Dead Peasants (29 page)

When it passed, Jack said, “Your young eyes are better than mine. See if you can make out the plate.” J.D. squinted until the truck came under the next light. “Can’t make it out, Dad, but it’s the same kind of truck the shooter was driving.”

The truck turned into Quillen’s driveway and stopped at a mounted keypad. The driver punched in several numbers, and the gate opened and shut slowly behind him once he was through.

“Now, what, Dad?

“Now we wait and let our instincts direct us.”

Hawk pulled he truck around to the back of the house where two men stood with Quillen. “Hawk, you’ve been well paid. There’ll be another hundred grand in your account tomorrow. I’m leaving the country for a while. These wrapped frames contain my most valuable art work, two Picassos, a Remington, two Russells and several lesser known but expensive artists. The rest of this is jewelry and some cash. I trust you to take all of this out to my private jet at Meacham Field. I’ve got some other matters to wind up and will be there in a few hours. Any questions?”

“You still want me to try for that big score?”

Quillen shook his head. “No, it’s too late for that now. Leave her alone.”

“Then, Boss, it’s been a pleasure to work with you and profitable at that. Hope your plan works.”

Fifteen minutes later the truck was loaded, and Hawk eased out the front gate. A steady drizzle caused him to turn on his wipers. He never noticed the truck parked to his right when he turned to his left and headed for Camp Bowie.

“We’ll give him a block and then get in behind him. Hopefully, he won’t notice us in the neighborhood. Once we’re on Camp Bowie, even at this time of night, there should be plenty of other traffic to hide us.”

Hawk turned left on Camp Bowie and glanced in his rear view mirror. Even though he was a block away, he noticed a red pickup stopped at the same place where he turned. It also made a left. The speed limit was thirty-five. Hawk sped up to fifty and the truck maintained a two block distance. He slowed to twenty-five and the truck was still behind him.

“I think we’ve been made,” Jack said. “Only we can’t afford to lose him. I don’t know what he picked up from Quillen’s house, but I doubt if it was a bunch of old clothes for Goodwill. Watch him to see if he turns off.”

When Camp Bowie ended at Seventh, Hawk took Seventh. At the old Montgomery Wards, he suddenly turned right into the park. Jack forgot about keeping a distance and sped up, making the same turn with screeching tires. The white truck was a block ahead. The drive through the park was winding, intended for families to have a leisurely drive at about twenty-five miles an hour.

Hawk sped up to fifty, ignoring the wet street, as he followed the road that weaved among the trees. He passed the duck pond where this project had started months before.

At fifty miles an hour, Jack was staying up with Hawk by doing everything he could to keep the truck on the slick pavement.

Jack felt like he was weaving through a tunnel of trees with no margin for error. “That son of a bitch can’t keep this up on wet pavement. He’s driving a goddamn panel truck, not a Ferrari.”

As if hearing Jack’s words, Hawk pushed it to seventy and began to pull away. When he glanced in his mirror to estimate the distance he had put between himself and the red pickup, he took his eyes off the road at just the wrong time. The road curved to the left. Hawk hit his brakes, but it was too late. He careened into the forest where his truck thudded into a large oak. Steam erupted from the radiator as Hawk freed himself from his seat belt and forced open the door.

Jack saw what had happened and followed the white van, stopping behind it as Hawk stumbled out. J.D. leaped from the passenger side and bullrushed Hawk. Hawk tried to raise his pistol, but J.D. hit him full speed like a linebacker flattening a tight end. He wrapped his arms around Hawk and drove him into the ground. Hawk was no lightweight and was not going to go down without a fight. He and J.D. wrestled for the gun until Jack walked up with his cane.

He stuck the cane into Hawk’s neck. “Now, that’ll be enough. This cane fires a gas propelled bullet. It’s only accurate to about twenty-five feet. But with the cane pushing into your neck, the bullet will blow clean through it, rupturing arteries in the process. So, you have two choices. You can continue to wrestle around with my son. He’d kick your ass anyway. But if you do, I pull the trigger. Otherwise, drop your hands and J.D. is going to sit on top of you while we have a little discussion.”

Hawk relaxed and remained on the ground with J.D. straddling him. Jack kicked Hawk’s gun a safe distance. “Now, there are a couple of more parts to this little deal. You threatened me at the courthouse and tried to kill me. You also tried to kill Colby. The next conclusion I draw is that Quillen paid you to kill a bunch of other people in several states.”

Hawk knew he had no bargaining position and nodded his head.

“Very good. Final choice. You’ll either be going to the death chamber, or, if you’re willing to confess and dime out Quillen…I think that’s the term you thugs use…anyway, you turn state’s evidence, I know the District Attorney, and I suspect he’ll let you cop for life with no parole. So what’ll it be, death chamber or life with no parole?”

Hawk twisted just a little and Jack shoved the cane farther into his throat, making it even more difficult for him to talk. “It was all Quillen’s idea,” Hawk said in a hoarse whisper.

