Murder on the Angelina: A Sandra Lerner Mystery

By George W. Barclay Jr.

Brutal murder leads to arrest of prominent banker and revelation of embezzlement and money laundering. Sandra Lerner takes the case. Eighth in Sandra Lerner series.

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: May 9, 2001
• ISBN: 9781469765426

George W. Barclay Jr.

Dr. George W. Barclay Jr. is retired Beaumont Cardiologist. He writes adventure, mystery, science fiction and metaphysics. This is his twenty-sixth novel. He is graduate of Texas AM and Southwestern Medical School (MD FACC).

Book preview

CHAPTER I

Angelina County 5 P.M., November 5, 1999

He wanted to discuss a large anonymous donation. They parked behind a Ford pickup in front of the log house, long used as a hunting lodge. Everything was quiet.

Anybody here?

The lady passenger mounted the steps, opened the door, and walked in.

Come in for a minute. It’s not like him to go on to his deer stand before guests arrive.

The lady driver followed. After three steps inside, she was attacked from behind by a hooded man who quickly slipped a cord around her neck and forced her to her knees gasping and clawing at her neck. The first lady grabbed her hands, and they struggled as she slowly turned blue, stopped breathing, and died. The man turned and saw his accomplice bleeding. For God’s sake, don’t get that blood on anything.

He placed the victim’s head on a sack of corn, put a gun to her temple, and fired. Very quickly they slipped her in a body bag, carried her out to the pickup, lowered the tailgate, lifted her in, and covered her with a tarpaulin. Follow me in her car. They’ll never find her.

Angelina County Jail 3 A.M.—Sunday, January 9, 2000

The extension phone rang in the squad room where a deputy was sleeping. He switched on a light and made it to the front desk. He glanced at the caller I.D. It was the public phone outside McDonald’s across from State College. He answered: County.

Is this the county sheriff? came a squeaky feminine voice.

Yes, ma’am.

There’s a dead body buried in Lloya Cemetery. The phone clicked and then toned. She had hung up.

Shoot! He walked back to the squad room, turned off the light, and went to bed.

Houston, Texas 2 P.M., March 1, 2000

Sandra Lerner.

Miss Lerner, I’m Ima Lloya Goode, lawyer, calling from Angelina City. We were classmates in law school back when.

Ima … Ima Lloya! I remember you. You went back home to practice, and you’re married. Any children?

Yes, three, all grown and gone. I called you to ask you to try a case with me. It’s capital murder and scheduled for May 30th.

What were the charges?

Kidnapping, aggravated assault, forced sodomy, murder by strangulation, and gunshot to the head.

My goodness! I’ve not read about it in the Houston paper.

There’s been no publicity, court order. Are you coming up here next week to the CLE meeting? I saw your name on the early registration list.

Can you fax me the reports?

I don’t have a fax machine, and it’s too confidential to go on the net.

I’m driving in Thursday night and staying at the Holiday Inn. Will drive back to Houston Saturday afternoon. Can you tell me the names of our client and the victim?

Yes, the accused is Burlington Broadleaf, branch manager and vice president of the Cheyenne National Bank, and the decedent was Joyce MacMurphee, chief finance officer, same bank.

My goodness, Sandra thought. She was tempted to punt. Have you tried anybody else?

Yes, and you’re my last hope.

How did you get the case?

We go to the same church.

Enter me as co-counsel, and I’ll see you next Friday.

After hanging up, Sandra dialed Tisha. Her number had been changed, and no one answered at her new number. She dialed her cell phone.

Tisha LaFemme.

Tisha, Sandra. Can you take a case?

Sure, Miss Lerner, I’m working right now, but I’ll take it. Who, what, and where? Angelina City. Client’s name is Burlington Broadleaf, and he’s in the county jail. Trial is May 30: Murder. I’ll call you at ten tonight at home. * * *

Sandra caught it on the first ring.

"I called the jail and talked with the deputy. They’re not busy, only three prisoners. Mr. Broadleaf is in a private non-smoking cell, and has a telephone and computer hooked up to the internet, burlyb at t home dot com, all small letters. There’s two Mexican truckers back in the dormitory caught on contraband charges awaiting trial and deportation. The women’s side is empty.

Has Mr. Burlington had any visitors?

