Cactus Island, page 19
"Sounds like a good plan. He's going to call me Friday night and tell me where to meet him. I'll call you then."
After I had hung up the telephone, Rebekah walked in and sat down.
"Did I wake you?" I asked. "I'm sorry."
"No, I couldn't sleep. Who were you talking to?"
I told her about Jodie's assignment and what she had just told me.
"Are you coming to bed?" she asked.
This was the most she had talked to me in a week, so I was greatly relieved. "Yes, I'm tired. It's been a long day." She got up and I followed her to the bedroom. As she walked through the bedroom door, she turned and embraced me.
We kissed for a long time, then she pulled away and looked me in the eyes. "Don't ever lie to me again. And don't try to protect me. I'd rather know what's happening, no matter how horrible it might be. That's all part of marriage."
I nodded. "I know. It was stupid, but---"
She put her finger over my lips. "No buts."
On Friday Jodie called me and said she got a call from Brooks. He told her to meet him at the Dairy Queen in Grafford, a little town about half way between Mineral Wells and Possum Kingdom Lake at 9:30 a.m. the next morning. I called Paul Thayer and he arranged for a photographer to come out with me to film the flight and take some pictures inside the hangar. He said he'd do some checking and see what airfields there were around Grafford and find out who owned them.
On Saturday morning Paul, the photographer, and I waited at a coffee shop across the street from the Dairy Queen where Jodie was to meet Brooks. Paul had found three landing strips in the vicinity of Grafford and had the details on each. At 9:30 a.m. a red Ford pickup pulled into the Dairy Queen lot. Jodie was standing next to her car and Brooks pulled up. She got in and they drove east out of town. We followed some ways back to avoid detection. About three miles out of town Brooks turned down a dirt road.
"Shit!" I said. "We can't follow him on a dirt road. He'll notice all the dust and debris we'd be kicking up."
Paul looked at his notebook and said, "You can hold back. I know where he's going."
We pulled over for a moment and Paul told me about the landing strip Brooks was headed for. It was a small strip used by several independent oil companies that operated in the area. One of the companies was owned by none other than Robert Swanson. After waiting for Brooks to be out of sight, we continued down the dusty road. After awhile, we saw a large hangar and several buildings in the distance. We parked out of sight and surveyed the situation.
Brooks' truck was parked outside the hangar next to a silver Corvette, but we didn't see any other cars or persons around. In the distance we heard the sound of an engine turning over. Paul told his photographer to get his camera ready. After a minute the big P-38 came lumbering out of the hangar and taxied to the runway. We watched it take off and then made our way to the hangar. Inside a few small planes were parked and one World War II fighter. I went over to where I figured the P-38 had been parked earlier and looked around while the photographer panned the interior of the building. Paul stood guard at the door just in case someone came by or the P-38 returned.
Several rolls of canvas were stacked along the hangar wall. After close inspection I determined that they were banners that small planes sometimes drag behind them for advertising. I thought back to sitting in Texas Stadium and seeing planes fly by with signs advertising the local strip clubs, or a desperate man's proposal of marriage to a girlfriend sitting next to him in the stands. I wondered if ever a young lady had turned down such a public proposal. That would be embarrassing.
There were cans of paint as well that looked like they'd recently been opened. It looked to me like the P-38 had been painted recently. As I was trying to understand what I was seeing, Paul yelled. "They're coming back!"
The photographer and I immediately ran over to where Paul was standing. We could see the P-38 in the distance turning to make its final approach. We dashed across the parking lot to our car which was hidden behind some trees.
"Do you think they saw us?" the photographer asked.
"No," Paul said. "They were too far away. I think we're okay."
We watched the P-38 land and taxi back into the hangar. There was talking and laughter. Apparently Jodie was putting on a good act. After a minute the hangar door closed and Jodie and two men emerged from a side door. I recognized the second man as Adam Peterson. He drove off in the Corvette and Brooks and Jodie got in his pickup. They drove off and after awhile we headed back to town. When we got there, Jodie's car was still parked at the Dairy Queen. Now I was worried.
