Cactus Island, A Stan Turner Mystery Vol 8

By William Manchee

Stan is called out to Possum Kingdom Lake in central Texas where there's been a tragic Jeep accident. The teenage driver, Steven Caldwell, survives unscathed but his passenger dies. It appears to be just another tragic auto accident until the sheriff discovers Steven and the victim were in love with the same girl. When Steven is charged with murder, he insists the accident wasn't his fault. He claims he was distracted by an alien spacecraft flying overhead. At first Stan thinks his client's story is ridiculous, but as his investigation progresses he discovers his client may be telling the truth.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Top Publications, Ltd.
• Release date: Mar 4, 2012
• ISBN: 9781935722045

William Manchee

A consumer lawyer by day, Manchee writes legal thrillers and science fiction adventures at night for stress relief and relaxation.

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

REFERRAL

Stan Turner

It is said that a good lawyer doesn’t have to advertise. If’ he’s competent and treats his clients fairly and honestly, he’ll get all the business he could ever handle from referrals. I liked this concept because advertising was expensive and demeaning. In my years as an attorney, I’d never spent a nickel on advertising, and I was proud of that fact. But when I started law practice, I never expected to get referrals from the CIA.

It was the last Saturday in May 1990 when I was advised that another referral was coming my way from the Agency. Our third son, Peter, was a member of the Travis High School debate team and had just made it to the state finals. Peter had won all three of his debates and ranked third among all the debaters. What was most surprising about this was that he was only in the 9th grade and one of the youngest participants in the tournament.

To celebrate the victory, we stopped at Chili’s on the way home. There were eight of us: Rebekah and I, Reggie, Mark, Peter, Marcia, and Rebekah’s parents, Sylvia, and Howard James. Mark was feeling a little down as he had been on the same debate team for two years and his team hadn’t ever come close to winning the state championship. Marcia, being the youngest, was jealous as usual. She couldn’t stand it when her brothers got to do things that she couldn’t do. Reggie was oblivious to the entire matter as he had never been a debater.

We almost made it to the finals once, Mark said. We would have if our coach hadn’t been so pathetic.

What was wrong with Mr. Johnson? Rebekah asked.

He was a moron, Mark replied. "All he was interested in was flirting with the cute girls in the class.

Don’t call your teacher a moron, I said stifling a laugh.

What do you mean by flirting? Rebekah asked.

If the girls asked for help on their research, he’d be all over it, but if one of the guys asked, he’d tell us to figure it out for ourselves.

Hmm. That’s not so unusual, I replied. Men tend to lose their focus when there’s a pretty girl around.

Yes. Your father knows all about that, Rebekah noted.

I frowned at her. She was referring to my weakness for pretty women that had gotten me in trouble on a few occasions. That was a thing of the past, but Rebekah couldn’t resist reminding me of it from time to time.

I’m going to be on the debate team, and I bet we go to state, Marcia said.

I bet you will, Peter said.

It’s not that easy, Mark snapped. You have to do lots of research and practice all the time.

Well, I will. Don’t worry. I’ll do whatever it takes, Marcia replied.

But it’s not just you. The whole teams got to be good. It’s so frustrating sometimes.

Okay, okay. No more arguing, I said. Tonight, we are celebrating Peter’s victory. You did very well tonight, Peter. Your mother and I are very proud of you.

Well, it wasn’t just me. Like Mark says, the whole team had to do well for us to win.

You were the best though, Marcia said smiling broadly.

Thank you, Sis. When you go out for the team next year, I’ll give you some pointers.

Oh. Cool. Thanks.

Mark shook his head. I think I’m going to throw up.

I started to laugh but was interrupted by my cell phone. Hello.

Stan?

Yes.

This is Mo.

Oh, hi, I said somewhat startled. It was unusual for Mo to call me. Usually, I called him at an answering service and then he’d call me back. Mo was a CIA operative who I’d worked with for several years. We first met when he came to me to file bankruptcy. When the case was over, he said the Agency was so impressed with the job I’d done for him that they were going to refer me more business. He also indicated if I ever needed any help on anything just to give him a call.

