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 24
The following Wednesday I decided to call Marissa. Camilla and I wouldn’t be able to drive to Nashville on Saturday. Just like last Saturday, Camilla had to work, and the weather looked like a late winter snow storm was definitely on the horizon.
“Marissa, this is Connor, is now a good time to talk?”
“It is, just let me close my office door.” I heard her lay down her land line phone and could hear her heels clapping against what I figured were old wooden floors. I had her cell number but had chosen to call her at the Divinity School instead. “Okay, I’m back. Do you have some news?”
“Yes and no. I’m not really sure if what I’ve learned directly connects to Adam’s death.” I said.
“Tell me and maybe I can add some context.”
I spent nearly half an hour telling Marissa about Blair’s chance discovery of the ‘Deep State’ folder and Adam’s interest in the Williams family. I described to her all three male members of the family and how, because of their giant bridge building company, they had the financial resources to position the younger son, Alex, as a viable candidate for governor of Alabama. I also told her about Adam documenting a connection between the Williams family and Glock’s pending decision to build a large gun manufacturing facility in Boaz. Finally, I told her about her father installing a tracking and listening device known in spyware circles as Open Curtain.
“All of that comes as a complete surprise except the curtain thing. Well, I didn’t know about dad installing them on the Williams’ vehicles, but he did put one on my car. He said that it was a device that could locate my car if it ever got stolen.” Marissa said.
“You wouldn’t happen to know how your father monitored those devices?” I asked.
“No. I’m sorry. Back to what you said earlier, you haven’t been able to connect anything about Glock or the Williams family to dad’s murder?” Marissa asked.
“I’d prefer you not call his death a murder. We simply don’t know that.”
“Okay, but my question stands, does what you’ve just told me have anything to do with my father’s death?”
“I have no proof whatsoever, but I have to admit it has gotten me interested, even intrigued. There’s several puzzle pieces that all seemed to revolve around Alex, the candidate for governor.” I said.
“Funny, you called today. Just yesterday I attended a meeting at the Southern Baptist Convention. Your man Williams spoke. Along with the Republican candidates for governor from Mississippi, Tennessee, Georgia, and both North and South Carolina.”
“What was the meeting about?” I asked.
“Dad would roll over in his grave. Creationism. It seems Southern Baptists are determined to have their silly beliefs taught in public schools. They, the Southern Baptist Convention, are apparently working a plan with governor hopefuls to institute their curriculum change.”
“I perceive you feel differently. You said, ‘their silly beliefs’ in reference to Creationism.” I said.
“Connor, you may not know but Vanderbilt University Divinity School and the Southern Baptist Convention are not the best of buddies. My school is one of the most liberal in the country, meaning we don’t hold to a literal interpretation of the Bible. In other words, our interpretation is vastly different from that of Southern Baptists. Here’s an example, our Dean is an open lesbian.”
“Yep, that clearly makes your point. So, let me ask, I assume your school is much more on board with evolution than the Southern Baptist Convention?” I asked.
“Connor, are you trying to be funny? The differences couldn’t be starker. Evolution is a fact. I, along with my colleagues, accept it just as strongly as we accept the theory of gravity. The Convention and its churches are still in the dark ages. Something else I was going to say. There was a whole entourage from Boaz at yesterday’s meeting. How I know this is that I saw an old classmate of mine from our seminary days.”
“Who might that be? First, you’ve never told me where you earned your theology degree.”
“Southwestern Baptist Theological Seminary in Fort Worth, Texas. It’s one of six seminaries affiliated with the Southern Baptist Convention.”
“Thanks, so who did you see, the former classmate you mentioned?” I asked.
“Steven Knott. When I saw him, I didn’t know he was in Boaz. Last I heard he was at First Baptist of Montgomery.”
“Gosh, I’m never surprised at how small the world actually is. His wife, Hannah, teaches English at Snead. She knew your father. We’ve discovered this during our investigation.” I said.
“Now, that makes sense. Dad mentioned an English teacher there at Snead that he liked, you know, as a friend and fellow professor. But, Dad, as far as I recall, never mentioned her name. I never met Steven’s wife. Like me, he wasn’t married during our days at seminary. I heard he met a woman and got married after he moved to Montgomery. As it seemed to always happen, school mates lose touch after a while, after graduating.”
“I know I’ve taken too much of your time and need to let you go, but would you mind telling me about your conversation with Steven, when you saw him yesterday? I assume you too chatted for a few minutes at least.”
“We did. Even though we didn’t get to talk much, I could tell he was troubled. When he told me where he was living and working, he mentioned that he didn’t know how much longer he would stay in his current job. This is what struck me as odd. Steven said, ‘Boaz is a weird place. Things are not what they appeared to be when I moved there.’”
“He didn’t say anything else, anything more specific?” I asked.
“No. I wanted to talk with him longer but a round and jolly man pulled Steven away.”
