Ca$h Call, page 21
"So, you decided to divorce him?"
Laura took a deep breath and replied, "Yes, we weren't getting anywhere. He blamed a lot of his failures on me. One day I woke up and realized it was never going to work. I'd be living in a dingy little apartment like this for the rest of my life, if I stayed with Luther."
What about for better or for worse? I didn’t say it but Laura Bell apparently could read my mind.
"Well actually that wasn’t the reason I left him. It was the broken promises, lies, deception, and adultery."
"He cheated on you?"
"Huh," Laura laughed. "He'd come home late at night smelling of perfume. His favorite line was: ‘Oh, well I was sitting next to some broad who had taken a bath in her perfume.’ Can you believe I'm supposed to swallow that shit?! The kicker though was when I found the bite mark on his shoulder. I hadn't had sex with him in weeks, so I knew I hadn't left the mark. It was the proof I needed. There was no doubt in my mind when I saw that bite that he had been unfaithful."
"What about your child?"
"Betsy and I do just fine. Someday I'll get her a nice father, someone who can love her and take care of her the way a father should."
"Are you dating anyone now?"
I wanted to take that question back. It was none of my business but Laura Bell didn’t bat an eye.
"No. I haven't found anyone I really like yet. But I will, just give me time."
"All right. Well, I'm sorry I had to bother you."
"No bother, I enjoyed talking to you. Good luck with the investigation."
"Oh, one more thing. How are you going to get by without Luther's child support?"
Laura shrugged. "I don't know, I was going to ask his parents if they might help out. They really love little Betsy. They're good people. You know Luther’s father is a preacher, right?"
"Yeah, I heard that. . . . What about Luther's insurance?"
"Insurance? Well, I don't know if he still had any. After he quit Mid-America Life I doubt if he kept up the payments. The premiums were pretty high and Luther was short on cash," Laura said. "If he did have any I suspect he changed the beneficiary to his parents, or maybe even Margie."
"What if I told you he kept up all his insurance and you were still the beneficiary? Since your divorce was never finalized, the insurance proceeds will still go to you."
Laura gave me a puzzled look, "Are you serious?"
"Yes, you're the beneficiary of three policies with a face amount of $750,000."
Laura put her hand up to her mouth and said, "Oh my God! I can't believe it. I just figured the insurance was history. This is the first promise Luther ever kept."
"What do you mean?"
"He always said if he died I wouldn't have to worry about money."
"Huh. Well, don't spend the money yet, the insurance company won't pay the claim until the murderer is apprehended."
"Oh really?"
"Uh huh, they've got to be careful they don't give the money to the murderer. By law the murderer cannot collect on the policy."
"They don't think I did it, do they?"
"No. It's not up to them to make that determination. Insurance companies just don't take chances, particularly if it gives them a good excuse to hang onto their money."
After talking to Laura, I called Detective Besch. I wanted to see if he had developed any evidence yet against my clients. I used my meeting with Laura Bell as an excuse to call him.
"Laura seemed genuinely surprised when I told her she was still the beneficiary on Luther’s insurance," I said.
"Really? Maybe she was," Detective Besch replied.
"I don’t know, but she does appear to have a good alibi."
"The wedding?"
"Right. You’ve talked to her."
"Another detective did. He told me about the alibi," Detective Besch said.
"So what about Jim’s alibi? Have you checked it out?"
"Yes. It was very interesting. Jim was there Wednesday night, but I'm not sure how long. Some of the girls think he left around nine or so."
"Really?" I said. "When I talked to them they were talking more like nine-thirty or ten. That wouldn’t give him time to get to Luther's house before the murder took place."
"Well, I understand your client laid a lot of cash on the dancers so I’m sure they would love to provide him an alibi. But that doesn’t mean a jury will buy it."
"I agree. I still have one more witness to interview. She is supposed to know Jim better than anyone and might be able to pin down the precise time of departure. I clocked it from the Sunset Strip to Luther's house and it took about thirty-seven minutes without traffic. So he would have had to leave the club before nine," I added.
"More or less. The time of death is only an approximation."
"Right. . . . What about the Rendezvous Club? Have you checked out Margie’s alibi?"
"Yes, there seems to be some question as to when the girls left and who they left with."
"That’s my reading too," I said. "Margie and Lucy said they left about ten, but the bartender remembers nine-thirty. Of course, that was after I gave him $20 to refresh his memory."
"You can go broke paying for information, Stan."
"Hell, I’m already there. . . . So, how long does it take to get from the Rendezvous Club to Luther's condo?"
"Seventeen minutes," Detective Besch replied.
"How sure are you about the time of death?"
