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 18
“I promise I won’t talk about tomatoes or gardening today. I guess that’s why you’ve missed the past three days.” Garrett said, already eating what looked like an omelet. I needed this week to productive. I felt I was floundering with every case Joe and I were working on, especially the Adam Parker case, but the Hannah Knott case wasn’t doing much better. I was hopeful this morning Garrett would have something helpful. Last night, I had tried something new. I had called him and asked if he didn’t mind finding out what he could about Alex Williams. It was like I had assigned the retired Methodist minister a little homework. I’m not sure he took me seriously. He had seemed more interested in the church social he was attending in Albertville. I made a mental note to call him at least an hour later Sunday nights if I intended to assign homework.
“No, I’ve been distracted with Alabama politics. I knew you wouldn’t be any help.”
“Thanks. I suppose then I’ll just eat my breakfast and not share what Gina told me.”
“Just kidding my friend. You know I’m all ears. Sometimes you stumble upon things that are at least intriguing.” I said.
“You know about Gina’s little hobby. I call it that, but it’s become a formal research project. She’s still gathering data, but she intends on publishing an article by the end of the year. She’s even developing some ideas for a book.”
“Refresh my memory. I know your daughter is a Biology professor at Birmingham-Southern College. Sorry, it’s slipped my mind. All I remember is that she was visiting here a week or so ago to hear Pastor Caleb. Right?” I asked, noticing that the new waitress hadn’t brought me any bacon.
“Creationism. She’s trying to get ready.”
“Ready for what?”
“Sherlock, this is where your Watson reveals how valuable he is to your operation. Your man, Alex Williams, is Alabama’s main zealot for teaching Creationism in the public schools. I suspect this is going to become a big issue in his campaign, especially if he wins the Republican Primary.” Garrett grabbed the thickest slice of bacon off the plate the new waitress, Rachel, just delivered.
“I’ve never thought much about it, creationism. What’s the big deal? Why shouldn’t it be taught?” I asked.
“It might be okay to teach it in say, a comparative religion class, as something some people believe, but it has no place in a science classroom, and this is where Alex and his buddies want it.”
“Let’s see if my elementary understanding of this is correct. Creationism would reflect the Bible story, what Genesis states as how the world and all living things came to be. Right?” I asked. It seemed I was full of questions this Monday morning.
“That’s a pretty good summary. You asked about the problem of teaching this. Creationist, true creationists, believe God created the world less than ten thousand years ago, and that Adam and Eve were literally the first humans. God created them basically from nothing and they were the spitting image of what we are today, with a soul and everything. Of course, nothing includes some dirt for Adam and his rib for Eve, but you get what I’m saying.”
“This clearly is in opposition from what we know from science. Ever since I learned about Adam Parker’s interest in the Scope’s Monkey Trial I’ve been reading some on evolution. It’s seems clear that the earth is a whole lot older than ten thousand years. I’ve read the Big Bang was like 13 billion years ago and our earth is around five billion years old. I just last night read about Naledi, a prehistoric human found in South Africa. It’s claimed he dates back a couple of million years.” I said motioning for Rachel to bring me more coffee. I wondered where Gloria was today.
“You’re headed right, but only scratching the surface. Back to my homework assignment. By the way, always feel free to give me a heads up. I have plenty of time. I do like detective work.”
“I’ll keep that in mind if Joe decides to leave Connor Investigations.”
“After I got home from church last night I called Gina and asked what she could tell me about Alex Williams. She wasn’t too positive. She thinks he is a pure opportunist, someone who has a long political career in mind. Unfortunately, he’s bought fully into the new Republican party-line which, according to Gina, and I must say I agree, is dangerous for America’s future.”
“Why do you say that?” I asked.
“In a way, it’s very simple. They, Republicans, aren’t interested in facts, in the truth. You may be surprised to hear a preacher say this but remember, I’m not a Southern Baptist fundamentalist. I’m a Methodist. It appears to me, Gina, and quite a few other thinking Americans, that the new Republicans believe almost literally in the Bible, and furthermore, detest science, including what it’s saying about climate change. Put another way, I did promise simple, didn’t I? Alex and his cohorts have a closed mind. They aren’t open to pursuing an education. Connor, my friend, always remember, when you hold to a position so tightly that you won’t even consider new evidence, then your goose is cooked. You’re done. Progress is impossible.” Garrett said, standing up and heading to the bathroom. I suspect three or four cups of coffee were talking to him.
While waiting on Garrett I pulled my notepad out and wrote, “Adam Parker.” What I really needed to know was whether there was any connection between him and Alex Williams.
“Sorry about that.” Garrett said returning to his chair.
“Thanks for all your help. I can easily imagine that Adam Parker would be directly opposed to all versions of teaching creationism in the schools. But, for whatever reason, I still feel compelled to explore whether his path and that of Alex Williams ever crossed.”
“I was about to get to that. My dear Gina shared, after my prompting, that she had met Adam Parker back in early December at a conference in Atlanta. He was one of the speakers, something about his research psychology and the evolving mind, or the evolving psychology of the mind. I’m not sure. Here’s something you might find interesting. Gina said that it was rare that a scientist, especially one where he was presenting a hungry hypothesis, that’s her term, would even mention anything political. But Parker, at the end of his presentation had said.” Garrett stopped and pulled out his own little note pad. “Here it is, Gina said, Parker said, ‘the survival of our species could depend on breaking the cycle of indoctrination. What goes into a child’s mind does matter.’ That’s exactly what Gina said.”
“Well, that’s helpful.” I said disappointed over the absence of even a twig of connection between Alex and Adam.
“Oh, I didn’t write it down, but she said that during a break she spoke with Adam. She was interested in his thoughts on her own project. Gina said he appeared interested in both sharing his research and helping her visit churches to learn what pastors were saying about creationism. She said he mentioned having a student who also might help since she had a growing dislike for a certain local politician who she knew.” Garrett said.
“But, she didn’t mention Alex Williams?” I asked.
“No, not according to Gina’s memory.”
As I walked out of Pirates Cove, I couldn’t help from being disappointed. Yes, it was helpful to know that Alex Williams and Adam Parker thought differently about creationism, but that was nearly as irrelevant as the fact they differed on which college football team they preferred. One thing was certain, investigative work could be so dull, boring, and as unproductive as chasing a rabbit.
After leaving Pirates Cove I walked across Main Street and down the sidewalk along Highway 168 to the rear of my building. Just as I was unlocking the back door I heard a car horn. It was Mark Hale.
“Hey Connor, you got a few minutes?”
“Sure, come on in.” I said as Mark got out of his black Tahoe, leaving it parked awkwardly beside our little stoop nearly blocking access to the stairs.
“You got some coffee?” Mark said as we passed through our file storage room and beside the kitchen. I could smell the fresh pot Blair had just made.
“Help yourself. Right in there. I’ll be in my office right down the hall.” I said, knowing this was Mark’s first visit and figuring he can find me in my office.
I hung up my coat and noticed a pink phone message on my desk. It was from Joe.
“Nice digs.” Mark said walking in. “Now, I know for sure I should have chosen the private side of detecting.”
“Sit there.” I said, pointing to my round table and walking over to join Mark. “What brings you here?”
“My pal Lawton Hawks.” Mark had always used this phrase. He said that it made him work harder and smarter if he got cozy with his victim. ‘I have to crawl inside their skin and learn what made them tick. It’s like I have to become them.’ He always said that a detective was like an actor. If he wanted to be a good one. Sounds like something Bobby Sorrells would agree with.
“Good. I was just thinking about Mr. Hawks this morning, how he had discovered the triple B stuff.” I said.
“You’re referring to ‘Bullets, Babies, and Bullshit.’ Well, that’s really at the heart of what I had to share with you.” Mark said. Blair walked in and introduced herself, placing a cup of coffee in front of me, just the way I liked it. When she left, Mark continued, “man, she’s a looker. What is it with you Connor? The ladies were always drawn to you like a magnet.”
“It’s my intelligence. The best-looking women are drawn to the wise. They have great bullshit detectors. Bullshit repels them.” I said, joking, but imagining my opinion must have some truth to it.
“Lawton Hawks. Let me warn you, don’t you get no ideas about hiring him away from me. Tony, not Lawton, he’s dead. Tony is one of them brainy types too, I’ve started calling him Tony the Techie, but, his old lady would have to sneak up on a bucket of water to get a drink. You’ve heard, haven’t you?” Mark was definitely prong to chase some rabbits.
“You mentioned Lawton Hawks.” I replied trying to move things along. Selfish me.
“I was getting to him. It seems that if it exists, Tony can find it on a computer. Of course, it helped to have Lawton’s computer. I think I’ve told you that.”
“Yes, that’s where the triple B stuff originated.” I said.
“Okay, drink your coffee and listen. Lawton was, as you know, a long-term Boaz city councilman. But, he was also a Sunday School teacher at First Baptist Church of Christ, right here in Boaz. I’ll skip over some of the boring stuff, but Tony learned that he, that’s Lawton, and three members from his Sunday School class, I think it was called the Seekers, were Jake Stone, Steven Knott, and Jerry Todd.”
“That’s interesting. Lawton taught Sunday School. Big deal.”
“Shut up Connor if you can. Just listen, you’ll thank me shortly. After Tony’s original research, what I shared with you a couple of weeks ago about the monkey scope.”
“The Scopes Monkey trial, I think it was.” I clarified.
“Yea, well, that all dealt with Lawton and Jake emailing back and forth, seemed to deal with the controversy between evolution and the Bible. You remember. But, it seems Lawton and these three guys were more interested in guns. Tony finally got a membership list from the Seekers, Lawton’s class. Don’t ask me how he got that. Anyway, there are thirteen members, all men. But, according to the emails back and forth, only Jake, Steven, and Jerry carried on a private gun affair.”
“That triggers a weird image.” Why did sex have such an influence on our lives, at least mine?
“Here’s the part where you need to shut-up and listen. It seems it all got started over an essay a student at Snead wrote about guns. She, a girl named Paige Todd, had written a scathing letter to the NRA, that’s the National Rifle Association.”
“I know. Who doesn’t know that?” I asked.
“Her letter had spawned her essay. The Jerry guy is Paige’s adopted-father. Some way your Adam Parker came on the radar. Remember, ‘Bullets, Babies, and Bullshit’?”
“Yes. Jerry Todd adopted Paige. Right?”
“Yea. Listen. Parker’s theory, what got him booted out at UT, was about three things. Bullets, obviously refers to guns, babies to abortion, and bullshit to the Bible. Tony’s confirmed that from every angle but Sunday.”
“I think it’s, ‘six ways from Sunday,’ meaning every alternative conclusion has been explored or something like that.”
“Anyway, now just know, this isn’t happening in one week, this is going on for several months.” Mark said.
“What, exactly, is going on?” I asked.
“The controversy between Lawton and his little group, I’ll call them the Seekers, and your Adam Parker. Some of the emails got heated. One, from Jerry, he was the most vocal about the Second Amendment, tried arguing to Parker that the Constitution gave citizens the right to defend themselves from all threats including threats from idiots who are against guns.”
“Can I ask you a question?” What do you recall Steven saying? In any of the emails, or otherwise. I asked.
“He wasn’t nearly as outspoken about guns as Lawton, and Jake, and Jerry. He was the more civil of the four. I do remember Steven asking Parker a question. It had something to do with his research and whether it showed a difference in the thinking of young people over guns.”
“Do you remember how Parker responded?” I asked.
“Not exactly, but he may have said that it had something to do with whether they had a bad experience, like a friend or family member being hurt or killed with a gun. Oh yea, Parker also distinguished whether the young person was a Baptist, something like that. Hey man, it’s almost nine and I’ve got to run up here to the bank.” Mark said.
“One final question, please. Who was the name of the English teacher at Snead, the one who the essay was for, the one Paige Todd had caused such a stir?” Sometimes, I didn’t like how I phrased my questions.
“My question exactly. When I found out I thought it strange for a while, but then I just concluded it had to do with small towns. You know they are the weirdest places.”
“They can be. Are you going to answer my question?”
“Oh yea, the teacher was Hannah Knott, Steven Knott’s wife.”
After Mark left, I made a note to question Hannah about Paige’s essay and Steven’s position on guns. I also made a note to ask her if she knew he had been communicating with Adam Parker.