It took a while for me to understand what Mo was talking about. I couldn’t figure out what agency he was talking about. Then it hit me. He worked for the CIA, and they were apparently funding some of their covert operations on credit and then having their agents file bankruptcy. It seemed so bizarre I finally decided Mo had just been messing with me and forgot about it.

A year or two later I was defending a young girl accused of killing her baby. It was a pretty difficult case because my client, Sarah Winters, didn’t remember giving birth and had no clue what had happened to her baby. To complicate matters there’d been threats again me and my family. They’d even poisoned our dog. Being desperate to find out who was behind these threats I called Mo for help. I wasn’t sure he was really a CIA agent, or if he was, that he’d remember his offer to help me, but he did and said he was glad I’d called.

I’ve got that information you wanted.

Oh, that was fast.

Well, you said you were in a hurry.

I was. Thank you.

One of my clients was getting ready to sign a contract with a Chinese company for a road construction project. They were a little concerned about the company they were dealing with and asked me to check them out. They’d heard horror stories of contractors going to China and not being paid or ending up in jail for not having the proper governmental permissions.

Go outside. I’m on the patio.

You’re here?

Yes, don’t make a fuss. Just excuse yourself.

Rebekah frowned when I stood up. I smiled and shook my head. Sorry, I’ve got to take this outside.

Mo was sitting on the patio with a beer in one hand and his cell phone in the other. As I walked over to him, I wondered why he had decided to give me the results of his investigation in person. A telephone call would have been quite adequate. I sat down.

Another beer over here, Mo yelled to the bar maid. So, anyway. The company you asked me to check out seems to be legit and has the backing of the Chinese government. They probably don’t have anything to worry about.

Good. This is going to be quite a lucrative contract for him.

I must warn you though, the situation can change over there quickly.

Really. So, how would we know if the situation is changing?

Mo pulled out an envelope. Here. This is a list of useful contacts over there for your client. These are people he should get to know well. They’ll warn him if there’s any potential trouble on the horizon.

Thank you. This is more than I expected.

Well, we consider you a valuable asset. I’m glad we were able to help. We owed you one anyway after the Huntington mess.

Yeah, well you saved my life, so I’m not complaining.

Yes, but if we hadn’t put your life in jeopardy I wouldn’t have had to. ... But I’m glad there’s no hard feelings.

No. Not at all. I understand these cases get complicated.

"Good, because we may have to refer you another one, and it’s really complicated."

My pulse quickened. I liked working with Mo and helping out the CIA. It was exciting and the patriotic thing to do, but I didn’t like working in the shadows with very little idea what was going on. It was dangerous too and Rebekah would be upset if I took another assignment from Mo.

Sure, no problem, I said swallowing hard.

It’s a divorce case.

A divorce case? But I don’t handle divorce cases.

You need to handle this one.

No. I’m a Catholic. I don’t believe in divorce. But my partner could do it. She doesn’t like handling divorce cases much, but she’s done them before when her criminal docket was slow.

Okay, hopefully the wife we were talking about will change her mind and not go through with the divorce, but if she can’t be dissuaded then we’ll refer her to Paula. She can’t know that the case came from us, though.

Of course. I’ll say it came from Rebekah and I doubt she’ll need any oversight. She’s very competent.

I noticed Peter walk out the front door, so I got up. I’ve got to get back. We’re celebrating Peters accomplishments on the debate team..

Yes, he’s a smart boy, Mo said. Is he going to be a hot shot lawyer like his father?

That’s up to him. I’d never push one of my children into the legal profession or any profession for that matter. It’s a decision they must make themselves.

Mo nodded as Peter walked up. Dad, mom sent me to look for you.

Right, I said smiling at Peter. Just ran into an old friend.

Mo stood up and we shook hands. Nice running into you, Stan. Take care.

