Dead Peasants (4 page)

9

Fort Worth had several nicknames and was proud of most of them. The original fort was built on a bluff overlooking the Trinity River, a suitable location for spotting marauding Indians. Then someone said Fort Worth was “Where the West Begins,” a shot at the neighboring city of Dallas, whose inhabitants people in Fort Worth thought belonged back east, maybe somewhere in the vicinity of Philadelphia or New York City. Dallasites retorted that Fort Worth was so dead that a panther could sleep in the middle of Main Street. In return the people in Fort Worth adopted the panther as the official mascot for their first high school.

Then the cattle drives started in the late eighteen hundreds. One of the two main trails to Abilene passed through Fort Worth where the drovers would make one last stop to spend their wages on whiskey, women and gambling before heading into the Indian Territory. Butch Cassidy and The Sundance Kid spent time there as did Bonnie and Clyde years later. The area of downtown where they congregated was known as “Hell’s Half Acre” and the drovers began calling Fort Worth “Cowtown,” a moniker to this day folks in Fort Worth wear with honor, even more than a hundred years after the drovers quit coming and fifty years after Swift and Armour closed their plants and stockyards on the Northside.

Dwayne Allison was born and raised in Fort Worth. He went to TCU for two years before he dropped out to sell cars. Over the years he had sold cars and trucks to half the people in Tarrant County. At least that was his claim. He started doing his own television commercials at a time when he couldn’t afford an actor or announcer. Back then a much thinner and very handsome Allison would be featured, dressed in a coat and tie with one foot on a truck bumper, his Nocona boots glistening in the morning sun. He always ended his commercials with the tag line, “Where deals are done.”

He had started his empire when he learned that a small Chevrolet dealership was in trouble and for sale in Euless, a small town northeast of Fort Worth. He marched into a bank down the street from the dealership that Beauregard Quillen had inherited from his father. Quillen reluctantly agreed to loan him the ten thousand dollars he needed for a down payment.

It turned out that Allison had a knack for selling cars. He was front and center on the sales floor every morning and stayed there until the store closed. If a pretty woman came in, he would look at her and tell her he had just the right blue to match her gorgeous eyes. If a farmer came in, Allison could take one look at him and know what size pickup he wanted. Usually, he managed to up-sell the farmer. Soon he was buying more dealerships. Beau Quillen started opening more banks, primarily to service the business brought to him by Allison’s success.

Along the way he married. He and his wife had two sons, each of whom now ran a dealership, one in Oklahoma and one in Louisiana. He’d lost his wife to breast cancer several years before. In hindsight he was glad she did not have to witness the downfall of Allison Southwest.

By the time Allison had a hundred and twenty-five stores, Quillen had fifteen banks and had proudly changed the name to Quillen Bank and Trust. They both moved to mansions in Shady Oaks, a newer golf course community for the ultra rich just a stone’s throw from Rivercrest. They often golfed on weekends and toasted each other’s success in the Shady Oaks men’s grill.

Then came the great recession. Overnight, people quit buying cars. Many were no longer working. Others found no bank would loan them money. Car dealers around the country shuttered their doors and passers-by discovered weed-filled, empty lots that were once overflowing with shiny new vehicles. Allison had no choice but to consolidate some of his dealerships. Now he was down to sixty-five, and that number getting smaller by the month.

10

Allison gave his Cadillac to the valet and walked into the Fort Worth Club to meet with Quillen. He knew what Quillen wanted. The son of a bitch wanted money that he didn’t have. He took the elevator to the sixth floor dining room. As he stepped from the elevator, he threw his shoulders back, ready to do battle with the person who had become his worst enemy, his banker. He spotted Quillen at a corner table. Quillen rose as Allison approached. Quillen was taller than Allison, with short gray hair and prominent gray eyes. His mustache managed to offset a slightly prominent nose. Unlike Allison, his waistline was still trim. His personality was one that could dominate any board room. Even on Saturday he was dressed in a dark, custom tailored suit with a red tie.

“Thanks for coming, Dwayne,” Quillen said as they shook hands. “I figured a Saturday meeting away from either of our offices would be best. Have a seat.”