Before J.D. could call for help, two police cars drove up lights flashing and sirens wailing. Officers leaped from the cars with guns extended.

“About time you guys got here. We’ve been needing some backup. Look in my back pocket. I’m a Tarrant County Reserve Deputy.”

One of the officers pulled Jack’s wallet from his pocket and confirmed what he had said. “Who’s this guy?”

“Serial killer. We’ve got evidence of about forty deaths in several states. If you’ll permit me, I’ll call Joe Sherrod. This guy wants a plea bargain.”

Jack called Joe and explained what had just come down.

“Damn it, Jack. You could have got yourself killed. I’ll do the deal. Let me talk to one of the officers. They can bring him to my house. We’ll take a recorded statement and have him sign a short confession.”

Joe was standing on his front porch, already dressed in a suit and tie. The officers dragged Hawk up the steps and pushed him into a chair on the porch. Joe turned on a pocket recorder and explained that if Hawk told everything he knew about the killings and Quillen’s involvement, he would get life from Tarrant County. Joe explained further that he could not control what other district attorneys did, but thought they would follow his lead. Hawk nodded his understanding. With Jack’s help, Joe recorded all of the murders Hawk could remember and confirmed that all had been ordered by Quillen. There would be wire transfers, documenting his payment a few weeks after the murders. The last one he covered was the suffocation of Robert Jones. Hawk confessed to that one, too. Joe looked at Jack and nodded. When Joe was approaching the end of the confession, Hawk said he had picked up some valuables from Quillen that night and was supposed to deliver them to Meacham Field.

Joe looked at Jack. “Looks like we better hightail it over to Beau’s house. We don’t have a search warrant. So, we’ll have to wait for him to leave. First, let me call another couple of squad cars to take care of Hawk.”

89

Joe positioned his car, Jack’s truck and the two police cars in the street in front of Quillen’s house and instructed them on what he wanted done when Quillen tried to make a run for it. Around four-thirty, a limousine drove slowly around the house. As it approached, the gate opened. When the nose of the limo passed beyond the gate, Joe gave the signal on the radio. Suddenly, the driver was blinded by four sets of headlights on bright. Joe approached the rear door and knocked on the window. Quillen slowly lowered it.

“Morning, Beau,” Joe said. “What brings you out this early in the morning?”

“Nice to see you, Joe,” Quillen lied. “I have to be in court this morning and thought I would get a head start to beat the press and the crowds.”

Joe looked at his watch and shook his head. “Tell you what, just to make sure you’re there in plenty of time, we’ll escort you to the courthouse.” Joe tapped on the driver’s window until the chauffeur lowered it. “We’re going to have a little procession to the courthouse. A police car will lead you with one directly behind. I’ll be next. I suggest you don’t try anything stupid.”

Joe turned to Jack. “You guys have had a long night and may have a long day coming. Go home and get a shower, and I’ll see you at the courthouse in about three hours. Don’t worry. I’ll take good care of your friends.”

At the courthouse Joe escorted Quillen to a conference room and stationed two cops at the door. Quillen demanded to call his lawyer, and Joe had no choice but to agree. When the lawyer arrived, he talked privately with Quillen and told Quillen to take the Fifth Amendment to every question. Quillen nodded his understanding.

Before the jury was seated, Quillen was led into the courtroom, now overflowing with reporters, and instructed to take the witness stand. The two cops stood at the door, on high alert for any outbreak. Quillen was followed by Jack and his entourage. This time Jack chose not to unpack anything. He figured that he didn’t need notes for what he was about to do.

When the judge exited his chambers, he was followed by Joe Sherrod who had been briefing the judge on the events of the night. Joe went to the back of the courtroom and stood between the police officers. The reporters and jurors noted the strange goings-on. All of the reporters knew the district attorney and whispered among themselves about what was about to occur. The judge nodded at Jack.

Before he could begin, the door squeaked, and Hawk was escorted into the courtroom by two more cops.

“Mr. Quillen, you’re the one who arranged for the murder of William Davis, aren’t you?”

The jurors all looked at one another in shocked disbelief. The reporters began talking until Deputy Waddill finally had to call for order. The one person who didn’t say anything was Ace Leyton. The case was clearly out of his hands. In fact, he stared at the flag over the judge’s left shoulder with a slight smile on his face.

Quillen looked at his lawyer who nodded. “I respectfully exercise my right to refuse self-incrimination under the Fifth Amendment and decline to answer.”

“In fact, there are eighteen other Allison Southwest employees who were murdered, including one Robert Jones, all under your orders in an effort to save your bank.”

This time Quillen was short in his answer. “I take the Fifth.”

“And you also arranged for the murders of at least twenty other people who worked for your bank clients. They paid you the insurance proceeds under dead peasant policies you required them to place on their employees.”

“Fifth, sir.”

By now the audience and jury had fallen silent as they watched a drama they never anticipated.

