Ca$h Call, page 20
Q. Just one?
Mr. Turner: Objection. Asked and answered.
A. One.
Q. Earlier in the evening did you have any beer or other alcoholic beverages?
A. Yes, I had a beer at Rob's house.
Q. Just one?
A. Just one.
Page 57
Q. Okay, so after the police left with Rob and his friend, what did you do?
A. We went home.
Q. What route did you take?
A. We went south on Central Expressway to I-30 and then went toward Mesquite . . . ah . . . east I guess that would be.
Q. How fast were you going?
A. I don't remember. I was just going along with the flow of traffic.
Q. Do you know what the speed limit was?
A. Ah . . . well, I presume it was 55.
Q. You presume, but you don't know for sure?
A. I wouldn't swear to what it was . . . but I'm pretty sure it was fifty-five.
Q. So you went along with the flow of traffic, right?
A. Yes.
Q. So, if the traffic was going 55 then you would have been going 55.
A. Right.
Q. And, if the traffic had been going 75, you would have been going 75.
A. I don't think I was going 75.
Q. Objection, non responsive. You said you were going with the traffic flow, right?
A. Yes.
Q. Then if the traffic was going 75 you would have been going 75, right?
Mr. Turner. Objection. Calls for speculation.
A. I guess.
Q. So you were speeding.
Mr. Turner. Objection! Calls for a legal conclusion, improper question, mischaracterization of the testimony. I instruct the witness not to answer the question.
Q. So if the traffic was speeding then you were speeding?
Mr. Turner. Objection. Calls for speculation. I instruct the witness not to answer the question.
Page 88
Q. Why did you veer into the left lane in front of Dr. Windsor's car?
A. Because suddenly, out of nowhere, there was a red convertible in front of me. It must’ve come up the on-ramp. I came up on it so fast I had to turn to avoid hitting it.
Q. So you took your eyes off the road for a minute?
A. Not a minute. Just a second or two.
Q. So you took your eyes off the road for a second or two and when you looked back at the road in front of you there was a red convertible which you were about to hit?
A. Exactly. There was nothing else to do but to swerve to the left to avoid the collision.
Q. Did you look to your left before you swerved?
A. No, there wasn't time.
Q. Did you look in your rear view mirror or side mirror to see if anyone was in the lane next to you?
A. No, I told you there was no time.
Q. So without looking or even considering the consequences of swerving into the left lane you did it anyway?
A. I didn't have time. I told you, I didn't have time!
Q. Objection. Non-responsive. Please answer yes or no.
A. What's the question again?
Q. So without looking or even considering the consequences of swerving into the left lane you did it anyway?
A. I guess . . . yes.
Q. And what happened when you swerved into the left lane without regard to who or what was there?
A. I hit his . . . I hit the doctor's car.
Q. And he died as a result of your carelessness, isn't that right Ms. Blaylock?
Mr. Turner. Objection. Calls for a legal conclusion. I’m instructing the witness not to answer the question.
At the conclusion of Jennifer's deposition I took Don, Rob and Jennifer to lunch at my favorite Italian restaurant, Carelli's. Jennifer was very happy to have her deposition over and was feeling pretty good. Don, on the other hand, looked a little pale.
"So Mr. Turner, I hope I didn't hurt our case," Jennifer said.
"No, you did okay. I don't think there's much else you could have said. The facts are the facts. Unfortunately, we don't know who was driving the convertible. That's the person who ought to be paying for Dr. Windsor's death."
"How do you think it looks, Stan?" Don asked.
"Well, without proof of the red convertible, it doesn't look too good . . . for Jennifer anyway. As for you, they've got a tough burden to prove you were negligent and responsible for Jennifer getting into the accident."
"What happens if they get a judgment against Jennifer?" Rob asked.
"Well, you kids don't have anything so it will be a worthless piece of paper. This is Texas, where you can own a house and considerable personal property and no creditor can touch it. All they can do is abstract the judgment and hope sometime you'll be foolish enough to buy some non-exempt real estate in Dallas County where the judgment would be filed."