"The coroner’s 9:30 p.m. estimate is based on a bacteria study."
"Bacteria study?"
"Yeah, the body decomposes at a certain rate depending on the temperature, humidity, et cetera. By examining the bacteria that have appeared and developed, they can interpolate the time of death."
"Okay. So they might be off a few minutes?"
"I would think the margin of error could be ten or fifteen minutes."
"Well, I’ll let you know if I dig up anything new."
"Do that," Detective Besch said.
I hung up feeling pretty good. It still didn’t seem the police had come up with any evidence against my clients. That was good news. Then, just when I thought the Blaylock’s fortunes had taken a turn for the better, Rob called.
"Dad just tried to commit suicide! I don’t know what to do."
"I’m on my way," I said, and hung up the phone.
21
The Last Straw
I arrived twenty minutes later. Rob and Don were sitting on the sofa. Jennifer was biting her fingernails as she gazed out the window. Don looked like he hadn’t slept all night. He was sweaty and unshaven. His shirt was half untucked and he smelled like booze. A gun lay on the coffee table. I swallowed hard.
"What happened, Don? You look terrible," I said.
He looked up at me with pain in his eyes. "Oh, Stan. She’s gone. Pam is gone!"
"Oh no. I’m so sorry, Don. What happened?"
"After our meeting I couldn't wait to get home and tell Pam the good news. After parking my car, I hurried inside. I searched the house but she wasn't there. I looked in the back yard but only saw Rip pacing back and forth at the back door wanting to get in. Then I noticed a note on the kitchen table.
Dear Don,
Donna, Greg and I have gone to my mother's. Like I told you, I just can't sit around here and watch our lives fall apart. I need some time to breathe. All the stress and turmoil isn't good for Donna and Greg either. Please don't be mad at me. I don't blame you for what happened, it doesn't matter who's at fault. I guess we had the good life and never really appreciated it.
Maybe God is punishing us for taking for granted all the wonderful things He has given us. We had such a great life, didn't we? It seems now to be just a distant memory. No matter whatever happens to us I want you to know that I love you and if I die tomorrow, I'll die in peace because I had so many wonderful years with you.
Love, Pam
"I crumpled up the paper and threw it into the trash can. Then I went to the phone and called Pam's mother's house. The phone rang and rang but nobody answered. After twenty or thirty rings I gave up and slammed the phone down. Then i just collapsed into a chair in despair.
"After awhile I got up and called American Airlines. I wasn’t going to let my family slip through my fingers. The worst is over, I thought. Life would be back to normal soon. I was going to tell her how you talked Mrs. Windsor's attorney into dropping the wrongful death suit. I'd convince her to come home, I knew she'd listen.
"I rushed into the bedroom and threw some clothes into a suitcase. I forced it closed and headed for the front door. Before I reached it, the doorbell rang. I stopped. What now, I wondered? My stomach was tightened another notch. I put down my suitcase and opened the door.
"A deputy constable stood at the door holding some papers. It was a lawsuit by the landlord. He wanted two hundred and eighty-five thousand dollars. Can you believe it?
"I threw down the paper and kicked over a coffee table. My face was getting hot, and my head felt like it was going to explode. The I lost it. I just dropped to my knees and began to cry uncontrollably. I kept asking God what I had done to deserve such torture?
"Then I remembered my gun. I was the ultimate solution of all my problems. I stood up and rushed into the bedroom and opened the drawer to the night stand. The Colt .38 revolver was under some t-shirts. I pulled them off and gave the gun a hard stare. My hands trembled as I slowly lifted it toward my mouth. I was sweating profusely as I felt the cold steel barrel on my lips. I closed his eyes. I was gonna do it. I tried to pull the trigger, but my strength was gone. I opened my eyes and took a deep breath. I didn’t want to live without Pam. I closed my eyes again and summoned every once of strength I could and with one last rush of adrenalin, I squeezed the trigger. . . but all I heard was a click. Then I blacked out.
"That’s when we got here," Rob said. "The house was dark. I turned on a lamp and looked around. I yelled for him but there was no answer, we began searching the house. I went into the kitchen and saw the crumpled note on the floor. I picked it up and read it quickly. Panic overcame him as I feared the worst. I rushed back into the living room. Jennifer was holding the citation with a distressed look on her face. She told me the landlord had sued my father.
"I continued to frantically search the house and found Dad lying face down on the carpet with the Colt .38 next to him. We turned him over and he began to stir. "’Pam? . . . Pam?’" he moaned.
"’It's all right, Dad. Just relax. Everything's going to be okay.’"
