Brash endeavor, p.1
Brash Endeavor, page 1
BRASH
ENDEAVOR
A Stan Turner Mystery
Volume II
BY
WILLIAM MANCHEE
Top Publications, Ltd.
Dallas, Texas
* * *
To my wife
Janet
* * *
PROLOGUE
September, 1979
The light of first dawn inundated our bedroom waking me from a troubled slumber. In all the turmoil of the previous evening I had neglected to set the alarm. For some strange reason, neither the boys nor the baby had yet awakened. They must have sensed Rebekah's need to sleep. I looked at the digital display and saw it was 8:15 so I rolled out of bed and started doing some stretching exercises. From the other room I heard Reggie talking to his younger brothers, Peter and Mark. After a minute they must of heard me moving around as they came running into our bedroom.
"Good morning, Daddy," Reggie said.
"Hi, bums. You guys sure slept late. . . . You must be hungry?"
"Uh huh," Peter replied.
Rebekah sat up and looked at us curiously. "What time is it?"
"Eight-twenty."
"Oh geez, it's so late, why did you let me sleep so long? The kids must be starving."
"Why don't you just stay in bed, I'll fix breakfast. Maybe I'll even give you breakfast in bed. How would you like that?"
"Oh no, Stan, you've got to go to work."
"Somehow, I don't think I'll be meeting with Bird and Tomlinson this morning. Not after Sheila died."
Rebekah looked at me and said,"Oh my God. That wasn't a dream, was it?"
"No, honey. I'm afraid it wasn't."
Rebekah fell back unto the bed, put her hands over her face and began to cry. I went over to her, sat on the bed next to her and took her limp hand in mine.
"Why don't you kids go play?" I said. "Mom's not feeling so good. I'll call you when breakfast is ready."
"What's wrong?" Reggie said.
"Nothing, just take your brothers and go play!"
"Okay, okay," he said and ran off with Peter and Mark close behind.
"Maybe you should get up. It's probably not a good idea for you to lie around worrying about what happened last night. Come on, I'll help you get dressed."
Getting no response I took her hand and gently pulled her to her feet. I looked into her dispirited eyes and wondered if she'd ever recover from the horror of the previous night. After pulling off her nightgown I managed to get some shorts and a T-shirt on her. Then I brought her into the kitchen and made her and the kids breakfast. After Rebekah had consumed a couple of cups of coffee she seemed more alert.
"You look like you're feeling better, honey," I said.
"I'm fine, don't worry about me," she said trying to force a smile.
"I'll take Reggie and Mark to school. I don't think you should drive today."
"That's okay, I can take them."
"No, you stay home. You'll have your hands full with Peter and Marcia."
As I yelled for Reggie and Mark to get ready for school the doorbell rang. I looked at Rebekah and said, "Who could that be?"
I went to the door, opened it and there stood two uniformed policeman and a man in a suit.
"Stan Turner?" the man in the suit asked.
"Yes."
"I'm Detective Small of the Dallas police department. Is your wife home?"
"Yes. What's going on?"
"We'll need to see her now please," Detective Small said.
"What do you want with her?"
"We have a warrant for her arrest."
"What? You can't be serious."
"We're quite serious. Now step aside and let us do our job."
The two uniformed officers pushed their way into the house slamming me into the doorjamb. They immediately started searching the house for Rebekah. Reggie and Mark starred in shock as they ran by. One of the policeman, having spotted Rebekah sitting at the kitchen table, ran over to her, yanked her up and pushed her up against the wall. She winced in pain as he cuffed her and then jerked her around to face Detective Small who had just entered the kitchen.
"Mrs. Turner, you're under arrest for the murder of Sheila Logan. We're going to have to take you downtown."
"But I didn't kill her! I was downstairs in the ER when it happened. . . . Stan, don't let them do this!"
Anger swelled within me as I watched the officer manhandle Rebekah. "You can't treat her like that!" I said rushing over to defend her. The other officer drew his gun and pointed at my head.
Rebekah screamed, "Don't shoot him!"
Detective Small glared at the officer and yelled,"Put that gun away!" He then turned to me and said,"Mr. Turner, you're an attorney, you know you cannot obstruct this arrest. Now back off!"
"Do what he says, Stan," Rebekah pleaded.