"That wouldn't ever happen," Don laughed.
"True, they're really after you, Don. You know we might be able to put an end to this whole thing right now if you'll give me permission to tell them a little lie?" I said.
"Tell them a lie?"
"I know you and Pam would never file bankruptcy. You've both made that perfectly clear but—"
"But what?"
"Well, they don't know that. If I just lay the cards on the table they might pack their bags and go home."
Don looked at me and frowned. "Pam would never go for it. She'd kill me if I let you represent to someone that we were going to file bankruptcy."
I took a deep breath and replied, "Well if I don't actually say you're going to file bankruptcy would it be okay? If I just implied it?"
Don raised his eyebrows and replied, "I guess it can't hurt. Just be sure you don't say we're going to file. If she ever thought I had allowed you to say that, she'd kill me."
"Don't worry, I won't." I smiled at Rob and Jennifer and said, "You two okay with this?"
Rob looked at Jennifer and she nodded affirmatively. Rob shrugged and said, "I guess pride is not important at a time like this."
"No, it's not. The important thing is to get this thing over with so you all can go on with your lives."
After lunch I asked to have a private conference with Mr. Schultz. I took him into my office and closed the door.
"Okay, Bob. Do you mind if I call you Bob?"
"No, that's fine."
"You and I both know litigation is expensive," I said. "God knows how much you've already spent prosecuting this case. Now for some reason the insurance company saw fit to deposit three hundred grand into the registry of the court. I don't know why they did it. Frankly, I don't think your case is that good."
"They must have thought it was pretty good," Schultz replied.
"Apparently they did, and it's done. There's nothing I can do about it. I know you and your client are feeling pretty good right now. You're on a roll and you'd like to get what . . . another two or three hundred thousand? I don't think you're naive enough to think you're going to get $2.5 million."
"You never know."
"True, but I just wanted to point out a few things to you. There are a few facts you probably don't know, but you need to know, to properly analyze your position here. . . . Jennifer Blaylock is just a kid. She's pregnant and may never get a high school diploma. She has no money. Her mother is divorced and is barely surviving. If you go ahead with this lawsuit I'm going to slap her into bankruptcy so fast your judgment won't be worth much more than the envelope it comes in."
Schultz shook his head and smiled, "You think I'm stupid or something? Why do you think we sued the owner of the car?"
"Exactly. I understood your thinking. . . . Don Blaylock is a successful businessman. He's got some assets you can get to. You probably think he's good for the two or three hundred thousand dollars, right? . . . Ha!" I laughed. "I'm afraid not."
I got up, gazed out the window for a moment and then continued, "This would ordinarily be attorney-client privileged information, but my client very reluctantly has authorized me to tell you this."
I turned around and looked Schultz in the eye. . . . "He's broke! Flat ass broke! You've probably heard about Luther Bell's murder, right?"
"Yes, I've read about it in the newspaper."
"Well, he got Mr. Blaylock into a franchise deal that went sour. Don's lost everything. Between the IRS, the comptroller, and the bank there ain't nothin' left. So, if you get a judgment against him, guess what?"
Schultz frowned and replied, "Bankruptcy. . . . I get the picture."
I nodded. "So, as I see it right now your firm has made out like a bandit. You've got . . . what . . . fifty hours in this case so far? Let me see, your one-third is one hundred thousand dollars divided by fifty . . . ah, $2,000 an hour. Wow! Don't you love this profession?"
"We've actually got over sixty hours in the case."
"But if you continue this case, before you know it you'll have what— two, three hundred hours? Oh . . . and those expert witness fees, investigators, court reporters . . . Jesus! How much do you think they will run? How do you think your client will like paying all those expenses?"
Schultz got up and walked over to the window and stared at the cars traveling down Central Expressway.
"Oh," I continued. "I forgot. Don's a prime suspect in the Luther Bell murder."
Schultz turned and stared at me.