Allison sized up Quillen’s demeanor and didn’t like what he saw. Still he joined in small talk until the waiter took their orders. When the waiter returned with their lunch, they ate in uncomfortable silence. After he had cleared the table and brought coffee, Quillen spoke.

“It’s down to this, Dwayne. I’ve got customers at every one of my banks who are behind on their notes. I’ve got people just walking away from mortgages. I’ve had to put repo men on as full time employees to repossess cars when people just quit paying. But, by far my biggest problem is you, and that’s because you’re my biggest customer. The interest on your notes alone is near twenty million, all of it overdue. Any day the bank examiners may show up at one of my banks, and it’ll be shut down within twenty-four hours. What the hell are you going to do about it?”

Allison’s face reddened as he fought to control his temper. “Don’t push me, Quillen. You think I don’t know I’m behind on my notes? Shit, I’m doing good just to make payroll. Half my dealerships are gone. You want a lot to put those repossessed cars on? I got a bunch of them. I’m not doing a goddamn thing different than I’ve done for thirty-five years.”

“Dammit, Dwayne, you didn’t answer my question. What are you going to do about it? I could shut every one of your dealerships down tomorrow. Hell, I’ll even own all of those quarter horses out on your ranch.”

Allison pushed back and tossed his napkin on the table. His voice rose. “You do that, Quillen, and you’ll regret it. I’m the only one that can pull Allison Southwest out of this mess and eventually pay my debts. You shut me down, and all you’ll have are dealerships full of cars and trucks. Good luck selling them. I’m out of here.”

Others in the club were now staring at the two businessmen whose raised voices were disturbing their lunch. Quillen lowered his voice. “Look, Dwayne, I didn’t mean to piss you off. You’re right. I need you. Sit down, please.”

Allison hesitated before returning to his chair. Finally, he reached into his shirt pocket and pitched a folded check over to Quillen. Quillen unfolded it and saw it was for $400,000 and made out to his bank. “That’ll put a small dent in the back interest. Can I expect more where this came from?”

Allison looked around the room to make sure no one could overhear him. “One of my former employees died a few weeks ago. He never even knew I had a policy on his life. I had kept up the premiums after he quit. The company’s the beneficiary.”

“Ah, yes,” Quillen said, his mind searching back several years. “I remember. You’ve been taking out policies on your employees for years. You used to give me a spread sheet of the employees and insurance amounts once a year. I haven’t seen a spread sheet in a while.”

Dwayne stared into his cup as he absentmindedly stirred the coffee. “Yeah, when I started buying dealerships, I was still a young man. Most of the employees were fifteen, twenty years older. At one time I figured that those policies would put my retirement on easy street. Looks like that dream is over. Hell, I’ll never be able to afford to retire. I’ll be selling cars until they put me six feet under. In fact,” he managed to smile. “I told one of my managers the other day my exit strategy is feet first.”

Quillen considered his options before replying. “Look, Dwayne, I’m sorry I said I’d close you down. We’ve got to work together. I will require a current list of every one of your assets, down to the last screw in every one of your parts departments. That way if the examiners call, I can show them that there are assets to back up your loans. And I want a current list of every one of those life insurance policies, including names, social security numbers, amount of coverage and last known address. I’ll be monitoring the social security website. If I find one of them dies, I’ll expect to have a check in my hands a few weeks later. Understood?”

Allison nodded his agreement. “Understood. You’re just doing what you have to do. You didn’t create this goddamn mess either. I’ll even get you a financial statement on Allison Southwest monthly instead of quarterly.”

11

The house closed for $4,600,000 and Jack had a problem. He gave his house in Beaumont to his long time legal assistant, complete with furnishings. By doing so, he knew he would have to hire an interior decorator in Fort Worth and start from scratch. The only thing he didn’t anticipate was that his interior decorator would be Colby. He called her for a recommendation and she invited him to her house for a drink. When he walked through the front door, he understood why. From the entry chandelier to the stairway to the dining room, the living room and kitchen, everything blended perfectly. Jack couldn’t describe the style, but he loved it. Hell, for that matter, since it wasn’t western he wouldn’t know what to call it.

