Novel Excerpts–The Boaz Scorekeeper, Chapter 50

The primary aim of the "Novel Excerpts" blog category is to showcase my creative writing, specifically from the novels I've written. Hopefully, these posts will provide a glimpse into my storytelling style, themes, and narrative skills. It's an opportunity to share my artistic expressions and the worlds I've created through my novels.

The Boaz Scorekeeper, written in 2017, is my second novel. I'll post it, a chapter a day, over the next few weeks.

The July 4th Celebrate Boaz concert was successful beyond imagination, at least that of every local resident.  The Boaz Police Chief had to call in favors from his fellow chiefs in Albertville, Guntersville, and Arab for police reinforcements, mainly to direct traffic.  Karla, Kaden, and I took three lawn chairs and a cooler filled with low-spirit drinks and enjoyed three hours of old and current Blues, Country, and even a little contemporary gospel.  I must say, Shania Twain was phenomenal.

Kaden could hardly sit for more than 15 minutes so we put him in charge of hiking back and forth to the multiple food trucks that had inundated the celebration, bringing to us small samples of most every item they offered.

I took Wednesday, the Fifth, off to help Karla finish framing four of her paintings she had sold.  The customer was coming from Chattanooga Friday morning to pick them up.  Karla had taken up both pencil sketching and painting several years earlier to relieve stress and to discipline her to use her hands and fingers.  Two medical specialists had told her this type activity was one of the best ways to significantly postpone the almost inevitable loss of dexterity in her hands from her Rheumatoid Arthritis.

Just before 4:30, and as we were clamping the last frame in place to rest until the glue dried, my cell phone rang.  I didn’t recognize the number.  I answered and the lady said, “Micaden, is this Micaden Tanner?”  I affirmed it was and asked who was calling.  It was Gina Culvert Tillman.  I quickly learned that there was at least one citizen in Boaz who had not joined the unity wagon train encircling the Flaming Five and their fathers.

Culvert was her maiden name. Gina was a former high school classmate and attended the infamous 1972 graduation party.  She was also one of four Boaz High School cheerleaders who had testified against me at my 1973 murder trial. To the surprise of all who knew her, Wade Tillman, the defacto pastor of First Baptist Church of Christ, had married Gina in August 1972.  Gina asked if we could meet today.  I told her I had taken the day off and was busy.  She pleaded with me to meet her at my office at 7:30 tonight.  She said that it was urgent and could be greatly beneficial to my investigations.  I finally told her to tell me exactly why she wanted to meet or I would postpone my availability until tomorrow.  “I am divorcing Wade and need an attorney.  I also have information about Club Eden that you may find interesting and helpful.”  I told her I would see her at 7:30 tonight.  She asked if it would be okay for us to meet at Hickory Hollow.  “I need to keep this very private for now.” 

Gina arrived a few minutes early and we settled at a round table in my study. 

“Micaden, I want to say again how sorry I am for how I greatly mistreated you at your trial in 1973.  I will never be able to repay you and hope that you will know how sincere I am.”

“That was over forty years ago.  I suspect you are no longer a naive teenager.”

“I’m certainly no longer a teenager but it’s up for grabs whether I’m any wiser.  As I said on the phone, I plan on divorcing Wade and I need an attorney.  I want to hire you and please know this is not an attempt to repay you for mistreating you so long ago.”

“Okay.  I’ll accept that.  In fact, I’ll take this approach concerning you.  I’ll believe what you tell me, take it as the truth, until I learn that you are lying.”  I said.

“Sounds good but I will not lie to you, ever again.”

“Now, I’m going to sit here and listen to you for a while.  Why don’t you tell me what’s on your mind?  I’ll interject questions for clarity or mere curiosity.”

“I suspect you know that mine and Wade’s marriage in 1972 was, as they say, a shotgun wedding of sorts.  It was Mom’s idea in total.  Myself, the young and dumb blond went along with it because I was stupid and lazy.  I never did like school, and thought it was a way to avoid having to get a college education and work for a living.  I did like Wade and all but I truly didn’t like the idea of trying to become a preacher’s wife.  I guess you can do about anything if you set your mind to it.”  Gina said.

“From my vantage point it seems you have done quite a good job.  You graduated from the University of Alabama and you have been the poster girl of a serious and faithful preacher’s wife.  Of course, I acknowledge how little I truly know.”

“That last comment is how I remember you, kind of funny while always fully serious.”

“A man has to survive.”  I said.

“My life with Wade has been good.  At least until 1997 when Wendi and Cindi were found.  We had two beautiful children.  However, I do admit that I was either too dumb or blind to not realize who Wade truly was.  He convinced me early on that he had nothing to do with the disappearance of the twin girls.  It was not until their bodies were found in 1997 that I realized I had been deceived by myself and others.”

“What role does the recent Sand Mountain Reporter letter have on your desire to divorce Wade?”

“It is the final straw.  But, you’re jumping ahead too much.  Let me fill in some gaps that you most likely don’t know about.”  Gina said.

Before she continued I asked if she wanted coffee or something else to drink.  She asked for coffee.  I excused myself and went to the kitchen and brewed a pot and brought back two cups with sweetener and cream on a tray.

