Dead Peasants (13 page)

41

The series started the following Sunday with a story on Jack Bryant and his pro bono work out of his RV. The story about the Rodriquez victory followed on Monday. The Tuesday story was almost an afterthought. By then Jack was confronted with a parking lot full of people with mortgage problems. After he complained to Colby that evening that his parking lot was overrun, Colby drove out North Main the next morning and parked across the street from the RV. She watched as the parking lot filled. About every half hour Jack would escort someone from his RV and beckon to the next one in line who would follow him in the door. Colby watched for three hours, leaving only once for coffee. Driving back to her office, she realized that there wasn’t a phony bone in Jack’s body.
I could easily fall in love with a guy like this
, she thought. Only her next thought was about her husband, lying in the nursing home, and she shoved her feelings for Jack to the back of her mind.
Maybe one of these days, but certainly not now.

Jack tried to handle them at first, but soon realized that he would be back in the full time practice of law, something he neither needed nor wanted. After a couple of weeks he worked out a referral arrangement with a good plaintiff lawyers. He put another sign in his window
: If you’re here about a foreclosure problem, please call Jacob Van Buren.

The knock at the door of the RV was so soft that at first Jack thought it must have been the wind. It came again. He rose from his chair and opened the door. An elderly black lady who he recognized as June Davis stood at the bottom of the steps.

“Mrs. Davis, I’m sorry. I didn’t hear you at first. Please come in. It’s chilly out there for early May.” Jack went down a step and extended his hand to assist his visitor, then offered her something to drink.

June perched on the edge of the cushioned bench that circled the table. “Water would be nice,” she said in a soft voice.

Jack went to the refrigerator and returned with a bottle. He twisted the cap a half a turn and handed it to her. She twisted the cap the rest of the way, took a small sip, replaced the cap and set it on the table.

“How are you doing, Mrs. Davis? I mean since your husband died have you been managing okay?”

“I’m fine, Mr. Bryant. My house is paid for and I get a little social security check. Besides, my kids look after me.” She reached into her purse and retrieved an envelope which she slid across the table to Jack. “This came in the mail, addressed to me. I, I wasn’t sure what to do with it; so, I called Miss Colby. She said I should take it to you.”

Jack picked up the envelope. The return address was the United States Postal Service. He opened it and found another envelope, this one torn and mangled with the addressee illegible. The letter from the postal service read
, Dear Mrs. Davis: One of our sorting machines jammed and mangled this letter. We apologize for the problem. Your name was the only one we could make out on the letter, and we were able to get your address. Please handle as you see fit. Very truly yours.

Jack looked at the mangled letter. It was from Euro Life Insurance Company, based on the Isle of Gibraltar. It stated that Euro had determined that one William Davis was married to June Davis. Under the terms of the policy, since it paid double indemnity in the event of an accidental death, the benefit was $400,000, payable to Allison Southwest. Jack looked through the documents a second time before he looked up.

“Did you know that they had insured Willie for $400,000?”

“Lawdy, no, Mr. Bryant. Willie only made $20,000 a year. Why would anyone insure him for that kind of money? Besides, he retired from Allison fifteen years ago.”

“Good question. Let me keep these papers and the check. I’ll get back to you in a couple of days.”

That evening Jack had Colby, J.D. and Tanya over for dinner. This time he fixed spaghetti with his own special sauce. As he served it, he said, “And Colby, this is also a secret family recipe which I will not disclose to you…yet.”

Colby turned down her lower lip in a pout before she grinned. “I just may get J.D. to tell me all the family secrets. With me and Tanya working him over, I bet he’d spill them without even the need for a waterboard.”

Tanya gave her a thumbs up before everyone dove into the spaghetti. While they were eating Jack described his meeting with June Davis and the puzzle about the big life insurance policy on a porter.

J.D. got so excited that he started talking with a mouth full of spaghetti. “Dad, I know…” J.D. swallowed and took a sip of water. “Sorry, I know about those. They’re called dead peasant policies. We studied them in my business ethics class this semester.”

“Go on.”

