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 Case of the Perfectionist Professor, written in 2018, is my sixth novel. I'll post a chapter a day over the next few weeks.
Book Blurb
Late on New Year’s Eve in the small town of Boaz, Alabama, Snead State Community College teacher Adam Parker was found dead slumped over in his car. A preliminary investigation indicated the fifty-year-old biology professor died of a heart attack. Marissa Booth, Adam’s daughter and Vanderbilt School of Divinity professor, didn’t agree.
Four days later, Marissa hired the local private detective firm of Connor Ford to investigate her father’s death. She declared local police officer Jake Stone had likely murdered her father. She pointed Ford to a multi-month Facebook feud between Adam and several local people, including Stone and Boaz City Councilman Lawton Hawks. The controversy allegedly related to Adam’s research that contended that, in layman’s terms, long-term indoctrination caused actual genetic mutations that directly affected future generation’s ability to reason.
Over the next year, Connor Ford discovered multiple and independent sources of motivation to quiet and possibly murder the controversial professor. Ford learned that a civil lawsuit and widespread public outcry had effectively run Adam out of Knoxville, where he was a biology professor for over thirteen years. Ford also learned that Adam had become the number one enemy of Roger Williams, a self-made local businessman, and his son Alex, who is a Republican candidate for governor of Alabama. Adam had discovered Alex and Glock, Inc., the Austrian-based gun manufacturer, was exploring not only the possibility of setting up a large facility in Boaz but also supplying pistols for Alex’s highly touted and controversial ‘arm the teachers’ proposal.
Connor Ford has his hands full enough with these suspects. Add in his need to determine whether Lawton Hawks and Jake Stone are friends or foes of Roger and Alex, which accentuate the pressure no normal small-town private detective can handle.
Will Connor’s discovery there is a link between Dayton, Tennessee, and the 1929 Scopes Monkey trial and a rogue group of CIA operatives bend Connor and his two associates to the breaking point?
Read this mystery/thriller to find out if Adam Parker was murdered and how, and what role the long-standing controversy between science and religion had in destroying the life of a single perfectionist professor.
Chapter 5
Other than my eleven o’clock appointment with Boaz Mayor Zach Mohler, I spent the rest of the day at my desk finalizing my report to Dalton on his Jackson County capital murder case. With Bobby Sorrells coming to town in less than a week, I wouldn’t have another multi-hour stretch of time to complete the report. I certainly didn’t want to be saddled with the responsibility tonight since Camilla was returning from her two-day workshop in Birmingham. The best part of the afternoon was overhearing Blair and Joe laughing in the kitchen after he returned from serving a dozen subpoenas. Joe had a way of innocently embellishing the truth to create hilarious stories of him figuratively slaying dragons. This time, Joe had shared how two older women, the mother and grandmother of the defendant, had virtually held him against his will in their kitchen while they skinned two rabbits all while their male offspring was changing clothes. The punch line happened when, fifteen minutes later, the defendant came out wearing a woman’s dress and a sunset-red wig.
A few minutes before 5:00, I slid out the back door in between stories and swung by Pizza Hut. I was ready to be with Camilla and didn’t want either of us slaving in the kitchen. She was sitting in the dark on the back porch when I drove up.
“Don’t you think it’s a little cool to be out here?” I asked, noticing she didn’t even have a sweater on and her blouse was short-sleeved.
“I’ve been stuck in a room full of hot-flashing middle-aged women. It’s strange to me they complain about their fluctuating temperatures but love the room at a hundred degrees. Plus, I needed the cool air to clear my head of the hair-dye toxins.” I had set the pizza in a chair by the back door and walked across to her just standing up from the swing. I didn’t have to reach out for her. I was lucky to have found an affectionate woman.
“I’ve missed you.” I said trying to be more open with my feelings. Before she left Tuesday morning, we had an argument, not really, but certainly an intense discussion about how I didn’t always show her that I trust her. She complained about me always analyzing everything. I wanted to be more of what she wanted and needed. I had to learn to leave my work at the office and truly be with her when we were together.
“Wow. Mr. Touchy-Feelie. I like it. This old dog can learn.” She said, laying her head on my shoulder and using both hands to pull us closer together.
For a minute we stood there, frozen. At least I was freezing. Finally, she leaned her head back as though she was going to kiss me. I couldn’t see her eyes. I leaned in to kiss her, but she said, “Emily is still angry at you for divorcing her mother.”
“Where did that come from?” I asked.
“I had dinner with her last night. She’s a wonderful young lady.” Camilla took my hand and led me into the house. She had arrived earlier and had already unlocked the back door. The house was well lite, and I could smell the sweet scent of an apple pie that she was cooking, a frozen one she had bought at Walmart. Camilla wasn’t a cook-from-scratch type of woman.