Just the people from the bank wanting his signature. His wife came over the first evening and brought him a bag of clothes and toilet articles and hasn’t been back. The deputy said she may be getting a divorce.

Anything else?

They’ve had no rain, and it’s smoky up there from all the little forest fires.

You did good, Tisha. I’m going to a law seminar in Angelina City next weekend, and I will be more knowledgeable about our case next time I call.

When do you want me to start?

Any spare time you have. Be sure to keep up with the hours. We’ve got a rich client. I’ll call you in two weeks, and then we’ll get serious.

Sandra hung up the phone, slid over to her computer, got on the internet and typed a message to [e-mail]. New help. I’m Sandra Lerner, Houston. Will assist Ima in your defense. Plan to see you Saturday 3/11. May I bring you anything?

Next morning there was a reply: cigarettes. Sandra clicked on lawsnoop.com, Texas, Angelina, District Court, and Broadleaf. She found nothing. Then she clicked back to court; clicked on district judge and read: Pitts, Hugh, 1996 [phone]. Sandra smiled and changed his phone number in her rolodex. She dialed.

Hugh Pitts. His voice was clear, and she detected a mild irritation.

This is Sandra Lerner.

Ima took care of it yesterday.

No conflict then?

This is Angelina County not Houston.

You still married to Nellie?

I’m on the downstairs extension, Sandra, interrupted Nellie. We’ll have you over for tea.

See you in court, Hugh. Sandra quietly put down the phone.

CHAPTER 2

Angelina City 5 P.M., March 9, 2000

Sandra turned off US 69 on to Tex 58 and drove into the Holiday Inn parking lot. There was a Denny’s Restaurant out front and a guest entrance at the side. She parked, retrieved a light suitcase from the trunk, and locked her car. A bellhop took her bag as she walked under the sheltered entrance, through the revolving door, and up to the admissions’ desk. There was one clerk, a bell, and a short line which she joined. She could see a public computer room, back entrance to Denny’s’, front entrance to an Irish Pub, and an indoor-outdoor swimming pool.

Yes, ma’am?

I’m Miss Sandra Lerner. I have a reservation. Sandra got out her MasterCard as the lady punched the computer and then took her card. She handed Sandra an envelope containing a plastic key to her room, green smart card for the pub, and guest verification receipt.

You’re booked in three twelve facing east. The bell captain will help you to your room. Check out time is noon Saturday. You may use your MasterCard in Denny’s or bill it to your room. We have very strict liquor laws in Angelina County. Beer is served in the Irish Pub, and admission is by guest card only.

Sandra followed the bellhop to her room. It had twin beds and an outside view. He sat her bags down, opened the window curtain, turned back the bed next to the nightstand, explained the temperature and television controls, and held out his hand.

Is there any place around here you can go dancing and have a few beers?

Two miles south on fifty-eight, ma’am, VFW. It’s five dollars a couple, unescorted ladies free, and BYOB. Angelina County is dry. Opens on Friday and Saturday nights, and usually has a live band.

Thank you, replied Sandra, smiling, as she handed him a brand new two dollar bill. When he left, she walked over to the window and looked at the church across the highway. It was red brick with a white shingled roof and plain crossless steeple. There was an adjacent office building, and both were flanked by a large lighted and lined parking lot. Sandra glanced at her watch. She had time to shower, change, get a salad at Denny’s, and visit the Irish Pub before going to jail to see Burl.

Sandra had never drunk stout before. It was dark brown with brown foam and tasted a little like she imagined used crank case oil might. She picked up her mug and walked to a table where the only other customer, a middle-age male, was seated, sipping stout and reading the Wall Street Journal by candlelight.

May I join you?

He looked up, smiled, rose, and held the chair for her as she sat down. She sipped her beer, shuddered, and held out her hand.

I’m Sandra Lerner, lawyer, from Houston.

I’m Pastor Cicero, from The Faith Institute across the street. He continued to read.

That’s a college ring you have on. It looks new.

Class of sixty-six. I lost my old one. He sighed, folded the paper, smiled at Sandra, sipped his beer, and said, okay, Miss Lerner, let’s talk about you. What are you doing in our fair city?

Law seminar tomorrow at the Civic Center. What was your major? In college, I mean?

Petroleum geology. I have a degree in petroleum engineering. He continued to smile.

