it was making a great profit, beyond what I'd hoped. It
was 35 miles from
Pittsburg. I got tired of driving back and forth daily, so I
rented an
apartment close by temporarily, until the remodeling was
completed. I
rented a 2-bedroom furnished apartment at Crestwood Apartments, a
short
walking distance from the club.
Jack Sanders was a Vietnam
veteran who sort of came with the club. He lived in a
tiny camper
behind the club. he was dying with colon cancer and prostate
cancer,
and he had a urine bag as a result of bladder cancer. He said
he had no
family and nowhere else to go. I let him move into the
apartment's
second bedroom when it was obvious he couldn't manage alone.
Rule
helped me in the club. My husband had not been down
there, and I felt
he didn't care about me or the club. He surprised me one day
by coming
down to try to make amends. When he did, Rule later threw a
fit. He
said I needed to pick who I wanted and that I needed to divorce
my
husband. I refused. I think this is why Rule went back
to associating
with Tim Rice. I saw Rule sitting in a car with Rice in the
parking lot
one night.
I had built a game room onto the back of
the
club, and was going to build on a small living area where I could
live
until I found a manager I could trust. The one I had had was
stealing
$200.00 a day from the profits for weeks before customers told me
she
wasn't ringing up sales on the cash register, but pocketing
them. Eddie
Wardlaw lived nearby and when the place was packed, he'd come in
and
help out. Sub-contract work, not as an employee. Months
before this, I
had loaned Eddie $150.00 because he said someone was threatening
him
and he needed to pay him back. He never said who it
was. He worked it
off at the club, and I kept the hours in an officer ledger.
Eddie
didn't owe me anything. I guess Rule had known about the
ledger,
becuase Rule had to have been the one to tell Rice where I kept the
9mm,
and that Eddie had borrowed money and worked it off. I'm an
extremely
private person and I don't tell my business to anyone. Eddie
had come
to my apartment and I had given him a blank signed check and the
keys to
my Lincoln. He had gone to NAPA auto parts in Jefferson and
bought
antifreeze and oil. He came back and changed them for
me. He had been
sitting at the table with me, and three other people just a couple
of
days before he was killed. He hugged me nearly every time he
came in. I
considered him a friend. I encouraged him to get a job in
Longview.
He was a great mechanic. I paid for him and my other
bartenders and
waitresses to take a class and be certified bartenders. I
tried to help
people.
I was working 16 hours a day,
7 days a week, and had gotten pneumonia. I worked all the
time anyway,
because I didn't have anyone I could totally lean on to fill in for
me.
The Texas Alcoholic Beverage Commission (TABC) requires
extensive
paperwork to be done every night after closing. I had gone to
the
apartment to heat cream of chicken soup for Jack and fed him,
when
Scott, my bartender, called me from the club and told me that Rice
was
there trying to sell cocaine to customers and was being
aggressive. I
told him to put him out of the club, and tell him he was barred,
and not
to come back.
November 13, 1992 was a Friday
night. I had
gone with Regean Watkins to check out a club in Marshall, TX, 16
miles
away. I came in after closing. Rule was mad. He
had forged my name on
a club check and paid the band, and they had left. I ignored
his
outburst, went into the office, and was doing TABC paperwork.
I had
needed a break and took it. I couldn't see why he was so
upset. I had
counted the nights earnings from food and alcohol sales and put it
in
the bank bag. The wall phone out in the bar area rang, but I
was never
called, so I thought it must've been a customer wanting to know if
we
were still open.
Later, Rice came walking into my
office. I
was shocked that Rule had let him in the club, and had let him
come
into my office. Often there were thousands of dollars in
there before I
could make it to the bank in Jefferson to deposit it. The
club was 12
miles from Jefferson. He knew Rice was barred from the
club. I kept a
list on the wall by the cash register. Rice was trying to act
like he
had every right to be there. He began apologizing for his
behavior. He
gave this big spill about how he could make flyers for
businesses,
saying he had made them before for H.E.'s store. I told him I
didn't
want his help, and to leave.
I was sick, coughing, and had a
fever. All I wanted to do was go to the apartment, shower,
and go to
bed. He said on his way out, "Can I bring someone down here
to play
pool?" I told him we'd be gone soon, and locked up. I
had just
finished my paperwork, when into my office came Rice, Eddie, and a
man I
didn't know. My office was extremely small. I stood
up. Rice said,
"Lou, I just want to talk to them a minute." The jukebox was
loud, is
why I assumed he wanted to talk in the office. If I hadn't
have felt so
bad, I probably would have ordered them all out, but I just walked
out
with the bank bag in my hand and hid it in the food prep
area. I began
to clean out the bar-b-que crock pot, thinking, "I'm gonna go back
in
there and put them out and go to the apartment." Jack was
barely able
to get up at the time. I would make cream of chicken soup for
him.
I heard what sounded like gun shots coming from my office, and ran
to
the door. It was closed and wouldn't open. I kept
shoving against it
and got it open enough to see Rice with a gun, waving it around
and
yelling. Eddie and the other man were on the floor.
Rice reached down
to pull Eddie out of his way, when I realized he was coming for me
so I
ran. I took off out of the club, and ran on foot to my
apartment. I
had left my purse and keys in the office and I wasn't going back
for
them! I beat on the apartment door until Jack finally managed
to come
open it for me. He was in such a bad state, I was afraid to
tell him
anything about what had happened. I bolted the deadbolts on
the door. I
went to the phone to call the police and remembered the phone in
my
apartment is an extension of the phone in the club office.
The office
phone was clear with green and hot pink neon lights inside.
If the
apartment phone is picked up, the green light would come on.
Rice would
know I was calling the police. What would he do? Would
he kill Rule,
too? Maybe hurt or kill my neighbors? I didn't know, so
I ended up
doing nothing. I was crying and couldn't seem to stop.
It was the most
horrible events to happen in my life.
Around 3am, I went back to the club.
The door wasn't even locked. There was
no evidence that I could see that anything had happened at
all. My eyes
were swollen from crying. I began to think maybe it was my
fever and
that I'd imagined it, but my car was gone, and so was Rule's
truck.
About daylight, I went back to the apartment. Two young men
were
washing a small black pick-up at the car wash. I went to the
apartment,
and later in the day, Rule called me. He said he was OK and
that he
would talk to me when he returned. He wouldn't tell me where
he was.
He came back with my car, but his truck was never seen again.
He had my
Beretta. I was shaking from fear and fever too. I knew
the gun had to
be put in a safe place and soon, because I didn't think I was going
to
make it much longer. Rule and I took it to my aunt's
house. I didn't
want her endangered, so I didn't tell her what had happened.
I asked to
get my Raven back, and left my Baretta with
her.
Copyright 2012. Louanne Larson.
All Rights Reserved.