"Well, I just mean he may be in prison. You're not going to be able to collect anything from him if he's in prison, are you?"
Schultz shook his head, "Okay. . . . You made your point. I need to talk to my client."
"Please do. I think it would be a very wise thing to do."
After a brief discussion with his client, Schultz indicated they would settle for what had been tendered. We shook hands and they left. I called everyone in and gave them the good news. "Well, it's over. They're going to accept the $300,000 as a complete and final settlement of the case. Our little deception worked like a charm."
"You didn't tell him we were going to file bankruptcy, did you?" Don asked.
"No, I told him you were the prime suspect in Luther Bell's murder. You should have seen his face."
Don thought for moment and then burst out laughing. "That's right . . . I’m damn good with a tire iron."
Feeling a little better with one more problem resolved, I went home early and took the family out to dinner. It was Thursday, our bowling night, so we headed over to Triangle Bowling alley when we were done. Reggi, Mark, and I were in a church league. None of us were great bowlers, but we always had a lot of fun. Rebekah usually came with Peter and Marcia to watch. In between turns, I brainstormed with Rebekah about Luther’s murder.
"I just can’t see a man repeatedly hitting Luther the way the killer did. Luther’s murder had the mark of a woman. It was a crime of passion or fear, or both.
"So, who do you think did it?" Rebekah asked.
"Well, the obvious list includes Pam, Wanda, Margie and Laura Bell.
"Dad, you’re up," Reggi said. I looked over at him and smiled. "Okay, I’m coming."
After retrieving my ball, I took center stage. All eyes were on me. Having never taken bowling lessons, I was a straight shooter. This meant even if I hit the pocket I still was likely to leave a couple pins and if I missed the pocket and hit the first pin, I’d get a split. My unprofessional approach to resolving this problem was to get way over to one side or the other and try to hit the pocket at an angle. Sometimes this would work but more often than not, it wouldn’t. I took a deep breath, took a few strides toward the pins, and let it go. The ball went straight for the pocket. All the pins scattered except one which stood like a rock in a raging surf.
"Damn," I moaned.
"It’s okay, Dad. You’ll get the spare," Reggi said.
"You don’t think Pam did it, do you?" Rebekah asked.
"I don’t know. She seems extremely traumatized by all that’s been happening. I wouldn’t be shocked if it turned out she did do it. I hope she didn’t, but—"
"I know she didn’t do it. I know her. It wouldn’t even cross her mind. . . . But if it had been me . . . yes, I would have definitely killed the bastard!"
I didn’t laugh. She was telling the truth. Rebekah would have had no tolerance for someone messing with her life the way Luther had done. Although generally sweet and kind, if you threatened her family she’d become your worst enemy and your worst nightmare.
Few people knew this about Rebekah as this dark part of her personality rarely surfaced, but I knew it only too well. I still wondered if she had killed Sheila Logan, the lonely wife of one of my clients who had lured me into a cabin for sensual pleasures. Nothing happened, but it might have had I not knocked over a kerosene lamp and set the cabin ablaze. Later that night, after being in a car wreck and ending up in the emergency ward at the hospital where Rebekah was working, Sheila mysteriously died. When I had pressed Rebekah on the issue after the murder charges against her were dropped, she refused to flatly deny it. She just shrugged and gave me a wry smile.
"I’m going to focus on Margie and Laura," I said.
"They are the most likely ones to have killed him."
"What about Wanda?" Rebekah asked.
"I can’t see Wanda doing it. She is so quiet, gentle, and loving. It would be totally out of character."
Rebekah raised her eyebrows. "It’s the quiet ones you have to watch out for."
I laughed. "Right, I know."
20
Laura Bell
The next morning, I stopped by Laura Bell's apartment. She was my best suspect. She had a motive and had shown a propensity for violence in the past. I prayed she didn’t have an alibi. Her house was located in a lower middle class neighborhood in Balch Springs. I climbed the stairs to the second floor, found apartment number 221 and rang the doorbell. After a minute, the door opened and a pretty dishwater blond, about twenty-five years of age, greeted me with a warm smile. I introduced myself and told her why I was there. She invited me in.
