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 Stenographer, written in 2018, is my fourth novel. I'll post a chapter a day over the next few weeks.
Book Blurb
Walt Shepherd, a 35 year veteran of the White House’s stenographic team, is fired by President Andrew Kane for refusing to lie.
Walt returns to his hometown of Boaz, Alabama and renews his relationship with Regina Gillan, his high school sweetheart, who he had ditched right before graduation to marry the daughter of a prominent local businessman. Regina has recently moved back to Boaz after forty years in Chicago working at the Tribune. She is now editor of the Sand Mountain Reporter, a local newspaper.
Walt and Regina’s relationship transforms into a once in life love at the same time they are being immersed in a growing local and national divide between Democrats and traditional Republicans, and extremist Republicans (known as Kanites) who are becoming more dogmatic about the revolution that began during President Kanes campaign.
Walt accepts two part-time jobs. One as a stenography instructor at Snead State Community College in Boaz, and one as an itinerant stenographer with Rains & Associates out of Birmingham.
Walt later learns the owner of Rains & Associates is also one of five men who created the Constitution Foundation and is involved in a sinister plot to destroy President Kane, but is using an unorthodox method to achieve its objective. The Foundation is doing everything it can to prevent President Kane from being reelected in 2020, and is scheming to initiate a civil war that will hopefully restore allegiance to the U.S. Constitution.
While Walt is writing a book, The Coming Civil War, he is, unwittingly, gathering key information for the Constitution Foundation.
Will Walt discover a connection between the Foundation and the deaths of three U.S. Congressmen in time to save his relationship with Regina, prevent President Kane from being reelected as the defacto head of a Christian theocracy, and the eruption of a civil war that could destroy the Nation ?
Chapter 23
I almost backed out. Regina called me on my cell as I was leaving
Walmart. She said, “the eagle has landed.”
“What? Oh, I bet Kane’s plane just touched down in Huntsville.
Am I correct?”
“You got it Mr. Walt. I know you’re getting excited.” Regina said whispering back and forth with someone at her desk, probably Claire.
“I’m not going. I can’t stand the man, and I don’t think I can stomach a thousand screaming Kanelings.”
“You have to go. I don’t have a choice as editor of the local newspaper, and you don’t have a choice as the boyfriend of the editor.”
“That’s the first time you’ve ever called me that. To my face at least.”
“I hope you consider me as your girlfriend, but let’s save that discussion for later tonight. Pick me up here at the paper by 5:30. We can grab a sandwich and head on over to the Bevill Center.”
“Oh, okay. No doubt I’ll be able to hear him say something stupid. That’ll be good for my book. See you after a while.”
It was Saturday May 19th. Local boy Justin Adams was formally announcing his candidacy for Governor of Alabama. President Kane was coming to Boaz to show his full support for “a real Republican.” Justin is owner of Adams Chevrolet, Buick & GMC, the Alabama Congressional Representative for this area, the Mayor of Boaz, and the son of accused murderer James Adams.
The rumors around town for several weeks now were that Justin would throw his hat into the ring when Luther Strange and Roy Moore chose to pursue the U.S. Senate seat vacated when Jeff Sessions accepted President Kane’s appointment as Director of the FBI. From everything I had seen and heard Justin was a good businessman and community leader. He would make a solid candidate. Of course, he was a Republican and not just an old guard type of the Abraham Lincoln variety. Justin is a Kane Republican. This, to me at least, made him a danger to the well-being of every Alabama citizen.
I read a few chapters in John Grisham’s, The Racketeer. Of late, I had been rereading, in order, each of the novels spun-out by the legal mystery master. I showered, dressed, and drove to Burger King for sandwiches and shakes. At 5:45, Regina and I were eating at the round table in the corner of her office.
“You forgot to tell them to hold the lettuce.” Regina said, followed by her version of the Burger King jingle.
“Sorry, I did request extra pickles.”
“Thanks. Here, please take this rabbit food.”
“Do you have an angle yet for your article?” I asked.
“You mean next Tuesday’s article covering the first ever visit to
Boaz by a U.S. President?”
“I thought Carter came here in 1978?”
“Did he?”
“Just joking, I think.”
“I know what I’d like to write but don’t want to be tarred and feathered.”
“What do you mean?” All I could do was ask questions.
“I thought I mentioned my little conversation with Micaden
Tanner the other day at the Courthouse in Guntersville.”
“I may have forgotten.”
“Not a chance. I was about to leave when I met him coming in the Blount Avenue entrance. We chatted a minute and I asked him if he had time for an off-the-record interview. He said he was heading to a hearing before Judge Broadside but could meet with me in a couple of hours if that would work. I agreed and hung around town shopping until he was finished.” Regina took a bite of her Double-Whopper, pulled on her strawberry milkshake, and scanned a magazine. I thought she had lost her train of thought.
“Are you going to wait until you have fully digested your supper before continuing your story?” I asked.
“Dinner.”
“What?”
“We are eating dinner, not supper. You lived in Washington, D.C. for 35 years and you still call it supper?”
“I was brainwashed as a child. Old habits are hard to break.”
“There were no trials going on so Micaden and I went to one of the juror rooms. I’ll just give you the highlights since we need to head on over to the Bevill Center soon. You eat your dinner and listen. The subject has scorched my appetite.”
“Okay.”
“Remember, this was an off-the-record meeting, so don’t breathe a word to anyone.”
“Girlfriend, boyfriend confidentiality.”
