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 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 22

Ginger’s email had read: “Kyle Daniel of Gadsden is taking the deposition of the defendant in a civil assault and battery case.  Be at the law offices of Maynard Cooper & Gale at 9:00 a.m.”  She had also included the address.

I left the house at 7:00 a.m., Monday morning, with the intention of arriving early at the law office of Maynard Cooper & Gale in Huntsville.  Pouring rain and a turned-over tanker truck at the intersection of Highways 431 and 79 in Guntersville, made me five minutes late.  I was happy to learn that Ginger had built in thirty minutes of extra time with her scheduling.

A pleasant receptionist greeted me as I walked inside the giant wooden double doors from the elevators on the tenth-floor.  She led me down a long hallway, introduced me to Kyle Daniel as we crossed paths, and secured me in a large conference room.  She told me Mr. Daniel would be in shortly.  She referred me to a document at the far end of the long table.  “We call it a steno-briefing.  Something we’ve done for years.  It gives you guys an overview of the case.  Introduces you to the players, so to speak, the parties, their attorneys, just a bird’s eye view of the case.  It should help prepare you for the deposition.”  I thanked her as she went for some coffee.

I walked to the other end of the room and set up my stenographic machine.  I sat down and read the title page, “Bruce Kinsley vs. Rudolph Paige, In the Circuit Court of Madison County, Civil Lawsuit for Assault & Battery.”

The receptionist, Greta, said I could call her, came with my coffee.  She lingered just a little too long.  I sensed she was wanting to or was trying to flirt.  I didn’t have much interest; job responsibilities always held my attention.

Greta finally left, and I began to read.  Early last summer Huntsville Mayor Bruce Kinsley and his wife had been confronted coming out of Conners Steak and Seafood.  Rudolph Paige shouted obscenities and complained about Kinsley’s statements to a Huntsville Times news reporter opposing President Kane, saying “he is as qualified to be President of the United States as I am to design a nuclear rocket, or to earn the quarterback job for the New England Patriots.  Kane’s a total buffoon.” The confrontation quickly escalated.  Paige pursued Kinsley and his wife as they attempted to reach their vehicle.  When Kinsley turned his back, Paige hit him on the side of his head with a wooden walking cane.  The police arrived within seconds of Kinsley falling to the pavement.  Paige was arrested and convicted of the crime of assault in early December.  Paige is serving a one-year jail sentence at the Madison County jail.  This civil action was brought during the last week of December. 

Before I could finish reading the briefing, Kyle, Kinsley’s attorney, and several others, walked into the conference room.  Kyle introduced me to his client, Bruce Kinsley, Mr. Paige, and his attorney Brad Caudell. After Kyle directed the seating order, he didn’t waste any time motioning to me that we were going on the record.  He stated the usual preliminary and standard deposition rules including the necessity for the non-questioning party to timely object if he intended to object if the deposition and question made its way to the judge’s ears and the related trial.  So far, Mr. Caudell hadn’t said a word, although he had nodded a couple of times as Kyle ran through his introductory speech.

Kyle’s words were slow and methodical.  He was a stenographer’s dream.  I was refreshed to start my little part-time job with Rains & Associates with such a slow-pitch.  Kyle followed a chronological type plan.  He began questioning Mr. Paige about his background, including his education, work history, and political affiliations.

The pace was so slow that I had time to think about the information I was learning.  Rudolph Paige was a 65-year-old man, quite a success, even though he only had a high school diploma.  He owned and operated a swimming pool construction and maintenance company.  It seemed he had been extremely lucky growing up in Huntsville, with its highest per capita income of any city in Alabama.

Paige, not saying it directly at first, to me at least, was a racist.  He, as a Republican, at first, had loved President George Bush, but became completely disenchanted when in 2008, he choreographed the GM and big bank bailouts.  It was obvious that he hated President Barack Obama.  Responding to one of Kyle’s questions, “the black bastard was born in Kenya, he’s not even a U.S. Citizen.”

