know exactly what it means. The woman was my best friend---my maid of honor at our wedding for godsakes. It couldn't have been a coincidence. They're having an affair and I'm going to kill both of them!"
"Wait a minute. Calm down. You're not going to kill anybody."
"He's had a thing for her from the first day they met," she said tearfully. "I could tell by the way he always looked at her, but I never expected Alice to give in to him. She and I have been best friends since we were fifteen."
I handed Cheryl a tissue and replied, "I know it's hard when you've been betrayed by the two people in the world that you love the most, but in today's world it's not that unusual. Loyalty is a scarce commodity."
Cheryl folded her arms and looked away. I opened a file and pulled out a divorce questionnaire. It was yellow from age. I didn't like divorces much and avoided them whenever possible, but I kinda liked Cheryl's feisty personality. "From now on you let me handle this. I don't want you talking to your husband, or Alice for that matter. It will just rekindle your anger. I'll get a temporary restraining order so you can stay in the house and he can't abscond with any of your community property."
"I don't want the house---too many bad memories. I'll move out. Just make sure I get a nice fat alimony check."
"They don't have alimony in Texas, but I can get you temporary support until the divorce is final and, of course, child support."
"Good. How much?"
"I don't know. It depends on his income and other factors."
"He makes a lot of money---more than two hundred grand a year."
"Then you'll probably get 25 to 40 percent of his after tax income since it's community property. . . .What's your husband's name?"
"Martin Roger Windsor."
"What does he do for a living?"
"He's a pharmacist by trade, but more of a businessman nowadays."
"Where is he employed?"
"Village Drugs in Richardson is where he hangs his license. He owns the place along with twelve stores just like it in North Texas, but he doesn't spend much time filling prescriptions."
Cheryl said that Martin was thirty-nine years old, a graduate of Central European University in Hungary, and since he had immigrated to the United States, had become an avid golfer.
"Windsor isn't a Hungarian name, is it?"
"No. His real name was Martin Kutrovatzlik. Nobody could pronounce it so he had it changed. He said it was a distraction he didn't need when he was doing business. He thought it was better to be perceived as British or American anyway."
She said he would often take off for weeks at a time to play in amateur golf tournaments across the country and around the world. He had a bad temper, she said, and would be very upset when he found out she was filing for divorce. I assured her the TRO would protect her, as Martin would not want to prejudice the judge against him. That would be suicide if he had a lot of assets to protect.
"Speaking of assets, what all do you own?" I asked.
She shrugged. "This may surprise you, but I really don't know. Martin is very secretive about our financial affairs. I know he owns the drugstores, of course, and there's lots of cash. Our home is worth about $550,000 according to the tax bill I got in the mail the other day. There's a shopping center where one of the stores is located. I heard him tell someone it was appraised at 1.2 million. There are a few stocks, bonds, and a $10,000 CD."
"So, do you have many debts?"
"No. None at all. My husband doesn't believe in credit. He always said if you didn't have the cash to pay for it, you didn't need it."
"Hmm. Interesting. So that adds up to about two million without the drugstores."
"That I know a
bout. I'm sure there's more."
"Well, we can do some discovery to find out exactly what he has, and if he is less than forthright with his responses, I know a private investigator who can help us locate everything."
"I doubt your PI will find anything. My husband is very good at hiding money and covering his tracks. His first wife and I are friends, and we compare notes from time to time. She told me when they were going through their divorce she hired the best divorce attorney in town, but he couldn't find squat. Fortunately, Martin didn't like the attorney probing into his affairs so he offered a huge amount of child support if she'd make him back off."
"Well, if you have any other ideas, I'm listening."
"I do, but I need to verify a few suspicions before I can share them with you."
"Okay, Let me know when you're ready to fill me in."
I escorted her out into the reception area and met Stan coming in the door. His eyes lit up when he saw Cheryl. He nodded at me without taking his eyes off of her. A few moments later, when I was back in my office, Stan walked in and asked, "So, who's the new client?"
"A new divorce client, Cheryl Windsor."
"Hmm. She's a knockout. Is she a model?"
"No, she's a housewife," I replied.
Stan shook his head. "And some bastard's divorcing her?"