Dead Peasants (17 page)

55

It was late in the afternoon, way past time to head over to Moe’s for a couple of drinks and a game or two of dominoes. Jack had counseled a continuing stream of pro bono clients on the usual credit card, mortgage and car payment problems. J.D. manned the computer, taking notes as each client came through the RV. About mid-afternoon J.D went to the house to change for afternoon practice. Finally, the line outside grew short and Jack was able to put a sign on the door, “Closed. Please Come Back Tomorrow.”

What have I gotten myself into?
Jack thought.
I was okay until I won that mortgage case and made the Star Telegram. Since then I’ve been inundated with potential clients. Still, on balance, I enjoy helping those who can’t help themselves.
Jack was at the computer, checking the closing prices of his stocks, when the door opened. Without looking back, he said, “Sorry, I’m closed for the day. You’re welcome to return in the morning.” When the door closed, Jack realized that the stranger was standing at the top of the steps. He turned to see a tall, lean, gray haired man wearing a three piece suit in spite of the hundred degree weather.

“Well, you don’t look like my usual clients,” Jack said as he rose to face the stranger. “What can I do for you?”

“Mr. Bryant, my name is Beauregard Quillen. I believe you’ve heard of me.”

A look of understanding crossed his face as he noticed that Quillen was not sticking out his hand. “Certainly have, Mr. Quillen. In fact, I believe I exposed some irregularities in your bank mortgage practices, and an associate of mine is building up quite a clientele who are suing your banks for a bunch of wrong doing.” It was then that Jack noticed that Quillen had turned to grab the windshield sign, directing persons with mortgage problems to Jacob Van Buren.

“Mr. Bryant,” Quillen said between clinched teeth, “My banks are being served with five to ten lawsuits a week. Mr. Van Buren is suing Empire and some other financial institutions that I sold packaged loans to, along with my banks. His name is on the pleadings, but I know they’re coming from this RV and this goddamn sign.” His voiced trembled and his hands shook as he ripped the sign in half and dropped it on the floor.

Jack picked up his cane and rose, holding it in front of him as he sensed he was facing a man out of control. “Mr. Quillen, I don’t know what your purpose is in coming here, but I suggest you leave right now.”

Quillen’s face reddened. “Not before I give you this warning, you two-bit shyster. My banks could go under because of your god damn lawsuits. If they go down, I go down. You quit referring clients to Van Buren, and we’ll go our separate ways. But, hear me good, you keep fucking with me and you do so at your peril. I will not go down without a fight, and it won’t be in a courthouse, Mr. Bryant!”

Quillen turned and stepped out the door. As he left the RV, Jack called Van Buren. “Jacob, we’ve got one pissed off banker.”

“Which one?” Jacob asked.

“Quillen. He just left here after threatening my life if we keep up these lawsuits.”

“What do you want me to do, Jack? We’re going make a good sized fortune on these before it’s all over and done.”

“We’re going to keep doing exactly what we have. I don’t need another fortune, but I’ll be damned if we’ll abandon our clients who were screwed by Quillen and his buddies. Not the first time in my life I’ve been threatened, and it won’t be the last.”

Jack clicked off and rummaged in a drawer until he found some Scotch Tape. He taped the sign back together and put it back on the windshield.

56

Jack turned into the driveway and circled around to the back where he parked Lucille in her garage. He clicked the garage door shut and started toward the house. After a few steps, he realized his knee was aching and he used his cane to traverse the driveway and climb the steps. Colby met him at the door.

“Gee, you look like you’ve been rode hard and put up wet. I’ve just finished peeling three pounds of shrimp. That’ll be a half a pound for you and me and two pounds for J.D. If I fix you a drink, you up to grilling when J.D. gets home?”

After Colby made two drinks and poured peanuts into a bowl, they adjourned to the patio above the pool. Killer joined them and settled down at Colby’s feet.

Colby reached over to squeeze Jack’s hand. “Okay, spill it. I’ve never seen anything other than the up-beat, exuberant Jackson Douglas Bryant.”

Jack took a swig of his drink before he started. “I had a visit from Beau Quillen about an hour ago.”

Jack described the confrontation while Colby listened. When he finished, Colby said, “I’ve known Beau Quillen since I was a kid. He’s never been a violent man. He works behind the scenes for charities, gets in the paper and the media occasionally, but doesn’t seek attention for what he does.”

Jack excused himself to fix another drink. A slight buzz was overtaking his thinking, but he really didn’t care. He was home and figured he could navigate his way to bed without a DUI. When he returned, he faced away from Colby toward the setting sun.

“Times are changing. Businessmen saw the money being made by their contemporaries and saw that the government didn’t really give a damn what they did as long as they didn’t rob a bank with a gun. They seized the opportunity to rape and pillage the people of this country and the economy,” he continued as he returned to his chair.

“Quillen is pretty small potatoes compared to robber barons on Wall Street, but he was loaning money for a house to anyone who could fog a mirror, usually with interest only for five years and a balloon. Then, he’d package his bank’s mortgages and sell them to the big boys. Until 2008 he was worth several hundred million on paper. Then the wall came tumbling down and he went the way of Humpty Dumpty. I suspect that he still puts on a good façade, but he’s barely keeping his head above water.”