This answer was the perfect segue to Andrew Kane.  To Paige, Kane was God’s gift to America.  “He’s perfect because he ain’t no damn politician.  He’s going to drain the swamp.”  It was clear Mr. Paige had little knowledge of American history, and certainly little understanding of how the U.S. Constitution created three branches of government with a plethora of checks and balances.

Kyle had done his homework and did a masterful job of getting Mr. Paige to admit his involvement with the grassroots organization widely known as Kane Tribe.  He admitted active membership and involvement, even shared how it was imperative that many real Republicans win the mid-term election coming this November.  Kyle let Paige rant a little—above Mr. Caudell’s opposition–about “the blithering assholes that call themselves Republicans now serving in the U.S. Congress.”  Paige seemed to catch himself when he said, “enemies of freedom must get a change of heart or face ….”  He caught himself right as I think he was about to say ‘death.’  Paige finished this statement by saying, “embarrassment come mid-terms.”

Kyle ended his questioning with nearly forty minutes spent on the confrontation and assault outside the Conners Steak and Seafood restaurant.  Paige, at first, denied even being there, and certainly denied it was him that hit Mr. Kinsley.  After an off-the-record discussion with Caudell taking his client out in the hall for nearly ten minutes, Paige admitted he had confronted, cursed, and struck Mr. Kinsley.  I guess Caudell had told him, “look Rudolph, you have already been convicted of the crime of assault.  This civil case is not about whether you did the deed, it’s about how much you are going to have to pay for the injuries and other harm you caused.”

When Kyle finished his questioning, we took a fifteen-minute break.  I went to the restroom and then was given another cup of coffee by Greta as I was coming back into the conference room.  I sat down and started flipping through recent texts on my iPhone and was reminded that Ginger had sent me a message early yesterday morning that there had been an add-on deposition.  It would take place after Mr.

Paige’s.  Ron Suttleworth was a key witness for Kyle.  

After the break, Mr. Caudell had only a few questions for Mr. Paige, mostly questions clarifying what he had said in response to Kyle’s previous questions.  

Mr. Suttleworth’s deposition took nearly an hour with Kyle going first.  He had the most to gain from deposing the chief witness.  Kyle already knew from the criminal trial what Mr. Suttleworth was going to say.  Of course, Caudell did too but he wanted another opportunity to see if he could detect a crack somewhere in what he had seen that might decrease his client’s financial exposure.  I’m sure Caudell would love to hear Suttleworth hedge his response to “are you absolutely positive that Mr. Kinsley didn’t trip and fall,” or some silly surprise that might arise.

I found it strange that Caudell hadn’t arranged to depose Mr. Kinsley.  It seemed this would be the perfect time to ask the plaintiff a whole host of questions about his injuries.  I later learned, as Greta caught me about to enter the elevator, that Kinsley and two of his doctors were being deposed tomorrow, same time, same place.  I was happy that Ginger hadn’t assigned me to those.  I had a feeling that recording a doctor would be a lot more difficult that what I had just experienced.

Greta invited me to lunch, but I begged off by claiming to have another appointment in Gadsden.  Sometimes, lying really came in handy.  

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 21

I seemed to have skipped Chapter 21. I suspect I intentionally, before publication, deleted my draft for this chapter and then failed to renumber the other chapters.

Tomorrow, I’ll post Chapter 22.

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 20

I was reading Camino Island, John Grisham’s latest novel, early Sunday morning when Regina called. 

“I know it’s early, but I knew you were up.  I just wanted to give you plenty of time to get ready for church.”

“Church?  Why do you think I want to go to church?”  I said, closing my book and laying it aside on the end table.

“Don’t think of it as church, think of it as investigative journalism.”  Regina said. I could tell she was in the bathroom because I heard the commode flush.

“That’s your job, not mine.”

“I need an assistant, an extra set of eyes.”

