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 19
Friday came too quickly. Even though time had inched by all week as I had waited for Alex Williams to call, it seemed my ex-wife had seized control of my mind. Today was the day I had dreaded since Emily had shared the good news over a month ago. Amy was moving back to Boaz and she was moving into the house my dearly departed mother had left her in her will.
The real problem was this little house was located at Hickory Hollow, where I lived in the original log cabin my great-grandfather had built in 1899. It had been remodeled and added onto several times over the past near one hundred twenty years. My great-grandparents had built the little house that Amy was moving into. It seemed the women in my life had a way of taking care of themselves. My grandparents and parents had both lived in the house. My great-grandmother Nora had dubbed it the playhouse since it seemed to produce a lot of babies. Originally, my great-grandfather had it built in 1915 to house Frank Martin and his family who helped with the farm. Over the next ten years Frank and his wife had twelve children, including two sets of twins.
In the early fifties, my grandparents moved from the Playhouse to the original log cabin after my great-grandparents both died. Then, in the mid-eighties, my parents followed the same pattern after my grandparents died. This left the Playhouse empty until Amy and I married in June 1986 and moved in. In mid-August, the two of us moved to Auburn for college. We stayed at the Playhouse during all our return weekends, the holidays, and between quarters. Amy and I graduated from Auburn University in June 1990, and returned to Boaz, living in the Playhouse until I graduated from the police academy and we moved to Dothan, Alabama in September 1992. Since then, the house has mostly sat empty, although mother would occasionally let a needy mother and her children she learned about from church stay there for a week, a month, and one time, for an entire year.
Mother and Amy had always gotten along like strawberries and ice-cream. In fact, they had a beautiful relationship. It was rooted in their mutual love for the Bible and their Christian faith. When mother and dad redid their wills in 2010 mother thought of Amy. Someway, maybe it was an insight gained through her faith and her daily devotion to God, mother foresaw tough days ahead for Amy. It was after Amy and I separated that mother semi-forced my dad to agree in their joint will to leave the Playhouse to Amy.
It’s called a life estate. Upon the death of Crane and Harriet Ford, Amy acquired the right to live in the Playhouse for as long as she was alive. Although Amy had this right since my parents both died in 2012, she had continued to live and teach in Dothan. It was not until the end of her twenty-fifth year as a fourth-grade teacher at Highlands Elementary School that she learned she had Parkinson’s disease.
My problem wasn’t so much that Amy was moving into the Playhouse, but that she had to drive past the log cabin every time she came and went. Her house was located about a quarter of a mile from the entrance to the eighty-acre Hickory Hollow where my log cabin sat.
If this wasn’t bad enough, my dear Camilla and Emily had conspired to enlist me in helping unload Amy’s moving truck and, as Camilla said, “make her feel welcome and at home.” Sometimes I felt Camilla was more like Emily, a daughter needling her parents to love each other.
I left the office at 12:30 and pulled up to the Playhouse right as the twenty-eight-foot U-Haul arrived. I was surprised that Tyler Tyson was the driver. He was Emily’s ex-husband and one I had thought since the end of their one-year marriage, had been long gone. I figured it was ‘help an ex’ day or something.
After I walked into the Playhouse I realized why I hadn’t seen Camilla and Emily hardly all week. They had cleaned, and tided up, throwing away half the old furniture. They had even painted the main bedroom and bath. Almost as soon as Tyson and I had walked in the house, Camilla and Emily told us to leave to get the truck parked and the gang-plank ready for unloading. Camilla whispered to me that the three girls wanted fifteen minutes. Camilla said, “it’s important me and your ex start off right. I can tell by her eyes; she and I will bond. Looks like you let a good one get away.” Man, that made me feel good.
Over the next three hours, Tyler and I unloaded nearly half the truck. At 3:30, Joe and Dalton showed up, thanks to the co-conspirators. It was almost six when Blair arrived with three large pizzas. I later learned, compliments of Connor Investigations. I had to say, the time was enjoyable the eight of us shared while eating pizza at the giant mahogany table Amy and I had purchased from the Antique Attic in Dothan on May the eighth, 1993, Amy’s twenty-fifth birthday.
By 7:30, Tyler, Dalton, and Joe had joined Emily’s and Camilla’s conspiracy. They all left, leaving me and Amy alone. I felt like my entire day I had been a piece of driftwood on a raging sea. I wasn’t normally the emotional type. I also wasn’t a piece of driftwood, having since the tenth grade prided myself on controlling my mind and my actions. Not perfectly of course, but normally remaining semi-active in what I was doing or where I was heading. Tonight, the waves pushed all that away and instead rolled in a freight-liner of memories.