We went back inside but I couldn’t concentrate on the celebration. My mind kept wondering why the CIA was referring us a divorce. It was obviously a disgruntled wife, but whose wife? Was it the wife of an agent, a foreign diplomat, a military officer, or—? The possibilities were endless. In any event, I just prayed it would be routine, but somehow, I knew that wouldn’t be the case.

CHAPTER 2

WINDSOR VS. WINDSOR

Paula Waters

Since the first day out of law school I'd pretty much been a workaholic. It comes with the territory when you're a young attorney trying to get established. I went directly to the DA's office out of law school and as an assistant DA was expected to work eighty hours a week. Nothing changed when I came to work for Stan Turner and we formed the law firm of Turner and Waters, P.C. I suppose I could have cut my hours a bit and started living a more normal life, but now I was a partner and things were different. Stan didn't have the time or inclination to hover over me to make sure I was doing my job. He expected me to do it and never questioned how I went about it. I appreciated his attitude but also felt the weight of responsibility thrust upon me.

When we first formed the partnership, I was in love with Stan and hoped he'd fall in love with me. Unfortunately, that didn't happen, and I was forced to face reality and move on. Not that I’d gotten entirely over Stan, for I hadn't, but I finally realized that our relationship could only be professional and decided that any relationship was better than nothing. Things had certainly changed now that I was married to Bart Williams. He was a strong, patient, thoughtful man who would do anything for me. I certainly didn't deserve him, but I was glad he’d stuck by me. Now it was hard to get up early each morning and leave him and when afternoon came, I started thinking of getting home and being together. It was amazing. I actually had a life outside Turner and Waters! Unfortunately, we were as busy as ever and as much as I wanted to go home early, I found myself hard at work until seven or eight every night. Fortunately, Bart had the same problem working at the Collin County DA's office in McKinney thirty miles north of Dallas, so we learned to appreciate what little time we did have together.

As I sat at my desk early one morning, I gazed at my calendar to see what was on tap for the day and noted that I had an appointment at 11:30 a.m. with a Cheryl Windsor about a possible divorce. I didn't usually do divorces, but Jodie, our legal assistant, informed me Ms. Windsor had been indirectly referred by Stan's wife, Rebekah. She suggested the least I could do would be to talk to her. The funny thing is, once you talk to a prospective client, it's hard to turn down their case, even if you know you should.

It was late August and there was no sign of an end to the summer's heat, so I wasn't surprised to see Cheryl was wearing a tank top with a short jean skirt. She was gorgeous. I wondered how she managed to look so good since I knew from our phone conversation that she was blessed with three children. I hoped I would be so lucky, that is, if Bart and I ever decided to have kids. As soon as she sat down and crossed her long tanned legs, she began telling me what had gone wrong with her marriage.

My husband is having an affair.

Really? How do you know?

He's been working long hours lately and seems to use any excuse to be out of the house. We haven't had sex in months. I didn't want to accuse him of anything until I knew for sure he was being unfaithful, so I followed him after work one night.

I raised my eyebrows and replied, That's quite gutsy of you. Most women would have hired a private detective.

Hey, I'm not most women, Cheryl said, I'm not going to let that son of a bitch humiliate me. If he's screwing around, he's gonna pay.

And he should, but there's no reason to take chances. We live in a dangerous world, and you shouldn't take risks like that.

Cheryl shook her head. Don't worry about me. My father was an ex-Marine, so he taught me how to defend myself.

Even so—

Besides, I grew up with three older brothers, so I learned how to handle men early on.

I nodded. So where did your husband end up?

At the Fairmount Hotel, room 1612. I got the number from the desk clerk. I told him I'd forgotten what room my husband and I were in. You know. They all look alike. He made me show him my ID but that wasn't a problem. I watched the elevator and thirty-five minutes later a woman took the elevator to the 16th floor.