"I wonder where they went," I asked.
"Well, Brooks probably took her to lunch," Paul said. "You didn't think he'd take her up in his plane and not expect her to spend some time with him, did you?"
"No, I guess you're right. I just hope he doesn't suspect anything. I'd die if Jodie got hurt."
"From what I've seen of Jodie, she can take care of herself."
I sighed. "I know, but we don't know much about Brooks or Peterson or what they're up to. We can't leave here until I know Jodie is safe."
"Maybe they went back to Weatherford to the Stockyard Stampede," Paul said. "Isn't that where they met?"
"No, that's too far away. Jodie would have taken her car and met them there."
"This isn't much of a town, I'm sure if we look around we can find them."
That seemed like a good idea, so we drove through town keeping our eyes open for Brooks' truck. I said, "Well, I wonder why they wanted everyone to think the P-38 had crashed? It looked just fine to me."
"Didn't you say they were trying to raise money to fix the plane?" Paul asked.
"Right."
"Well, it could be just a scam to rip-off some unsuspecting philanthropist," Paul said.
"I doubt it. I think Robert Swanson wanted people to think there was a spaceship flying around Possum Kingdom Lake, so he hired Peterson and Brooks to make the plane look strange enough to be mistaken for a spacecraft."
"Maybe, but it didn't look much like a spacecraft to me," Paul noted.
"True, but when people want to see something, it doesn't take much to fool them."
As we turned onto Dallas Avenue, we noticed Brooks' truck in front of a diner called Alice's Home Cookin'. We drove down the street and parked in a church parking lot to wait. About thirty minutes later, Jodie and Brooks came out. They tore off in his truck in a hurry. We followed them and when they sailed past the Dairy Queen, I got really nervous.
"Where is he taking her now?" I mumbled.
"According to the map there's nothing down this road for twenty-five miles," Paul said. Brooks' pickup slowed down and signaled. We drove past and saw they were pulling into a stockyard with a rodeo arena. "It appears they're going to the rodeo."
We doubled back, stopped on the side of the road, and watched Brooks and Jodie for awhile. It didn't appear she was in any distress, but I was still worried. Finally, she looked over our way and gave us a thumbs up. A rush of relief came over me. She was fine and actually enjoying herself. Her cover hadn't been blown after all.
On the way back to Dallas, I realized that everything was at long last coming into focus. It was clear now what my defense strategy should be. But I'd keep it to myself. I didn't want anyone, particularly Paula, second guessing me and eroding my confidence. If I didn't whole heartedly believe my theory, how could I convince the jury it was the truth? I just prayed I was right---because if I wasn't, Steven Caldwell would spend the rest of his life in prison.
* * *
Chapter 31
Finishing Touches
With Steven Caldwell's case approaching quickly, I put Cheryl's case on the back burner to work full time with Stan to get ready for trial. I drove to Palo Pinto and found that the media had already arrived and were setting up camp. I heard that Robert Swanson had graciously arranged for a hospitality suite for them to make their stay more enjoyable and we'd been told the food and booze was flowing. Lauren Swanson had offered to let us stay at her place, but Stan didn't think that was a good idea, so I arranged for a half dozen rooms at the local Best Western. Although these accommodations wouldn't compare, we would be too busy to notice.
The weekend before trial Palo Pinto was inundated with spectators. Most of them were UFO fanatics who believed Steven Caldwell had seen a spacecraft and wanted to support him. Many claimed to have seen UFOs themselves and thought if a jury believed Steven Caldwell and let him go that they too might somehow be vindicated. My greatest fear was that Stan would get caught up in this UFO euphoria and actually try to prove Steven Caldwell saw an alien spacecraft. He had assured me that wouldn't happen, but with Stan you never knew.