Colby led him to the kitchen and asked his drink preference. “Tito’s vodka on the rocks,” he replied.

She smiled and poured two before escorting him out to a patio facing a small back yard, complete with waterfall and babbling brook.

As they settled down beside the waterfall, they toasted. Colby asked, “What’s your preference in design?”

Jack hesitated. “Damned if I know. I’ve only ever had western. I’m willing to try something different, but it’s got to be masculine.”

Colby sipped her drink and thought. “How about Mediterranean?”

Jack stared back with a blank look.

Colby smiled and went into the house, returning with a couple of magazines. “Here, let me show you.”

She flipped pages slowly and Jack nodded with each page. When she completed the two magazines, Jack said, “That’s for me. Who do you recommend?”

Colby smiled coyly. “Why, me, of course.”

“Price?”

“I’ll make my money from the retailers. I’ll make fifteen percent off the retail price and it doesn’t come out of your pocket. To do the house right, you’re looking at a quarter million. I’ll be well paid. If you like the finished product, I’ll accept dinner on the patio as a tip.”

Jack nodded his agreement and Colby got to work. She furnished the kitchen and master bedroom first so Jack would have a place to live.

Colby made Jack sleep upstairs in a room fitted only with a bed and a chair until she completed the master bedroom. She also made him promise that she would lock the master bedroom door and only she would have a key until it was completed. Jack grumbled but agreed. Two weeks later she was ready for the showing.

“Shouldn’t we have a band playing or something? Jack asked as Colby unlocked the door.”

“Jack, behave yourself,” Colby replied. “I’ve spent a lot of time to make sure it perfectly fits your personality.”

Colby opened the double doors to reveal a twenty by twenty master bedroom. A king-size four poster bed occupied one wall and extended out into the rest of the room. A plush green spread covered the bed. A sitting area included a leather couch and two leather chairs. Canister lights filled the room. A thick brown carpet consumed all but the loudest sounds. Green drapes covered the windows, easily opened with the push of a button. The remote on the nightstand controlled a sixty inch HDTV that dropped from the ceiling.

Jack nodded his appreciation. “It’s beautiful. Thanks.” He grinned. “Now I just need to find someone to share it with.”

Colby was tempted, but demurred. “Remember that I’m just the interior decorator.”

The next day Jack came back home in the middle of the afternoon to find a moving truck backed up to his front steps. Colby was supervising the unloading of the dining room table and chairs. Wearing jeans, a white T-shirt and a bandanna around her head, sweat glistened on her face and arms.

Jack parked in the driveway at the front of the house and walked toward the porch with a grocery sack. “Looks like you could use a break,” he said.”

Colby wiped her face on her sleeve. “You got that right. Just let me make sure they get this table through the doors without scratching it, and I’ll join you.”

Jack observed for a couple of minutes while Colby barked orders to the furniture crew, then went to the kitchen were he placed his package in the freezer and sat at the kitchen table. When Colby came from the dining room, and collapsed on a kitchen chair, he went to the refrigerator.

“Here, I figure you could use this.” He retrieved two cartons of ice cream. “Chocolate Chip is my favorite, but I kinda figured you for a Cherry Vanilla kind of girl.”

“You must have been peeking in my fridge.” Colby smiled. “Three scoops for me.”

Jack filled two bowls and set one in front of Colby as he pulled his chair back to the table.

“Delicious. Couldn’t have come at a better time. You do this for all your decorators?”

“Yep. Of course, you’re my first.”

Then came the rest of the house. After six weeks it was done, subject to a couple of pieces on back order. At about the same time, Jack had his other vehicles hauled from Beaumont. In addition to his pickup, he had a Blue Bentley, a red Ferrari, a black Harley, and a dark green Hummer. Counting the pickup, that left one garage for storage, a riding lawn mower and garden tools. The last to arrive was his luxury RV that he bought several years before to use as an office and residence in a marathon case in the Rio Grande Valley. Jack had the driver back it onto the concrete pad next to the garage, and looked past the garage, over the Trinity to the old bomber plant.
You’d be proud of me, Dad
, he thought.
I made it from Byers to Alta Lane. I’m just sorry you’re not here to share the moment with me
.