So, that doesn't necessarily mean—

I know exactly what it means. The woman was my best friend—my maid of honor at our wedding for god sakes. It couldn't have been a coincidence. They're having an affair and I'm going to kill both of them!

Wait a minute. Calm down. You're not going to kill anybody.

He's had a thing for her from the first day they met, she said tearfully. I could tell by the way he always looked at her, but I never expected Alice to give in to him. She and I have been best friends since we were fifteen.

I handed Cheryl a tissue and replied, I know it's hard when you've been betrayed by the two people in the world that you love the most, but in today's world it's not that unusual. Loyalty is a scarce commodity.

Cheryl folded her arms and looked away. I opened a file and pulled out a divorce questionnaire. It was yellow from age. I didn't like divorces much and avoided them whenever possible, but I kinda liked Cheryl's feisty personality. From now on you let me handle this. I don't want you talking to your husband, or Alice for that matter. It will just rekindle your anger. I'll get a temporary restraining order so you can stay in the house, and he can't abscond with any of your community property.

I don't want the house—too many bad memories. I'll move out. Just make sure I get a nice fat alimony check.

They don't have alimony in Texas, but I can get you temporary support until the divorce is final and, of course, child support.

Good. How much?

I don't know. It depends on his income and other factors.

He makes a lot of money—more than two hundred grand a year.

Then you'll probably get 25 to 40 percent of his after-tax income since it's community property. ... What's your husband's name?

Martin Roger Windsor.

What does he do for a living?

He's a pharmacist by trade, but more of a businessman nowadays.

Where is he employed?

Village Drugs in Richardson is where he hangs his license. He owns the place along with twelve stores just like it in North Texas, but he doesn't spend much time filling prescriptions.

Cheryl said that Martin was thirty-nine years old, a graduate of Central European University in Hungary, and since he had immigrated to the United States, had become an avid golfer.

Windsor isn't a Hungarian name, is it?

No. His real name was Martin Kutrovatzlik. Nobody could pronounce it so he had it changed. He said it was a distraction he didn't need when he was doing business. He thought it was better to be perceived as British or American anyway.

She said he would often take off for weeks at a time to play in amateur golf tournaments across the country and around the world. He had a bad temper, she said, and would be very upset when he found out she was filing for divorce. I assured her the TRO would protect her, as Martin would not want to prejudice the judge against him. That would be suicide if he had a lot of assets to protect.

Speaking of assets, what all do you own? I asked.

She shrugged. This may surprise you, but I really don't know. Martin is very secretive about our financial affairs. I know he owns the drugstores, of course, and there's lots of cash. Our home is worth about $550,000 according to the tax bill I got in the mail the other day. There's a shopping center where one of the stores is located. I heard him tell someone it was appraised at 1.2 million. There are a few stocks, bonds, and a $10,000 CD.

So, do you have many debts?

No. None at all. My husband doesn't believe in credit. He always said if you didn't have the cash to pay for it, you didn't need it.

Hmm. Interesting. So that adds up to about two million without the drugstores.

That I know about. I'm sure there's more.

Well, we can do some discovery to find out exactly what he has, and if he is less than forthright with his responses, I know a private investigator who can help us locate everything.

I doubt your PI will find anything. My husband is very good at hiding money and covering his tracks. His first wife Barbara and I are friends, and we compare notes from time to time. She told me when they were going through their divorce she hired the best divorce attorney in town, but he couldn't find squat. Fortunately, Martin didn't like the attorney probing into his affairs, so he offered a huge amount of child support if she'd make him back off.

Well, if you have any other ideas, I'm listening.

I do, but I need to verify a few suspicions before I can share them with you.

Okay. Let me know when you're ready to fill me in.

I escorted her out into the reception area and met Stan coming in the door. His eyes lit up when he saw Cheryl. He nodded at me without taking his eyes off of her. A few moments later, when I was back in my office, Stan walked in and asked, So, who was that?

A new divorce client, Cheryl Windsor.

Hmm. She's a knockout. Is she a model?

