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 Boaz Safecracker, written in 2019, is my seventh novel. I'll post a chapter a day over the next few weeks.
Book Blurb
Fred Martin, a 1972 graduate of Boaz High School, returns to his hometown after practicing law and living in Huntsville for over thirty-five years with two goals in mind. First, to distance himself from the loss of Susan, his wife of thirty-seven years who died in 2013 of cancer. And second, to partner with his lifelong friend, Noah Waters, to crack the safes of Elton Rawlins and Doug Barber, two men who got under their skin as high school football players.
Little did Fred and Noah realize the secrets the two old Mosler safes protected. Who murdered three Boaz High School seniors in the fall of 1973? Is a near-half-century-old plan to destroy Fred’s sister and steal the inheritance from a set of 44-year-old illegitimate twins still alive and well? How far would Fred’s mother go to protect her family?
What starts out as an almost innocent prank turns life-threateningly serious the more Fred learns and the more safes he cracks. All the while, he falls in love with Connie Stewart, his one-date high school classmate who may conceal a secret or two herself.
Chapter 26
Alfa’s underwriting department was either taking on Red Bull intravenously or I was becoming a master at selecting near-perfect clients, those individuals who posed the least risk for the company. Rebecca’s policy arrived by courier late yesterday afternoon. I had called her a little before 5:00 p.m. and gave her the news. I had hoped to deliver the policy and have all day today to focus on my date tonight with the lovely Connie. Even before asking her if I could drop by, Rebecca announced she was getting ready for a dinner at Angela’s house. She asked if I could come this morning. She had even said, “that will give us more time to talk.”
When I arrived, Rebecca asked me to follow her to the library. From my earlier uninvited visit, I had seen the large dining room to the right of the front entrance. On my drive over, I figured that is where she would want to meet. It felt strange to return to the site of my first safe-cracking conquest, almost, I suppose, like returning to the battlefield where someway courage and bravery won out over fear and cowardice.
Rebecca motioned me to sit in a dark brown leather chair across from the giant oak desk that backed up towards a wall of bookshelves filled with a ton of books. “This was Elton’s favorite room in this grand old house. Every morning, early, he would come to this desk and either read or scribble. He always wanted to write a book but, as far as I know, never could pull it off. He had trouble keeping his butt in this chair long enough to write that much.”
I wanted to be considerate, so I said, “I want to say again how sorry I am for your loss. I suspect it is lonely in this wonderful home without Elton.”
“It is but what makes it even worse is not knowing if I’ll be able to stay here. Elton was a wealthy man but most of his assets were in land and buildings. Dalton is trying to sort it all out. There is a little money but there’s some rather obtuse trust language he is trying to interpret.”
I had almost forgotten that I was carrying a check for $560,000 from Alfa Insurance payable to Elton Rawlins. “Let me go ahead and give you this.” I opened my notebook and removed the check. When Rebecca took it from my outstretched hand she said, “I could still kill Elton. He was supposed to re-title the coins and jewelry to me. He kept promising but just never got around to it.”
“I wish he had. I apologize for Alfa having to make the check out to Elton. By law, they must pay the policyholder when there’s a claim. In this case, the estate of the policyholder.” I wish there was something I could have done to help you.”
“That’s sweet. There is something you can do. I would be most grateful if you would look at Elton’s will. You’re a lawyer and most likely will know what it means.”
“I am a lawyer, but I no longer practice law. I feel it’s probably best if you talk with Dalton and see what he says.” I wanted to help Rebecca, but I also didn’t want to deal with the appearance of any impropriety. Then, it dawned on me. Why would Rebecca have Elton’s will? Especially, if Dalton was handling his estate. He would have the original document. There shouldn’t be a copy in existence.
“You lawyers have this look. I can tell you are confused and asking yourself why I have Elton’s will.” Rebecca said.
“You definitely have a mind-reading skill.”
“Please don’t say anything about this but the will I have is a new one. For some reason, when Elton and I were in Gulf Shores he had this idea of simplifying all his finances. Other than the two trusts. He had me drive him to a lawyer in Orange Beach. Here, please look this over. I really need your opinion. I’m more than willing to pay you.”
“No need for that but just know I’m not acting here as your attorney. I’ll look at it simply as a friend. Agree?” I had to make sure Rebecca understood exactly what I was offering.