I sat the pizza down on the kitchen bar and said, “Emily is nearly your age.”
“So, I’m not a young woman?”
“No, not really. To me, a young woman is like twenty-two, not thirty-two.” I said.
“With that logic, I guess you are an old man. For sure, sometimes I feel like I’m sleeping with my father.” Camilla said opening the oven and checking the pie.
“Ugly picture.”
“Which part? You are the same age as my father you know.” Camilla opened the refrigerator and poured me a glass of cranberry juice and her a glass of milk.
“I thought we’d settled the issue. Your words, ‘age is just a number.’ Now, back to Emily.” Camilla rolled off double paper towels for us instead of using plates and dished each of us a slice of pizza. I was glad she liked to jostle and joke about my age. Even though I was certain our seventeen-year difference wasn’t a problem, I knew I had to do everything I could to avoid becoming a grouch.
“She’s thinking about moving to Gadsden, maybe even Boaz. She’s interviewing with Gadsden Regional Medical Center.” Camilla said taking a bite of our Supreme Pizza.
“That’s surprising. Seems like I’m surrounded by roving nurses. Ansley Mandy lives in Boaz and is a nurse in Birmingham. You are a former nurse, now nursing an old man, and my thirty-year-old daughter is encroaching on the man she hates.” I said.
“Connor Ford, you are wrong. Emily, I believe, down deep, adores you, worships you. Sometimes, girls, daughters, need their fathers to be open and honest with them. Admitting a mistake sometimes pays big dividends.” Camilla said, pulling the apple pie from the oven and setting it at the end of the bar to cool.
“So, I made a gigantic mistake? I’m the one who shoulders all the blame? Amy and I were kids when we married. Less than a month after we graduated high school. Nine months later the little Emily package arrived. Amy and I were kids trying to raise a kid. Add in college and later the police academy. The gorgeous little baby grew up almost without a father. I put my schooling and my work a football field ahead of my relationship with my one and only child. Lonely child and a lonely woman. I take full responsibility for being too busy. But, Amy is the one who had an affair.” I said, wondering how and why we were rehashing all of this. Was Camilla questioning her sanity and her recent willingness to start talking about our engagement?
Camilla placed another slice of pizza on my paper towels and moved her barstool across from me. “I think we need to slow down just a little. Let me tell you why I think this before you respond. Okay?”
“I take it you’re not talking about how fast we’re eating pizza.” I said.
“You’re right.”
Camilla went on to tell me she loved me but with Emily contemplating moving to Boaz we needed to postpone shacking up together for now. She didn’t like the ‘shacking’ word but I clearly understood what she meant. For several months, Camilla had stayed overnight at my place about as much as she had at her Sundown apartment. I loved her beside me as I fell to sleep every night. By the time she finished encouraging me to invite Emily to live with me for a while until she got settled, I felt I didn’t have much choice. I wasn’t an expert on women, but I knew getting mad and demanding Camilla move in likely wasn’t the best route to winning her heart for good.
The apple pie was wonderful as usual but falling to sleep with Camilla in my arms was even sweeter.
Saturday morning Camilla had an early appointment. She was the newest beautician at Serenity Salon. The owner, Deb Moody, had started a seven o’clock haircut special that fell in Camilla’s lap three days per week. She didn’t mind because she knew this was a good way to build her book of business. Camilla was friendly, caring, and inquisitive enough not to make the customers feel crowded or uncomfortable.
Garrett was already waiting at our table when I walked in Pirates Cove.
“Good morning Mr. Ford. You don’t have me a subpoena, do you?” I pulled out a chair and sat down, not responding. His face looked serious. For a few seconds and then he smiled.
“I suspect you’ve heard about my little run-in with Jake Stone?” I asked.
“I’ve been here drinking coffee since 6:30. That story was all the buzz around here until you walked in.”
“I’d rather not rehash that if that’s okay. How was your daughter?” I asked, trying to change the subject.
“She’s fine, busier than ever. I think I told you about her new position at Birmingham Southern.” Garrett said motioning for a waitress.
“Professor of Biology?”
“That’s right.”
“I’m sure she will find a college affiliated with the United Methodist Church to be quite different from the University of Chicago.”
“That’s an improper conclusion if you’re thinking Gina will not have complete academic freedom.” Garrett said.
The waitress came and filled our coffee cups and took our orders. “I’ve got a question, a Bible question.”
“Fly it towards me.” Garrett, seventy-five, was never far from surprising me. Either by his words or by his actions. Both seemed to have something to do with flying. His words flew easily and most times, poetically, He was working on earning his pilot’s license, the fairly new type that allows a pilot to fly light-sport aircraft without the need for an FAA medical certificate.
“When does life begin? According to the Bible.”