Amy and I continued to sit at her mahogany table. I mainly listened, nodded occasionally, and always tried my best to force back a wave of tears that could break through at any time. It may have been how Amy looked, not whether she was still attractive, she was, but how I could see the affects her Parkinson’s was having. She almost fell when she got up to make a pot of coffee. Her left hand was trembling as she insisted on pouring my cup and preparing it just the way she used to.
We spent nearly two hours sharing our regrets and exchanging requests for forgiveness. Before I left to return to the log cabin, the last thing she said was, “you were always my knight in shining honor. I’m so sorry for hurting you and destroying the most beautiful relationship that God ever created.”
In response, I simply nodded, turned and walked out her door and down the front porch steps into a cold but clear night. As I walked the quarter mile home I couldn’t help but notice the clarity of the stars overhead. Looking up didn’t stop my tears from pouring down my face.
Camilla and I had driven to Huntsville last night and eaten at the new Saban’s. It was the infamous Nick Saban’s second steak house and sports bar his son had opened since the Alabama Crimson Tide won its fifth national championship. We had gotten in late, full of beef and beer (half glass; I hated the stuff), and Camilla had fallen asleep in my arms arguing that we would go to church this morning. We should have had something better to do. She was there. She was in my bed and not hers at Sundown Apartments. I could sometimes be such an SOB.
I had woken up feeling somewhat less full but still consumed by my passivity over Alex Williams’ promise. Normally, I would have marched over to his house and knocked on his front door if he hadn’t called me in four or five days after he had made his commitment to call. Today was now the tenth day since he lied to me at the Snead State cafeteria after his self-righteous little political speech. As Camilla and I got ready for church I promised myself that today was the day. Even if it was Sunday, I was going to talk with Alex, or Erica would hear some very troubling news.
Pastor Caleb’s sermon was on how to recapture a vision from God when you have no enthusiasm in your life and no one is watching and encouraging you. His message was rooted in 2 Corinthians 6:4. It likely was a great sermon but all I could really think about was Alex Williams and what type of person he was when no one was looking. I had learned quite a bit more about him and his background during the ten days I had been waiting on his phone call.
Alex’s parents, Nathan and Denise Williams, had started Rand Construction Company in the late seventies and had built it into one of the largest privately-owned bridge building companies in the United States. Alex had joined the company after he graduated from the University of Alabama but after several years of travel had quit to pursue an accounting career with MDA Professional Group. From everything I could gather, Alex’s move hadn’t affected his relationship with his father; he was pretty much bank-rolling his son’s political career. My conclusion that the Williams’ shared much family unity was supported by seeing all six of them, including grandchildren, sitting on the second row of the far-right side of the auditorium. The two men, father and son, were both deacons here at First Baptist Church of Christ.
After Pastor Caleb ended the third song and third plea for sinners to come forward and be saved, he called on Alex to say the closing prayer. It was what he said towards the end of his too-long petition that prompted me to descend the balcony stairs and seek out the lovely Erica Williams. Alex had asked God to strengthen us all to stay focused on Christ and the vision He had given every believer to serve him faithfully while sharing the Good News. I felt it was time Erica herself heard some good news.
I made my way down the stairs and across the auditorium while shaking a few hands along the way. I was within twenty feet of the lovely mother of two adorable children whose family was her life. I always disliked this part of my job, sharing truth where truth was so damn painful. The moment I said, “Mrs. Williams,” Alex appeared from behind me. He must have been off shaking hands and gathering votes.
“Yes, I’m Erica Williams.” She said turning towards me from buttoning the coat of her younger son.
“Erica, this is Connor Ford. I forgot to tell you he and I have a meeting at one. He just wanted to meet you and confirm our appointment.” Once again, I noted that Alex Williams was quick on his feet. He showed clearly that he didn’t want me talking with his wife. I intended to show him something. That I fully intended on talking with him now or he would face the wrath of a scorned woman.
I told Alex I would see him at one o’clock in my office. I whispered to him that if he were late I would enjoy an unannounced tour of his grand home in Boaz Country Club no later than 10:00 p.m.
I never doubted he would show. His first words as he came in the front door was, “Mr. Ford, what is it going to take for you to back off?”