Sandra was at a loss for words and then stammered, would you please make the connection from being a petroleum geologist to a pastor of a church? Aren’t they sort of one hundred and eighty degrees in the opposite directions?

Actually, no! They’re supportive at a higher level of understanding. After Vietnam, I did four years of graduate study in Theology at Ivy.

Did you do research and write a doctorate thesis?

Of course.

What was the title of your thesis?

Sorry! Big secret. Took an oath not to publish it or reveal my findings.

Sandra was intrigued. What does your wife do?

He glanced at his watch and stood up. My wife’s Dean of Women at State University and teaches Anthropology. I have an appointment with her at Luby’s. So long, Miss Lerner, enjoy your seminar. He picked up his hat and paper and headed for the door.

Sandra glanced at her watch, still an hour. She signaled for another stout. An older heavy set man with gray hair, loose suit, and black horn rimmed glasses bought a beer and sat down across the room. Sandra smiled.

Sorry, Miss, I’m waiting on a party.

In several minutes a second man, younger in appearance, bought a beer and sat across from the first. Five minutes later a tall slender well tanned man of about forty joined them.

You guys set? asked the first. Both nodded, and they all reached into their pockets, pulled out coins and slapped them on the table.

Odd man buys. They lifted up their hands, and the two older men laughed at the younger. He turned around and signaled the waiter for another round.

CHAPTER 3

Sandra checked her map and drove uptown. The jail, a small building, was across from the county courthouse. At seven the streets were almost empty. She parked in the county lot, walked across the street, and entered the jail. No one was on duty at the front desk. A deputy approached carrying a cellular phone. He had a ring of keys on his belt, but no gun or nightstick.

May I help you?

Yes! I’m here to visit Mr. Burlington Broadleaf. I’m one of his lawyers, Sandra Lerner, from Houston.

Sandra showed him her plastic sealed law and driver’s licenses. He led her to a conference room down the hall.

I’ll get Mr. Broadleaf. There’s an ashtray in the room. I’ll have to lock you in. You just call when you are ready to leave. Do you think you will be safe, ma’am.?

Is it bullet proof? quipped Sandra, smiling.

All our walls are bullet proof, ma’am.

Sandra took a seat in the small room containing only two metal folding chairs, a formica topped table, and a plain glass ashtray. She opened her purse, threw a pack of Camels across the table, lit up a Winston, and put her lighter where he could get it. The door opened, and in shuffled a ruggedly handsome male in an orange jumpsuit. His wrists and ankles were cuffed and chained, and there was a short chain running from his wrists to his ankles. Sandra got up to let him by, and he hobbled around to the cigarettes and sat down. Sandra moved around and opened the pack, put one in his mouth and lit it. He inhaled deeply and held it as long as he could before exhaling. He looked up at Sandra and smiled gratefully. He bent over and reached up with his fingers and took the cigarette out of his mouth. The deputy closed the door and locked it from the outside. Just the two of them in a locked bulletproof room with an ashtray and a tiny vent in the ceiling.

We can’t keep meeting like this, Miss Lerner. May I call you Sandra?

Sandra gazed at him for a few minutes. He continued to smoke taking deep drags and blowing tiny smoke rings. Sandra snuffed out her Winston. Is it true what they say about you, Burl?

Absolutely not!

Do you have an alibi? A witness to your whereabouts?

Yes, I was at the Angelina County golf course until nine. I was playing with Bobby MacMurphee. Then I stopped by Tony’s Pizza and ate. I drove home, read the paper, fed the parrot, showered, and went to bed.

You remember your waitress at Tony’s?

Isabella. I don’t know her last name.

Your wife at home?

No, she’d left a note. Had driven to Stonefort to plan the homecoming ball. She was in her room when I left to go deer hunting the next morning.

You didn’t wake her?

We have separate bedrooms, and she has difficulty getting to sleep.

Where did you hunt?

One Hundred and One Gun Club in south county.

Any other people there?

The whole club. About ten, I guess.

A loud noise, a shot, startled them. Then they heard yelling and cursing in Spanish. He smoked, and she sat motionless, wondering if the door would open. Then all was quiet for about thirty minutes. Vehicles with sirens began to arrive outside. Then the EMS. Then quiet again. Finally Sheriff Micks opened the door.

