Month: November 2024

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 46

I don’t know what it was about this morning’s conversation with Victor that had created such a compelling desire to revisit Papa Martin’s journals.  Maybe, it was Victor quoting Nell’s odd statement, “the old maid that Fred is dating.”  My mind shoved forth a photograph of an old, hunched over woman, holding a leash leading around a little dog.  Was that what old maids looked like?  Connie was nothing like that.  I admitted I was forgetting her sweet Yorkie.  The late Mollie.  M.  Maybe it was another M, Mosler.  Maid, Mollie, Mosler.  Whatever, after another Stouffer for supper sitting in my recliner, Alfredo Chicken this time, I pulled out Papa Martin’s journals to see how I had missed the who and when of Connie’s safe.  Who had bought it and when?

I was thankful my wonderful grandfather had created one journal specifically for safes sold to those with an Alabama shipping address.  Even though Mosler had, by the end of the great depression, dealers, mostly hardware stores, selling their safes directly to local customers, the company was strict about managing their warranty obligations.  A dealer could lose his right to sell the grand old safes if they failed to capture and submit the name, address, and model number on what Papa always referred to as the ‘W’ card.  He said it could stand for won, like we (Mosler) won another sale, or war, if we had to send a locksmith to repair or replace the locking mechanism.

It was almost midnight when I stumbled upon the hidden clue.  Even before finishing my Stouffer’s I knew I wasn’t going to find that Mosler had ever sold one of their safes to Connie Stewart.  Over the years I had spent countless hours scouring the pages in all of Papa’s journals.  Her safe had to have been acquired second hand.  She had probably bought it at an estate sale, or even at Radford Hardware here in Boaz.  I knew they sometimes had taken an old Mosler on trade and then resold it.  But, that was rare. 

The clue was the name, Giles.  That got my attention because I had heard Connie mention her aunt Julia’s maiden name.  A James Giles had bought the Model T20 Mosler safe, serial number 429053, in 1973.  His mailing address was 5287 Cranford Road in Fort Payne.  Even if I hadn’t known anything about the Giles name I could have recognized Connie’s safe by the serial number.  I now was glad I had remembered (and later written down) the six-digit number Mosler had burned into the safe’s heavy front handle.

After walking to the refrigerator for a dish of ice cream topped with some strawberry pie filling, I returned to my recliner and pondered, like I often did with half-read documents.  What was the rest of the story?  How did 429053 wind up behind a hidden wall in Connie’s walk-in master-bedroom closet?

After finishing my ice-cream, I opened Google on my iPhone and typed in “James Giles and Fort Payne, Alabama.”  The only result that was remotely relevant was an old Times (Fort Payne’s hundred-plus year-old newspaper) article with a photo that revealed the winners of a recent spelling bee at Wills Valley Elementary School.  The article was dated March 18, 1939.  I could barely read the names of the kids, apparently the winners, from the third, fourth, and fifth grades.  I opened the end-table drawer next to my recliner and pulled out a magnifying glass.  It seemed James and Julia Giles were both good spellers.  James won fifth grade, Julia, third. 

I lay my head back and tried to imagine the story around 429053.  It would seem to me that James, assuming he was dead, would have left his safe to his wife.  But, I could see a scenario where he died a widower and left his property to his sister.  Maybe Julia was James’s only sibling.  I realized I really didn’t know much at all, other than Connie possessed a very large and heavy safe, and that, like most everyone with such a device, she stored her most valuable items believing they were, well, safe.

Now, the demon was awake.  I had tried ever since stumbling over Connie’s safe to suppress my desire to crack open her old Mosler.  Heck, she was my girlfriend.  Now, it was real, after Gulf Shores and yesterday morning’s quick tour of my first-floor room.  It was hard to admit I had been unsuccessful in tiptoeing around the little demon.  The mistake, the big one I had made, was pulling down Papa Martin’s journals to begin with.  If I had let dead dogs lie, I wouldn’t have awakened the little demon inside my head.  Now, there was no turning back.  I had to learn what was inside Connie’s heart.

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 45

Monday morning at Alfa was almost comical.  The other four agents (Steven Darden had transferred to the Cullman office two weeks ago) appeared to kowtow to Nell and her obsession over the Doug Barber life insurance policy I had turned in a little over a week ago.  Nell, I had recently learned, was a cousin to Nancy Frasier, the ninety-plus year-old librarian.  According to Victor, the youngest and brightest agent of the fold, a late Thursday afternoon call by Nell to Nancy had triggered a long-buried memory that seemed to motivate Nell’s current desire to vindicate both her and Alfa Insurance Company.  I was confused, so I asked Victor to ride with me to McDonald’s for a late morning latte.

“Thanks for the coffee and the invite.  I’ve been wanting to get to know you better.  All the other agents seem to be afraid of you.”  Victor said, removing the lid from his cup and adding three Sweet-n-Lows.

We were sitting in the booth closest to the bathrooms and there was no one within three tables.  I sat with my back to the bathroom wall looking out across the entire McDonald’s landscape.  A security habit I think Noah had instilled in me half a hundred years ago.  “Afraid?  Why in the heck would they be afraid of me?”

“Your intellect.  That’s the only thing I can imagine.  Frankly, you seem about normal.  For a thinking person.”

“Thanks.  If they asked me, you would be the one to fear from a smartness standpoint.  I envy your youth and all the brain cells you haven’t lost.”  I said.

“Aging is a bitch I hear but seems like you’re doing alright in the lady’s category.”  Victor’s statement caught me off guard.  I had never mentioned Connie to him or anyone else in the office.

“What exactly does that mean?”  I asked.

