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 59
I didn’t have time to mope about. Connie had sent me a text as I was coming out the front door of Martin Mansion. She was now at home. She said that Rebecca had wanted some time alone. I shoved my loot onto the top shelf of the kitchen pantry beside Angela’s three high school journals and showered.
I met two Boaz, and one Marshall County patrol cars as I topped the hill beyond Possum Holler on my way to Highway 431. Exceeding the speed limit and with no sirens blasting, from my experience, usually meant they were headed to make an arrest or to conduct a search.
Connie was extraordinarily frisky. She no doubt was a fast learner. She met me at her front door in a see-through pink negligee that eleven times out of ten would normally have caught my complete attention. Today, I was the one who manipulated the quickie. As we lay back, exhausted for two sixty-plus geriatric-bound seniors, Connie became verbally inquisitive. She had already learned a few of my moods. “Fred, don’t you think we’re at the point in our relationship we should be completely honest with each other? I know something major is going on and has you fully distracted.”
It was an opportunity I wasn’t expecting. Good thing I was donning my attorney hat. As always. I insisted we leave our love nest, dress, and sit at the dining room table. I needed to look directly at the lovely Connie. Me, the expert on body language and voice tone. I had to know, or at least make an educated guess, whether what I hoped to draw out of my girl was the truth.
Connie made us a pot of coffee while I sat silently, waiting and thinking in the dining room. I knew if I confessed something private, even incriminating, she would have more motivation to be open and vulnerable. That’s what I needed. After burning my tongue on too hot coffee, I said, “I’ve got myself in a mess pursuing my little hobby.” As expected, Connie asked for more information.
I set the stage admitting to cracking Rebecca, Angela’s, and the church’s Moslers. I, for the time being, withheld having discovered Connie’s safe, hoping she would admit what she was hiding. I almost didn’t tell her about my second trip to Debbie Street and the second Smith & Wesson pistol in my growing collection. I didn’t get within a mile of the Martin Mansion safe.
Bingo, Connie possessed an honest set of genes mixed among those that had mutated at an early age. “Fred, I need to be more open with you too. I truly believe that a faithful and loyal relationship cannot long sustain itself without truth and openness. I care for you and want us to make it. I’m asking for us, now, to take the next step forward. Vulnerability allowed, even required, but no judging. Okay?”
I doubt if I would have agreed if Mother hadn’t gotten my attention. I had no doubt how I felt about Connie Stewart. I loved the woman and couldn’t see us being apart. But, it was like another little demon had raised its head and was driving me to discover the full truth. Had my mother killed Johnny Stewart, or someway been a contributing factor in his death going on fifty years ago? “No judging. Vulnerable. Agreed.”
It took Connie a while to reach the top of the mountain. I kept feeding her morsels to energize her journey. After I confessed to having stolen the coins and jewelry from Elton and Rebecca’s safe, Connie said, “kind of serves her right. She stole them from Uncle James.”
I blurted out, “I thought Elton and Doug were the key suspects?” After I shared a little about how I had reached that conclusion, Connie seemed to relax.
“Fred, I have been a fool many times in my life but the worst thing, other than overstaying my welcome at First Baptist Church and stealing the coins and jewelry to start with, was aiding and abetting Rebecca and Angela in their lifelong quest to con Elton and Doug.”
“What do you mean?” It was a naturally appropriate question.
“Oh, I forgot, and their real mission to square the corners with your sister.” Connie added after my interruption.
“Again, what do you mean?”
“Before my handsome and athletic cousin discovered your little sister, Rebecca and Angela had the hots for him. If anyone that knew them had to guess, they would say that Angela was a few yards ahead of Rebecca in her desire for Romeo. But, that wouldn’t be true. It was Rebecca. Elton and Doug liked to play games with the younger girls. They introduced Rebecca and Angela, girls ten years their junior, to Ludes, you know, Quaaludes. They were popular at the time and Doug being a pharmacist had easy access. The two idiots thought they were gods, manipulating the minds and bodies of their underlings.”
“Did the two perverts take advantage of Rebecca and Angela?” I had to know.
“That would almost make the story more acceptable. They preferred the boys. They preferred my cousin. But, we’re getting ahead of ourselves.” Connie was setting the pace. I kind of liked that.
“How did Elton and Doug pull this off? It seems to me they had to have a near-perfect opportunity. They couldn’t just show up at Rebecca’s or Angela’s houses and say, ‘let’s party.’”
“You’re right. It was after Wednesday night Bible study, at the Lighthouse. Pastor Randy had fell for Elton and Doug’s ‘love my Jesus’ line and trusted them fully. After he presented the lesson he would skip out and leave the shop to the two perverts. Seems like Rebecca and Angela fell under their spell.”
“I suspect you are going to tell me they invited a few others as time went on? Right?”