“WalMart got in a shit load of trouble with them a while back. They were taking out life insurance policies on all kinds of employees, cashiers, greeters, stockers, you name it. Not just key man policies on executives. They never told the employees and would keep paying the premiums even after the employee left WalMart. At one time, according to the media, they had over 300,000 of these damn policies. Helluva deal for them. They got a tax write off for the premiums and collected a lot of money when one of their ex-employees died. You know how old some of their employees are. They paid enough in premiums that there were no physicals, no underwriting requirements, no nothing. If WalMart wanted a policy, it got one.”

“That sounds a little ghoulish, particularly on employees they might not have seen for fifteen or twenty years,” Colby said.

“You got that right,” J.D. said. “When word about the dead peasant policies leaked out, WalMart got such bad publicity that they finally just cancelled all of them.”

“Hell,” Jack said as he poured more wine, “I’m not sure they’re even legal once the employee leaves the company. After that the company has no more insurable interest in an employee’s life.”

“Exactly,” J.D. said. “In fact, the Texas legislature and most other states passed laws to put a stop to them. Still, according to my professor, they exist. A corporation can send an officer to one of the few states where they’re legal and fill out the applications. Some even go to islands in the Caribbean.”

“There’s really no way to know about them,” Tanya added. “The employees are never told. The only ones that know are a few high-up corporate executives, and they aren’t about to spill the beans. Our professor says that the premiums are buried in their financial reports with some accounting mumbo jumbo that nobody can figure out.”

Silence filled the table until Jack spoke. “Well, I suppose I better pay a call on Dwayne Allison. He’s not going to like what I’m going to tell him.”

“Dad, I have a request. I aced all of my courses and don’t have to take finals. I want to work for you this summer and learn something about being a lawyer. Maybe I’ll get a law degree and become a sports agent.”

“Okay, you’re hired on one condition. Move here for the summer, until two-a-days start. That way we can spend more time together, and we can talk law until we’re blue in the face.’

“Deal, Dad.”

“Your first job as my legal assistant will be to be my chauffeur. When I get an appointment with Mr. Allison, I want to arrive in the Bentley, complete with driver.”

42

Jack called Allison Southwest’s corporate office the next morning. Dwayne Allison’s secretary was reluctant to make an appointment for Allison with a stranger, but finally relented when Jack said he was an attorney and was bringing a substantial check. Ann put Jack on hold and checked the state bar web site to determine that he really was a lawyer and officed out on North Main. When she got back on the line, she said, “Mr. Allison is a very busy man, but if you can be here promptly at ten in the morning, I’ll fit you into his schedule.”

Allison was standing beside his secretary’s desk when he heard a vehicle drive up. He glanced out the window to see a blue Bentley. A big man in dark blue pants and matching shirt buttoned to the top was opening the door.
Interesting
, Allison thought.
How does a lawyer who offices on North Main afford a chauffeured Bentley? Did he rent it for the day to impress me?
A man who must be Jackson Bryant stepped out of the car, stretched out his left leg and walked with a cane up the front steps. The chauffeur leaned against the car, arms folded.

“Keep him out here for thirty minutes,” Allison said to his secretary. “Tell him I’m on a conference call. He’s going to waste my time anyway.”

Jack spent the time studying the trophy heads on the wall. Each one was accompanied by a picture of Allison, gun in hand with a smug look on his face along with a gold plaque, providing the date and location of the kill.

“Mr. Bryant, you can go in now,” the secretary said.

Jack opened the door to the right of the secretary and stepped through into another larger room, also full of trophy heads. Allison stood behind his desk and waited for Jack to approach and extend his hand.

“Mr. Allison, I’m Jackson Bryant.”

After a perfunctory handshake Allison motioned for Jack to take a seat.

“I won’t take up much of your time, Mr. Allison. I suspect you’re a busy man.”

Jack reached into his inside coat pocket and pulled out a check. He handed it to Allison. “I believe this is yours.”

Allison studied the check for $400,000 payable to his company. His demeanor immediately warmed. “Why, thank you, Mr. Bryant” His face hardened. “How did you get your hands on this check?”