By this time Marcia had been awakened by the ruckus and was wailing from her crib in the next room. Mark and Peter were standing up against the wall in shock, tears streaming from their eyes. I went over to them and held them as we watched Rebekah being taken away. As they were escorting Rebekah to the squad car, Reggie suddenly darted after them screaming,"You can't take my mommy! Leave her alone!
Leave my mommy alone!"
One of the officers intercepted Reggie and restrained him until I got there to get him. I pulled him back to the house yelling and kicking. Then I rushed into the nursery to get Marcia who had been screaming so loud that she was starting to turn blue. I picked her up, held her tightly, and then gazed out the window. Tears welled in my eyes as I watched the squad car disappear around the corner. Why hadn't I listened to Father Henry?
1
HANGING OUT THE SHINGLE
Six Months Earlier
What is it that makes a seemingly rational man set out on a perilous journey knowing full well that the odds of success are quite remote and the consequences of failure are likely to be devastating? Is it pride, stubbornness, a yearning for adventure, or just a reckless disregard of reality?
Not being a psychologist I wouldn't presume to suggest to you why my personality developed the way it did, nor does it matter, but by age fourteen I had a fixation on becoming an attorney and any casual observer at the time could have easily predicted that my legal career would be anything but conventional. It had been six long, trying years since I first started law school at the University of San Diego. Many times I had almost given up on ever making it through. It seemed like every obstacle imaginable had been cast before me and that I couldn't possible overcome them all. But somehow, by the grace of God, I had made it and actually taken the bar exam just two months earlier.
Assuming I passed the bar, which by no stretch of the imagination was a sure thing, the question became, what do I do now? While I was waiting for the results of my bar exam, I took a job with the Helms Insurance Agency doing estate planning.
I had learned a lot about estate planning while peddling insurance to earn my way through law school, so it was an easy transition to my new position. Unfortunately, several weeks after joining the firm, I found out it was in precarious financial condition and likely wouldn't make it to summer. I broke the news to Rebekah one night at dinner.
"Put Marcia in the high chair, would you honey?" Rebekah said.
"Sure," I said and then lifted Marcia up and dropped her into the high chair.
"Use your fork, Peter," I said.
"Hey Dad, will you play soccer with us after dinner?" Mark asked.
"Sure, for a little while."
"What happened today at work?" Rebekah asked.
"You don't want to know," I said.
"What's wrong?"
"I was looking for the production reports for the agency today. I wanted to figure out what commissions I was going to get next month. Well, while digging through the files I ran across the agency contracts with all our insurance underwriters."
"Yeah."
"Well, I started to read one of them and discovered that Mr. Helms had talked the insurance company into advancing commissions on projected sales for the upcoming year."
"Really?"
"Uh huh, so I started comparing the projected sales against actual sales and we're not even close to meeting projections."
"So what does that mean?"
"It means by summer Mr. Helms will owe his insurance carriers nearly a quarter of a million dollars. The bottom line is Mr. Helms will be out of business and I'll be out of a job."
"Can't anything be done?"
"It's too late. Even if the next two months were spectacular by the time you submit all the applications, go through underwriting and place all of the policies it will be fall."
"Dad are you ready to play soccer?" Mark asked.
"Not yet, hot shot. I haven't finished my supper yet and I'm trying to talk to your mother. Go outside with Reggie and start kicking the ball around. I'll be there in a minute."
"What are you going to do?" Rebekah said.
"I don't know. I've been kind of thinking about starting my own practice."
"With what money? If you hadn't noticed, we're broke."
"Well I'd have to start out slowly and keep my overhead low."
"We've got to have a regular income. What if you don't get any clients?"
"I've talked to some of the guys at Cosmopolitan Life and they say they'll send me lots of business."
"What kind of clients would they send you?"
"Wills, trusts and corporation work mostly. They want to send their clients to an attorney who won't t
"That's nice, but do think you could get enough business for us to survive?"
"I don't know, I think so. I'll have to borrow some money to set up an office."
"How much will you need?"
"I was thinking fifteen to twenty thousand."
"Who would loan you that kind of money?"
"The bank, I suppose. Next week I think I'm going to go by our bank and see if they will lend me the money."
"I don't know, honey, it seems pretty risky."
"Well, I have a gut feeling it will work out okay and I'm kind of excited about starting my own practice."
"I guess I could work at the hospital for a few months until you got things going. That would bring us in a hundred and fifty dollars a week."
"Oh, I hate for you to have to do that, Babe."
"I guess I don't have much choice," Rebekah replied.
"Well, you don't have to do it, we'll manage."