“Last, you attempted to murder both Colby Stripling, this lady sitting here on the first row, and even me when you saw how this trial was going.”

“Fifth.”

“And every single one of these murders and attempted murders were done by the man seated in the back, one Mike Hawkins, all under your direct order.”

“Fifth.”

Again the back door opened. This time Dwayne Allison was wheeled into the courtroom by his brother, Don. A nurse followed close behind. He had an oxygen tank attached to the back of his wheelchair and a nasal cannula feeding the oxygen into his lungs.

“Your Honor,” Jack said, “Mr. Allison is in the courtroom. As you can see, he’s been severely injured, but wants to testify. May we excuse this witness briefly while I re-call Mr. Allison?”

“You may, Mr. Bryant.”

Don wheeled his brother to the front of the witness stand while Quillen took a seat beside his lawyer.

“Your Honor, Mr. Allison cannot speak at this time. I request permission for his answers to be written out and marked as exhibits for the record.”

“Granted, Mr. Bryant.”

“Mr. Allison, even though you cannot talk, can you understand my questions?”

“Yes,” he wrote.

“What happened to you?”

“I was shot outside the courthouse after trial two days ago. The bullet punctured my lung. I should be okay in a week or two.”

“Who did this to you?”

“I’ve read the confession of that man in the back of the courtroom, Mr. Hawkins. He admits to doing it under the orders of Beauregard Quillen.” As he wrote, he pointed a trembling finger at Quillen.

“Had Mr. Quillen previously threatened you?”

“We had an angry confrontation in the men’s room on this floor. Ten minutes later I was shot.”

“That’s enough,” the judge interrupted. “Mr. Leyton and Mr. Bryant, come with me to my chambers. Mr. Allison, you’re welcome to leave if you need to.”

The judge shut the door to his chambers and took off his robe. “Have a seat.”

“Look, Joe Sherrod just explained what has occurred. I’ve also read a transcript of Hawkins’s confession that Joe had completed just before we convened this morning. This case has become small potatoes in the overall scheme of things. It needs to be settled. Ace, what will your client be willing to pay?”

Leyton responded. “I’ve talked to Mr. Allison. He’ll pay the $400,000 that he got from the insurance company.”

“Not enough, Judge. I’d rather take a verdict. The jury is going to give me at least three times that much, likely a lot more.”

The judge rose from his chair and walked around to sit on his desk in front of Bryant. “Look, Jack, you and I have had our disagreements, but you’ve done a helluva job for your client. Along the way you solved crimes in three states.”

Jack nodded his head at the compliment, but his arms remained folded.

“Here’s the bottom line,” Judge McDowell continued. “You might get a bigger verdict, but I’m not going to let anything more than treble damages stand. I’m telling you that now, and, by the way, if I reduce it to treble damages, the appellate court will uphold my decision in a New York minute. Dammit, Jack, Allison didn’t kill Willie Davis. Your client is being compensated beyond her wildest dreams.”

Jack thought about what the judge said and concluded he was right. “I want $400,000 in actual damages and then treble it. That’ll make $1,600,000. I’ll wave my attorneys fees.”

“Jack, be reasonable. It’s a compromise,” the judge almost pleaded.

“Sorry, Judge, it’s non-negotiable.”

McDowell turned to Leyton. “What do you say, Ace?

Leyton walked to the window and stared out. When he turned, he said, “Allison will need a payout. “$400,000 up front and then $100,000 a month thereafter. I’m pretty sure he can do that.”

McDowell beamed as Jack said, “Deal” and stuck out his hand to Leyton.

The door to the chambers opened and the lawyers came out, followed by the judge. The entire courtroom rose.

“Keep your seats. This won’t take long.” He turned to the jury. “Ladies and gentlemen, this case has been settled. You are excused. You may or may not choose to talk to the lawyers and reporters. That is your prerogative.” McDowell turned to Quillen. “Mr. Quillen, District Attorney Joe Sherrod is walking up behind you. You are remanded to his custody. I suspect charges will be filed against you within twenty-four hours. Court is adjourned.”

Joe had the officers handcuff Quillen and lead him away. After the jury was gone, he said, “Judge, I’m obviously not a part of this case, but I’d like to put something on the record.”

McDowell nodded his agreement.

“The State of Texas hereby dismisses all criminal charges against Colby Stripling, and I personally apologize to her for what she’s been through.”

Standing beside Jack, Colby smiled as tears rolled down her cheeks.

When Jack and his team were the only ones left in the courtroom, June asked, “Mr. Bryant, I’m not sure I understand what all has just happened.”

“Ms. Davis, Mr. Allison has agreed to pay $1,600,000 in settlement. It’s all yours. I’m not taking a fee.”

“Oh my Lord,” June said as she slumped into a chair. “Thank you, Mr. Bryant. And my kids and grandkids thank you.”

“Well, I will require one small fee. I want a lifetime supply of vegetables from your garden.”