While they were talking J.D. drove down the driveway and parked his pickup in the RV spot. He took a seat beside his dad and listened.

“Dad, you need to do something. You can’t have Quillen threatening you and ignore it.”

“If I were to file a complaint with the police, it would go into a computer as nothing more than a verbal dispute between two businessmen. Cops have better stuff to do.”

“Well, at least you could call Joe Sherrod and have him make a note of it.”

Jack turned to face his son. “Look, J.D., I’m not concerned and I don’t think you should be either. This so-called Great Recession is wreaking havoc with nearly everyone. You see the lines outside our RV every day. Businesses are suffering, too. Maybe the Wall Street banks are too big to fail, but not local ones.”

“Look at Allison Southwest,” Colby said. “No one can check Allison’s books since it’s a private company, but just drive around this part of the state and you’ll see weed-filled parking lots where Allison dealerships once thrived.”

Jack sipped his drink and chewed a mouthful of peanuts as he rose to face J.D. “Quillen saw what the other bankers were doing and went for the easy money. Before you got here, Colby was saying that he’s not a violent man. I believe her, and I’ll continue to believe he’s just making verbal threats until something happens that convinces me otherwise. Still, just to make you happy, tomorrow I’ll start packing my gun.” He smiled at Colby. “However, I’m not quite ready to get myself a guard dog to ride shotgun. Now, Son, what’s your schedule tomorrow?”

“Samuel’s giving us a day off. You want to do some more police work?”

“Yep, I’ll pick out three or four tonight and we’ll get an early start.”

“I want to go, too,” Colby said. “Talking about the economy, my business has gone colder than a brass cup in the Yukon. I’m not even getting any showings, much less sales.”

57

Their plans were interrupted by a three a.m. call on Colby’s cell. She groped around the night stand until she found it and put it to her ear. “Yes,” she said in a groggy voice. Then her voice changed. “Oh my God! We’ll be right over.”

She threw on a robe and ran down the stairs, throwing open the door to Jack’s room.

“My house is on fire! I’m going back upstairs to put on some jeans.”

Jack jumped out of bed in his boxers. “Wake J.D., too.”

Colby raced up the stairs and beat on J.D.’s door, yelling about the fire. Then she returned to her room where she put on jeans and a T-shirt. She dashed from her room and ran into J.D, wearing shorts, T-shirt and flip-flops. They met Jack at the bottom of the stairs

“What happened, Dad?”

“Don’t know, but we’re about to find out.”

Killer barked as they left the house, surprised to see all three of his humans rushing out at that hour of the morning.

“Killer, you stay,” Colby commanded.

Five minutes later they were in Monticello and could see flames and smoke coming from Colby’s house. The fire department had established a perimeter as flames appeared to engulf the entire house. They parked and rushed to the fire line and were pushing under it when a firefighter stopped them. “Sorry. You can’t go past here.”

“That’s my house!” Colby screamed.

“Ma’am, I’m sorry, but there’s nothing you can do now. Is anyone living there?”

“Thank God, no.”

Jack felt someone touching his shoulder and turned to find Joe Sherrod in shorts and an undershirt. “Joe, what are you doing here?”

“You forgot I live two streets over. Our patrol called me. Give them a few minutes to get it under control and make sure it’s not going to spread to the neighbors’ houses. Then, I’ll get the captain over here.”

If ever there was a helpless feeling, it had to be watching your own house burn to the ground. Colby started crying quietly and soon was sobbing as Jack pulled her to his chest. “It’ll be okay. Houses can be re-built.”

“But, I was born there. All my family heirlooms are gone, my photos. my albums.”

They watched in silence for another half hour when Joe motioned to the captain to join them. “Captain, I’m Joe Sherrod, Tarrant County District Attorney.”

The captain took off his helmet and unbuttoned his coat. “I know who you are, Mr. Sherrod.”

“This is Colby Stripling. That was her house. I know it’s too early to know much, but what happened?”

Colby wiped her eyes with her T-shirt and listened.

“Our fire station is over on White Settlement, no more than three minutes from here. The patrol called it in and we were here in less than five minutes. By then the house was totally engulfed. We were forced to do damage control. I’m sorry, Ms. Stripling.”

“Are you suspecting arson?” Joe asked.

The captain hesitated before he spoke. “Yes, sir. That’ll be at the top of the list. Houses in this neighborhood don’t go up like a stack of kindling from the usual fire sources. Also, there appear to be two ignition points and that smells like arson. I have an arson team on the way. They’ll start their investigation as soon as it’s safe.”

Joe turned to Jack and Colby. “I’ll open an arson file and put one of our team on it, too. Sorry, Colby, but that’s all we can do for now.”

“Thanks, Joe,” Jack said. “Come on Colby. Let’s go back to the house. We can return as soon as it’s light.” Jack wrapped an arm around Colby and gently led her away.