“Well, I am pretty observant.  I now detect you are in your bathroom.  And, your standing in front of the mirror admiring your hot body.”

“Walt Shepherd.  Get your mind out of the gutter.”

“A good detective just follows the facts where ever they lead.”  I said, questioning whether my vision includes her in a matching pink bra and panties.

“I have to say I kind of like what I’m hearing, but I’m blown away hearing it from you.  This isn’t quite like the Walt I knew back in high school.”  Regina said, pouring herself a cup of coffee.

“Back then I was so brainwashed by Christianity I couldn’t allow myself to be tempted.  Now, that’s powerful.  What normal teenage boy doesn’t think about sex and attempt at every opportunity to explore?” “Earth to Walt.  I called to tell you that we are going to First

Baptist Church of Christ today.  Be ready at 10:30 and I’ll pick you up.” “I like the sounds of that.  I’ll be waiting.”

We arrived a few minutes early and continued to sit in Regina’s car.

“Why are we really here?”  I asked Regina.

“I figured you were bright enough to think this through.  Anyway, I’ll lay it out for the simple-minded.  Most of this is old news, at least to those with their heads out of the sand.  Warren Tillman is now the lead pastor.  Sometime last year, Wade, his father, was arrested for a bunch of stuff, including murder.”

“You don’t have to tell me all that.  I’ve kind of kept up with the rumors.  There are three unsolved cases, murders, whatever.  The disappearance of John Ericson, Randall Radford, and Freddie Billingsley.  Don’t forget, we all went to high school together.  You were there.”  I said, feeling strange even talking about this stuff.

“Okay, so I assume you have somewhat kept up with Micaden Lewis Tanner?  Do you remember him being charged with murder the summer after we all graduated from high school?”  Regina said.

“I do.  He was acquitted.  Right?”

“Gosh, it’s nearly 11:00 o’clock.  Let’s go.”

We walked inside the auditorium and an usher whispered that there were a few seats up in the balcony, the main floor was overflowing. 

Regina and I turned towards the balcony stairwell without being told. 

We both remembered exactly where it was.

We had to walk to the far side of the balcony.  It seemed every person already seated turned and watched us.  I glanced a couple of times toward the seated faithful but mostly looked ahead.  I didn’t see a soul I knew.

We found a seat on the front row of the far side.  I remembered from my youth the disadvantage of these seats.  The designers hadn’t considered rightly.  When seated, you looked out into a golden safety bar that ran horizontal eighteen inches or so above a two-foot solid wall in front of your feet.  To see the pulpit and most of the choir you had to slouch down in your seat, or sit on the edge of your seat, straight-up, and look over and down onto the main floor.

The choir finished “Victory in Jesus” just as we settled in our seats.  Pastor Warren walked to the pulpit and thanked everyone for coming.  He spent a couple of minutes welcoming three rows full of visitors from a church in Michigan who were passing through and headed to south Florida or somewhere for two weeks of mission work.  Warren said, but I didn’t catch the exact details, what had brought the group to First Baptist Church of Christ.

After another half-dozen songs or so, Warren showed why a Tillman had been pastor here for over a hundred years.  He, just like I remembered his grandfather Walter, and his father Wade, was a dynamic speaker, rarely used notes, and used pitch, tone, and a multitude of body language to always be persuading.  He put to shame, almost every politician I had ever known.  The best compliment I could give him was, ‘Warren, you are the most genuine, believable salesman I have ever seen.’ 

Of course, Warren’s preaching didn’t convince me of anything, other than it was just one more dose of the Christian myth.  I had learned a long time ago that when I had to endure a sermon, I would think about being on a sandy beach, maybe on a Caribbean island, walking together with Regina.  I was very capable of immersing myself in this storyline for a good hour.  Funny, I always started the plot with me rejecting Franklin Ericson’s offer, telling Jennifer I wasn’t the man for her, and instead, pouring my heart out to Regina as we sat in our ladder-back chairs in the barn loft.

