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 31
I didn’t normally attend Wednesday night church services. Since I moved back to Boaz in 2014, I had come once per year to hear several local pastors give their best thanksgiving sermon, although I’m sure much abbreviated, and to eat a sumptuous meal one day before America’s second biggest holiday. No doubt, the meal was my main motivator.
Tonight, I was sitting in a back corner of the giant auditorium hearing a series of prayers, everything from pleas for God to heal the sick and the dying, confessions about unholy thoughts, and requests that King Jesus provide traveling mercies to a group of seniors, both high schoolers and the elderly type, who were now riding and driving to the Mescalero Apache Tribe in Albuquerque, New Mexico for a week of Vacation Bible School and hammer-swinging on two new Sunday School rooms. Pastor Caleb was kind, respectful, and especially patient as some wanted to stray into touchy subjects, including politics. I liked how he could manipulate his sheep not letting them feel in the least they were doing anything but exercising their own free will.
I couldn’t help but think that Pastor Caleb also was subject to subtle manipulation. Yesterday, Camilla had passed on some scuttlebutt from Serenity Salon that tonight was going to be a special service recognizing the eighteen local teachers who had recently completed the State’s mandated gun training. What had perked my attention was Jake Stone was going to present the awards, a certificate from the church that did double duty because over half of the trained teachers were members of First Baptist Church of Christ and had volunteered to be the newly established security force while other members were praising Jesus for his promise to someday carry them to a paradise in the sky.
Camilla’s news, especially that related to Jake Stone, had triggered an idea that was now a carefully designed plan. At least I hoped so. It was now 6:45 and Blair and Joe were no doubt in place. I had already received two texts confirming Jake had driven his black Tahoe to church and that his Boaz police cruiser was at his house on Tami Street. Joe had spent the last half-hour hiking the wooded trail from the Sand Mountain Saddle Club to the rear of Jake’s house, and Blair was approaching the rear of the church’s north parking lot as she completed a long jog from her house on Marjorie Street just beyond the high school.
Pastor Caleb gave a short sermon on the importance of complete devotion to Christ, including His command that we defend ourselves against the wiles of the Devil. Caleb’s Bible text was 1st Peter 5:8–9: “Be sober-minded; be watchful. Your adversary the devil prowls around like a roaring lion, seeking someone to devour. Resist him, firm in your faith, knowing that the same kinds of suffering are being experienced by your brotherhood throughout the world.” I thought the pastor’s emphasis on Christ’s command, through Peter, to resist the devil, stretched the original intent, but I recognized Caleb had a job and tonight it was to put a pretty and tidy bow on Alex Williams recent legislation. I almost let my thoughts wander onto a slippery slope that no doubt would have distracted me from watching Jake Stone, that slope being one where one’s mind begins questioning his faith, the beliefs he has had since he was a child.
At 7:15, after Pastor Caleb had fully convinced every unquestioning mind of the validity and even the honor of schools and churches to defend themselves against the growing crowd of devils, and after Jake had handed out bright blue 8 x 10 certificates, I received two texts, almost simultaneously. Both said in different words but agreed in meaning. The Open Curtain devices had now found new homes, both would be traveling underneath the passenger compartment of Jake Stone’s two vehicles. Now, we could track his travels and his private conversations, at least those as he drove.
After receiving the texts, I was ready to go. But, I didn’t want to be conspicuous and leave the service before it ended. I was glad I stayed. After Jake sat down, Pastor Caleb turned the service over to Roger Williams. I guess some way I had missed the fact that he was chairman of deacons here at First Baptist Church of Christ. He outlined the upcoming schedule for what he labeled as ‘Active Shooter’ training. Apparently, Roger was taking a cue from his congressman son’s arsenal and encouraging his church to be prepared in the event some disgruntled soul wandered in and opened fire. Half the sessions were scheduled for this coming Saturday. The other half for the following Wednesday afternoon.