Back at the house J.D. made coffee and they sat in silence around the kitchen table. Colby teared up again and cried softly.

Finally Jack broke the silence. “Look, Colby, at least you weren’t living there and weren’t hurt.”

“Dammit, Jack, that’s not any consolation. That makes three attempts on my life and now my house is gone.” Colby lowered her voice. “I’m sorry. It’s not your fault.”

Jack nodded his acceptance of her apology. “I see a little light in the east. Do you want to go back or get a little rest first?”

“Let’s go back. I want to see it now, not later.”

Boss was watching the news while he had breakfast when he saw the report of a house destroyed by fire in Monticello. Hearing it belonged to Colby Stripling, who, fortunately, was not home, he picked up his cell phone and walked to the back yard. When Hawk answered, he said, “Meet me at that abandoned Chevy dealership on North Main. Right now.” Not waiting for a reply, he clicked off the connection.

Thirty minutes later he pulled into the parking lot and saw Hawk’s pickup parked beside the building. When he stopped next to the pickup, he lowered the passenger window and commanded, “Get in.”

Hawk left his vehicle and took the passenger seat.

“You dumb son of a bitch. What the hell did you think you were doing?”

Rarely intimidated, Hawk knew he had screwed up. “Look, Boss, you told me that you were getting short. I thought that the quickest way to make both of us whole was to take down that Stripling woman. It was a perfect plan. I pitched two Molotov cocktails through her front windows, and the house erupted. I executed it perfectly, too; only, I didn’t know that she wasn’t living there.”

“Goddamn it. I don’t pay you to think. Some hired killer you’re turning out to be. One more strike and you’re out. I still want Stripling, but I’ll tell you when. For now, she’s going to put up even more defenses. Go back to your horse and kids.”

“Just a damn minute, Boss. Let’s get one thing straight here. There are two killers in this pickup, not one. And we’re both in it for the money. The day you forget that is a day you’ll regret.”

58

After Jack, Colby and J.D. took another look at the remains of her house, they returned to Jack’s. Colby took two sleeping pills and slept until late afternoon. While she slept, Jack called her office to learn the name of her homeowner’s carrier, called in the loss and arranged to meet the claims adjuster the next morning. Not wanting to leave Colby, he called Moe and asked him to make a sign that said the office was closed until further notice.

Colby woke about five that afternoon and immediately poured a large glass of vodka. She took it into the man cave, flipped on the television and drank until she was close to passing out. When Jack saw she was dropping off, he carried her back to bed and turned out the light.

The next morning he made sure that J.D. was staying home, and then drove to Monticello to meet the adjuster. It was a short meeting. She surveyed the charred remains from the street, made a few notes and then picked her way down the driveway to the back. When she returned, she said, “No reason to look any further. It’s a total. We’ve just got to figure out the value of the house and contents. When Ms. Stripling feels like talking, ask her to call me. I understand how devastating this is. Here’s my card.”

After she was gone, Jack walked to the place where the front door had been. Once he determined it was safe, he avoided what appeared to be a couple of hot spots, and used a charred stick to pick through the rubble. The first thing he found was a leather bound family album. The leather was scarred from the fire as were some of the pages, but at least half the photos were in good condition, including one with Colby as a young girl with buck teeth standing between her parents. Next he found a locket. When he managed to open it, he saw a photo of Colby’s mother. While he studied it, a police car stopped at the curb and a young officer exited. “Sorry, sir, but this is still a crime scene until we take this tape down. You’ll need to step over here to the curb.”

Jack did as he was told. “Sorry, officer. The owner is a friend of mine.” He showed the officer the album and locket. Okay if I take these to her?”

The officer glanced at what he held. “Sure. I suspect the arson guys will be finished today. If the tape’s gone this evening, you’re welcome to come back.”

Driving back to his house, Jack’s cell rang. He glanced at the caller i.d. to see that it was Joe Sherrod. “What have you got for me, Joe?”

“It was definitely arson, Jack. Looks like two fire sources. Someone tossed two Molotov cocktails through the front windows. The arson guys found pieces of two bottles.”

“Any suspects?”

“Not a damn one right now. Unless some neighbor saw an out-of-place vehicle that night, the evidence is destroyed. My guys are canvassing the neighborhood. I’ll let you know if we turn up anything.”

Joe was about to hang up when Jack said, “One more thing, Joe. May not be important.” Jack described his run-in with Beau Quillen.

“You want me to do anything?” Joe asked.

“Nah, I think that he’s got some money problems. He blames me for a big chunk of them. As long as it’s verbal, I don’t want to do anything. I just wanted you to know about it.”

Jack drove home to find Colby still asleep and J.D. watching game film. He put the album and locket on the kitchen table. He poured a glass of water, picked up the latest Sports Illustrated, and found a shady spot on the patio where he studied the top twenty-five college teams in the country. TCU was ranked number eight in the pre-season poll. He heard the back door open and close. Before he could turn around, Colby’s arms slid down his chest and her cheek nuzzled his.

“Thanks for finding the album and locket. Let me go get the album and a glass of tea and I’ll tell you about those photos.”