“Thanks.  In 1998, I became an investigator of sorts.”

“Now, you’ve got my attention.”

“It was after Matt took my deposition in the Murray’s wrongful death case.  You were there.”

“I recall.”

“That night I went home and demanded that Wade tell me the truth.  I’m sure he sugarcoated it a lot but he did admit that John, Randall, and James had killed and hidden Wendi and Cindi and that their fathers, along with Walter and Fitz, had concealed the truth for all those years.  Wade pleaded with me to not reveal anything he told me.  He said since we were married that I could not be made to testify against him.  The marriage privilege he called it.  During this time frame, there were a lot of rumors circulating about what all you and Matt were uncovering and going to use at the Murray’s trial.  He also said that he and his Father had settled their cases with the Murray’s.”

“That part wasn’t true.  Only Walter settled.  Wade was not a part of any settlement.”

“That doesn’t surprise me.  Wade, I’ve learned over the past twenty years, is a master liar.”

“What else did you discover?  As an investigator?”

“Wade had always handled our finances.  Other than a household checking account I never knew about anything.  Maybe that the church had a retirement plan.  But, after I learned he had not been truthful with me in 1972 I began to ponder whether he might still be lying.  So, I started snooping around.  Wade had become very confident in my loyalty and faithfulness.  That was a mistake.  His confidence led him to be a little sloppy if he truly was trying to keep secrets.”

“Tell me more about your snooping.”  I said.

“One night, I think it was the Wednesday night after the Murray’s had been discovered dead at their home.  Wade was at church.  I went to his study and looked in his desk.  He had left it unlocked.  I really don’t know if he ever locked it.  I never went in.  The closest I came was standing just inside the doorway telling Wade to come to dinner or something like that.  I just thought it was where he studied and prepared or reviewed his sermons.  Anyway, in a file drawer on the bottom left side of the desk was a file labeled “Mission Money.”  It was a thick file, one of those that had multiple sections each with top prongs for fastening documents.  I found copies of bank statements in one section.  They were for a church bank account at First State Bank.  The account title was something like ‘Cooperative Program,’ or ‘SBC Cooperative Program.’  The most recent statement was on top and it reflected a $15,000 deposit and an identical $15,000 withdrawal leaving a small balance in the account.”

“Okay, that seems to only reflect that Wade had a copy of the Church’s statement where it collected and remitted the standard 10% of donations to the Southern Baptist Convention’s Cooperative Mission’s Program.”  I said.

“That’s what I thought also until I looked at the next section in that same folder.  In it there was also a stack of bank statements.  These were for a different account at First State Bank of Boaz.  This account was titled ‘Club Eden.’ The top statement contained a $15,000 deposit and it was dated the same date as the withdrawal from the Church’s Cooperative Missions account.”

“Let me jump in.  If you concluded that someway Wade was stealing Church funds for Club Eden then you have yourself jumped way out on a limb.”

“Micaden, give me a little credit.  I’m not that dumb.”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to imply that.”

“Attached to both sets of bank statements were copies of checks and deposit slips.  The $15,000 Coop check was made payable to ‘SBC Missions.’  I knew banks didn’t typically deposit checks to accounts where the check didn’t bear the right account name.  So, I flipped to another section in the big folder.  There, I found another account, ‘Saved by Christ Missions.’  The top statement revealed a $15,000 check from this account to Club Eden.  I matched up the dates and went back through several months bank statements for all three accounts.  I then concluded, probably unknown to everyone except Wade and other Club Eden members, the Church was faithful in paying 10% of its receipts to the Southern Baptist Convention’s Cooperative Program, except that such funds were being diverted to an account controlled by Wade which then was transferred directly to Club Eden’s pockets.”

“You might be correct, but I’m still hesitate to commit to your position.  When did you learn about Club Eden?”  I said.

“Gosh, that goes back to our High School days.  Don’t you remember all the rumors about the Flaming Five’s secret hideout?  From the many times that I went there, black-hooded of course, I just assumed that’s all it was, a place out in the woods Wade and the others carried gullible girls.”

“I know a lot more about Club Eden than that.  My knowledge came during mine and Matt’s investigation during our preparations for the Murray’s case.  Club Eden goes way back.  It was formed in the late 1800’s by the forefathers of the Flaming Five.  It is a legal organization and has been the recipient of embezzled funds from the City of Boaz.  I won’t go into details now about what I learned.  For now, I’m more interested in hearing about your snooping.”  I said.

“At first, I believed I was wrong, concluding Wade could be taking the mission’s money.  Then, I thought, ‘what if Doris the financial secretary was totally in the dark?’  She prepared a monthly check to SBC Missions and gave it to Fitz Billingsley the Church’s treasurer.  He could have switched out the attached envelope to SBC in Nashville before giving the bills and checks to Rita the music secretary that always dropped the mail off by the Post Office on her way home.  If Wade and Club Eden had a secret post office box they would retrieve the check and deposit it at First State Bank not triggering any alerts since the deposit account was simply the fully written out version shown on the check.  I certainly may be wrong on the ‘how’ but I am certain 10% of the monies that all the loving and kind members were dropping into the offering plates every Sunday were winding up in the hands of Club Eden.”