No, she's a housewife, I replied.

Stan shook his head. And some bastard's divorcing her?

She's divorcing him—couldn't keep his dick in his pants.

Not a smart guy. ... Do you need any help on her case?

Stan looked at me expectantly. I couldn't believe the gleam in his eye. I felt like strangling him. Cheryl had turned him on like a light switch. Stan. Must I remind you you're a married man?

What, now that you're married, you've become Rebekah's best friend and guardian?

What? I gasped. It was ironic. From the first day I joined the firm I had tried to subvert Stan's marriage and win his affections. It hadn't worked. I thought I had my feelings for Stan under control, but his overt attraction to Cheryl had irritated me—rekindled a jealous obsession that I'd thought was buried. If I couldn't lure him away from his wife, I certainly wasn't going to let some other bitch do it! Something like that. ... Anyway, I should warn you Cheryl was referred to us by one of Rebekah's friends, so I'd play it cool.

Okay. Relax. I'm just admiring a pretty woman like any red-blooded male would do under the same circumstances. I have no intention—

Yeah, well, we both know you're not perfect.

Stan gave me a hard look. I guess you've proven that, huh? he mumbled as he left my office.

That incident occurred the night before my wedding. Even though I'd officially given up on him and was about to marry Bart, I found myself trying one last time to seduce him. By then it was kind of a game for me—a challenge I couldn't resist. Much to my shock he gave in and kissed me passionately. I could have had him then and there, minutes before my wedding, but then it finally hit me like an avalanche. I couldn't do it. I couldn't destroy Stan, the man I truly loved, and that's what would have happened had I took Stan away from his wife and family. So, I married Bart and I have no regrets. Now I have both the men I love in my life. At least that's what I keep telling myself.

After stewing over this for several minutes I got back to work. I had a divorce to prosecute, a client to protect from a wayward husband, and assets to find. I didn't have time to brood over my shattered heart.

CHAPTER 3

THE ACCIDENT

Stan Turner

My cell phone rang as I was pulling into my garage. I hated after-hours calls as they usually meant my evening would be ruined. After a ten-hour workday all I wanted to do was grab a beer and watch Monday Night Football. The call turned out to be from my youngest son Peter. Peter was on a boy scout camping trip to Camp Comfort at Possum Kingdom Lake in West Texas. It was named Camp Comfort because it had every amenity you could ever want—cabins, flush toilets, a mess hall, rowboats, canoes, swimming area, gun and archery ranges, a baseball field, and even a campfire area with bench seating.

The connection was very poor, and I could barely hear Peter's voice through the static. He was talking rapidly, and I could tell he was upset.

Peter? What's wrong?

There's been an accident with the camp Jeep.

Were you involved? Are you okay?

No. No. It was Jimmy and Steven. They ran off a cliff.

Oh, Jesus. Are they okay?

Static came out of the receiver on my cell phone. Peter. You're breaking up. Can you hear me? There was more static and then the line went dead. I flipped through the cell phone's address book, found Peter's number, and pushed send. He answered but just a second later the signal failed again, and I lost him. I decided to wait a few minutes and try again. My stomach tightened as I contemplated Jimmy and Steven's fate and thanked God it hadn't been Peter. The last garbled words from the cell phone, before I lost the connection, were something about Steven being arrested and his needing a lawyer. Figuring there was no time to lose, I scrambled into the house to tell Rebekah what had happened.

They went off a cliff? Oh, my God. How could that have happened? Rebekah asked incredulously. What about Steven? Was he hurt too?

I shook my head. I don't know. Peter didn't mention him being hurt.

Does Jenny know? Oh, my God. I should go to her.

Jenny Caldwell was Steven's mother. She was a single mom working as a legal assistant. She and Rebekah were good friends having crossed paths at school and in cub scouts.

You give her a call. I need to get going. It's a two-hour drive to Possum Kingdom Lake.

No. Wait. I want to come with you, Rebekah said. Jenny will want to come too if Steven is in trouble. There's no use taking two cars.