“Funny. It seems the Flaming Five and pretty much all their ancestors were crooks. Micaden had limited knowledge of the morality of their sons, the sons of the Flaming Five.”
“I haven’t heard that phrase in a long time. Wade Tillman, Fred Billingsley, Randall Radford, John Ericson, and James Adams, the Flaming Five. There’s never been a better high school basketball team, at least in this neck of the woods.
“Correct. Now, please just listen.”
“Okay.” I said as Regina placed her right index finger vertically in front of her mouth.
“Three of the five are dead, or so it seems, since they have been missing for, I guess, going on a year. John Ericson, Randall Radford, and Fred Billingsley all just disappeared. And, of course, you know that James Adams and Wade Tillman are in some deep shit in Federal court, accused of kidnapping and murder, all sorts of civil rights violations, and bribery and extortion. Micaden shared with me a ton of stuff that he had learned during his and Matt Bearden’s civil case. You know when they represented the parents of the two girls who went missing around the time of our high school graduation. The criminal activities apparently go back to the early 1900’s and include several murders. Gosh, it’s ten after six. We must go. There will be a huge crowd.”
“We had to park on the side of the road next to Corley Elementary School and walk to the Bevill Center. Before parking, we had driven around and could find nothing closer. When we walked in there were no seats available. We had to stand in the far-right corner, from the stage, and under the balcony. Within a few minutes, a Boaz police officer came and whispered to Regina. She motioned for me to follow her. The officer led us to the very front and pointed to two seats almost in the center of the auditorium, right in front of the stage’s podium.
“What’s going on?” I asked Regina as we sat down.
“Journalistic privileges it seems.”
Within a few minutes the show began. At first it was standard. Several people made short speeches. The kind that painted Justin Adams as the perfect man. Faithful to his loving wife and family, astute as a businessman, and visionary as an Alabama congressman, and Boaz mayor. One speaker extolled his courage of standing up and supporting the impeachment of former Governor Robert Bentley. After the cheerleaders sat down, Justin and his family took the stage and were greeted with an encouraging but controlled round of applause. He made a ten-minute speech, following traditional party lines with lower taxes, decreased regulations, and tighter immigration controls. Midway through his speech he revealed his full commitment to his President’s mantra of ‘draining the swamp.’ Justin praised the courage of President Kane’s willingness to fight the liberal media and do what’s right instead of playing politics as usual. His closing remark was, “it’s up to me and all of you to keep the Kane Train rolling. Let the revolution continue. The applause this time was certainly rolling upwards.
“I bet you vote Republican in 2020.” Regina shouted above the roaring crowd.
It took ten minutes of screaming and foot-stomping for the overflowing crowd to calm after President Kane was introduced and took the stage. As he stood behind the podium looking over the crowd and giving thumbs-up in every direction, I couldn’t help but relive the scene in his office last December. I knew for a fact that the man was a liar. I couldn’t believe I had been so stupid to come here, and the worst part of all was that I was sitting within twenty-five of the worst President America had ever elected.
It may have been that I continued to sit that caught his attention. Everyone else, including Regina, was standing, giving him a healthy dose of praise, what he lived for. Right as the noise subsided he noticed me and stared. For a long thirty seconds it seemed.
With the crowd silent, President Kane said, looking me straight in the eyes, “I see I’m here among many friends and at least one enemy. Walt Shepherd, you should be ashamed of being such a coward, of hating freedom and being so brainwashed by the liberals.” There was not a sound in the auditorium, until his final word. He then started booing me and motioned the crowd to do the same. All I could do was sit still and feel wave after wave of hatred flowing over every cell of my being.
Then, the President said, “enough about losers, let’s talk about a real winner.” He turned and motioned for Justin and his family to return to center stage. The crowd turned its attention to clapping with praise for, no doubt to me, the next Governor of Alabama. How could it be anything else. The Adams’ were well-connected, politically, socially, and economically. They had friends in high places, and low I felt sure.
For the next hour it seemed, I continued to sit and listen to the President lie about how well his administration was doing, and how great he was. He talked insanely about what he could do in two full terms with the help of true Americans. I must give it to him. He was as good at working a crowd as anyone I had ever seen, and I had seen some very talented Presidents. Not one of them, even Bill Clinton, was as talented at sparking a frenzy. Of course, it didn’t hurt that ninety-nine percent of those present were as ignorant and crazy as Kane was.
When the speeches stopped and as the band played, Regina pulled me through a side door next to the stage, waved her news badge to a half-dozen Secret-Service agents, led me down a long hallway, through double-doors, and out into a moonless night.
“Come on. I know a short-cut. We won’t have to go around to the front of the building. Are you okay?” Regina said looking at me as a nurse would if I were dying.
“Now that you’ve rescued me I’m feeling invigorated. Maybe this is what I’ve been needing. Total embarrassment. I owe you an apology.”
“What do you mean?”
“Ever since I moved back to Boaz, all I’ve really wanted to do was teach my stenography class, spend time with you, and piddle around researching my little book. Now, it’s time to focus. You and I were probably the only ones present here tonight that see President Kane for what he truly is. The others have had a double-dose of his Kool-Aid. It’s time for me to do everything I possibly can to see that he is either impeached or loses re-election in 2020.”
“I love a man with a plan. I’ve kind of always loved Walt the man but sounds like you have been drinking something stronger than Kool-Aid if you choose to openly and actively oppose the Kane Train.”
“I have no choice.” I said as we reached my truck and rode silently back to the newspaper for Regina’s car.
The Pencil Driven Life 