The Case of the Perfectionist Professor – Page 3

Novel Excerpts—The Case of the Perfectionist Professor, Chapter 37

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 37

I had spent all afternoon in the war room. Two days ago, Blair had received a call from Marissa who relayed something she had discovered in the Evernote database. At the time I didn’t know that she even had access, but Blair explained how she had shared the password with Marissa a few weeks ago. I had come down hard on Blair about making these type decisions without my input but had been too excited about Marissa’s discovery to stay mad at Blair.

After nearly three hours staring at four walls, drawing lines, and moving index cards around, I concluded Marissa was right. Roger Williams had a very big reason to spend nearly a million and a half dollars to get rid of Adam Parker. Adam Parker had written about it in one of his journals. It seemed Glock had multi-billion reasons to court Alex Williams. He appeared to be the key to securing nationwide gun sales if the U.S. Department of Justice approved the Glock 34. Seth Jeffers, as U.S. Attorney General was a former senator from Alabama and good friends with Alex and Roger Williams. From what Adam had written, he believed that it was simply a matter of time before President Kane issued an Executive Order requiring all teachers to be trained and armed. Alex had someway caught the attention and support of the President with his bold move in Alabama offering similar legislation. Adam was convinced that Alex was in for a windfall kickback from Glock if they were approved as the only weapon supplier for teachers across America.

A few minutes after five Blair knocked on my door and said she was leaving. I came out and followed her out to the rear parking lot apologizing for being so hard on her about giving the password to Marissa. I tried my best to assure her how much I appreciated her tireless efforts towards resolving the Adam Parker investigation. As she got in her car she smiled at me and said, “I now see that even a client herself might need investigating.” She drove away, and I pondered her statement as I walked back to the office.

Just as I reached for the door handle I heard a car horn. I turned and didn’t recognize the car pulling into the parking lot. When the car stopped ten feet from our back door stoop I recognized the driver as Erica Williams. What on earth was she doing here?

She rolled down her window. “Mr. Ford, can we talk?”

I agreed wholeheartedly and invited her in. We sat down in the conference room. It was the closest I had been to her since I met her the first time at the Snead College cafeteria after hearing her husband speak. Then, she looked ten years younger. Even though she was still a beautiful woman, her eyes revealed her heart. It was apparent her makeup was losing its battle with the crow’s feet inching from her eyes. If ever there was a competition for a look of general sadness in a woman’s face, Erica Williams took top place.

“Mr. Ford, I suspect you are surprised I am here. In a way, I am too.”

“Please call me Connor. I’m not surprised. I’m shocked.”

“Before I explain, I want you to know I am here to help you if I can. It’s been nearly two weeks since I had to say my goodbyes to my precious daughters. I’ve been and continue to be a wreck. But, one thing I know is that I’m leaving Alex Williams. I’ve had enough. I owe it to Emma and Ella, and to Reece.”

I really didn’t know what to say. One side of me wanted to ask her a million questions but I also could feel her pain and felt I needed to listen as much as possible. “Erica, please know I’ve never had anything hit me so hard as the death of your adorable daughters. I think it had something to do with hearing them sing at the Independence Day celebration at church back in July. I can’t imagine how difficult it has been. You are a strong woman to have survived the funeral. It was so emotionally traumatic. Please know Camilla and I have been devastated over your loss.”

“Thank you for that. Funny you mention the funeral. Looking back, I think that was when I subconsciously made the decision to leave Alex. I fully blame him for their deaths.” Erica said pulling a box of Kleenex from her purse.

“That’s a mighty big decision. I’m not being disrespectful of your decision but from an economic standpoint it would seem you are giving up quite a bit.” I said.

“Our marriage has been more a business arrangement for years. I know you know about Natalie Goble. She’s carrying Alex’s baby.”

“I know.”

“She’s not Alex’s first affair. There’s been several but as far as I know he’s only gotten two pregnant. Gabby Taylor from Guntersville was the other one. That’s when I had the balls, sorry for being so graphic, to stand up to Alex and his family and make my demands.” Erica said.

“Say whatever you want. Don’t worry about being polite.” I wanted to say, ‘tell me more.’

“When he and his father were trying to silence Gabby and her family I already knew he was a womanizer. I married the man knowing that. I told him that if he didn’t set me up a trust fund that I would leave him right then and there. I also told him that every time he strayed I wanted another million dollars. He agreed. Maybe that’s another reason I am determined to leave. I can afford it.”

“Do you mind if I ask you a question?” I asked.

“Not at all. Ask whatever you want. I may surprise you with what I know.”

“What can you tell me about Alex and Adam Parker’s relationship?” I asked.

“I don’t think they had a lot of direct dealings with each other, but I know Alex kept up with the public squabbling that was going on. He would talk a lot with Jake Stone. It was like Jake was his go-to guy. They’ve been friends since high school. Alex told me one time, sometime last fall, that Adam was going to screw up everything if somebody didn’t shut him up.”

“That’s exactly what he said?” I asked.

“Pretty much. I never told Alex about the letter I received from Adam.”

“A letter? What was it about?” I asked.