I didn’t even ask him back to the conference room. We stayed in the waiting room. I carefully pondered my response. “Two things for sure. First, back off from Natalie. She should have the right to make her own decision about her baby. Second, tell me the full truth about Adam Parker. If you will do these two things, I’ll leave it up to you when and how you tell Erica your little secret. To be clear, if you lie to me, the first thing I’m going to do is share the good news with your sweet wife.”
“It seems to me you’ve got a few secrets yourself. I suggest we reach some common ground. It appears you’ve been quite successful in keeping your murder charge under a basket since you moved here. Connor, I can make things rather difficult for you. My family has the money and connections to destroy you. So, don’t go threatening me.” Alex said, not having a clue he had walked into a lion’s cage.
It was time Mr. Alex had a moment of exhilarating clarity. “Stand up, you self-righteous son of a bitch.” By the size of his eyeballs I could tell I had his attention.
“Sir, you better watch your language. I am the top Republican candidate for governor of Alabama. You might want to calm down.”
He kept on sitting. He was ignoring my command. I walked over to him and pulled him up by his coat and pushed him over against the wall. Mr. Jefferson’s eyes seemed to turn and look to his right, onto the scene that was transpiring. “Listen up you sorry sack of hypocritical shit. Don’t you ever threaten me again or I’ll ram your head through a glass door, like that one right over there. You treat me with a little respect and we’ll get along very well. Do you understand.” I said, pushing him back with both my hands against his biceps, feeling him struggle to remove my grasp.
“Let the fuck go or I’ll have you arrested for assault.” It was strangely enjoyable to hear the real Alex Williams trot out. I had decided at his Snead College speech he was a fake.
“Be my guest. I could call Jake Stone right now to come and arrest me. Better still, you call him.” I let go of his arms, stepped back, reached into my back pocket for my iPhone, and handed it to Alex. “Here, call him. I dare you.”
“You’re an asshole and a crazy motherfucker. That could get you killed.” Alex said straightening his suit coat.
“There you go threatening me again. This time I should bruise up that pretty face of yours. For now, why don’t you tell me how much money you are paying Jake Stone?” I asked.
“I’m not paying him a damn thing.”
“What did I say about lying to me? Do that again and your Erica might give you a free and very public Facebook ad. That’ll help your political future.” I said.
“I’m still trying to figure out what business you have asking me all these questions.”
“Adam Parker, have you forgotten? I don’t have proof yet but don’t think I’ll stop looking. I suspect you are someway involved in his murder.” I said, sitting now across the room from Alex, who was inching towards the unlocked front door. “By the way, leaving in a haste won’t earn any points.”
“You’re looking at the wrong man. I admit I didn’t like Mr. Parker. I also admit that we exchanged a few emails. He even came to see me once. He was adamantly opposed to teaching creationism in public schools. You need to be looking at Lawton Hawks and Jake Stone. But, please don’t say I told you too.”
“Tell me your reasoning.” I said.
“I don’t know exactly, but Parker had found out something about Stone protecting Hawks. All I know is that the two of them may have had a motive to get rid of Parker.”
“Tell me the truth. How much are you paying Stone and his wife, and Natalie to keep quiet about her pregnancy?” I asked once again.
“A hundred thousand dollars. Again, what is it going to take for you to keep this quiet?”
“Two things you need to keep front and center in your mind. I don’t like threats and I don’t take bribes.” I said. “But, to give you a little piece of mind. I don’t go around talking, unless it is in the best interest of my client. I’ll make this commitment to you. If you will be truthful with me and help me, help me your best, to find out what happened to Adam Parker, I will have no reason to share your little secret.”
“I’ll do that. Erica doesn’t need to know I had the affair.”
“Alabama voters probably don’t need to know either. Correct?”
“My one-time weakness has nothing to do with my ability to be the best governor Alabama has ever had.” Alex was so full of his self-righteous, underly-critical horse shit.
“One other thing. Do you promise to leave Natalie along? Let her decide what to do?” I asked.
“I make that promise. But, she needs to keep this a secret.” Alex said.
“I don’t represent Natalie but do me a favor. Take steps to assure that her baby, your baby, will be taken care of. I would think a tidy little trust fund would go a long way convincing her to stay silent about the father of her baby.”
“I’ll do that. Now, I need to go.”
“Be sure and report back to me everything you recall or learn about the death of my client. Remember, you promised.” I said, hoping that Alex would keep fresh in his mind how I had responded to his bullshit threat.
He walked out without responding.
The Pencil Driven Life 