Just as Roger walked away from the pulpit and Pastor Caleb stood up from his seat on the front row right in the center section of the auditorium, Roger raised his hand and said, “Oh, I forgot something.” He then returned to the podium, to, I’m sure, utilize the microphone and sound system. “I have some special news and I want to give it to you early. It is scheduled to be announced tonight from all the major statewide TV stations, but I wanted each of you to hear it firsthand. Glock, Inc., the excellent gun manufacturer from Austria, that also has a large plant in Smyrna, Georgia, is announcing they are coming to Boaz. They will break ground in less than two weeks right beside my company, Rand Corporation, for a multi-million-dollar gun manufacturing facility. They will employ over three hundred employees and pay excellent wages. I think this is great news and, I’ll brag just a little. It never would have taken place if it weren’t for my two sons, Alex and Russell. Please give them a big thank you the next time you see them.”
With that the service ended. I was shocked and surprised, and I wasn’t. I knew that this was in the works. I just didn’t expect it to happen so soon. As I drove home all I could think about was Roger’s reference to Glock as “the excellent gun manufacturer.” No doubt he meant that Glock made a high-quality gun, but did he also mean they were smart to not only purchase his real estate in the Boaz Industrial Park, but to be paying a large kickback to who he believed would be the next governor of Alabama?
Sunday morning came too quickly. It seemed I had just been in church. I had chosen to go last Wednesday night since I had an ulterior motive. Today, it was Camilla’s insistence I go. Normally, I beg off when it comes to musicals. I’ve always felt many if not most singers are doing it to show off their unique abilities. Camilla convinced me this wasn’t the case today since it was a children’s musical celebrating Independence Day which was coming up this next Wednesday, and she had been thinking for weeks about getting involved with Steven Knott’s music ministry. Getting dressed after a bowl of oatmeal I learned she had sung in the children’s choir when she was growing up. This was something I didn’t know about her.
After sitting in our spot on the far side of the balcony away from the access staircase, Pastor Caleb welcomed everyone, especially visitors, and turned the service over to the music minister Steven Knott. He quickly thanked all the parents for allowing him the honor of teaching their children a little about music. The entire choir, all fifty-eight of them from my count (something I’d learned to do when I was bored) sang “Amazing Grace” and “America.” Steven insisted the audience stand as he directed the latter song. I mouthed the first lines, which was all I knew of the popular song that I had heard all my life. “My country, ’tis of thee, Sweet land of liberty, Of thee I sing.”
When the song ended, Steven directed everyone to sit down while Pastor Caleb lead a short prayer and eight men passed the offering plates. Steven returned to the podium and said, “listen carefully to these next two songs. My Christian friends, as we celebrate our Nation’s birthday and the freedoms that gives each of us, we have so much greater a victory. Our hearts are free, and we have nothing to fear. We as believers are guaranteed no chains will keep us from our homes already prepared for us in Heaven. Again, listen as Ella and Emma sing.”
I was nearly finished counting the number of folks sitting in the far section on the auditorium’s ground floor when I heard their names. It seemed I had heard them at least twice recently. Once, from Natalie, when she told me about her and Paige’s babysitting for Alex and Erica Williams. The second time was Saturday a week ago at breakfast with Garrett and Gina. She had shared how Roger Williams, at First Baptist Church of Albertville, had mentioned his three grandchildren, Emma, Ella, and Reece, when he was thanking the creationist Ken Ham for his faithfulness in teaching children the truth.
No doubt the twin girls were talented. They sang two songs as a duet. The first was “O Freedom” by Chris Rice. One thing I did appreciate was the giant screen, something it seemed all progressive churches were now utilizing so song leaders and pastors could assure their audiences an ability to follow along. I read every word to “O Freedom” as Emma and Ella sang:
Oh, freedom, oh, freedom,
Oh freedom over me
And before I’d be a slave
I’d be buried in my grave
And go home to my Lord and be free
No more weepin’
No more weepin’
No more weepin’ over me
And before I’d be a slave
I’d be buried in my grave
And go home to my Lord and be free
There’ll be singing
There’ll be singing
There’ll be singing over me
And before I’d be a slave
I’d be buried in my grave
And go home to my Lord and be free
Oh, freedom, oh, freedom,
Oh freedom over me
And before I’d be a slave
I’d be buried in my grave
And go home to my Lord and be free
And go home to my Lord and be free
And go home to my Lord and be free.
I was impressed with the two cute-as-a-bug blond-headed girls. I could see a lot of their mother, Erica, in both. I projected they would grow up to be stunningly beautiful if their genes even halfway tracked those of their mother. Between their songs the adorable girls shared how blessed they were to have so many physical and spiritual possessions. I will remember for a long time what little Ella said before they launched into their second song. “Thanks Papa Roger for being a trail blazer like Jesus and enabling my daddy to spread truth all over Alabama.”
Their second song, like the first, was all about being free from worldly chains: “No Chains on Me,” by Chris Tomlin. Again, I appreciated reading the words on the big screen as the two precious little girls with queen-size voices nearly made the church walls come tumbling down.
This is the dream
A dream for the world to see You
A dream for the world to know You
to love Your name
Lift up a shout
lift up a cry to shake the ground
Shout and the walls are coming down
Yeah, we’re running after You
Like a rolling stone, like a runaway train
No turning back, no more yesterdays
My heart is free, no chains on me
God, You raise me up, up from the grave
The cross before, I’m on my way
My heart is free, no chains on me
Now is the time
Now is the time for freedom
Abandoned by cold religion
My heart on fire
We hear the sound
The sound of revival coming
The sound of Your people rising
Yeah, we’re running after You
Like a rolling stone, like a runaway train
No turning back, no more yesterdays
My heart is free, no chains on me
God, You raise me up, up from the grave
The cross before, I’m on my way
My heart is free, no chains on me
The walls are coming down.
Like a rolling stone, like a runaway train
No turning back, no more yesterdays
My heart is free, no chains on me
God, You raise me up, up from the grave
The cross before, I’m on my way
My heart is free, no chains on me
After an enormous clapping cheer from the audience, the full children’s choir sang a few more songs. Pastor Caleb then preached a short sermon before he invited lost and wandering souls to come to the altar and receive real freedom. I thought it was somewhat of an odd choice of sermons. Pastor spoke about the freedom we as Christians have from being complete slaves to Jesus Christ. Odd indeed.
After the service, during mine and Camilla’s drive home, she wouldn’t stop talking about Emma and Ella and how they had convinced her to talk with Steven Knott and see if he would let her volunteer to assist with the children’s choir. Right as we turned off Cox Gap Road onto our long driveway Camilla said, “Emma and Ella are, no doubt, two of the luckiest girls in town.” I asked her didn’t she mean, “two of the most blessed girls in town,” and she agreed. While parking and getting out of the truck I couldn’t resist saying, “sometimes ignorance is bliss. I suspect little Emma and Ella believe their parents are perfect, perfectly in love, and grandpa Roger walks on water.” Camilla just frowned and walked to the den to a waiting Natalie.
A little before 2:00, I was dozing in the hammock on the back porch after eating a burger and fries our new live-in guest had waiting on us when we returned from church. Camilla stuck her head out the door and said my cell phone was vibrating. I had left it on the table beside my lounging chair.
I walked in and noticed I had received a call from a number I didn’t recognize. It wasn’t anyone in my Contacts. I turned to go back to the hammock when it rang again.
“Hello.”
“Is this Connor Ford?” The man sounded like he was in a public place. I could hear someone in the background say, ‘Flight 203 to Los Angeles will begin boarding in five minutes.’”
“It is. Who’s calling?”
“Mr. Ford, this is Porter Gant with Goldstein & Associates in Atlanta. Do you have a few minutes to talk?”
“I suppose. What does this concern?” I asked as I made my way back outside. It was simply too nice to stay indoors if I didn’t have to.
“Mr. Steven Knott, my client, gave me your name. He said he was now working with you to help determine who killed a Mr. Adam Parker.” Mr. Gant said.
“I know Steven and we have talked a little.” I really didn’t feel comfortable admitting much of anything. For years I had known of Goldstein & Associates but couldn’t yet see the need to divulge anything related to my client’s case.