“He was very polite. He said he knew Hannah Knott and that she persuaded him to contact me. In his letter, he pleaded with me to try my best to stop Alex from pursuing the teacher gun thing, arming teachers. Adam said that it was a very ignorant idea and if implemented, it would be only a matter of time until something horrible happened. He likened guns in schools to a big pig with an eight-foot fluorescent bulb strapped cross-ways across its back inside a Walmart. It was just a matter of time until something breaks.”

“Pretty good analogy.” I said.

“Of course, all my efforts fell on deaf ears. Alex wouldn’t listen. He was hellbent and logic didn’t matter. He’s that way with a lot of stuff, including his idiotic idea to teach Creationism in public school science classes.”

“I take it you’re not a fan of that either?” I asked.

“Fortunately, I didn’t grow up Southern Baptist. Thank God I’ve avoided the indoctrination.”

“That’s kind of funny.”

“I see your point.” Erica said, her face losing a small degree of its sadness. She had a nice smile.

“If I ask something that offends you please let me know.”

“We’ve already covered this ground.”

I was liking Erica more. She was logical and, like me, preferred getting to the point. “I’m pretty sure Roger was directly involved in Adam’s death. I know he was instrumental in having his autopsy falsified. What can you tell me about Alex’s role in any of this?”

“Sounds more like Roger. He was always trying to protect his two sons. If Alex was involved it’ll be harder to prove. He is sly as a fox. But, he’s not perfect. Look at this.” Erica said pulling an iPhone out of her purse. “Someway Alex’s little computer wound up in my purse.” I appreciated her effort at being funny.

“You are serious about helping me, aren’t you?” I asked.

“Connor, wake up and smell the coffee. I said I was here to offer you my help. What don’t you understand about that. Alex killed my daughters. He has to pay.”

“Okay. I’m on board now. I appreciate you coming.”

“These are photos. I know they were taken at Roger’s lake house. I’m pretty sure that’s Natalie. I don’t know the two guys behind her. And, I don’t know when they were taken.” Erica said.

I looked at the photos and knew right off they were pictures of Beanpole and Tommy Lee following Natalie into the front door of Roger’s lake house. It seemed odd to me that Alex would have taken these shots. “Here’s a thought. Is Jake Stone a handyman for Alex and Roger?”

“My bet is he’s more loyal to Roger than Alex. Even though he and Jake were best buds in high school, there has been some tension between them. Before we married, both were in hot pursuit of Sandy Mohler. She’s now Jake’s wife, but at the time she was married to Zach, Mayor Zach Mohler. Her affairs with Alex and Jake busted up her marriage. Jake truly loved the woman, but Alex was just being Alex, feeding his sexual appetite not thinking of the consequences. He and Jake nearly came to blows over the woman. Finally, Alex backed off, I guess he wanted a new flavor, that’s when we started dating. Of course, at the time I didn’t know the real Alex. Sorry, I rambled. Did that answer your question?”

“Yes, I think it did.” Now I had a little better understanding of why I had the niggling idea in my last two sessions in the war room. I had subconsciously wondered if Jake Stone had instigated the Natalie kidnapping, including hiring Beanpole and Tommy Lee to do his dirty work. Natalie was certain that we had met Jake on Signal Point Road as we were escaping the lake house. This was solid ground to conclude he was involved. Now, with this news from Erica, that Jake might have reason to hold a grudge against Alex, my mind wanted to conclude Alex might simply be a pawn in the entire Adam Parker case.

Novel Excerpts—The Case of the Perfectionist Professor, Chapter 36

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

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?

Chapter 36

Camilla and I spent the entire weekend in Mentone. Depressed. After Emma and Ella’s funeral on Friday afternoon we almost decided not to go. But, we had paid a deposit when we made the reservations a few weeks ago. We ultimately decided to go and avoid contact with anyone to recover from the most disabling emotional attack either one of us had ever experienced. We returned a little before dark yesterday afternoon after having stayed in the Sequoia Room at the Mountain Laurel Inn for nearly forty-eight hours, leaving for only two hours to visit DeSoto Falls late Saturday afternoon.

Ever since Adam Parker’s exhumation and learning that he had been murdered and the autopsy had been falsified, I had assigned Joe to investigate the intricacies of how Dr. Culbert had been manipulated into abandoning a lucrative medical practice in Huntsville and moving, along with his family, to Dubois, Wyoming. I had also asked Blair to prepare me a detailed accounting from the Open Curtains App of all three of the William’s vehicles from a week before Adam’s death to a week after.

Ten days ago, Joe had asked me to ask Dalton for permission to review Roger’s banking records that had been acquired through the discovery process of the Sand Mountain Bank lawsuit. Joe had completed his assignment last Thursday but the school shooting event, along with funerals and my emotional trauma, had delayed mine and Joe’s meeting.

Joe’s investigation had been thorough and productive. He discovered that a company named Windy Mountain Real Estate, LLC had purchased Dr. Culbert’s mini-ranch outside Dubois, Wyoming. The forty-acre tract had been deeded to Bart and Danielle Collins at a real estate closing at the law offices of Phil Adams in Lander, