Cactus Island, page 13
Looking down the mountain, there weren't any buildings or structures within eyeshot, so I walked across the road and climbed up to the top of the hill on the opposite side of the road. From there I looked in every direction but saw nothing but trees and underbrush. As I was about to leave, I spotted an oil well in the distance, maybe a quarter mile away. The area around it was clear of vegetation, as if it had been recently bulldozed. I decided to go check it out.
Sure enough, it was a new well. A sign indicated it was called 'Possum Kingdom NW #7'. Memories of a big oil rig in action flashed through my head. I had been to one of these rigs years earlier. The promoters had invited me to a comin'-in party. They were sure they were going to hit oil in a certain geological formation, so they invited all the investors out to be there when it happened. When they reached the targeted formation, sure enough, they struck oil and it was a day I'll never forget---but that's another story. What intrigued me about finding a newly drilled oil well here, so close to Steven's accident site, was his insistence that the spacecraft had created a piercing noise so intense that he'd had to cover his ears. I thought back to the comin'-in party and remembered the noise that big rig was making. It was so intense everyone had to wear earplugs.
When I got back to the accident scene, a sheriff's car was parked next to my Nissan 300ZX. What was the sheriff doing here? I looked around and saw Steven and Carl Loftus talking to a deputy. As I approached, the deputy turned Steven around and cuffed him. "What's going on here?" I asked.
"Oh, Mr. Turner. I'm deputy Fry. I'm sorry, but I've been instructed to bring Steven in."
"Why? He appeared at the hearing this morning."
"We got a tip from an airline employee at American Airlines. It seems your boy here booked a one way ticket to Seattle for next Saturday. I guess he was planning to slip into Canada where he could hide out."
I glanced at Steven to get his reaction. He looked down and avoided eye contact. "Steven, why would you do that?"
He shook his head angrily. "Nobody's going to believe me. You don't even believe I saw a spaceship, but I did! I swear to God! I should have just lied. Damn it! Look where being honest has gotten me. I didn't want to spend the rest of my life in jail. I had to do something."
I shook my head. "Oh God, Steven. This is going to make everyone think you are guilty. You've just made my job twice as difficult. We've been making some real headway in your case and now---shit, I don't know what will happen now."
His head hanging, Steven was led to the deputy's squad car and put in the back seat. Carl and I watched silently as they drove away. I turned to Carl and said, "Shit, the kid really thinks he did see a spaceship. Can you believe that?"
Carl shook his head. "Hell, maybe he did. I don't know what else would explain this accident scene."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, if he jumped from the car as it went airborne he would have fallen eight to ten feet and his momentum would have carried him at least thirty yards down the mountain. After he hit the ground, he would have rolled another ten or fifteen yards. So, how is it that he even survived that kind of trauma with all the trees, sharp rocks, and boulders in his path, let alone come out of it with hardly a scratch?"
I shrugged. "You're the expert. You tell me."
* * *
Chapter 19
Liquidation
It seemed both Stan's and my murder cases were getting more complex and difficult each day. Stan confided in me that he was very concerned now that Steven had planned to escape. I wasn't feeling much better about Cheryl. Her convenient lapse of memory was a big problem, particularly as the DA gathered more and more damning evidence against her. In the movies the sage old detectives always said follow the money and the answer to the puzzle will be revealed. In this case I had good reason to follow the money since at least half of it belonged to my client. So, I decided it was time to do exactly that.
I contacted Paul Thayer and told him to locate Martin Windsor's parents or his siblings, if he had any. My thinking was to have one of them petition the court to be appointed guardian of his estate. Then together we could start tracking down the money and taking possession of it. Unfortunately, Paul called me back with the surprising news that he couldn't find any relatives at all in the United States. That bothered me considerably, but then I remembered he was an immigrant from Hungary so it was possible he was the first of his family to come to America. Before he hung up, Paul also told me about the car that had been staked out in front of our offices. It was owned by Globe Information Group, Inc., the parent corporation of the Globe Inquirer. No surprise there.
Next I contacted the Immigration and Naturalization Service to get a copy of Martin's file which would contain information about his family back home. Unfortunately this would take time, so I also decided to pay a visit to his company and see what I could find out there.
What I found at the headquarters of Village Drugstores, Inc. was even more disturbing. The offices were empty. It suddenly occurred to me that Windsor may have intentionally disappeared in order to avoid having his assets divided by the divorce court. That thought infuriated me. I couldn't let him get away with that.
With a little sweet charm and twenty bucks I convinced the building manager to let me into the empty suite to look around. The place was neat and tidy. I complimented the manager for what a good job they'd done cleaning the place. "Actually," he said, "this is the way they left it."
"Really? Did they give you notice that they were moving out?"
"No, actually they moved out in the night without us even being aware of it. I was quite surprised to find the office vacant, particularly since the rent was paid a month in advance. Often when a tenant gets a few months behind in the rent this kind of thing happens. But Village Drugs always paid the rent in advance and was never behind."
"Hmm. Was there anything unusual about them?" I asked.
"Well, they always paid in cash---thirty-three one hundred dollar bills every month. That's rare."