I entered the room and looked around. The apartment was immaculate, which surprised me a little. A little girl was playing in the corner with a Fisher Price gas station. She looked up at me curiously.
"Would you like some coffee?" Laura asked.
"Sure, I could use a cup."
Laura went into the kitchen and returned shortly with a Texas A&M mug full of coffee and then sat down.
"Did you go to Texas A&M?" I asked.
"No, one of my brothers did. I wanted to go, but Luther and I got married instead."
"When did you hear about Luther’s murder?"
"It was on the news in San Antonio. Friday, I think."
"You were in San Antonio when the murder took place?"
"Yes, that's where I'm from. My family is still there."
A shroud of disappointment fell over me. She has an alibi, damn it. "How long had you been down there?"
"About ten days."
"Ten days?"
"Yeah. . . . One of my sisters got married."
"Oh. Was it a big wedding?"
"Pretty big. There were about three hundred and fifty guests. We've got a big family and the groom was from San Antonio, too."
"When was it?"
"Saturday night. I stayed down there since there wasn't really much I could do up here. I didn't see any reason to miss the wedding. Luther's parents were arranging the funeral so there wasn't really anything for me to do anyway. We flew back Monday afternoon and went straight to the funeral home. We didn't get back here until late last night."
"Where were you Wednesday evening?"
"At the rehearsal dinner. The groom's parents had a dinner for everyone at the Marriott Hotel on the Riverwalk. It was so romantic. I hope my sister's marriage works out better than mine did."
"So, what happened to you and Luther?"
"He had a lot of great ideas, but he could never put anything together right. He wasn't good with the follow-through, you know. First he wanted to be a minister, then he sold cars, then it was the stock market, commodities, and finally life insurance. He never was very good at anything, and he always blamed someone else for his problems. I just got tired of his empty promises."
Mr. Turner: Objection. Asked and answered.
A. One.
Q. Earlier in the evening did you have any beer or other alcoholic beverages?
A. Yes, I had a beer at Rob's house.
Q. Just one?
A. Just one.
Page 57
Q. Okay, so after the police left with Rob and his friend, what did you do?
A. We went home.
Q. What route did you take?
A. We went south on Central Expressway to I-30 and then went toward Mesquite . . . ah . . . east I guess that would be.
Q. How fast were you going?
A. I don't remember. I was just going along with the flow of traffic.
Q. Do you know what the speed limit was?
A. Ah . . . well, I presume it was 55.
Q. You presume, but you don't know for sure?
A. I wouldn't swear to what it was . . . but I'm pretty sure it was fifty-five.
Q. So you went along with the flow of traffic, right?
A. Yes.
Q. So, if the traffic was going 55 then you would have been going 55.
A. Right.
Q. And, if the traffic had been going 75, you would have been going 75.
A. I don't think I was going 75.
Q. Objection, non responsive. You said you were going with the traffic flow, right?
A. Yes.
Q. Then if the traffic was going 75 you would have been going 75, right?
Mr. Turner. Objection. Calls for speculation.
A. I guess.
Q. So you were speeding.
Mr. Turner. Objection! Calls for a legal conclusion, improper question, mischaracterization of the testimony. I instruct the witness not to answer the question.
Q. So if the traffic was speeding then you were speeding?
Mr. Turner. Objection. Calls for speculation. I instruct the witness not to answer the question.
Page 88
Q. Why did you veer into the left lane in front of Dr. Windsor's car?
A. Because suddenly, out of nowhere, there was a red convertible in front of me. It must’ve come up the on-ramp. I came up on it so fast I had to turn to avoid hitting it.
Q. So you took your eyes off the road for a minute?
A. Not a minute. Just a second or two.
Q. So you took your eyes off the road for a second or two and when you looked back at the road in front of you there was a red convertible which you were about to hit?