Jack smiled. “I represent June Davis, Willie’s widow. The post office screwed up somehow and she got the check. She brought it to me, and I told her that we needed to return it to the rightful owner. That would be you, well, actually your company.”

Allison relaxed once more. “That’s very kind of you, Mr. Bryant. You could have saved yourself a trip. If you had called, I could have sent a messenger to pick up the check.”

Jack shifted in the chair, placed his cane between his legs and leaned on it as he spoke. “There’s one more thing. That’s a dead peasant policy on Willie. Those have been outlawed in Texas for years. You haven’t had an insurable interest in Willie’s life in about fifteen years. The rightful beneficiary of that money is June Davis.”

“You’re wrong.” Allison’s voice changed to a sputter when it suddenly dawned on him why Jack had personally delivered the check. “Willie Davis would have signed an employment agreement authorizing us to insure his life for at least $10,000 which would go to his beneficiary. That same agreement gave us the option of placing more coverage on him with Allison Southwest choosing the beneficiary. If Ms. Davis didn’t get the $10,000, I’ll certainly look into it and make sure she gets her share of the benefit.”

Jack crossed his legs and leaned back, purposely creating a picture of a man in control. “She hasn’t received any $10,000 and wouldn’t accept it if you offered. She’s entitled to the full $400,000. Look, I’ll make you a deal. You calculate the premiums you paid on his life over the years and you can have that amount back with June getting the rest. That way you’re not out anything.”

Allison walked around the desk to stand over Bryant. “Absolutely not. I won’t be blackmailed by some two bit lawyer practicing out on North Main. Listen, I know every good lawyer in Fort Worth, and you’re not one of them.”

Jack got up to face Allison. “Fair enough, Mr. Allison. If that’s your attitude, you can expect a lawsuit for fraud and unjust enrichment. And, I’ve checked around. I know you own the insurance agency that placed the coverage. You have an insurance office in every one of your dealerships. I’ll prove that you’ve violated the Texas Insurance Code and the Texas Deceptive Trade Practices Act. That trebles the amount on the policy and gets me attorney’s fees. Hire yourself one of those good lawyers, Mr. Allison. This ought to be interesting.”

Jack turned to walk away, but stopped. “By the way, you might want that good lawyer of yours to check me out. My full name is Jackson Douglas Bryant, formerly a plaintiff lawyer in Beaumont. You have a good day.”

43

Why the fuck am I sitting on a bench in front of a bunch of yellow roses in the Botanical Garden at dusk with an umbrella over my head? The gates to this place close in twenty minutes. You’d think I’m in the middle of one of those Jason Bourne movies. Next time I’ll be looking for a chalk mark on the north side of some abandoned building.

Hawk came out of the mist, wearing a hooded sweatshirt and sat down beside him. “Evening, Boss. Thought this would be a pleasant place to meet. Most people are gone by this time. Beautiful roses behind us. I grow some in my back yard. Love the smell. I’ve even won some local competitions with my roses.”

“I’m not really interested in your horticultural endeavors. Here’s your next assignment.” Boss handed him a folded piece of paper.

Hawk unfolded it and read about the next victim. It described a sixty year old woman who lived by herself on Caddo Lake close to the Louisiana border.

“I know that area pretty well. I like to go fishing on Caddo. That’s a swampy old lake, but has some the best bigmouth bass in this part of the country. You got to know the channels through those big old Cypress trees. Otherwise, you’ll get lost and never find your way out. Did you know that the Texas Bigfoot Research Conservancy is located there? I’ve been to their annual conference a couple of times myself. Never sighted old bigfoot, but I’ll swear I’ve smelled him a couple of times.”

“Stop. That’s enough. Do the job and you’ll have $30,000 in your account.”

“I understand. By the way, I’m sorry about that Colby Stripling lady. I thought I had her in New Orleans. Nobody should have survived that fall into the Mississippi. I just didn’t figure on her crazy boyfriend jumping in after her. Shit, he must have been out of his mind.”

Boss sighed. “Okay, one more question, and then we need to leave. Why haven’t you gotten her yet?”