"That's rare," I replied. Martin Windsor was in direct violation of the temporary injunction that the court had issued. He'd been directed not to sell or encumber any community property pending division by the court. I normally would have contemplated filing a contempt motion, but since he was missing that would have been a useless exercise.
Totally frustrated, I visited one of the Village Drugstores to see if I could find out where they had moved their corporate headquarters. When I finally was able to talk to the manager, he hit me with another jolt.
"All the Village Drug Stores were sold to a competitor two weeks ago. We are now owned by VDS, Ltd."
All this was starting to annoy me. Martin Windsor appeared to be liquidating all his assets to thwart the divorce court's jurisdiction over the parties' community property. The manager gave me the name and address of VDS, Ltd.'s corporate counsel. I drove over to talk to them.
"Yes, it was rather sudden but the price was so good we could hardly pass it up."
"Didn't you know Mr. Windsor was in the middle of a divorce and enjoined from selling any of his property?"
"No. I'm sorry. He didn't tell us about that. If we'd have known about it, we obviously wouldn't have proceeded."
"Did Martin Windsor attend the closing?"
"No. The papers were sent by Federal Express to New York for his signature."
A ray of hope finally shone through and lifted my spirits. If Martin Windsor had signed papers just a few days earlier, that would be proof that he was alive and get Cheryl off the hook.
"Did you get the papers back?"
"Of course, we couldn't have closed the deal without them."
My heart leaped for joy. Finally, I'd gotten a break. "Can I see the closing papers?"
"Well, I don't know."
I glared at the attorney and said, "My client owned an undivided one-half interest in these drug stores. Now, you can either let me look at the documents or I'll get a court order directing you to do so."
The attorney shrugged and buzzed his secretary. "Betty, would you bring me the Village Drugs file?"
A moment later a secretary walked in with a thick file. After examining it the attorney pulled out a document and handed it to me. My pulse quickened as I flipped through the pages until I got to the signature page." Martin Windsor didn't sign this," I said.
The attorney took a deep breath. "Right. It was signed by the Vice President. Apparently Mr. Windsor was unavailable."
"Yeah. He was unavailable because he's been kidnapped."
"Well, I had no idea."
"Sure you didn't. Let me tell you something. In the next couple days I'll be filing a fraudulent conveyance suit to have this whole transaction set aside, so tell your client not to get too comfortable running the stores."
The attorney's eyes narrowed. He said, "Well, you've got to do what you've got to do, but we are bonafide purchasers and paid a lot of money for these stores. I can't really see any court setting the sale aside."
"It doesn't matter. The sale was in violation of a direct court order. It's void as a matter of law."
After storming out of the attorney's office I drove over to Martin's house to be sure it hadn't been disturbed. I had a sick feeling inside me that something would be awry there as well and I was right. A new owner had moved in!
Livid, I went back to the office to talk to Stan. I needed help and I needed it fast. What was going on? When I arrived at the office there was more bad news. Paul Thayer had called and left a message that the INS had no record of a Martin Windsor immigrating from Hungary! I rushed into Stan's office and told him what had happened.
"He must have been here illegally," Stan said. "Windsor probably isn't even his real name."
"So, what do I do now?" I asked.
"Didn't you say the FBI had been called in?"
"Yeah, that's what I was told."
"Well, let's find out who's in charge of the investigation and see if they'll talk to us. Cheryl has a right to know if they've made any progress. I'm surprised they haven't contacted her yet. How can you conduct a kidnapping investigation without questioning the victim's wife?"
"I'll call Perkins and see if he'll tell me who's in charge," I said.
"Good idea. Tell him Martin Windsor is obviously alive if he's liquidating his assets. That ought to shake him up a bit."
When I got back to my office there was a message from Detective Shaw saying he'd contacted the FBI about the similarities in Martin's and the Cocos Bay Manager's kidnappings. I dialed his number but he was out of the office. I wondered what he had found out. Had the Cocos Bay Resort been sold too? With any luck someone had seen Martin Windsor. He had to be alive. Then a sinking feeling came over me. How was I going to tell Cheryl Windsor that in the last few days millions of dollars in community assets had disappeared?
* * *
Chapter 20
Tracking the Money
It felt weird driving home from Palo Pinto alone. I kept looking over in the empty passenger seat expecting to see Steven sitting there. It didn't seem right leaving him behind, but there was nothing I could do. There was no motion I could file or appeal I could lodge. The courts had no leniency for defendants who couldn't be trusted to appear for trial.
I dreaded having to face Steven's mother. She'd be devastated. The long drive home gave me time to try to make sense of Steven's plan to flee just before his trial began. Did he really think he could just hop on an airplane and escape this whole ordeal? I finally decided it was predictable behavior for a naive teenager. If I'd have been in his shoes, I might have done the same thing.
When I got home, I told Rebekah what had happened and asked if she'd go with me when I told Jenny Caldwell her son was in jail.
"You didn't tell me there was a chance Steven wouldn't come home," Jenny sobbed.
"I know. It was a total shock to me too."
"I can't believe my boy is in jail again. Jails are such horrible places. I'm so worried about him. Do you think they'll mistreat him?"