“They did. It was three football stars: my dear cousin Johnny, Allan Floyd, and Tommy Jones. The party became Rebecca and Angela’s heaven on earth. You can probably paint your own picture.” Connie said, smiling with that curled up and sexy lip. I thought she might pull me back under the sheets.
“Let me guess. Then all hell broke loose.” I was confident in my prediction skills.
“Yep, and don’t ask me how it happened. Your little sister stayed past her bedtime one Wednesday night. I suspect she had caught the eye of either Elton or Doug, maybe both. They wanted to see her perform or be performed on. You get it. Oh, Johnny boy fell for sweet Deidre and the hate seeds sprouted.”
“So, what triggered a lifelong plan to square the corners as you say, was nothing but good old jealousy?”
“It’s one of the most powerful emotions yet discovered.”
“A while ago you mentioned Rebecca’s and Angela’s goal of conning Elton and Doug.”
“If the introduction of Deidre to the party wasn’t enough to sprout revenge, cancellation of their tickets was a guarantee.” Connie said, still blowing coolness on her hot coffee.
“You’ve confused me. Tickets?” I wanted it framed in simple terms.
“Rebecca and Angela were no longer invited. They weren’t allowed to stay for the party. This was the point my two friends, God help me, drove a stake in the front lawns of both the older perverts, and committed they would die before they, here we go again, squared the corners. Of course, as always, things have evolved over fifty years.”
“Can I guess? The two marriages were both part of the con?”
“Oh, hell yes. Elton and Doug had no choice.”
“Explain my dear, I’m lost.”
“I may have misled you just a little. Elton and Doug were bisexual it seems. When the stakes were driven, Rebecca and Angela started their snooping and spying. It wasn’t long until they witnessed Elton and Doug kidnap a young Hispanic girl after a hometown football game. I can’t think of her name. Esmeralda, I think. No, that’s another story.”
“So, many years after that, the two forced Elton and Doug to marry them. Correct?”
“Yes. Don’t ask me why they waited so long.” Connie said, refilling our coffee cups.
I finally confessed to discovering the three Smith & Wessons and divulged my desire to determine if either of them was a murder weapon. We listed the five unsolved murder cases that hovered above Boaz like an eternal fog: Johnny Stewart, Allan Floyd, Tommy Jones, Ricky Miller, and Randy Miller. The latter murder coming a good fifteen years after the cluster of the first four.
I interrupted Connie when she repeated something Rebecca had said this morning. “That sounds like Rebecca blamed Angela for taking Johnny away.”
“I’ve never seen Rebecca so pissed. What seemed so strange, it was only a few hours after Angela’s body had been discovered.”
Even though I knew quite a bit about Carson Eubanks and the intended flow of Miss Mossie’s money after her death, I let Connie tell me all she knew. My mind wandered back to the times Noah and I had spent with Ricky Miller. I loved the man because he was my hero, unafraid of facing the cold, harsh reality that Christianity was a myth. When Connie said, “Their trip to Cincinnati changed everything.”
“Sorry, I missed that. Who’s trip?”
“Fred, are you getting tired? You want to take a break?” Connie’s lip curled. I was still exhausted from our last workout.
“No, I’m fine.”
Connie then shared how the snooping and spying Rebecca and Angela had learned the truth about Deidre and her two babies. Connie wasn’t sure when they learned how wealthy Miss Mossie really was. Someway, Connie knew the exact language from Miss Mossie’s trust. I’ve been shocked before, many times, but what Connie said next sent lightning up my spine. “Fred, here’s what I think is going on, but I don’t have any proof. I believe Tyler and Deidre are in danger. As we just discussed, Miss Mossie’s trust leaves everything to Carson. Now, he’s dead. That leaves Tyler. He seems fine, but if you consider what would happen if he weren’t alive it could bode bad for Deidre if there is a snake in the oil.”
“The lightning had turned south and was now traveling down my spine. But, I played it cool. “I’m not sure what you mean, even though the canvas before me was all blue clouds and sunshine.
“What if Rebecca and Caleb or just Caleb for that matter, plotted to get their hands on the money. Again, if Tyler is dead, Miss Mossie left all her millions to Caleb and Deidre.”
“There’s another possibility. What if Caleb and Deidre knew how Miss Mossie’s trust worked?”
“You could be right but my best guess ties Rebecca and Caleb. Gosh, you are the attorney. What if I told you Pastor Caleb has a gambling problem? Would that change your guess, especially now that you know the hatred Rebecca, and Angela for that matter, had for your sister?”
“That does seem to paint it differently.” Right as the words left my lips my iPhone vibrated. I had sat it on the table, face down. I turned it over and looked. It was Deidre. “We’re home. Dad is so tired. I’m a little worried about him.”
I showed Connie the text and dismissed myself. “I’ll call you later. I wish I could stay but feel I need to warn my sister. I also need to see Dad.”
“While you’re doing that, I’m going to try to find Tyler. Something has me worried.” Connie said, giving me a quick hug and telling me she loved me before I walked out her front door.
The Pencil Driven Life 