Okay, that's fine, but just hurry.

Oh, Jesus. Are you sure he was arrested?

Well, the connection wasn't very good, but I think that's what Peter said.

Oh God, Stan. This is horrible. I hope Jimmy's okay. I should call his mother.

We better not, I said. We don't know what happened yet. We should wait until we know more.

I don't know. If it were I, I'd want to know.

What will you tell her?

Just that we heard there was an accident.

Go ahead but make it fast.

I had never met Jimmy's mother, but Rebekah had known her from cub scouts. Peter and Jimmy were in the same den and Barbara Falk was the den mother. I asked Rebekah about Jimmy's father. She told me that Barbara and her husband were divorced. She didn't remember his name, but apparently, he had fallen in love with another woman and just up and left.

While Rebekah called Jimmy's mother, I called Mark down from upstairs to fill him in on the situation and inform him he was in charge for the evening. Mark was nearly eighteen now, an excellent student, and reasonably mature for his age. We had no reservations about leaving him in charge of his sister Marcia and Jenny's daughter Mel. Mel and Marcia were almost the same age so they would share Marcia's bedroom that night while we were gone. It wasn't likely we'd be back before dawn. With the logistics of our journey in place, all we had to do now was break the bad news to Jenny and bring Mel over to the house.

Rebekah got off the phone long enough to report that Barbara had already been called by the Scoutmaster and was on her way to the hospital in Mineral Wells. Then she called Jenny. After Rebekah explained the situation, Jenny accepted our offer of a ride to the hospital. Rebekah left immediately to go to pick her up and bring Mel back to the house. While I waited for them to return, I called the Palo Pinto County Sheriff's office.

The dispatcher advised me that the victims had been transported to Palo Pinto Hospital in Mineral Wells. I asked her if she knew about Steven Caldwell.

He's being booked right now, she said.

What are the charges? I asked.

Negligent homicide.

Jimmy's dead?

I'm afraid so.

Feeling a little shaky, I walked over to a chair and sat down. The thought that Jimmy might die hadn't crossed my mind.

Jesus. ... Has bond been set?

Hang on. There was a pause. No, they're waiting to get the results of the blood test.

How will that effect his bond?

If Mr. Caldwell was drunk, then the charges will be bumped up to manslaughter.

Manslaughter? Come on. That's ridiculous, I said incredulously.

She sighed. Hey, I'm just passing on what I've overheard. You can call the detective on the case to get more information if you need it.

By the time I got off the phone, Rebekah and Jenny were scurrying around getting the kids settled. I was sick inside. I couldn't believe Steven Caldwell was in such serious trouble. He was one of the most responsible teenagers I'd ever known. How was I going to break the news to Jenny that Jimmy had died and Steven would soon be charged with criminally negligent homicide or even manslaughter? Criminally negligent homicide had a sentencing range of sixty days to two years. That was bad enough, but if Steven was convicted of manslaughter, it would be two to twenty years. I decided to wait until we were on the road to give Jenny the bad news—no need to worry Mel.

We took Highway 121 to Ft. Worth and just past the airport hit a string of thunderstorms. Lightning lit up the sky and deafening thunder rocked our station wagon. At times the rain became intense, and visibility got so poor we had to slow down to a crawl. By the time we reached Weatherford the rain had stopped. It seemed like the right time to tell Jenny what her son was up against.

It can't be true, she sobbed. He'd never drive recklessly. He loved those kids. There must be some mistake.

You're right. It doesn't sound like Steven. There must be some other explanation.

She leaned forward and gripped the back of my seat. This can't be happening. Steven was doing so well in school. Please, Stan. You've got to do something. Steven can't go to jail. I turned and saw her wiping the tears from her eyes. Rebekah handed her a tissue and sighed. I could see she was nearly as upset as Jenny.

I took a deep breath and stared at the open road ahead. I know. Don't worry. We'll figure this out. I'm sure Steven will have an explanation for all of this. Just sit back and try to relax.