Hawk shook his head. “Sorry, Boss, I know she’s a big trophy for you, but she’s gotten extremely cautious. I’ve followed her. Now she never goes out at night unless it’s with that guy. She’s packing and goes to the range every Sunday. I’ve watched her two or three times. She’s damn good. On top of that she’s got about as big a German Shepherd as I’ve seen, riding shotgun everywhere she goes. I could take a shot at her, but it’s too risky in the middle of the day. I’ll think of something. Just give me a little time. Meanwhile, I’ll take my fishing gear and head on over to Caddo.”

The next morning Hawk left early and drove east on I-20. He stopped for breakfast in Longview and got to the lake around noon. He wasn’t in any hurry; so, he drove around the lake, admiring the Cypress trees and marveling at the mysterious aura of the lake. He stopped by the Bigfoot Center to check on sightings this year and was disappointed to find there had been none; still, he snagged a brochure on the next conference. He rented a cabin on the edge of the lake and thought that after Brownwood, this was becoming Hawk’s tour of Texas lakes. He found a convenience store and bait shop a few miles away where he purchased coffee, cereal, milk, snacks and a six pack of Bud. After he stowed his supplies, he set out to find Cassie Villanueva. He had an address on a rural road, but nothing more.

The house number was written on a board that was nailed to a tree. A dirt path barely wide enough for a pickup led through the forest. He drove down the highway two hundred yards until he found a wide place on the shoulder where he parked and walked back to the path to Cassie’s house. It was still light, and he had no trouble finding his way although his senses were on alert for the slightest sound or movement. Hawk didn’t get along with alligators and snakes, both of which were prevalent in the area. He stopped when he heard something off to the left, but smiled when he saw he had disturbed a heron that was fishing in a small pond close to the road. He rounded a bend and saw a small house on stilts. The wood siding was old and gray with a couple of boards missing. The most astonishing feature was a full size hot tub on the front porch with a telescope pointed to the sky beside it.
So, maybe Cassie is an astronomer
, he thought. His eyes then focused on something in the yard. It was a pit bull, sleeping in the sun and chained to a tree.
That would be a problem
, he thought. He saw nothing wrong with killing a person, but an animal was different. He would have to deal with the dog without harming him. Hawk crept away so as not to disturb the dog and returned to his pickup.

That evening after the sun was gone and the moon was beginning to rise, casting a shimmering glow across the lake, he parked in the same location. After checking the direction of the wind, he crept through the swamp downwind from the house and dog, praying that he didn’t step on an alligator. When he had a view of the house, he used night vision binoculars to observe a large woman with gray hair, wearing a black swim suit, sitting in the hot tub, alternately sipping from a glass of red wine and gazing into the telescope. As he watched, he saw her begin to yawn and lie back in the hot tub. The rumbling sound of an alligator startled him until he realized that it was Cassie snoring. Now he had a plan.

The next day Hawk bought two pounds of hamburger meat, hoping that would be enough to keep the dog quiet for a few minutes. He returned to the house at the same time that evening and again circled around to have the wind in his face. He watched through the binoculars, and, sure enough, she was again in the hot tub, sipping wine and watching the stars. When he heard her begin to snore, he crept toward the dog and pitched half a pound of meat at him. The dog looked puzzled, but dived in. When it was gone, Hawk pitched the remainder at him and, making sure to stay outside the perimeter of the dog’s chain, he walked to the house and up the steps. When a loud creak came from a step, he stopped until he heard the snoring again. He walked across the porch to find Cassie passed out in the hot tub. Hawk reached into his pocket and retrieved latex gloves before walking around behind Cassie. He placed his hands on her shoulders and pushed her head under water. She thrashed and fought for maybe thirty seconds and then was quiet. He held her under for another minute before placing his fingers on her carotid artery. Nothing. When someone found her, it would be assumed that she had passed out and drowned. For good measure, he took the wine bottle and poured the remainder of her wine over the rail to the ground below.

He walked down the steps. This time the dog barked until he recognized this was the man who had just fed him. His bark turned to a whine for more as Hawk walked up the dirt road. When he got to the highway, he retrieved his pickup and headed back to Fort Worth to report another successful mission.