After Mark left, I walked to the front office to see Blair. I hadn’t asked her in several days how she was coming on the assignment I had delegated to her nearly a month ago. It was to review and organize all of Adam’s journals (both public and private), his emails, his Facebook posts, and anything else she discovered as she explored. I was thankful Snead’s computer guru had slipped me the password to Adam’s computer; his act was another reminder I needed to continue doing little investigative favors along life’s way; serving that divorce complaint on the guru’s wife and withholding my invoice, had paid off in spades. The guru’s second act had now left me owing him. Yesterday morning, he had shown up unannounced with Adam’s office computer. Blair now had it in her private office next to the reception area. There is where I found her, sitting at a newly acquired folding table watching ‘It’s Best to Be Exact than an Act,’ streaming across the screen of Adam’s computer.
“That’s an odd screen saver, don’t you think?” I asked Blair, noticing the beauty of her profile and wondering how on earth could a man, particularly her ex-husband, have been so mean and uncaring to such a treasure.
“It’s the perfect tag line for the perfect man.”
“I’m taking that his words, what you’re discovering about him, is pushing you to that conclusion?”
“Right, I’ve never seen anybody so exacting. Here, look at this.” Blair said, turning in her chair and forcing me backwards as she rolled towards her desk. She picked up and opened one of Adam’s journals. “Read this paragraph from his December 4th entry.”
In his private journal Adam had written about the experience he had earlier that morning when he arrived at Snead College as he parked behind the Science Building. Apparently, from the angle he had parked he saw a tree, or, more particularly, several limbs of a tree whose trunk he could not see because it was just around the corner of the building, but these limbs reminded Adam of a hand. He had written that he had noticed this for weeks but that day, the 4th, he had noticed what looked like to him, was a half-deflated balloon that had gotten stuck on a limb. He had noted the round and foreign matter was stuck in the center of the imaginary hand. Adam went on to write another half a page about how the balloon was a metaphor for the core of his scientific hypothesis: that a long-time gene could endure environmental pressures just so long until it was forced to mutate, to change to adapt. To me, it was a strange metaphor. Adam concluded his December 4th remarks by expressing almost a contentment he had experienced from seeing the hand and balloon image. Then, he had written, “I have to be wary of any satisfaction or my life will be like that balloon, floating away, out of control, and into an evil hand.”
“This kind of confirms to me, what Paige or Natalie told me was correct, that Adam was exact in how he parked behind the college every morning. He had a reason for pulling into his spot, to see this image. In a way it was a daily reminder for him to not become satisfied, which, from my readings in his journals, was something he detested.
Before Blair could respond, the office phone rang.
“Connor Investigations, may I help you? Oh, hi Joe. Good morning to you too. Just talking with Connor. Hold on.” Blair handed me the phone.
“Morning Joe. I know I owe you a phone call. Mark Hale dropped by and caught my attention. I was just about to call you.”
“Hannah should be there any minute. I hope you have time to meet with us. That’s what I called about.” Joe said.
“I was needing to go to Gadsden but that can wait. Are you close by?”
“Ten minutes or so.” Joe said, and I heard the front door ding. It was Hannah; I could barely see her through the glass sliding window at the receptionist’s desk. “She’s here now, see you in a few.”
I walked back to my office and let Blair greet Hannah. In less than fifteen minutes, I joined Joe and Blair in the conference room.
“Hello Hannah. Thanks for coming. Before we get started on your case, do you mind if I ask you what you thought of Adam Parker? I assume you knew him since you both taught at Snead College.” I said, not wanting to spend any time chatting or on unneeded how-do-you-dos.
“At first I didn’t like him. I tried to be friendly when I’d see him around campus. I figured he needed a smiling face just like I did, especially since we had both started teaching at Snead at the same time. Fall 2014. But, he was so unpredictable. What I mean is, one time I would see him, and he would look up at me and half smile, maybe nod his head forward. The next time I saw him it would be like I didn’t exist, even if we were the only two people in the hallway. After a while I just figured his mind was elsewhere. He definitely was a loner, always sat by himself at faculty meetings.”
“From your first statement I assume that at some point you changed your mind about Adam?” I asked.
“I did. It was the next year. One day he showed up at my office with a strange request. He brought with him a copy of an essay one of my students had written.”
“Was the student Paige Todd?” I asked.
“Yes, how did you know that?”
“Just a hunch.”
“Anyway, Adam also brought a letter. It was the basis of Paige’s essay. I hadn’t seen the actual letter until Adam came. After he let me read the letter he asked me if I had encountered anyone else, not just other students writing this assignment, but ever in my career, who had such an experience.”