“Mr. Ford.”
“Call me Connor.” I said.
“Okay, Connor. Steven has authorized me to share with you anything and everything about my investigation.”
“Steven did tell me that he and Peyton Todd hired you to, to investigate Roger Williams.” I said.
“That’s right. Not only him but also his son Alex. You know he is a candidate for Alabama governor?”
“Yes, I know. I think I know but do you mind telling me what your investigation has uncovered?” I asked.
“We’re virtually certain Glock, the big gun manufacturer, is paying Alex or Alex and his brother and father a big kickback for Alex’s role in convincing the State to purchase firearms for its arm-the-teachers program.”
“I’ve heard some rumblings about that. What are you planning on doing with this information?” I asked.
“Good question. We were getting close to leaking the story but there’s been a little complication. Steven has asked us to hold off on the leak until we fully explore Roger’s little speed bump.”
“I’m not following you. What complication?” I asked.
“I’m sure you’re aware of a local murder, the murder of a man known around your parts as Beanpole.”
“Very aware.”
“We don’t know for sure but it’s looking like Roger Williams had something to do with that. Here’s that little speed bump he’s dealing with. Don’t you find it funny when rich men fuck up?”
“Again, I’m not sure what you mean.”
“These guys typically think they are as smart as God, but often they screw up as much as an ignorant dumb ass like Mr. Beanpole.” Mr. Gant seemed intent on hiding the ball from me.
“Are you going to tell me how Roger Williams screwed up?”
“Seems like he hired Beanpole to abduct Natalie Goble. Steven told me all about her and how you rescued her from Roger Williams lake house, and how you are trying your best to protect Ms. Goble. Anyway, Williams entrusted Beanpole to recruit another guy to help with Natalie’s kidnapping. Roger believed in Beanpole. I think he had worked for Roger at his horse farm for a decade or more. Here’s the rich guy’s mistake, or so it seems. Beanpole chose a guy that wasn’t as loyal as himself. From what we’ve learned the other guy is trying to extort money from Roger. But, he is such a man of principle, funny isn’t it?, that he has refused to budge. The guy is madder than hell and we’re hearing some rumblings he’s the type that could wreck some havoc on Mr. Roger.”
“This guy, the guy Beanpole hired. What’s his name?” I asked.
“Goble, no that’s Natalie’s name. Let me look.” I could just about see Mr. Gant flipping open a little black notebook to review some notes. “Here it is. I knew the last name started with a G. Lots of those, Goble, Gant, that’s me, now Gore, that’s it. Tommy Lee Gore, that’s the guy’s name.”
I nearly fell off the hammock. There was no way this wasn’t my arch enemy. It must be the same Tommy Lee Gore who was threatening to either kill me or make me wish I were dead. I finally was able to articulate a question. “What do you know about Mr. Gore?”
“Not much yet. We know he’s an ex-con, just out of prison for a few months. He’s been hanging out with a bunch of low-lives in a place called Sand Valley. You probably know where that is.”
“Yea. I’m afraid I do.” I said.
“It’s going to be interesting how this plays out. My associates are betting rich man, Roger Williams, is out of his league.” Gant said.
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“He’s used to bullying and buying his way out of trouble. But, dealing with folks who have a structured or even a semi-structured life, those who are trying to keep up appearances in our civilized society, these people have something to lose. These types are easy to manipulate. From what we already know, Tommy Lee Gore, has the heart of a true criminal. He doesn’t give a shit. He has nothing to lose. He’ll play hardball with rich boy Williams. Roger will either pay up or suffer the consequences. If he chose the latter, I suspect there will be some bloodshed.”
“Would you mind keeping me in the loop? What you’re doing is very relevant to my investigation into the death of Adam Parker. I also have a personal issue with Mr. Gore. Can I count on you to keep me posted?” I asked.
“Absolutely. It’s now part of my duty to my client. Steven has already made this demand. Listen, I’ve got to run. Delta is making the last call for my flight to Los Angeles. Thanks for your time. Talk later.” Porter ended our call before I could respond.
The Pencil Driven Life 