A. Exactly. There was nothing else to do but to swerve to the left to avoid the collision.
Q. Did you look to your left before you swerved?
A. No, there wasn't time.
Q. Did you look in your rear view mirror or side mirror to see if anyone was in the lane next to you?
A. No, I told you there was no time.
Q. So without looking or even considering the consequences of swerving into the left lane you did it anyway?
A. I didn't have time. I told you, I didn't have time!
Q. Objection. Non-responsive. Please answer yes or no.
A. What's the question again?
Q. So without looking or even considering the consequences of swerving into the left lane you did it anyway?
A. I guess . . . yes.
Q. And what happened when you swerved into the left lane without regard to who or what was there?
A. I hit his . . . I hit the doctor's car.
Q. And he died as a result of your carelessness, isn't that right Ms. Blaylock?
Mr. Turner. Objection. Calls for a legal conclusion. I’m instructing the witness not to answer the question.
At the conclusion of Jennifer's deposition I took Don, Rob and Jennifer to lunch at my favorite Italian restaurant, Carelli's. Jennifer was very happy to have her deposition over and was feeling pretty good. Don, on the other hand, looked a little pale.
"So Mr. Turner, I hope I didn't hurt our case," Jennifer said.
"No, you did okay. I don't think there's much else you could have said. The facts are the facts. Unfortunately, we don't know who was driving the convertible. That's the person who ought to be paying for Dr. Windsor's death."
"How do you think it looks, Stan?" Don asked.
"Well, without proof of the red convertible, it doesn't look too good . . . for Jennifer anyway. As for you, they've got a tough burden to prove you were negligent and responsible for Jennifer getting into the accident."
"What happens if they get a judgment against Jennifer?" Rob asked.
"Well, you kids don't have anything so it will be a worthless piece of paper. This is Texas, where you can own a house and considerable personal property and no creditor can touch it. All they can do is abstract the judgment and hope sometime you'll be foolish enough to buy some non-exempt real estate in Dallas County where the judgment would be filed."
"That wouldn't ever happen," Don laughed.
"True, they're really after you, Don. You know we might be able to put an end to this whole thing right now if you'll give me permission to tell them a little lie?" I said.
"Tell them a lie?"
"I know you and Pam would never file bankruptcy. You've both made that perfectly clear but—"
"But what?"
"Well, they don't know that. If I just lay the cards on the table they might pack their bags and go home."
Don looked at me and frowned. "Pam would never go for it. She'd kill me if I let you represent to someone that we were going to file bankruptcy."
I took a deep breath and replied, "Well if I don't actually say you're going to file bankruptcy would it be okay? If I just implied it?"
Don raised his eyebrows and replied, "I guess it can't hurt. Just be sure you don't say we're going to file. If she ever thought I had allowed you to say that, she'd kill me."
"Don't worry, I won't." I smiled at Rob and Jennifer and said, "You two okay with this?"
Rob looked at Jennifer and she nodded affirmatively. Rob shrugged and said, "I guess pride is not important at a time like this."
"No, it's not. The important thing is to get this thing over with so you all can go on with your lives."
After lunch I asked to have a private conference with Mr. Schultz. I took him into my office and closed the door.
"Okay, Bob. Do you mind if I call you Bob?"
"No, that's fine."
"You and I both know litigation is expensive," I said. "God knows how much you've already spent prosecuting this case. Now for some reason the insurance company saw fit to deposit three hundred grand into the registry of the court. I don't know why they did it. Frankly, I don't think your case is that good."
"They must have thought it was pretty good," Schultz replied.
"Apparently they did, and it's done. There's nothing I can do about it. I know you and your client are feeling pretty good right now. You're on a roll and you'd like to get what . . . another two or three hundred thousand? I don't think you're naive enough to think you're going to get $2.5 million."
"You never know."