“Nell mentioned her, Connie Stewart, as almost an afterthought.  It was late last Thursday after she, Nell, talked with her cousin Nancy.  Nell said something like, ‘Bill and Julia Stewart, that’s the uncle and aunt of Connie Stewart, the old maid that Fred is dating.’”

“Help me here.  Why did Nell say something about Bill, he’s dead you know, and Julia, who’s recently suffered a very debilitating stroke?”  I asked, noticing Pastor Caleb and Robert Miller walk inside McDonald’s and toward the order counter.

“I know you are catching the tail end of things here.  Nell sat all agents, except you of course, down late last Friday afternoon and gave us the full scoop.”

“Over what?  I realize it had something to do with that old Doug Barber policy that his wife, widow, found and gave to me.”

“Yep, that got a rise out of the otherwise even-keeled Nell like I hadn’t seen during the ten months I’ve been an Alfa Agent.  She said she recalled the original application had been denied, the million-dollar policy hadn’t been issued.  She was shocked when you turned it in and she did some snooping around.”

“The policy was issued in 1974.  It seemed Nell wouldn’t make such a simple mistake.  Heck, she’s just like her cousin Nancy at the Boaz Library.  That woman has virtually a photographic mind, at least concerning the name of every book on the shelves, and the detailed contents of every book by a local author.”  I said, again seeing the pastor and youth director sit down on the far side of McDonald’s next to the children’s playground.

“For some reason Alfa’s Cullman office got involved.  It seems the policy that was initially declined was later issued through that office.  Nell felt she had been snubbed for some reason.”  Victor said.

“The policy did seem odd to me.  The policy owner was First Baptist Church of Christ and the insured was Doug Barber.  What was strange to me was that the beneficiary wasn’t the church.  I think the primary beneficiary was Doug’s first wife, then his estate if she predeceased him.”

“According to Nell, the reason the original application was denied was that Alfa’s underwriting department didn’t think the church had an insurable interest in Doug’s life.” 

“That was another thing I was going to mention.”  I knew this was a big thing for all life insurance companies.  The policy owner had to be at risk, suffer a loss, if the insured died.  Normally, life insurance policies are issued to husbands and wives to make up for the loss of income when a spouse died.  Just as often, a business will insure the life of its owner or other valuable employee.

“You’re probably wondering why Nell mentioned Bill Stewart.”  Victor, always bright, knew that subject hadn’t been properly addressed.  I could imagine him fitting in quite well with Ricky Miller’s club, the Brights.

“Again, that was something I was about to ask.”

“According to Nell, and confirmed as well by Nancy, Bill Stewart was chairman of the church’s finance committee at the time and was adamantly opposed to spending quiet a sum for a life insurance policy that wouldn’t ever benefit the church.  It seemed he and the pastor at the time, Walter Tillman, just about came to blows.  I guess you can figure out who won the fight.”

“From what I’ve heard, Mr. Tillman and four of his friends always got what they wanted.”  I said, recalling a lot of things I had heard over the years, admittedly, mostly rumors.

“Nell vows that she is going to visit him as soon as she can.  You know he’s in prison?  According to Nell, the old pastor will likely spend the rest of his life at Cumberland Island Federal Penitentiary in Georgia.  Man, that’s a story I’d like to read about.” 

“I think you might have your wires crossed.  Walter Tillman is dead.  It’s his son, Wade, who’s in prison.”  I corrected Victor in a rare mistake.

“I admit that whole story is confusing.  Kind of like what Nell is saying about the million-dollar policy.”

“What else did Nell say?”  I really wanted to know more about why the damn thing was considered at all.  Then, I recalled the two policies Elton and Doug had on their lives where First Baptist Church of Christ was the beneficiary.

“Obviously, you know about two other policies, the ones where the church received a chunk of money after both Elton Rawlins and Doug Barber died.  Nell believes all these policies are rooted in what happened back in 1973 when Bill Stewart’s son, Johnny, was murdered.  You should remember something about that.  Wasn’t that back in your day?”

Victor had a way of making me feel as old as I was.  “I’ve heard that he was killed after a Boaz-Albertville football game.  I wasn’t here during that time.  I was a student at Auburn University.”  I said.

“I’m getting a little worried about Nell.  She may be going a little senile, paranoid.  After talking with her cousin, the old librarian, Nell thinks the cross policies reveal that the church, and both Elton and Doug, knew too much on each other.  The policies were like, well, insurance against the other.  Nell said she suspected some backroom dealing was involved with Alfa issuing the bigger policy on Doug’s life.  Nell also said her cousin mentioned she had witnessed the signing of a confidentiality agreement between the church and Elton and Doug.”  Victor was a reservoir of information.

Before I could stop myself, I said, “I thought it was an agreement between the church and Elton, not Doug.”  I hoped Victor missed that red flag.  I could nearly hear him ask, “how do you know that?”  I had to be more careful.  What I saw and learned from my safecracking activities had to be kept locked away inside my mind’s safe.  I was talking to myself too much.

“I really need to be going.  I have an appointment at 11:30.”  Surprisingly, Victor said just what I needed him to say.  Little slip-ups were what got criminals caught.  I knew that from forty years of practicing law.

As Victor and I walked toward the McDonald’s exit, I caught the stares of Pastor Caleb and Robert Miller.  It was like I was receiving two different messages.  The pastor seemed upset, nothing pleasant in his face, a slight frown.  The youth pastor was smiling.  His head held higher.  As I drove back to the office, I kept thinking that Robert Miller might be another reservoir of information.  No doubt, he would know a lot about his late grandfather and great-uncle.