It was really stupid asking Jenny to relax, but I didn't know what else to say. Usually, a person wouldn't be held for possible DWI unless they had failed a field sobriety test. The subsequent blood test would be the deciding factor. If the test showed a blood alcohol level above 1.0, he'd be presumed to be intoxicated and most likely charged.

It was after nine when we arrived at the hospital. The parking lot was deserted except for a few cars parked around the entrance of the emergency room. In the reception area a nurse stood hovering over an open chart.

Hi. We're here looking for the scouts who were in that Jeep accident at Possum Kingdom Lake.

The nurse looked up and squinted. That group is all down in the waiting room. She pointed toward a double door. Through that door and to your left—second door on the right.

In the emergency waiting room I recognized the Scoutmaster Roger Dickens in the corner talking to one of the parents.

Dad. Mom! Peter said as he came running over.

Rebekah and Peter embraced. Oh, Peter, Rebekah moaned. I've been so worried about you. Were you hurt?

Peter shook his head. No. I wasn't in the Jeep. I stayed back at the camp to fish.

Thank God, Rebekah replied.

Roger Dickens came over and put his arm around Jenny. I'm so sorry. I can't believe this happened. Steven is okay, though. He wasn't hurt.

Can you tell us what happened? I asked.

It was a horrible accident. You know the curvy part of the road just before you get to the camp entrance?

Right.

Well, I guess Steven took it too fast and lost control of the Jeep. They went off the cliff and the Jeep landed in the lake. Somehow Steven managed to jump out, but Jimmy was found still strapped in his seatbelt. The sheriff isn't sure if he died from the crash or the fire that broke out afterwards.

Were there any witnesses?

I don't think so. Steven had gone to town to get some supplies for breakfast. Jimmy volunteered to go with him. Steven's a good driver so I never suspected— Dickens took a deep breath trying to maintain his composure. I never dreamed something like this would happen.

It's not your fault, Roger. But what I don't understand, though, is why Steven was arrested. If it was an accident—

He was talking crazy, like he was drunk or on drugs or something. I don't know if he hit his head on the windshield or what, but he claimed a spaceship ran him off the road.

A spaceship?

That's what they say he said. I didn't hear it myself. I know it sounds crazy. I don't know what to think. It's not like Steven to make up stories like that. Particularly since Jimmy was killed in the accident. I figure he must have seen a helicopter or a hot air balloon and was distracted. You know how a boy could be distracted by something like that.

Is Steven a science fiction fanatic?

Roger shook his head. No. He plays Dungeons and Dragons and reads a lot of comic books, but that's pretty typical of kids his age.

Where's Jimmy's mother?

They took her to the chapel. There's a minister with her right now.

I shook my head. Oh, Jesus. What a horrible thing to have to face. I'll leave Rebekah here for a while in case you all need any help with Barbara.

That would be good. Thanks, Stan.

I'm going to take Jenny over to the sheriff's office and see if we can get Steven released.

Dickens nodded. Good luck.

Jenny was quiet on the way to the sheriff's office. I could only imagine what was going through her mind. A spaceship? Where had that come from? Was Steven suffering from a head injury like Roger suggested, or had he taken some kind of hallucinogenic? I was anxious to talk to Steven and get his side of the story.

We headed for the Palo Pinto Sheriff's office which was in the Courthouse just off Highway 180, twenty miles west of Mineral Wells. It took us about thirty minutes to get there. They said we couldn't miss it and they were right. Two miles east of Palo Pinto we saw the big courthouse protruding high above the tree line, a strange sight for a town whose downtown was scarcely two blocks long. The parking lot was empty except for a single patrol car and an old Chevy pickup. We parked on the curb in front of the building and entered through the main entrance. A young female deputy was on duty at the front desk. We introduced ourselves.

Has there been a bond set yet? I asked.

Judge Applegate won't set his bond until morning, so he'll have to stay in jail tonight.