"His eyes began to focus and his memory began to slowly return. Then he mumbled. "’Shit! It wasn't loaded was it? Damn it! I always keep it loaded.’"
"I asked him why he tried to kill himself? I didn't understand it."
"He laughed. ’You don’t understand it? What’s not to understand. I’m ruined. Your Mom has left me. What’s the point of enduring any more pain?’"
22
Reluctant Witness
It was 11:55 a.m., and I was camped out in the lobby of One Main Place. I looked nervously at my watch. Marilyn Watson, an eye witness to the killing of Anant Ravi was supposed to meet me. She had resisted this meeting, canceling several times for one reason or another. I wasn't sure what her problem was, but I needed her testimony desperately. I watched load after load of humanity pop out of each elevator, anxious for an hour of relief from the day's toil.
At 12:15 I was about to give up when I spotted a well-dressed young lady lingering in the lobby. Not knowing exactly what Marilyn Watson looked like, I walked over to the woman and said, "Mrs. Watson?"
"Yes, are you Stan Turner?"
"Right. . . . I'm so glad we finally were able to get together."
"I'm sorry I had to cancel last time, but my daughter was sick."
"I understand. Let's go get some lunch. How much time do you have?"
"I've got an hour."
"Good. This is your turf, where do you suggest we eat?"
"There's a deli downstairs in the basement."
"Good. Lead the way."
We made our way down the escalator to the underground mall and walked a few blocks until we came to a place called Max’s Deli. We went inside and found a table. After ordering lunch, I began to question her.
"So, you have a daughter. How old is she?"
"Eight."
"Are you married?"
"No, divorced."
"It must be tough bringing up a daughter alone."
"We get along okay."
"I've got an eight-year-old daughter myself. She's sweet, but she's got three older brothers watching out for her. I pity anyone who tries to date her."
"Four kids! I don't know how anyone could keep up with four kids."
"Luckily, my wife takes care of them. I don't have to worry about them until I get home at night."
"I wish all I had to do was stay home and watch my baby."
"That would be nice. . . . So tell me, where were you going on the day Anant Ravi was killed?"
"I was on my way to Texas Commerce Bank. I had been paid and needed to deposit my check."
"Where were you when you first saw Mr. Ravi?"
"I was on traveling northbound on Wycliff Avenue. I stopped for the light signal at Lemmon Avenue. Mr. Ravi was crossing the street just off to my right."
"Why don't you tell me what you saw?"
"Like I said, I had pulled up to the traffic signal when I noticed a well-dressed man waiting to cross the street. The light changed and I started to go across the intersection when I noticed this brown car barreling down on the intersection apparently trying to beat the light. I delayed to let him clear, but I noticed the man had started to walk across the intersection, oblivious to what was happening. I knew almost immediately that he was going to get hit because he was walking quickly across the street looking straight ahead."
Marilyn began to cry and continued, "It was horrible, the brown car hit the man and he flew straight up into the air. Then he came down on the car's front window smashing it."
"Oh God. What happened next?"
"The body kind of rolled along the top of the car and fell to the pavement. The man in the brown car finally slammed on his brakes, and the car spun completely around and came to a stop."
"Did the driver try to stop before he hit Mr. Ravi?"
"No."
"Did he try to swerve out of the way or evade him in any manner?"
"No, he just hit him head on without even slowing down."
"How fast was he going?"
"I'm not sure."
"Well, was he going about as fast as the other traffic?"
"No, faster."
"Well, how fast do you think?"
"Fifty-five, maybe sixty."
"When the car came to a halt, what did the driver do?"
"He just sat in his car."
"He didn't get out at all?"
"No, several bystanders went over to see if they could do anything for the victim. I found a pay phone and called the police, but the driver just sat there until the police came. They should throw the book at him. It was a horrible thing he did."
"That’s what we’re hoping will happen. Did you give a statement to the police?"
"Yes, I told them what I saw, and they said they would be in touch. A private investigator called me too."
"Really?"
"Yeah, he said he worked for some lawyer."
"Right. That would be the driver’s criminal attorney, I’m sure. . . . Well, I'm going to need your testimony at trial. It probably won't be for a year or two."
She frowned. "I can't testify."
"What?"
"I don't want to get involved. I’ve already told everybody that happened. The investigator said I didn't have to testify if I didn't want to."
"Well, that's not true. You can be subpoenaed, but I don't want to do that. You said it was horrible seeing Mr. Ravi killed. Don't you want to see Mr. Banks brought to justice?"
"He'll get off anyway. It doesn't really matter if I testify or not."
"That's not true. If he was speeding, then he was negligent as a matter of law, and Mr. Ravi's family can recover damages against him. Your testimony will be critical."