CHAPTER 4

When Sandra got back to her car, she put on a shoulder holster containing a snub-nosed thirty eight. She patted it under her jacket and then dialed Tisha. Luckily she answered.

Tisha, can you come up Saturday and spend the night? I’m in room 312, Holiday Inn on Tex 58.

Yes, ma’am, Miss Lerner. You sound anxious.

I just went through a jail break. The jailer was shot, and the Mexicans escaped.

Was he killed?

Maybe not. He’s undergoing emergency surgery at a local hospital.

They may be halfway to Mexico by now. My husband says US 59 is just a big conduit for drugs all the way to Canada, and Angelina City is just a little stop on the way.

Tisha, you’re married?

That’s right, Miss Lerner, now going on three months. His name is Alvin Black, and he is a tower guard at the state penitentiary. I kept my professional name.

Does he mind you working with me? It might be dangerous.

Not a bit. He knew I was a private detective when he married me. You want me to get on the internet and see what happened to those two escapees?

Please do. You still have that little thirty-two?

I bought a thirty-eight like yours. It looked like I had three teats, so I wear a large jacket over it. Any practiced eye would know I was packin’.

Wear denim. I want you to go with me to a VFW country western dance Saturday night.

You sure it’s safe?

I hope so.

Sandra punched off, folded the aerial, and set it beside her. A dark man jumped out of the shadow of the hedge and started pounding on the passenger window. A second man grabbed her arm and dragged her out of the car. Taken by surprise she tried to scream, but felt a terrible blow to her head and blacked out.

She awoke in a hospital bed. Her eyes were blurry, but she could make out 9 A.M. She felt her head. Ouch! A tall doctor was standing beside her. He smiled.

Good morning, how do you feel?

Like heck. May I have a cigarette?

Sorry, no smoking. I’m Dr. Reed, your neurologist. He gently put her through various maneuvers and then performed a very detailed examination: safety pin, tuning fork, percussion hammer, and all. I saw you in the emergency room last night. You have a small laceration of the scalp, some superficial swelling, but no evidence of internal bleeding or serious concussion. I think we can let you go home this morning. Take Tylenol for the pain, and remove the stitches in a week.

Doctor, what caused the blow?

Probably a black jack. There were no sharp edges. Would you leave your name, address, phone number, and insurance carrier at the checkout desk? They’ll send a copy to my office. He turned to leave and a nurse came in with a breakfast tray and a hottle of tea.

May I have coffee, please? Just plain black coffee?

Sorry, no coffee, Doctor Gupta’s orders.

Who’s doctor Gupta?

He’s the doctor in charge of your case.

Just as she finished eating, another nurse walked in followed by a minister. Damn!

It’s time for our bath. I’ll step out for a moment to let Dr. Gracey lead you in your morning devotional.

Before Dr.Gracey could speak,Sandra blurted out,You got a cigarette?

No, but I’ll pray that you can endure your suffering.

They prayed together, and then the nurse gave her a bath. A candy striper came in with magazines, and until Sandra stopped counting there were twelve new visits. Then a bright young Indian National walked in wearing a stethoscope and long white coat, trailed by three starched, uniformed, young, and attentive student nurses.

I’m Doctor Gupta, your family doctor, and I think we’ll let you go home today. All your tests were okay. I will give you a prescription for codeine and Tylenol, and you can come to my office in two weeks, so I can remove your sutures. If you get any headaches, dizziness, or fainting spells, contact me or your family doctor immediately. He handed her a prescription, his professional card with his picture, and a bill for $500.00. Sandra thanked him, and looked up to see Ima Lloya Goode walk in.

Sandra, I like to have never found you. What happened?

I was dragged out of my car and knocked on the head by two assailants last night right across the street from the county jail. Well, anyway, I woke up in here this morning. Do you have a cigarette?

No. I quit, sorry.

Please walk out in the hall, and, when you find that volunteer with the coffee cart, get me a cup of plain black coffee in a styrofoam cup.

Ima returned shortly with the coffee. Sandra took a sip and dialed her secretary in Houston.