“That sounds like the pastor, Caleb Patterson.” I said.
“That’s right. Steven mentioned him by name.”
“Thanks Marissa. Feel free to call me anytime. By the way, I’ll be sending you a detailed billing within the next week or so. I’ll go ahead and apologize for taking so long.” I said.
“Of course, I’d like this all to be over with very soon, but if you need more money, let me know. I’m as determined as my dearly departed father, once I set my mind.”
“Okay, thanks. Take care.”
After hanging up, I sat and pondered mine and Marissa’s call. Two things that really struck me. That she knew Steven Knott, and that Adam had failed to tell Marissa the name of his Snead College colleague. I made a mental note to talk further with Hannah Knott.
Sunday morning, I was just getting into the shower when my phone vibrated. I was already wet, so I finished my shower before turning over my iPhone which was laying on top of the dirty clothes basket.
It was a text from Joe. “We need to talk ASAP.” Three weeks ago, I had pulled him off the Hannah Knott case and sent him to Jackson, Wyoming (why not start our search in the most popular town in the vast and wild Wyoming?). I knew it was a long shot. My feeling was simply a hunch. Something that Bobby Sorrells would have told me (if I had asked) to investigate locally to obtain a more solid confirmation before going off on a wild goose chase and spending thousands of dollars. I had rationalized by concluding that I already had done this, that no pathologist retires at 43 after investing well over ten years in a post-college education. Ten days ago, Joe had called to tell me he had a lead on a family that was living in Dubois, Wyoming.
I dried off, pulled on a sweat suit and pair of house shoes. Camilla wasn’t happy that I told her to go on to church. She, at first, thought I was rebelling against her, Emily’s, and Amy’s latest conspiracy. This would be the third Sunday in a row the three Musketeers had gone to First Baptist Church of Christ together, with me in tow on two of those occasions.
After Camilla and Emily left, I walked down the hall to my study and dialed Joe.
“Hello Connor. I hoped I would catch you before you left for church.” Joe said. I could hear music in the background. I pictured him sitting in one of those western type saloons I’d always loved from TV.
“Good timing actually. What you got?” I asked.
“Dr. Harry Culbert is now Bart Collins and he works part-time for Fremont County EMS. I guess he couldn’t stay away from the medical field. He and his family, wife and two young children, live on one of those mini-ranches just west of Dubois. It’s a little over an hour from Jackson.”
“You’re sure this is our guy?” I asked.
“Positive. Once I learned where he lived (that’s a whole other story) I watched him for six days. Most boring time of my life.” Joe said.
“Your longest stakeout. It was good training.” I said.
“Once I learned his and Danielle’s, that’s his wife, patterns, I did a little snooping. I won’t say how I got in their house because you already know. Anyway, I found some letters postmarked from Huntsville. Seems like Bart and Danielle’s parents miss their grandkids more than their children.”
“Have you approached, Bert?” I asked.
“Bart, Bart Collins. You still need to get your hearing checked. Joe was now sounding like Blair.
“Have you confronted Bart?”
“Yesterday. After his ambulance riding shift, he dropped in the Whiskey Creek Saloon, that’s where I am now. He sat by himself at a corner table and I joined him. After I bought him a couple of drinks, I dropped a bomb in his lap. I said, ‘I’m not here to cause you any problems but I need to know about your last autopsy, the autopsy of Adam Parker.’ I thought he would faint.”
“Joe, please, jump to the heart of what you learned. The suspense is killing me.” I said, wanting to be patient. I was proud of Joe. He had accomplished a lot just by finding our mystery doctor.
“I’m getting there. Two things pushed him into our corner. Your suggested statement, ‘we’ve had the body of Adam Parker exhumed. Your autopsy was a fraud. That’s a crime,’ and my gentle threat I would have him arrested before the sun went down. These loosened his tongue. The shots of whiskey didn’t hurt.” Joe wasn’t yet at the heart of things.
“Before you tell me, no matter what you tell me, I want to say congratulations on a great job. I’m proud of your work, your commitment and determination, and your ingenuity. What you’ve accomplished was no small feat.” I felt better after giving some praise. I needed to remember that. Thanks Camilla.
“The bottom line is that you were right. Somebody persuaded the doctor to falsify the autopsy. There’s no doubt Adam Parker was murdered.” Joe said and then went silent. I kept thinking he would start filling in some details, but he waited on me to ask.
“Okay, you got me. I should have just let you tell me the details to start with. I’m all ears now.” I said, giving Joe an open door, or, was it, an open curtain. That was another subject I dared not introduce now.
“He said he and his family were threatened. First, it was a phone call telling him he was about to be asked to conduct an autopsy on an Adam Parker from Boaz. The caller seemed to know that Parker’s daughter would be calling him.” Joe said.
“That’s really strange.”