"True, but I just wanted to point out a few things to you. There are a few facts you probably don't know, but you need to know, to properly analyze your position here. . . . Jennifer Blaylock is just a kid. She's pregnant and may never get a high school diploma. She has no money. Her mother is divorced and is barely surviving. If you go ahead with this lawsuit I'm going to slap her into bankruptcy so fast your judgment won't be worth much more than the envelope it comes in."
Schultz shook his head and smiled, "You think I'm stupid or something? Why do you think we sued the owner of the car?"
"Exactly. I understood your thinking. . . . Don Blaylock is a successful businessman. He's got some assets you can get to. You probably think he's good for the two or three hundred thousand dollars, right? . . . Ha!" I laughed. "I'm afraid not."
I got up, gazed out the window for a moment and then continued, "This would ordinarily be attorney-client privileged information, but my client very reluctantly has authorized me to tell you this."
I turned around and looked Schultz in the eye. . . . "He's broke! Flat ass broke! You've probably heard about Luther Bell's murder, right?"
"Yes, I've read about it in the newspaper."
"Well, he got Mr. Blaylock into a franchise deal that went sour. Don's lost everything. Between the IRS, the comptroller, and the bank there ain't nothin' left. So, if you get a judgment against him, guess what?"
Schultz frowned and replied, "Bankruptcy. . . . I get the picture."
I nodded. "So, as I see it right now your firm has made out like a bandit. You've got . . . what . . . fifty hours in this case so far? Let me see, your one-third is one hundred thousand dollars divided by fifty . . . ah, $2,000 an hour. Wow! Don't you love this profession?"
"We've actually got over sixty hours in the case."
"But if you continue this case, before you know it you'll have what— two, three hundred hours? Oh . . . and those expert witness fees, investigators, court reporters . . . Jesus! How much do you think they will run? How do you think your client will like paying all those expenses?"
Schultz got up and walked over to the window and stared at the cars traveling down Central Expressway.
"Oh," I continued. "I forgot. Don's a prime suspect in the Luther Bell murder."
Schultz turned and stared at me.
"Well, I just mean he may be in prison. You're not going to be able to collect anything from him if he's in prison, are you?"
Schultz shook his head, "Okay. . . . You made your point. I need to talk to my client."
"Please do. I think it would be a very wise thing to do."
After a brief discussion with his client, Schultz indicated they would settle for what had been tendered. We shook hands and they left. I called everyone in and gave them the good news. "Well, it's over. They're going to accept the $300,000 as a complete and final settlement of the case. Our little deception worked like a charm."
"You didn't tell him we were going to file bankruptcy, did you?" Don asked.
"No, I told him you were the prime suspect in Luther Bell's murder. You should have seen his face."
Don thought for moment and then burst out laughing. "That's right . . . I’m damn good with a tire iron."
Feeling a little better with one more problem resolved, I went home early and took the family out to dinner. It was Thursday, our bowling night, so we headed over to Triangle Bowling alley when we were done. Reggi, Mark, and I were in a church league. None of us were great bowlers, but we always had a lot of fun. Rebekah usually came with Peter and Marcia to watch. In between turns, I brainstormed with Rebekah about Luther’s murder.
"I just can’t see a man repeatedly hitting Luther the way the killer did. Luther’s murder had the mark of a woman. It was a crime of passion or fear, or both.
"So, who do you think did it?" Rebekah asked.
"Well, the obvious list includes Pam, Wanda, Margie and Laura Bell.
"Dad, you’re up," Reggi said. I looked over at him and smiled. "Okay, I’m coming."
After retrieving my ball, I took center stage. All eyes were on me. Having never taken bowling lessons, I was a straight shooter. This meant even if I hit the pocket I still was likely to leave a couple pins and if I missed the pocket and hit the first pin, I’d get a split. My unprofessional approach to resolving this problem was to get way over to one side or the other and try to hit the pocket at an angle. Sometimes this would work but more often than not, it wouldn’t. I took a deep breath, took a few strides toward the pins, and let it go. The ball went straight for the pocket. All the pins scattered except one which stood like a rock in a raging surf.