“What was the letter, Paige’s letter, about? It was written to the National Rifle Association.” I said.
“Another hunch I guess.” Hannah was sharp.
“Yep.”
“Paige had shared how her best friend in high school had committed suicide. It seemed the girl had used a gun her father had acquired at a gun show. Paige, no doubt, had been devastated. Her letter was simply her way of trying to convince the NRA to have a heart and recognize that there are too many guns.” Hannah said.
“So, Adam was simply looking for data, more evidence to probably use in his own work. How did this event cause you to see Adam in a different light?”
“I saw that he was passionate about his work and that he deeply cared about people, especially young people.”
Joe had sat still and silent long enough. “Question. Just curious. Did any of your other students have a similar type story, like Paige’s?”
“No, but I did, later, I think it was nearly a week after Adam came to me, I felt guilty and went to him. I shared Steven’s story.” Hannah said.
“What was that if I might ask?”
“Please don’t share this. It is real important you keep this between us. Okay?”
“I suspect it doesn’t have anything to do with Adam Parker. I should have told you earlier that we work for Adam Parker’s daughter, investigating his death.” I said.
“No, it doesn’t. Steven wouldn’t want anyone feeling sorry for him. Here’s what happened. Steven grew up in Eufaula, Alabama. That’s southeast of Montgomery.
“Just north of Dothan. I lived there for over twenty years.”
“Steven’s father was a gun nut, hunter and Second Amendment activist. This all changed when Stan, Steven’s twin, died.” I noticed Hannah teared up. She sat silent for maybe thirty seconds. “Sorry, Steven shot Stan. It was an accident. The boys were ten. Yes, it was their father’s gun.” Her silence returned.
“It would seem Steven would be adamantly opposed to guns given that experience.” I said.
“Oh my gosh, he was. He hates guns now.” I made a mental note of how that directly conflicted with what Mark had shared with me this morning.
“You sharing this with Adam kind of anchored your friendship?” Joe asked Hannah.
“It did. Over the next year I learned to admire him more and more even though I never could quite understand his research project. One thing I did learn was he was a fish out of water around here. He shared a lot about how antagonistic several local people were about him. Sorry, but I have another class to teach. Can we talk about Steven and Peyton Todd?” Hannah looked at Joe as though she was talking about her two best friends.
Joe returned a smile. “The only new thing I have to report is that Peyton and Steven left Health Connections last Friday afternoon and drove to her house on Lindo Drive. Again, it was her car. I’ve confirmed that Jerry was out of town. It appears they went there for a two-hour rendezvous. It was slick that she pulled up to her garage and it opened automatically. She then drove inside, and the door closed. Steven was so slumped down in his front seat I could barely see him. It was as though she was along, came home, stayed a couple of hours, and left. Again, alone.”
“Here’s why I called Joe and wanted to meet. This morning I had the rare treat of looking at Steven’s phone. Funny that I’ve discovered a pattern with him. Or, what appears to be a pattern. This was the second time he has left his phone in his gray suit coat. Both mornings, he has eaten his Kellogg’s Bran Cereal. You probably can project my story. What I can’t figure out is why he puts his cell phone in his jacket pocket before breakfast.” Hannah caught a breath and I jumped in.
“What did you learn from inspecting his phone?” I asked.
“He had received a text from the lovely Peyton yesterday afternoon a little before 5:00. It seems the two love birds didn’t have a session planned so she sent him this text. It said, “RAW deposit made. C u Saturday.”
“RAW. Do you know what or who that refers to?” I asked.
“Not a clue.”
Joe and Hannah continued to talk another few minutes. Raw had caught my attention. What was raw? Who was raw? This had to be an abbreviation. It had to be a person or a business, some sort of organization. Raw couldn’t be a tree or a bird. Those animals rarely made deposits.
It was long after our meeting had ended, nearly six hours long in fact before I turned my attention from another damn email from Dalton hiring us to investigate another collections matter. It took less than a minute on Google to learn that Alex Williams full name was Robert Alex Williams. I got up from my desk and walked over to my round table in front of a thousand legal and crime novels. Surely, the answer whether RAW was Robert Alex Williams lay safely secure upon one of the three hundred and fifty thousand or more pages vertically aligned on my bookshelves.
It was time to go home. My unanswered question was making my imagination spiral out of control.
The Pencil Driven Life 