"No. There's too much media attention on this case for them to allow any funny business."
"He must be scared to death."
"He's a tough kid. He'll be all right," Rebekah said.
"I don't know."
"Did he ever mention running to you?" I asked.
"Yes, his father went to Canada during the Vietnam War to escape the draft. He mentioned doing that a few times, but I thought he was joking. I never thought he would actually do it."
"Dodging the draft and fleeing to avoid a trial for murder are not exactly the same thing."
"To Steven they were," Jenny said.
Steven Caldwell's plan to flee just before trial was the lead story in the Ft. Worth Star Telegram the following morning. While I was staring at the headline and lamenting the events of the previous day, Jodie walked in.
"I saw the headlines. I couldn't believe it. What a day, huh?"
I nodded. "To say the least."
"Well, I've got some good news for you."
"Really? I could use a little good news. What do you have?"
"Well, I went to your meeting at the Dallas Naval Air Station yesterday and they agreed to check all their flight logs to see if any military aircraft were near Possum Kingdom Lake on September 10. I should have that report by week's end. I also called all the civilian airports within a hundred-mile radius of Possum Kingdom Lake, as you requested."
"So, any luck?"
"Yes, as a matter of fact, I found out that several members of the Confederate Air Force have been using a private airstrip in Weatherford to practice for some of their stunts."
"Is that right? Did you talk to any of them?"
"No, but I have a couple names if you want to question them. The airport manager indicated they're usually there practicing on the weekends. He said one of their common flight patterns is to fly over Possum Kingdom Lake on their way to their headquarters in Midland," Jodie replied.
"Did he say what types of planes they fly?"
"Mainly old World War II aircraft that have been preserved or restored. There's a Confederate Air Force Museum at Dallas Love Field if you want to go check it out."
"That's a good idea. I might do that at lunch."
After Jodie had left, I stopped by Paula's office to fill her in on what had happened in Mineral Wells and to see if there had been any new developments in her case. She told me she hadn't heard from Detective Shaw as yet and there was still no word from the FBI.
"You know. I could call Mo at the CIA," I said. "He might be able to help us out on this since the case has obvious international connections. Hell, the CIA may be involved somehow. Isn't that what Paul thought?"
Mo was an ex-client and friend I knew who worked for the CIA. I had handled his bankruptcy several years earlier and he had referred a number of clients to me over the years. Since these cases were often delicate and a little dangerous, he had offered to assist me with some unofficial intelligence services whenever I needed it.
"That'd be great. I'll take all the help I can get," Paula said appreciatively. "I just need some answers right now. I have no earthly idea what is going on in this case. I feel totally helpless. Cheryl's assets have just evaporated overnight and I haven't been able to do a damn thing about it."
Paula's frustration concerned me, so I went straight to my office and called Mo at his contact number. He never answered that telephone, but I usually got a call back within a couple of hours, no matter where he was in the world. This time it took just forty-five minutes.
"Hi, Stan. It's been awhile. What's up?"
"Oh, struggling with a couple murder cases as usual."
"Yes, I heard about one of them---the Cactus Island sighting."
"Oh, really. You guys have a name for it?"
"Sure," Mo said. "Whenever there's a major UFO sighting it gets a name. This one is of particular concern since your murder trial is creating so much media attention."
"I didn't know the CIA got involved in UFO cases."
"We usually don't, but some cases everyone gets involved in. The government can't afford a general panic over a UFO sighting."
"Well, if you learn anything that would help me defend Steven Caldwell, let me know."
"Right. So far we haven't learned a whole lot, but the island is somewhat of a mystery. None of our scientists can figure out how the surface of the island was leveled the way it did, and some of the chemical compositions on the island don't make any sense."
"That's what my geologist said, too, and there's no record of any construction on the island."
"So I've been told."
"Anyway," I said, "Cactus Island isn't the reason I called. What I need help with is our other murder case."
I told Mo about the Martin Windsor case and how his assets were being systematically liquidated in violation of the temporary injunction in place in the divorce proceeding. We talked about the Tobago connection and the similarities between the two cases. He said he'd look into it and see if he could track the money. If he had any luck, he'd give me a call.
After lunch I stopped by the Confederate Air Force Exhibit at Dallas Love Field. I was particularly interested in the types of planes that were being flown over Possum Kingdom Lake. Most of the planes I saw were small combat aircraft like the Curtis P-40 Warhawk and P-39 Aircobra. None of these planes could have possibly been mistaken for an alien spacecraft. There were some bigger aircraft like the big B-25 Mitchell Bomber and the B-29 Superfortress but even those were clearly conventional looking aircraft that wouldn't likely be mistaken for a spaceship. As I was about to leave, a photograph on the wall of an unusual looking plane stopped me in my tracks. It was the P-38 Lightning. Now this had possibilities, I thought. It didn't look like any plane I'd ever seen before. It almost seemed like two planes had been welded together. This made it appear rectangular. I closed my eyes and imagined seeing that plane at twilight during a thunderstorm. I bought a photograph of it and took it back to the office to show Paula.