"Damn," I moaned.
"It’s okay, Dad. You’ll get the spare," Reggi said.
"You don’t think Pam did it, do you?" Rebekah asked.
"I don’t know. She seems extremely traumatized by all that’s been happening. I wouldn’t be shocked if it turned out she did do it. I hope she didn’t, but—"
"I know she didn’t do it. I know her. It wouldn’t even cross her mind. . . . But if it had been me . . . yes, I would have definitely killed the bastard!"
I didn’t laugh. She was telling the truth. Rebekah would have had no tolerance for someone messing with her life the way Luther had done. Although generally sweet and kind, if you threatened her family she’d become your worst enemy and your worst nightmare.
Few people knew this about Rebekah as this dark part of her personality rarely surfaced, but I knew it only too well. I still wondered if she had killed Sheila Logan, the lonely wife of one of my clients who had lured me into a cabin for sensual pleasures. Nothing happened, but it might have had I not knocked over a kerosene lamp and set the cabin ablaze. Later that night, after being in a car wreck and ending up in the emergency ward at the hospital where Rebekah was working, Sheila mysteriously died. When I had pressed Rebekah on the issue after the murder charges against her were dropped, she refused to flatly deny it. She just shrugged and gave me a wry smile.
"I’m going to focus on Margie and Laura," I said.
"They are the most likely ones to have killed him."
"What about Wanda?" Rebekah asked.
"I can’t see Wanda doing it. She is so quiet, gentle, and loving. It would be totally out of character."
Rebekah raised her eyebrows. "It’s the quiet ones you have to watch out for."
I laughed. "Right, I know."
20
Laura Bell
The next morning, I stopped by Laura Bell's apartment. She was my best suspect. She had a motive and had shown a propensity for violence in the past. I prayed she didn’t have an alibi. Her house was located in a lower middle class neighborhood in Balch Springs. I climbed the stairs to the second floor, found apartment number 221 and rang the doorbell. After a minute, the door opened and a pretty dishwater blond, about twenty-five years of age, greeted me with a warm smile. I introduced myself and told her why I was there. She invited me in.
I entered the room and looked around. The apartment was immaculate, which surprised me a little. A little girl was playing in the corner with a Fisher Price gas station. She looked up at me curiously.
"Would you like some coffee?" Laura asked.
"Sure, I could use a cup."
Laura went into the kitchen and returned shortly with a Texas A&M mug full of coffee and then sat down.
"Did you go to Texas A&M?" I asked.
"No, one of my brothers did. I wanted to go, but Luther and I got married instead."
"When did you hear about Luther’s murder?"
"It was on the news in San Antonio. Friday, I think."
"You were in San Antonio when the murder took place?"
"Yes, that's where I'm from. My family is still there."
A shroud of disappointment fell over me. She has an alibi, damn it. "How long had you been down there?"
"About ten days."
"Ten days?"
"Yeah. . . . One of my sisters got married."
"Oh. Was it a big wedding?"
"Pretty big. There were about three hundred and fifty guests. We've got a big family and the groom was from San Antonio, too."
"When was it?"
"Saturday night. I stayed down there since there wasn't really much I could do up here. I didn't see any reason to miss the wedding. Luther's parents were arranging the funeral so there wasn't really anything for me to do anyway. We flew back Monday afternoon and went straight to the funeral home. We didn't get back here until late last night."
"Where were you Wednesday evening?"
"At the rehearsal dinner. The groom's parents had a dinner for everyone at the Marriott Hotel on the Riverwalk. It was so romantic. I hope my sister's marriage works out better than mine did."
"So, what happened to you and Luther?"
"He had a lot of great ideas, but he could never put anything together right. He wasn't good with the follow-through, you know. First he wanted to be a minister, then he sold cars, then it was the stock market, commodities, and finally life insurance. He never was very good at anything, and he always blamed someone else for his problems. I just got tired of his empty promises."