She left the room. “Give me a minute.” When she returned and handed me the document, titled, “Last Will and Testament of Elton Frank Rawlins,” I immediately became suspicious. At most, I was holding a two or three page will. This was unusual for someone like Elton who owned a lot of real estate, and stolen coins and jewelry. I was glad I was thinking and not speaking.
“Elton said this will leaves everything to me. He did it because he felt guilty about not having kept his word over the coins and jewelry, and a few other unfulfilled promises.”
I took a couple of minutes and read the document. It appeared to be authentic, from its face that is. It was properly signed, notarized, and even had the optional affidavit attached that waives the executor’s duty of producing the witnesses at the time the will is probated. Rebecca was correct. Elton, by this will, left everything he owned to Rebecca. “Just to be clear, you realize a will only dictates what happens to the decedent’s property, what he owns at death? It wouldn’t cover, for example, properties owned by an irrevocable trust, or life insurance proceeds that were payable to a beneficiary other than the estate.” I figured I lost Rebecca when I mentioned a trust.
“I know all that stuff. I also know both of Elton’s trusts were irrevocable. He placed quite a bit of his real estate in those trusts.”
“It’s none of my business, but may I ask who the beneficiaries of those trusts are?”
“That damn woman, Rita Battles, Elton’s first wife.”
“I hate to put it this way, but I thought she was dead.” I said.
“You’re thinking of Ellen Cranford. I don’t count her. That one didn’t last very long. Elton and Rita were married for nearly fifty years. He grew to hate the woman, but I suspect she knew where the bodies were buried.” I looked at Rebecca, shocked that she would say such a thing. “I was only kidding.”
“Something else that’s none of my business, but I’ll ask anyway. What assets did Elton own at his death? Outright?”
“This house for one thing. And some cash. Of course, the coins and jewelry.”
“Now, I have a question. Would I be better off forgetting this will and just being satisfied with the cash?” Rebecca asked confusing me even more.
“The only way for you to become the legal owner of Elton’s property, what he owned at his death, is to have this will, his final will and testament, probated. Please hear this carefully, Dalton, with the guidance of the probate court, will have to determine which of the two wills is valid. No one can die with two wills.”
“Here’s possibly a critical point. What if only I know about the cash?” Now, I wished I hadn’t agreed to this conversation.
“What exactly do you mean? The bank would know of the cash. The account or accounts would be titled to Elton.” I said, trying to avoid what I suspected was coming.
“The money isn’t in the bank. Elton made sure of that.” That was what I was expecting. Elton Rawlins, for sure, wasn’t the fine deacon everybody thought him to be. He was most likely doing deals and someway avoiding paying taxes.
“Rebecca, you should know it isn’t safe to keep a lot of cash lying around. It can grow wings and fly away if you know what I mean. It can also expose you to some unsavory people.”
“I appreciate your concern but it’s safe from both angles. Its locked away in a grand old safe and no one besides me and you know the cash even exists.” My mind raced back to that fateful night when I was here in this very room exploring that grand old safe. Could I have missed the cash? What a dumb question. There was no way.”
“Here’s a thought. It seems odd the burglars didn’t take the cash when they stole your, Elton’s, coins and jewelry?” I said, feeling I needed to get up and walk away, but we still hadn’t discussed Rebecca’s long-term health care policy. I had to get her signature on the Alfa receipt form.
“Good question, but the burglar, it seems there was only one according to Elton’s camera, didn’t know about it. It’s apparently better hid than this one.” I couldn’t believe Rebecca got out of her chair and walked over to the smaller bookshelf in the corner. She reached behind a set of Thomas Jefferson biographies and flipped a switch. Just like I had done. The shelves swiveled and the grand old Mosler stood exactly where it was a few weeks ago. “This is where the burglar found the coins and jewelry. Elton was too smart to put all his eggs in one basket. But, apparently, he was dumb enough to share the combination. The burglar had to have it to access the safe’s contents. I’m trusting he didn’t share with anyone about the hidden cash.”
My best efforts to redirect the conversation were successful. I advised Rebecca to discuss the Orange Beach will with Dalton. Neither of us was in much of a mood to discuss her new policy. She was satisfied that it was issued as requested. With the signed receipt in hand, along with a check covering the entire first year’s premium, I escaped the Hunt house, eager to talk with Noah about a newly discovered safe loaded with cash. No doubt, I was out of my mind.
The Pencil-Driven Life 