“That’s an interesting question. No doubt, there is more than one answer or response. According to who you ask. Many people think that a human being is created at the time of conception, but this belief is not supported by the Bible. I believe the correct answer is that life as a human begins with breath. After God formed man in Genesis 2:7, He ‘breathed into his nostrils the breath of life and it was then that the man became a living being.’ I can hear Gina’s words on this subject. Funny. She and I were talking about this yesterday. Gina said, ‘The fact a living sperm penetrates a living ovum resulting in the formation of a living fetus does not mean that the fetus is a living human being. According to the Bible, a fetus is not a living person with a soul until after drawing its first breath.’”
The waitress set down our food and walked away. “I suppose there are other Bible verses that support your position?”
“Definitely. “In Job 33:4, it states: ‘The spirit of God has made me, and the breath of the Almighty gives me life.’ One of my favorite passages comes from Ezekiel 37:5 and 6. It states, ‘Thus says the Lord God to these bones: Behold, I will cause breath to enter you, and you shall live. And I will lay sinews upon you, and will cause flesh to come upon you, and cover you with skin, and put breath in you, and you shall live; and you shall know that I am the Lord.’”
I poured maple syrup over my pancakes and pondered what Garrett had said. “If life doesn’t begin at conception then it seems to support the U.S. Supreme Court’s 1973 Roe vs. Wade ruling that recognized a woman’s right to an abortion based on the Fourteenth Amendment.”
“No doubt, you are spot on. Here’s something that might surprise you. Although the Bible never specifically addresses the issue of abortion, reality reflects that God is an abortionist. Garrett said spreading blackberry jam on his toast.
“What? I’ve never heard that.”
“Did you know there are approximately 60 million miscarriages worldwide every year?”
“That’s astounding.”
“Since Gina is a biologist and I’m a theologian, we’ve spent quite a lot of time talking about abortion and related subjects. Did you know that as few as one-quarter of all conceptions avoid re-absorption or miscarriage, and of those fetuses that do make it to full-term, another large percentage die during natural childbirth?” Garrett said with a mouth full of eggs and bacon.
“But, don’t a lot of Christians argue that God considers a baby in the womb to be as human as a full-grown adult? There’s that verse, I think it’s in Jeremiah that says God knows us before He forms us in the womb.” I said.
“That’s right, here it is exactly” ‘Before I formed you in the womb I knew you, before you were born I set you apart; I appointed you as a prophet to the nations.’”
“That seems to conflict with your position, that life begins at first breath.” I said noticing two Boaz police offers come in the front door. I was glad neither of them was Jake Stone.
“Clearly it’s a conflict. My friend, it’s the Bible isn’t it? I won’t say this too loudly for fear of being overheard, but the Bible is man-made. It has conflicts. The reason is there are a bunch of different authors and their works were created over many decades and centuries.” Garrett said.
“So, what makes your argument any better than that of most every Southern Baptist, that life begins at conception?” I really wanted to have a well-reasoned position on this.
“First, majority opinions are normally wrong. I think the best way to know the truth on this issue is to look to science and not even reference the Bible at all. Viability is the key. A human fetus is not viable, meaning it cannot sustain itself. That doesn’t happen until twenty-four weeks, some say twenty-eight weeks.”
“That makes sense. It doesn’t seem the law should protect a person until he, she, it, is a person. But, for sure, most Southern Baptists think that a woman who has an abortion is a killer, more specifically, a murderer.” I said, finishing mopping up the last of my pancakes.
“And, the doctor who performs the abortion is a co-conspirator, just as guilty.” Garrett added.
“It seems pro-lifers, specifically those who argue life begins at conception are rife with hypocrisy. Most of them don’t give a rat’s ass about the baby once it’s born, fighting against any financial support for poverty-stricken mothers. Heck, these people have no sympathy for pigs, cattle, chickens, all sentient beings that feel real pain when slaughtered. These people don’t care if a human fetus feels no pain. Don’t get me started. Don’t get me started or I’ll spew out my hatred of the NRA and how most right wingers, Republicans that is, say they are pro-life but don’t give a rat’s ass about school kids getting gunned down every few days. To me, in many respects, we are no different than pigs and cows. We are all animals. Sorry, for the rant.”
“You’re forgiven. I’ve got to go. It’s your day to pay.” Garrett said, standing up and putting on his coat.
“Thanks. Have a good day. See you tomorrow if the creek doesn’t rise.”
Garrett walked out, and I paid the waitress. As I was leaving a tip on the table, my iPhone vibrated. It was only a few minutes after 8:00 but Blair was looking for me. “You have an email I think you will want to see. Where are you?”
I walked across the street and once again forgot to walk down the sidewalk along Highway 168 to the rear of my office. I walked in the front door and saw Marissa using her iPhone to snap a photo of Thomas Jefferson, my hero.
The Pencil Driven Life 