“There might be another source for the money.  It just seems impossible that Wade could pull this off without being detected.  But, I admit, having Fritz as treasurer doesn’t hurt your argument.”  I said.

“There’s something else.  There were other transactions on the Club Eden’s bank statements.  There were copies of deposit slips that were confusing because they only included what appeared as an abbreviation or code as the source.  Repeatedly throughout the statements was a monthly deposit from a ‘BU.’  That’s all that was written on each deposit slip.  You’ll be proud of me.  I figured out that ‘BU’ is Boaz Utilities.”

“How on earth did you reach that conclusion?”  I said.

“From the checks.  There was a monthly check to Steven Carrington.”

“He’s the manager at Boaz Utilities.  Right?”

“He is.  It took me three attempts to figure out Wade’s system.  For the next two weeks while he was at Church I returned to his study.  I was lucky that the desk remained unlocked.  I finally concluded that Wade was paying Steven 15% of all the amounts he was sending to Club Eden.  After seeing the penciled in word, ‘commission’ beside a $2,278 check to Steven I concluded he was an investor.  Of course, he wasn’t investing his own money.  Steven was skimming Boaz Utility money and directing it to Club Eden.  I reached my conclusion by matching deposits from BU to checks to Steven.  For example, the $2,278 check to Steven was 15% of the related $15,186.67 deposit from BU.  Out beside this deposit Wade had scrawled the word ‘investment.’  I went online to learn what the monthly gross revenues were for Boaz Utilities.  For this period, they were averaging a little over $3,000,000 per month.  This was freely available from their website.  I did this calculation for several months and concluded that Carrington was skimming a half percent of gross revenues.”

“Let me summarize what I think you are telling me.  Club Eden has investors of a sort.  At least one.”  I said.

“Let me interrupt you before you continue.  Steven Carrington is only one such investor.  I also conducted the same analysis for several other investors, including Jarod Darlington at Quintard Pharmacy and Roger Venson at the EagleMart SuperCenter.  Now, you can continue.  Sorry.”  Gina said.

“I know for a fact that the current members of Club Eden are Wade, James Adams, Randall Radford, Fred Billingsley, John Ericson, and each of their Fathers.  For your information, I was the only other member of this Club other than these five prominent Boaz families.  And, I never owned any stock. I have never received a penny from Club Eden but apparently the stockholders are getting filthy rich from its operations.  All illegal I highly suspect.  And, in addition, the Club has multiple ‘investors,’ all making huge profits from misdirecting funds that they control.”  I said.

“I think you’ve got it.  But, there’s one thing I haven’t been able to figure out.”

“What’s that?” I said.

“Where Club Eden is spending all its money.  After paying off its investors the Club is writing checks to several other entities.  It doesn’t keep but around $25,000 in its account at First State Bank.  I calculated that the Club is taking in about $5,000,000 per year as of 1998.”

“Let’s shelve that question for now.  It’s getting late.  Why don’t you tell me why you want a divorce other than you’re tired of being married to a criminal?”  I said.

“Since 1998 my loyalty to Wade has diminished greatly.  I’ve not really sought out a special friend, even though I have met a few guys online and chatted.  I got to know one guy quite well but his interest waned after he learned I was a pastor’s wife.  Now, I don’t even have an online friend but I want my freedom.  I want out of this shotgun wedding and away from the crime boss Wade.  I want enough money to live a comfortable life, hopefully for many more years.”  Gina said.

“I’ll be honored to represent you even though it will add mountains of stress to my worship experience as Karla and I attend First Baptist Church of Christ.”

“There you go again with that wicked humor.”

“Actually, my skin has grown thicker than an elephant’s over the years as I have represented the Murrays and withstood the razor eyes of half the congregation as Karla and I remained frequent-flyers in the middle section.”

“How much of a retainer do you need?”

“For a contested divorce, I normally request $10,000.  But, I have an idea.  What if you worked off some of this?”

“That sounds a little seductive but I know you better than that.”

“Sorry, what I mean is, what if you do a little more snooping?  Here’s the kicker which you probably won’t like.”

“Spill it.”

“You continue to live with Wade for a while longer, just until we do a little more research.  This includes you not filing your divorce until you move out.  Do you think you could do this?”  I said.

“How much time are we talking about?”

“This is just a guess, but maybe a month or so?”

“Oh, hell yes.  What’s another month or two when I’ve been in prison for nearly fifty years.”  Gina said.

“For now, we won’t even sign an agreement for my services.  I’ll just have you complete our standard intake form.  But, we can do that later.  Is it okay with you if I buy us a couple of burner phones to communicate?”

“No problem.”

“As we walk out I’ll show you a fake fern on the side porch.  I’ll have your phone with instructions in a box there by this time tomorrow night.  You could come by any time after that and get it.” 

“I’ll call you once I have the phone.” Gina said.

I walked Gina out to her car, pointing out the fern, and told her I appreciated her confidence in my lawyering abilities.  She gave me a hug before getting into her car and driving off.