Black Monday, A Stan Turner Mystery Vol 7 Read online

  Chapter 10

  Hate Mail

   

  After interviewing everyone at Baker Construction Company my next stop was Metroplex Savings & Loan. So far I had made no progress at all in building a defense for Jimmy Bennett. I prayed my fortunes would change. Stan had briefed me on Metroplex Savings. It was in serious trouble and almost every day there was an article in the newspaper about some sort of investigation involving the thrift. I didn't know much about what had gone on there, but I had a hunch this would be the place I'd find Don's killer.

  My appointment was with the Executive vice-president, Gerald Hatfield, who had taken over for Don Baker after his death. Hatfield was a tall deliberate man about thirty-five years old. He had been Don's right-hand man and would be very knowledgeable about what the bank was going through and who might have had it in for Don. I was escorted to Hatfield's office and seated in a burgundy leather side chair across from his big oak desk. We talked a few minutes about Don's funeral where we had briefly met and then got down to business.

  "If I'm going to successfully defend Jimmy Bennett, I've got to find out who might have had reason to kill him. He must have had a lot of enemies considering the situation the bank was in."

  "He did," John said, but I just can't see any of them committing murder."

  "I understand that, but somebody out there is the murderer and we've got to figure out who it is."

  "I'm not so sure Jimmy didn't do it."

  "How well do you know Jimmy?" I asked.

  "We don't socialize or anything like that, but I see a lot of him. He would come by the office pretty much every night to pick up Don."

  "So, what makes you think Jimmy might be the killer?"

  "He's a very intense guy and he's got a bad temper. I've never liked him. Frankly, he scares me."

  "Did you tell anyone you didn't like Jimmy?"

  "No, of course not. I'm just giving you my candid opinion of him."

  "Can you think of something specific about him that you didn't like other than the hot temper?"

  "He's cocky, arrogant, and ungrateful. Don gave him everything but he was never happy."

  "Do I detect a hint of jealousy?" I said.

  Hatfield shrugged. "I guess. I've always had to work hard to get the things I wanted. Jimmy's had everything handed to him on a silver platter."

  "Perhaps he had more handed to him than he asked for," I suggested.

  "What do you mean?"

  "Maybe he just wanted to do his job and be left alone."

  Hatfield laughed. "Bullshit. He enjoyed the money, the women, and especially the drugs."

  "I thought he was off the drugs."

  Hatfield frowned. "That's a joke. He couldn't go a day without a fix."

  "You know this for a fact?"

  "I've caught him snorting in the head a few times."

  "Recently?"

  "Yeah, within the last 10 days."

  I shook my head. My case was continuing to nosedive. I wondered if I would ever find another suspect. If I were going to do that I'd have to steer the conversation away from Jimmy and find out about the other people in Don's life. Hatfield didn't seem to want to talk about Don's other enemies but I had to press the issue or I'd never find out the truth.

  So, what's this I've heard about some hate mail?"

  Hatfield nodded. "Right. Don got a few letters from unhappy customers."

  "Ruth said Detective Perkins took Don's files, but she thought there may be copies in the files.

  "Right."

  "Can I see them? "

  Hatfield picked up his phone and instructed his secretary to bring in the files with the hate mail. A few moments later his secretary walked in with a half dozen files and set them on Hatfield's desk. He picked up the top one and opened it. After a moment of silence, he took out a letter and handed it to me.

  "This one is from a builder up in Collin County. Chuck Walters. You've heard of Walter's Homes.

  "Sure," I replied.

  "We had been financing a new housing development for him. He's been a client with us for more than ten years and never gave us a lick of trouble. Then the federal regulators came in and complained that the property appraisals on some of his units were out of whack. They made us get new appraisals and they came out substantially lower than the original ones. They insisted we get another $150,000 of collateral or the loans be reduced. Unfortunately, Walters couldn't do either one since the real estate market had collapsed."

  "So you called the note?"

  "Right. Walters lost everything and got pretty belligerent about it as you can see from the letter."

  Hatfield handed me the letter. It was hand written and difficult to read as Walters' handwriting was rather shaky.

    Don,

  After all these years how could you pull such an underhanded trick. Boy, did I misjudge you and Metroplex Savings. I believed all that talk about having a banking partner you could trust. What a joke, huh? You must have got a good laugh when your PR people came up with that one.

   

  Well, you've messed with the wrong man. I won't sit idly by and watch you steal my business. Be advised. You haven't heard the last of me. Justice will be done.

                                        Chuck Walters

   

  I looked up at Hatfield. "This isn't so bad. He may just mean he's going to sue the bank. He didn't threaten physical violence or anything illegal."

  "I agree. He's just pissed off and I don't blame him."

  "So, let's see what else you have."

  Hatfield handed me the files and I read them one by one. They were all quite similar—marginal businesses that toppled when the bank closed their lines of credit or called in their notes. One of the letters was from a man who had immigrated from India and had sunk his families' life savings into purchasing a building to house a new restaurant. He planned to get the restaurant going and then bring his family to America one by one. After he had acquired the property, the bank refused to fund the finish-out as they had promised. The customer was irate and promised Don would be punished for his transgressions. This seemed more promising but I still doubted any of these people were responsible for Don's brutal murder. Then Hatfield handed me the last file. I looked at the name printed in bold letters. It read Tex Weller. My heart skipped a beat.