Betty, call MasterCard and Exxon and cancel my credit cards. They were stolen last night along with my car. Also call my insurance agent and give her the sad news. Tell her to keep me covered, and I’ll try to buy another up here just about like the Buick I had stolen. Same year and model, if possible. Get my papers out of the file and report the theft of my pistol and my car to the DPS and BATF. My purse, gun, and car are gone, and I’m stranded in a local hospital registered as Jane Doe. Tonight, I’ll be in the Holiday Inn, hopefully. Also, you’d better call the State Bar and the State DPS and have them send me new licenses. Anything else you can think of, just take care of it. Oh, I’m okay. I just messed up my new hairdo. She turned to Ima.

It’s humiliating to be without cash or plastic. ‘To be dependent on the generosity of strangers’.

Ima got out her checkbook and wrote Sandra a check for one thousand dollars.

Take this, Sandra. You can pay me back whenever, but don’t give it to the hospital. They’ll probably be happy to pad your bill and wait for your insurance.

Thanks, Ima. Sandra glanced at her watch. Another thirty minutes and she would be headed for checkout. How’s the seminar? I’ve got to sign up, or I’ll miss my CLE credits.

I signed for you. Hope you approve.

Sandra put her finger to her lips and looked around, smiling. Ima, you’re a lifesaver, just like in school. Tell me about yourself. Sandra got up and started dressing.

Well, it’s not much. I am president of the county bar this year, and presented our guest celebrity speaker this morning, F.L. Barrister, who gave an amusing talk on Voir Dire and the N word. It was about the O.J. Simpson trial. Jesus Lloya, my brother, gave our welcoming address. He’s mayor and a staunch Democrat.

How wonderful! You must have a talented family. What’s his day job?

Businessman. Has some cleaning and pressing shops, washaterias, and does some venture capital investing. Right now he and several others are buying up land around Branson and planning a recreation complex.

Branson, Missouri?

Branson, Texas. It’s about forty miles from here over in San Augustine County.

Tell me about your husband and children. I’m so happy for you.

Well, my husband, Ural, is Fire Chief and on the board of Faith Institute. My youngest is in Baylor Medical School. She’s my only daughter. My oldest son is married and works as an electrical engineer in Austin. He has twin boys.

You’re a grandmother!

My other son is married and works as a stockbroker in Dallas. He’s married, but no kids, yet.

Where did your daughter go to undergraduate school?

Baylor. You’d never believe how hard I prayed, Sandra.

For what?

That she wouldn’t marry a Baptist preacher. Her decision to go to medical school was the answer to my prayers, but, now, she’s dating a Chinaman.

Sandra finished dressing and sacked what few belongings she had. She pushed the switch by the intercom.

This is Jane Doe. I’m ready to check out.

Please wait for an orderly with a wheelchair, hospital rules.

Sandra, let me take you back to your hotel. A taxi would be so lonely.

Ima, take me to the best used car lot in town. I’m looking for a 1995 Buick LeSabre.

A police officer was waiting for them at check out and escorted them down to the police station where Sandra filled out the usual forms, answered routine questions, and got directions to the nearest Hertz where she rented a nearly new Buick LeSabre, same color.

Ima, I know you are anxious to get back to the seminar. I think I’ll drive back to the hotel and smoke in peace. Can you join me later at Denny’s where we can enjoy a leisurely meal, and you can tell me about our case?

Why don’t I come to your room at nine. I have to host the cocktail party and dinner at the convention center at seven.

CHAPTER 5

Sandra noticed a pungent odor in the air. The wind had shifted and was coming from the south. She walked from the parking lot to the hotel. It was smoky, and the odor was familiar, marijuana, just like the restrooms in the criminal court building in Houston.

I’m Miss Lerner in three twelve. I lost my key.

You got a receipt or any ID?

No, I was robbed of my purse last night and spent the night in the hospital. The receipt is on my nightstand.

She had Sandra sign a certificate of loss, and then gave her another key.

The phone started ringing when Sandra began unlocking the door. She picked up the receiver, Sandra.

My husband is going to murder me, too.

Sandra could hear a noise in the background; it sounded like a parrot. Jackass, Jackass, Jackass. Then she heard a loud noise like a shot, and the phone went dead. She stood there a few moments, listened to the dial tone, and then put the phone down.

She walked over to the nightstand, opened the drawer, took out a carton of Winstons, opened a pack, lit up, and flopped down in the big overstuffed chair. Ouch, her head was tender. After a few minutes, she walked over, opened the curtain, and took in