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 12
I skipped Pirates Cove and breakfast Friday morning. A phone call to Garrett wasn’t needed. We had established that if I wasn’t there by 7:00, I wasn’t coming. It didn’t affect Garrett’s schedule since he ate there seven days per week.
I checked in with Blair to let her know I was headed to Adam Parker’s house. I wanted to make sure she didn’t have any messages for me and to check my email. I hadn’t checked it since leaving the office yesterday afternoon. I was trying harder to create a more distinct divide between my business and personal lives. I figured if someone really needed me they would call my iPhone or text me. I had made sure Joe had included my cell number on the simple website he had set up for Connor Investigations. There were no emails that couldn’t wait, and Blair handed me only one phone message. It was from Mark Hale. I decided to call him back later because Blair had written across the pink note that “it’s not urgent, call when you can.”
I drove past Snead College and on to 1012 West Mann Avenue. After a number of students had crossed the street from the boy’s dorm (not sure why I still called it that) I saw a Boaz Police cruiser backing out of Adam Parker’s driveway. As soon as I could, I sped up. I wanted to see who it was, thinking it might be Jake Stone, but a car backed out from the front of the gymnasium and blocked my path. I gave up on following the cruiser and drove half a block and turned into Adam’s drive.
His front door was locked and before going in I walked around the house. Nothing seemed to have been disturbed. I tried to assume the police car wasn’t Jake Stone and it was another officer just needing to turn around.
My plan was to spend most of the day reading Adam’s journals. I knew I wouldn’t likely make a dent. There were sixty-four of them, not including the eight that Marissa had brought to the office on her first visit. So far, I didn’t know a lot about Adam Parker, but one thing was clear, he was organized and followed certain patterns or routines, including recording his private life. I was amazed that for thirty-seven years, beginning in January 1981, Adam had maintained a journal. And, he still had every one of them, two per year, lined up on bookshelves behind his desk in his study. I guess that disastrous Christmas holiday in the middle of his ninth-grade year had been a defining moment in his life.
I pulled the 1981 journal from the bookcase and walked to the sun-room. On the inside cover Adam had written a short summary of his year, obviously writing this after 1981 had ended. The first few sentences were written as though he intended someone else to be reading and needed an introduction. He was Adam Parker (DOB August 12, 1967). This journal covered six months of his life, from January 1981 through June 1981. He lived at 1288 Claremont Drive with his parents (who he didn’t name). Under “Highlights” he had written: “1. I now have a compulsion to be the best I can. Evidence: I made perfect grades my ninth grade second semester; 2. I have low self-esteem. Evidence: I avoid eye contact and walk around with hunched shoulders. Also, I am the most pessimistic person I know; 3. My value is directly related to what I can accomplish; 4. I go to sleep at night fearing I will fail the next day. 5. I know some of these four things conflict with each other.”
I spent forty-five minutes before concluding that Adam was living a tortured life. All he talked about was his studies, often going into detail about how he attacked and managed projects. A little before ten o’clock, I walked back to the study and grabbed the other 1981 journal, and the six journals that covered 1982 through 1985. By noon, all I had learned was that Adam continued as a student at Dearborn High and was becoming more interested in Chemistry and Biology, what he referred to as ‘The Gospel of Science.’ By 2:00 p.m., I realized all I was doing was mostly scanning for something that didn’t relate to school. I had noticed Adam did not mention having any friends or doing anything fun. He never spoke of extra-curricular activities, hobbies, family vacations. I decided I was wasting my time, but for some reason I returned to Adam’s study, along with the eight high school journals, and chose the first of the two 1986 journals.
Adam was now at the University of Chicago, starting his second semester. His front cover summary said that he had met Anna Graben and “it appears possible we might become friends.” A few lines down, under “Highlights,” he had written: “married Anna Graben on June 8, 1986.” I had to shake my head to determine if I was dreaming. That fact struck me as odd, but just one of life’s rare coincidences. Amy Vickers and I had married on June 8, 1986. Another thing I thought was even more than odd. How on earth had Adam found a girlfriend and got married? Up until now I would have bet ten thousand dollars it would have been impossible, at least at that time in his life. I obviously knew he had married at some point because there was Marissa, his daughter.
My imagination stirred so I went for two more journals: the number two 1986 journal covering July through December and the one covering the first half of 1987. I was right. In a way. Under 1987 “Highlights,” Adam had written: “1. Marianna was born January 23, 1987. Dead.” It didn’t take me but a second to realize that Anna was pregnant when she and Adam married. Of course, this assumed the pregnancy went full term. I made a mental note to speak with Marissa about how this. I was getting tired of journals and only scanned a few entries in the first 1987 journal. No doubt, Anna and Adam were devastated over the loss of their first child. Also, there was no doubt, Adam was doggedly pursuing the building blocks of life as demonstrated through chemistry and biology.