Can't we call him and get him to set it now?

I wouldn't recommend disturbing him. He's got a nasty temper and you wouldn't want to get on his bad side.

She was right. Some of the small-town judges were very temperamental and could turn on you in a hurry. It was particularly dangerous for out-of-county counsel who often didn't know how far they could push the local judge. I figured Steven would survive one night in jail, particularly since he would probably be the only inmate in residence that night.

Well, can we at least see Steven?

Yes, one at a time.

Okay, Jenny. You go first. I'll wait.

She nodded and the deputy led her down a hallway. When the deputy returned, I asked her if she knew anything about what had happened.

Just hearsay. Your client was talking really crazy like he'd been on LSD or something. Claims a UFO caused the accident.

So, I heard. Did anyone interrogate him?

A couple detectives did.

What were their names?

Ben Hayden and Bert Hollingsworth.

I took a business card out of my wallet and jotted the names on the back. In my haste to leave I'd forgotten a legal pad. I wasn't a big note taker anyway, so it was no big deal. I found if you listened carefully to people, you'd remember the important stuff. Was Steven hurt at all? I asked.

They took him to the hospital first, just to check him out, but I guess there wasn't anything seriously wrong with him since they brought him here and put him in a cell.

How was he acting when he got here?

Quite normal, but they may have sedated him at the hospital.

Have there been any reports of UFO sightings in this area?

She laughed. You're not buying into that boy's story, are you?

I smiled. No. Just covering all the bases.

She shook her head. Well, we do get calls from time to time about strange things flying around, but they usually turn out to be military aircraft, small planes, or weather balloons.

Any reports tonight?

She shook her head and replied, No. Sorry.

Jenny came back to the waiting room and sat down. She was obviously in shock. I went over to her and put my hand on her shoulder. She didn't look up. I was escorted back to a small detention room where Steven was pacing back and forth. He was tall, clean cut, and blessed with a handsome face. I knew him to be laid back and a little shy. It was no doubt he'd make a good impression on a jury.

Hi, Mr. Turner.

Hi, Steven. Sorry about what happened tonight.

He shrugged. I'm just sorry about Jimmy. I can't believe he's dead.

It was an accident—just a tragic accident, I said.

No. It was all my fault. I just panicked. I've never seen anything like that before. For a moment I was just mesmerized. You know. It was like my body was frozen.

Why don't you start from the beginning, I said. I don't quite understand what happened.

He took a deep breath. Okay. Well, I was in charge of the mess hall at the camp, and we were out of eggs, sausage, and a few other things. Jimmy was on KP duty and looking for a way to escape his assignment. Nobody likes KP duty, right?

Right, I said, forcing a smile.

Anyway. I told Roger I'd take the Jeep into town to get what we needed. I liked to drive it, so I often volunteered to run errands. You know what I mean?

Sure, I understand. Who owns the Jeep?

It belongs to the Triangle Council. They own the camp, and they keep it here to use for maintenance and to run errands.

Uh huh.

"I felt sorry for Jimmy so I told Roger I could use his help. He agreed so he and I left about four o'clock. It's about twenty minutes to town and halfway there it started to rain hard. We stopped and put the top up and then continued on to town. It took us about a half hour or so to get what we needed and gas up the Jeep. Before we left, we played a couple video games, so it was about 5:15 p.m. or so when we started back to the

Reviews for Cactus Island, A Stan Turner Mystery Vol 8

[denisa8howe · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

A wonderful science-fiction courtroom murder mystery or is really murder, was there really a death? This is a series and one that held my attention well. Some parts a bit farfetched but is that simply because it hasn’t ever been proved? I enjoyed the plot and the sub plot entwined around and between each other. The characters are certainly natural and revealed in a simply unique way. The mystery brings that which is true and that which many think is not. From a wreck to aliens, a missing husband and a non believer becomes a believer of something; but what? I received this book via goodreads and enjoyed the ability to read it first.