We were riding back to my house after Warren called a halt after five or six ‘come-to-the-altar’ verses of “Just as I Am,” when Regina’s phone vibrated.  It was lodged in the car’s console and I automatically looked down on the screen.  It was Delton.

“Hello.”  Regina said.

She kept silent and continued driving for what seemed like a couple of minutes.

“I’ll be there at 2:00.  Thanks.”

“May I ask what’s so important you can’t stay with me all day.”  I said, convinced someone or something was conspiring against me, against me spending some quality time with the woman I loved.  Had I really thought that?

“Delton, my crime reporter said there’s been a development in the murder case, Frankie’s case.  He needs to discuss an angle he is considering.  He doesn’t want to waste a lot of time drafting his article if

I’m opposed to it.”

“How long will it take?”  I regretted saying that as soon as it left my mouth.  Now, I’m sounding like a desperate teenager.  Surely, I’m not so needy.

“Not sure.  I’ll call you later.”

Regina dropped me off at the back porch.  I had thought she might come in for a sandwich, but she seemed preoccupied.  I refused to grovel, said goodbye and walked inside.

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 19

Saturday morning, I awoke to Sandi’s ear-licking.  She never jumps up on my bed unless I oversleep.  I grabbed my iPhone from the night stand. 7:30 a.m.  I’m normally an early riser.  It’s a hold-over habit from my 35 years at the White House.  Then, I would be up reading by 4:30 a.m., usually a novel, then take a walk around 5:45.  At 6:30, I was back at my town-house for breakfast and a shower.  By 8:00 a.m. sharp, I was at my desk in the Eisenhower Building reviewing my latest pending transcript.

Sandi and I stayed in bed until 8:00.  I was lucky she could still jump up on the bed.  She was the fourth Golden Retriever I had had since Mom and Dad had bought me the original Sandy, a male, the day before I was to start junior high school.  Their action was a bribe, pure and simple.  I was refusing to go, arguing that I wanted to stay home.  I think I even told them I wanted to be home-schooled, which was a nonexistent term and possibility at the time, as far as I knew.  Vann Elkins, good old Vann, had, all during the previous summer, shared with me, the horrors of Boaz Junior High.  Gym class was the worst, “you had to walk naked, single-file, back and forth across the basketball court, six times, on the first day.  It was some sort of tradition.  He knew this because his older brother, Vernon, then a rising ninth grader, had told him.  My willingness to believe Vann’s stories and to refuse to step foot in Boaz Junior High, ended two days before ‘D’ Day when Dad came home with Sandy, only six weeks old.

It was like Sandy knew he had a job to do.  And, he did it well.  Seven years later I completed high school.  The afternoon after our graduation ceremony, I found Sandy dead in the hall of the barn.  An autopsy revealed that he had been poisoned.  This case was never solved, but I always believed it was an intentional act by a neighbor who had a reputation of hating dogs and cats and about everything else.  Other than my first year at the University of Virginia, I had never been without a Golden Retriever.  Based on my experience, I knew that around age nine or ten they begin to lose the strength, and ability, but not the desire, to jump.

After breakfast, Sandi and I took a walk around the pond and ended up at the backside of the barn.  I climbed up into a hay-less loft and found the two ladder-back chairs still leaning against the front wall, probably right where Regina and I had left them the last time we were here.  It was the night I told her I was engaged, I guess what Jennifer and I had agreed on (more her father’s conniving) was best termed an engagement.  I moved my chair, the darker colored one, over in front of the big double-doors, turned the simple but effective wooden latch, and pushed-open the door.