“I agree. I pursued that line a little more. The doctor said he received a call from a Marissa Parker, who said the Marshall County coroner had given her his name. The doctor said that he didn’t know the coroner but later assumed that someone, maybe the first caller, had pressured the coroner to give the daughter his name.”
“So, it was all carefully choreographed from the beginning. Whoever was behind this figured Marissa would want an autopsy.” I said.
“At first I thought that, but now, I wouldn’t be surprised if someone hadn’t planted that idea in her head.” Joe said. If that was true, then Joe and I had to be dealing with some pretty sophisticated folks.
“Then what happened?” I asked.
“The caller told the doctor to accept the daughter’s request to perform the autopsy and to report that Parker’s death was from natural causes. Here’s the persuasive part. The caller said that if he, the doctor, refused, that he would never see his family again.” Joe said.
“They had already kidnapped his family?”
“Seems so. It was just a few minutes after that the doctor received a call from his wife. She urged him to do as he was told or her and the two children would be killed. Get this. It was the next day after Parker’s body arrived at Huntsville Pathology Center that the doctor received the second call. This time, he was given specific instructions to ignore anything he discovered, but to report that Parker had died of a heart attack.”
“What didn’t the doctor report? In other words, what did he discover? What killed Adam Parker?” I asked, not pleased with either way I had asked my ultimate question.
“Cyanide poisoning. Injected between Parker’s big toe, on his right foot, and the second toe. I think it’s called the long toe.”
“That’s actually pretty ingenious. A gunshot wound would obviously have been noticed. But, not even the coroner would have suspected foul play. The obvious cause of death would have simply been a heart attack. No autopsy would have been required or requested by the coroner. The caller, whoever he was, was bright. In instigating an autopsy, he thought he was forestalling a further investigation. I guess he didn’t know Marissa Booth.” I said.
“That’s not the only thing the bad guys thought of. They even allowed for a first level investigation to take place. They assumed someone, Parker’s loved ones, might inquire into the autopsy and naturally call the pathologist. Therefore they forced our doctor into hiding.” Joe said.
“How did that work exactly?” I asked.
“It seems there was a review process for the autopsy. The doctor said another man called encouraging him to ‘go west young man,’ that was the callers exact words. This second caller demanded the doctor move his family to Wyoming. He already had a place waiting on him. And, he and his wife and children all had new identities. The doctor was instructed to tell no one where he was going. I guess Bart and Danielle didn’t fully abide by that rule, given the letters I found. Anyway, Bart, our doctor, was told the deed to the mini-ranch would be on the kitchen table when he and his family arrived. And, there would be a deposit for a million dollars to a local Dubois bank. The caller gave the doctor the ultimatum. Leave Huntsville the next day, leaving house, furniture, everything. Two one-way airline tickets were delivered to the medical practice within an hour, with a note inside a sealed envelope that said Danielle would arrive home at 5:30 but the kids would be held until the two parents were in Dubois. I felt sorry for the doctor. He had been put in a horrible situation, without any control. He had no choice. He said he thought he would never see his wife and children again. But, the caller had done what he promised. Two days after arriving in Dubois, the doctor received the third call and said the children could be picked up at the Jackson Hole, Wyoming airport the following morning at 11:30. They arrived safe and sound.” Joe said without a hint of impatience from me.
“So, I assume the doctor doesn’t have a clue who forced him to retire and move to Wyoming?” I asked.
“Caution my friend. Isn’t that what you tell me? That I must be careful about reaching a conclusion, that there is something else, at least one other something I haven’t considered?” Joe was sounding more like Bobby Sorrells every week.
“Okay, I suspect I’ve just kicked my own ass.” I said.
“The doctor says he’s convinced the first caller was a Boaz police officer named Jake Stone.”
“This is unreal. How on earth would he reach that conclusion?”
“He said he had heard a radio in the background during the first two calls. He said it was after nearly a month of living in Wyoming, after he had taken a part-time job with the ambulance service, that he was at a car accident scene and heard a police radio through the vehicle’s open window. This caused our doctor to do a little investigating himself. Seems like he Googled the death of Adam Parker and found an archived news report out of Huntsville, WAAY TV. They had interviewed a Boaz Police officer who had been the first one on the scene behind Snead College after Parker’s body was found. Our doctor said he’s convinced Jake Stone’s voice is identical to the man who called him two times.”
“What about the third call?” I asked.
“Nothing there.” Joe said.
“Here’s my take on what you’ve learned. Jake Stone was a part of a conspiracy to get rid of Adam Parker. We now know we are investigating a murder.” I said, imagining seeing about a dozen puzzle pieces sliding together in my mind. I wasn’t ready to verbalize the core of my thinking. Adam Parker had gotten too close to the truth. He had gained enough evidence to hurt someone, probably financially, and that someone had figured out they were at risk. I asked myself, ‘who had the most to lose?’ I could think of nobody except the three R A W’s.
Richard L. Fricks 