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 33
I nearly ran over the courier as I walked inside Alfa’s office. Next thing I knew I would be looking at my iPhone while driving down the highway. I couldn’t become that stupid.
Nell and the other four Alfa agents were all in the small conference room when I got my bearings. Two were seated and two were standing up, along with Nell. “Fred, come in here please.” There wasn’t anyone politer than the sweet, but old, Nell.
“We’ve drawn straws and you’ve won.” Victor, the youngest and brightest agent of the fold, said, looking down at a death benefits check laying alone in the middle of the table. I knew it was for a death claim because of the check’s color. All benefits from life insurance claims were paid out with a putrid green check. I hated them because they reminded me of, well, death and dying, and the sordid conditions that accompany every death, like they represented the stinking bile that oozed from everybody at some point.
“Fred, all silliness aside,” Nell said looking seriously at Victor, “I think you are the right person to deliver this check to Pastor Patterson at First Baptist Church of Christ.” I wasn’t completely surprised that the church was the beneficiary of Doug Barber’s policy. One of Elton’s policies had named the same beneficiary. I was at a sales conference when his check arrived. I think Nell delivered it.
“Okay, that’s not a problem. But, I am curious why none of you heathens want to meet with the pastor?” I knew none of them attended First Baptist, but I was pretty sure they all had a church home.
James lifted the green check from the middle of the conference room table and revealed a blue form. “It seemed irreverent to have to ask these questions.” I had heard of the ‘CYA’ form but had never had to use it. Having the recipient of a death check acknowledge that he knew nothing about the perpetrator of a crime likely made for an uncomfortable conversation.
“I’m truly surprised Alfa has issued this check.” Nell said, reaching over and acting as though she was pondering her next statement. “A million dollars. I might understand if Alfa paid out twenty thousand under the present circumstances. If a problem arises, its always harder to herd the camel back into the barn.” She seemed to be saying something in coded language.
“The Church owned the policy. Alfa had a duty to fulfill their promise under the contract. As far as I know there is absolutely nothing to tie the church to Doug’s death. What’s the issue here?” I asked.
“Nothing for sure, but Alfa’s investigators are now suspicious of Elton Rawlins’ death. Seems they have discovered the driver of the car, the car that hit Elton and Rebecca, and ultimately caused Elton’s death. He’s admitted being paid to cause the wreck.” Nell said.
“I’d like to know how they learned that. Sounds like some mighty good investigative work.” I said.
“We’re not sure, but the Alfa rumor is that the team received an anonymous tip, something about the driver, a beach bum by trade, coming into some money and not wanting to share. The tip wasn’t exactly anonymous. It was from the man’s ex-wife.”
“I hate to interrupt our party but I’m going to have to run if I go by and see Pastor Caleb and make my four-thirty appointment at Sand Mountain Tire. To summarize, all I must do is ask the ‘CYA’ questions and get the pastor’s signature. Right?”
“You got it. And, be sure and express our sincere condolences for the tragic death of Doug Barber.” Nell, ever so polite and respectful.
During my drive to First Baptist I couldn’t help but think about the manila envelope resting inside the gun case in Albertville. I was aggravated at myself not to have taken at least fifteen or twenty seconds to peek at the confidentiality agreement inside the faded envelope before I had stuck it inside my second duffel bag. It would no doubt have given me a more complete context for what I was about to do. At least, this is what I pondered.
Pastor Caleb was as cordial and polite as Nell. We met in his office on the third floor of the Education Building and he answered the ten, ‘CYA’ questions without a single hesitation. His secretary came in and witnessed his signature on the blue form. After I gave him Alfa’s putrid green, million-dollar check, I asked him if we could have a confidential conversation. I liked his response, “Fred, I’m always available to listen and counsel. You should know about the pastor and penitent privilege.”
“I do, but this is a little different.” I had been contemplating this conversation for several weeks. Now that I had the perfect opportunity to ask my question, I felt I was an idiot and would do nothing but embarrass myself and the gentle pastor.
“Fred, rest at ease, share what’s on your heart.”
“I know that you are my nephew.” If I detected anything at all in Pastor Caleb’s face it was not more than a slight and instant raising of his left eyebrow. “Mother’s death has been tough on me in more ways than one. Dad shared this well-hidden secret with me a couple of weeks ago.”