Sitting in my chair and gazing toward the back porch had always been my favorite spot for reminiscing and contemplating.  I had hoped to wake up this morning with Regina by my side.  Between the two of us I was the only one, as far as I know, who had contemplated such a fast-paced turn of events.  Ever since seeing Regina in her black dress on that Tuesday and not to mention our hug when I was about to leave.  What if she had not stopped me from putting my hand on her hip?  It wasn’t a surprise that she had.  But, that hadn’t stopped me from thinking about her for the past three days.  I had fantasized that after dinner Friday night we would retire to the den and listen to some of the old eight-track cassettes I still had, the ones we used to listen to nearly a half-century ago.  I could see her smile and hear her burst-out loud when I played Floyd Cramer.  But, then, we would start to dance.  And, unlike every time before, this time, she would allow me to undress her.

It had been a long time since I had felt a woman’s body lying next to mine.  Five years ago, I had succumbed to the mighty hand of temptation (a hang-over from my Bible and church days) and started an affair with a 35-year-old brunette recently hired in the White House’s communications department.  I met her in the Eisenhower Building’s cafeteria.  That day, it was extremely crowded.  A table opened as we both exited the check-out lane.  We looked at each other and didn’t say anything, both just shrugged our shoulders and walked over.  It was the first of many lunches over the next month.  Within a month we were dating, love-making, and seriously discussing her, Charlette, moving in with me since I had the bigger place.  She was tall and had the perfect figure, well, what most men would call the perfect figure.  Big, but not over-sized boobs, a nice derriere, what every Southern neck referred to as ‘ass.’  Everything seemed to go well until Tad Goldstein slithered up one day in the cafeteria and shared a table with Charlette and me.  Tad was one of my team-mates in the Stenographic Department and one, I always believed, played a tad of a role in getting me fired.  Less than a week later, Charlette told me, without words, that her and Tad were now a couple.  She had been the only naked body I had touched since Jennifer died in 1980.  

I had planned a romantic dinner after she accepted my invitation on Thursday.  But, thanks to Frankie Olinger, our plans were thwarted.  He had been arrested late Thursday afternoon and it would seem a stretch for this to have interfered with our Friday night plans.  If Olinger had been Regina’s father, that would have been different.  Regina called me at 4:30 yesterday afternoon just as I was getting serious in the kitchen.  She had said Belinda had called and asked her to go with her to Guntersville to visit Frankie.  Regina said Belinda was a basket-case.  I hated that term.  Aren’t we all?  However, I did respect Regina’s decision to support her sister.  They had a fragile relationship at best and hopefully being together last night tilted the positive side of the scale.

My mind stirred up a vision of what Regina would have looked like last night while we stood and listened to Floyd Cramer play Gentle on My Mind, when her black dress hit the floor.  Then, my iPhone vibrated.  I stood and pulled it out of my pocket.  It was Ginger Crumbly. I was glad I had entered her information into my Contacts.

“Hello.”

“Walt, this is Ginger from Rains & Associates.  Did I catch you at a bad time?”

I almost started to tell her it was perfect timing, since I was thinking about beautiful naked girls.  I decided differently. “No, not at all.”

“I know this is a little faster than I had thought, but I have you an assignment.  Can you be in Huntsville Monday morning?”

“Sure, I guess.  You’re right, this is more sudden than I thought it would be.”

“Attorney Kyle Daniel of Huntsville is taking the deposition of the defendant in a civil assault and battery case.  Be at the law offices of Maynard Cooper & Gale at 9:00 a.m.  I’ll email you the address and the relevant details. “

“Is that the same Maynard Cooper that you are neighbors with in

Birmingham?”

“It is.  We get a lot of work from them.  They also have an office in Huntsville.  Hey, I got to run.  Bailey, you know.  Let me know if you have any questions.  I check my email every few hours on the weekend.” “Tell Bailey, Sandi says hello.  She’s my Golden Retriever.” “I will, thanks.”

I sat back down wishing Regina were here to talk.  I needed a mind other than my own to convince me I had made a right decision taking the Rains’ part-time job.  I was nearly nauseous as I climbed down the wooden ladder from the loft and walked to the back porch.