"No, it will make it a lot easier for you to get started so I don't mind for a few months," Rebekah said tentatively.
The following Monday I went to Canyon Valley National Bank to see about a loan. I had never borrowed money before except student loans so I wasn't sure what to expect. I didn't know anybody at the bank, so I went up to the new accounts desk and asked who I should talk to about a loan. I was directed to a grey-haired loan officer named Martin Campbell.
"Mr. Campbell, Hi, I'm Stan Turner."
Mr. Campbell peered up at me through his glasses without smiling. "Have a seat, I'll be with you in a minute," he replied and then returned to the paperwork in front of him.
"Okay," I said and sat down in one of the two leather side chairs in front of his desk. When he was done he put the papers in a folder and dropped the folder in his out box. Then he sat back in his chair and looked me in the eye.
"So, what can I do for you?" he said.
"I'd like to talk to you about a loan."
"A loan. Sure, what kind of loan do you need?
"Well, I just graduated from law school and I want to start my own practice."
"Your own law practice? Really?" Campbell said.
"Yeah, it's something I've always wanted to do."
"That seems like a rather brash endeavor, don't you think?"
"What do you mean?" I asked.
"Starting a law practice wouldn't be easy. It would require substantial capitalization. Do you have any clients lined up yet?"
"No, but I've got friends who will send me business."
"Friends. . . . Right, we all have friends, and friends will tell you what you want to hear, but will they deliver on their promises?" Campbell asked. "Not that they wouldn't want to, but how many opportunities are they going to realistically have to send you business?"
"They're mainly insurance salesman, so probably quite often."
"I hope you're right," Campbell said as he reached into his drawer and pulled out a loan application. "Okay, before I get started I need to ask you one question."
"What's that?"
"Do you have any collateral?"
"Collateral?"
"Yeah, . . . you know, like stocks, bonds or real estate?"
"No, like I said, I just graduated from law school I haven't accumulated any assets yet."
"Well, I'm sorry but we don't give unsecured loans."
"But I'm a lawyer. I'll pay it back."
"Lawyers are notoriously bad businessmen."
"Is that right?"
"Yes, that's a fairly well known fact."
"You don't even want me to fill out an application?"
"No, without collateral the only thing we could give you would be a Gold American Express Card with a $2,000 line of credit?"
"I'm supposed to start a law practice with $2,000."
"Well, that's the best we can do. Why don't you go work for an established law firm for a while?"
"Oh, I've heard about that, working eighty hours a week for peanuts and having to kiss everyone's ass hoping they'll make you a partner. No thanks."
"Okay then, go get one of those fat juicy government jobs where they pay you lots of money to sit around and occupy desk space," he suggested.
"All the good government jobs are in Washington, D.C. I want to stay here in Dallas. I applied for the DEA and they would have hired me but my wife failed her interview."
"Your wife failed her interview?"
"Uh huh, they asked her what would she would do if I was doing undercover work and came home with lipstick on my collar and smelling like perfume. She said she would divorce me."
He frowned. "Then get a job with a major corporation. Being an attorney will give you a great advantage."
"I didn't go to law school to become a businessman. I want to practice law and one way or another I'm going to do just that."
"Well, I'm afraid I can't help you."
"Fine!" I said and rose to my feet. "Thanks anyway."
I left the bank upset and discouraged by the cold shoulder Mr. Campbell had given me. To think of all the time, effort and agony I had put into becoming an attorney and all it got me was a $2,000 line of credit. It occurred to me that maybe other banks might have a different attitude so I visited several others. Unfortunately, the reaction at each bank was pretty much the same, no collateral, no loan.
Although I was disappointed at not being able to get a loan I was not deterred from my resolve to start my own practice. Call it stubbornness, pride or stupidity but whenever someone told me I couldn't or shouldn't do something, it just intensified my desire to do it. That night at Mark's soccer game I broke the bad news to Rebekah. I explained the banks policy about collateral and their offer to give us a Gold American Express card. She didn't seem upset.
The thought of starting my own law practice was dropped for a few weeks but when Helms announced the firm was shutting down and gave us all two weeks notice the issue again surfaced. We had just put the kids to bed and were just sitting down to watch TV when I gave Rebekah the news.
"Mr. Helms called it quits today," I said.
Rebekah's faced dropped."Oh no, already?"
"He gave us two weeks notice."
"Oh, crap, I thought we would have another couple of months."