“I’m a little surprised this secret hasn’t been discovered before now. I must give it to your mom and dad. They did a fantastic job of concealing my identity.”
“If you don’t mind me asking, when did you learn the truth?” I wanted to better flesh out my question but for some reason I didn’t.
“Last year, when I was considering moving here from Prattville to become pastor, my dear mother confessed. She told me she always knew there would come a time she would be forced to tell me the truth. She said she simply couldn’t let me accept such a high profile and important job as pastor of the largest church in my own hometown without knowing the truth.”
“Pastor, do you mind sharing with me exactly what she told you. I really want and need to know the facts are the same as those shared with me by Dad. In a way, I’m a lot like you. The truth has been kept from me for all these years.” I said.
“Deidre, your dear sister, and the late Johnny Stewart, were, are, my biological parents. Of course, Johnny died shortly after I was conceived. A few months later, Deidre was whisked away to Cincinnati to conceal her pregnancy. Your dear mother, I have to say, a very cunning woman, choreographed the private adoption with the willing participation of my mother, Helen Patterson. I’m sorry to say my dad, Helen’s husband, went along with it but never seemed to accept me as his own.”
“I guess I know the rest of the story. You grew up in Boaz, graduated from Boaz High School, and then went on to college and seminary. Right?” I asked.
“Yes, all that is true. But, I might as well give you the full picture. Fred don’t blame me, you asked.” The pastor’s words felt ominous, like he was about to add color to the TV screen that had always been black and white.
“Why do I feel a bomb is about to go off?” I said.
“Because it is. Keep in mind we are speaking confidentially. I suspect you take that very serious, you having spent most of your adult life in and around a courtroom.”
“The attorney/client privilege is sacrosanct. Just like your profession’s privilege.”
Pastor Caleb got up from behind his desk and walked over to a window that looked out onto the church’s west side parking lot. “There’s something else common between pastors and lawyers. They both are curious. After Mother confessed, I did a little snooping around. My inquiries led me to Cincinnati, Ohio.” He turned back to face me and returned to his desk chair across from where I was seated. “Do you want the long or the short version?” Pastor asked.
“Can I have both? Right now, I’m tight for time but later, at your convenience, I would love to hear every detail.” I said.
“That’s fair. Okay, today, the short version. Carson Eubanks is also your nephew.” Pastor Caleb didn’t crack a grin or reveal any emotion. My mind went into lock down. I couldn’t digest what the pastor had just said.
“What, who?” As another five seconds inched by while I looked at the pastor, my mind delivered a small clue. Carson, that’s Tyler’s father, Noah had said so, they met, at Boeing.
“Tyler, Luke’s friend. Carson is Tyler’s father. He works in Huntsville. He’s your kinfolk also.”
“How? I’m drawing the biggest blank ever. Can you explain?” I asked.
“Carson and I are twins. We’re blood brothers. It was a surprise for all, especially your mother.”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Deidre had twins? Why had Dad not told me the complete truth? Then, it hit me. What if Dad himself didn’t know?”
The pastor poured me a glass of water from a small pitcher on the credenza behind his desk. “Fred, this story is a perfect example of life, how it can throw the best curve ball in existence. You mother had planned for months what was going to happen to her first grandchild. Her best friend, my mother, Helen, the two of them had created a team with a carefully crafted plan. But then, life pitched the curve ball. Remember back then there were few if any sonograms. Twins could slip up on a pregnant woman. That’s what happened. Your mother had to scramble to find Carson a home. He grew up just around the block from your grandparents in Seven Hills.”
“One final question and I have to go to my next appointment. Do you have any idea why Carson and Tyler are living in Boaz? As you say, Carson works at Boeing, all the way over in Huntsville.” I said.
“I don’t know for sure. But one thing I figure out is that he is searching. Maybe he has picked up a lead about his real parents. I don’t know if he even knows he was adopted. I really don’t know him. He and Tyler are, what should I say? Unbelievers, if what I hear is true.”
“Pastor, thanks so much for being so open. I do want to talk more later if you would be so generous, but now I have to run.”
I left the Education Building and drove to Sand Mountain Tire and Battery on Highway 431. I couldn’t tell you anything for certain, I said as I met with Cynthia Lang and discussed the new retirement plan she had chosen.
The Pencil Driven Life 