At three-thirty, I lay on Adam’s couch and let the warm rays of sunshine coming at an angle through the windows gently transport me into a deep and restful sleep. It was nearly six o’clock when I was awakened by Camilla’s phone call. She was concerned I hadn’t gotten home and that I hadn’t returned the two calls she had left with Blair. She never liked the policy of not calling my cell phone during my work hours, although she often ignored my instruction. I told her what had happened and that I would be home at least by seven since there was a quick errand I wanted to run.
It may have been a dream or something in one of Adam’s journals but for some reason I wanted to stop by and at least see Adam’s office at Snead College. I wasn’t sure why I hadn’t already been by.
The Administration and Faculty office building was virtually deserted when I arrived. The back doors were open, thankfully. Two men were vacuuming on the first floor. I took the stairs to room 289. The key Marissa had given me worked without any problem. I walked in and flipped on a light switch. It was a two-room office with the outer room containing several filing cabinets and a small desk in the corner. Along a side wall was an eight-foot table piled with books. A quick glance showed they were all academic textbooks and single-subject treatises. I walked into the larger office that clearly evidenced Adam’s hand-print.
I thought I heard vacuuming and assumed the two guys were now up here on the second floor. I walked back to the front door and flipped off the light and returned to Adam’s office and shut the door. I wanted to see if the computer on Adam’s desk would allow my entry. I didn’t want to be disturbed.
After ten minutes of trying every possible combination of the phrase Marissa suggested might be the password Adam used, I heard a faint noise. It was almost like a cat clawing on the outside door. I got up and flipped off the light and sat back down to listen. It didn’t take long for me to notice the vacuuming had stopped and someone was trying to get into Adam’s office. After another fifteen seconds they had succeeded. By their whispers I could tell it was two girls. The lights came on in the front office and I decided to have a look. No doubt I startled Natalie Goble and Paige Todd when I opened Adam’s office door.
As soon as they saw me, they didn’t say anything but attempted to turn and run. “Wait. Natalie, Paige, I’m an investigator. I won’t hurt you.”
As Garrett had said, the girls were bold. I was surprised they decided to stay. “What are you doing here?” Paige asked.
“I’m Connor Ford and I work for Adam Parker, well, Adam Parker’s daughter, Marissa Booth.” I said. “By the way, what are you two doing here?”
“Uh, we’re looking for our grades. For the last paper we did for Professor Parker, before he was killed, died.” Natalie said. I could tell she wasn’t quite as bold as Paige.
“What makes you think he was killed?” I asked.
Neither would answer me. So, I tried a different tact. “Ladies, please know I have no intention of reporting you for breaking into Adam’s office. All I’m interested in is finding out if he was murdered. That’s why his daughter, Marissa, hired me.”
“Mr. Ford, that’s what we want to find out ourselves. That’s why we are really here.” Paige said, probably being a little too trusting towards someone she just met, especially someone she met after breaking into an office.
“Why do you have a suspicion that Adam may have been killed?” I asked.
“Do you have some type of identification?” Natalie asked. That’s a question a cautious and logical person would ask.
I took out my wallet and showed both my business card and my State of Alabama private investigator license. “If you want to verify I am who I saw I am, you are welcome to visit my office. It’s located at 201 South Main Street, here in Boaz, right across the street from Pirates Cove restaurant.”
“I know where that is. I’ve seen your sign on the side of the building, next to Highway 168.” Paige said.
“We believe somebody local killed Professor Parker because he was outspoken about abortion and guns.” Natalie added, exchanging looks with Paige.
“Guns? I know a little about an ongoing argument over abortion, but I wasn’t aware of an issue with guns.” I said.
“The root of both subjects is the Bible. Most folks around here are anti-abortion and pro-gun. You probably know that.” Paige said.
We continued to talk another twenty minutes. I brought up the Waffle House scene and they both admitted what Garrett had said was accurate. I liked the two girls. They both seemed sincere and level-headed. It didn’t take long to learn that the rumor I had heard that they were hardcore Southern Baptist fundamentalists was not remotely true. Before leaving, they had convinced me that Adam never would have parked his car by backing into his parking spot and that Adam was afraid of Jake Stone. Finally, I had no doubt that Natalie hated her step-father. Her words, “he is the ring-leader of all assholes. Paige and I are determined to do all we can to prove he and the equally asshole Lawton Hawks killed Professor Parker, the wisest and most gentle man we have ever met.”
I drove home feeling I had wasted my day at Adam Parker’s house but had established a valuable connection with two interesting and determined young ladies.
The Pencil-Driven Life 