One of my jobs before trial was to research the judge and our opposing counsel. Stan needed to know their general demeanor and what to expect from them. Stan had already seen Judge Applegate in action and had been warned not to pull any stunts in his courtroom. His short temper was well documented and I was worried how Stan would fare in front of him. Further research at the county law library revealed that the judge had lived his entire life in Palo Pinto County, graduated from St. Mary's University Law School, and had only practiced law five years before taking the bench in 1977. While I was snooping around the library, I bumped into a local attorney. He told me that Judge Applegate had a close friendship with Carla Simms and would go out of his way to accommodate her.
I also discovered that Carla Simms was born and bred locally and was the daughter of a local bank president. A look at the shareholders of the bank indicated that Robert Swanson was a 20 percent owner. This bothered me, but probably wasn't enough to challenge her role in the trial. Simms had attended Texas Tech law school and graduated in the top 10 percent of her class. She had practiced as a sole proprietor specializing in family and criminal law for three years before joining the DA's staff. Simms was married to a local investment banker and had an eleven-year old daughter. Local counsel indicated she was confident, capable, often rude to opposing counsel, and seemed to have a perpetual chip on her shoulders. Bottom line, it didn't appear the trial of Steven Caldwell would be a pleasant experience.
Before the trial began, we had promised to give my friend at the Dallas Morning News an interview. This was unusual in criminal cases, but since this case was getting so much media attention, we thought it would be wise to try to keep the speculation to a minimum. Jane Witherspoon had been a college acquaintance and we had become good friends over the years. I felt we could trust her to conduct a fair interview. It was Sunday, the day before the trial was to begin, and we had arranged to talk to her in a conference room at our motel. We agreed the meeting would be restricted to Stan, myself, Jane, and her photographer.
As the interview began Jane asked, "Stan, what do you think of all the attention this trial is attracting? I've been told the population of this town has tripled in the past two weeks. Do you think all this attention will impact the trial and, if so, how?"
"Well Jane, the attention will affect the trial. There is no doubt about that. The first problem will be in picking a jury. How are we going to find twelve impartial jurors? As you know, the court denied our motion for a change of venue. Since neither Steven nor Jimmy Falk was from this area the judge didn't feel the venue needed to be changed, and frankly I can't argue with him on that point. But the media will impact the trial in other ways as well. Unfortunately, I can't delve into that without revealing our trial strategy."
"Can you give us a hint?"
Stan smiled. "No, sorry. That's all I can say."
"Okay, the big question: Will you try to prove an alien spacecraft landed on Cactus Island?"
"No. I don't need to do that. All I have to show is that Steven was distracted by something that caused him to lose control of his Jeep."
"But your client says it was a spacecraft. Are you going to deny that?"
"We can't deny that he believed he saw a spacecraft, but people often perceive things incorrectly, particularly when they just glance at something for a split second."
"So, what do you think Steven saw if it wasn't a spacecraft?"
Stan smiled, "Well, that will all come out in the trial. I really can't discuss that now."
"I understand," Jane replied. "So, how is Steven holding up? Has his incarceration been difficult for him?"
"Yes, it's been very hard for him and his mother, and they'll both be glad to get this trial over with."
"What do you think made him to want to run? Is that an indication of his guilt?"
"No, not at all. He got scared and depressed like anybody would if they were wrongfully accused of murder. He panicked and bought some airline tickets. I don't think he would have gone through with it."
Jane turned to me. "Paula, what's going to be your role in this case?"
"I'm here to help Stan in any way I can. It's his case but if he needs me, I'm here."
"She's good at picking juries," Stan said. "So, I'll be relying on her expertise in that area and, of course, her women's intuition."
"Women's intuition? Is that true or are you joking?" Jane asked.
"No, I'm quite serious. Paula has great instincts and if she feels strongly about something, I usually go with her gut feeling."
"So, Paula, do you believe in alien beings?"
"No, I don't," Paula said.
"Stan, how about you?"
"Well, Jane, I have an open mind on the subject. If there's one thing I've learned over the years, it's that we know very little about the universe. I think it's quite possible, if not likely, that intelligent life does exist. Personally, I haven't seen an alien or an alien spacecraft, but if you read the newspapers and popular magazines they report that thousands, if not millions, of Americans believe they have seen UFOs at one time or another. The interest in this trial is proof of that, so I don't think you can just dismiss Steven's claim."
My mouth dropped. Stan had promised he wasn't going to say anything to encourage the UFO fanatics that were using the trial to promote their ridiculous beliefs. I rolled my eyes and forced a smile. Jane noticed my anxiety. "So, Paula, you don't share Stan's view?"
"Well, I guess I'm the skeptic."
"Which is good," Stan added. "Paula plays a good devil's advocate. She makes me do my homework."
"Well, I want to thank both of you for talking with me, and I wish you and Steven Caldwell the best of luck."
We thanked Jane and, after her photographer took a few pictures, they left. I couldn't wait to see Jane's story which would be coming out just as the trial was getting underway. It was bound to create a frenzy amongst the tourists and make it even more difficult to conduct the trial. Although Judge Applegate had refused to allow the case to be televised, since there were far more spectators wanting to see the trial than there were seats in the courtroom, he'd consented to a close circuit feed into a large room in the basement.
That evening we were told the ABC affiliate in Ft. Worth was airing Amy Tan's interview with Carla Simms. Stan was busy working on his trial outline, so he asked me to watch it in case she revealed any case strategy during the interview. I poured a glass of wine and got some snacks from the motel refrigerator. The trial was the big news on TV and the station was in the middle of a historical account of Possum Kingdom Lake, and in particular, Cactus Island. I shook my head at all the nonsense about spaceships using the island as a landing site. Video footage of the island showed that the armada of boats around the island was still there, and in even greater numbers than when Stan and I had visited the island weeks earlier. Finally, the interview of Carla Simms began.
"Ms. Simms. Has there ever been a trial like this one in Palo Pinto County?"
"No. I've got to hand it to Stan Turner and his girlfriend---partner---or whatever their relationship might be. They know how to choreograph a murder trial."
If Simms was trying to make me mad, she'd succeeded. I gritted my teeth as the interview continued.
"Do you think you have enough evidence against Steven Caldwell to overcome the tide of support for him shown by the crowds that have gathered?"
"Absolutely. There is no doubt in my mind that Steven Caldwell is guilty and we have plenty of evidence to prove it. It doesn't matter what the spectators believe, it's the jury that counts."
"Can you tell us more about this evidence you have?"
"A lot of it's been reported in the newspapers. The rest will be presented at the time of trial."
"But you're confident of a conviction?"
"You bet. The citizens of Palo Pinto County want justice, and they have too much good sense to believe crazy stories about alien spacecrafts. Steven Caldwell is going to pay for his crimes against Jimmy Falk and the citizens of this county."
"What about the second sighting? How do you explain that hundreds of people saw the spacecraft a second time?"
"You've got to understand, Amy, that these people came specifically to Possum Kingdom Lake to see an alien spacecraft. They desperately wanted to see one, so when they saw an object in the sky they couldn't identify, because of a lack of experience, bad eyesight, or whatever, they jumped to the erroneous conclusion that it was an alien spaceship. They may actually believe they saw one, but they didn't. We all know that."
Simm's interview continued on for some time but nothing was said we didn't already know. I called Stan when it was over. "The bitch intimated that we were lovers. Can you believe that?"
"You're kidding? . . . Damn it! . . . Rebekah was probably watching it to. . . . Oh, well. She's just trying to distract us before trial. Don't worry about it."
"It just makes me so mad," I groaned.
"I know. Just let it go. We've got to focus on the trial."
"Right. . . . How's the trial outline coming?"
"It's done. I'm as ready as I'll ever be."
"Good. I talked to the court coordinator on Friday and she said the jury list would be available at eight tomorrow morning. We should get it as early as possible, so we'll have time to study it."
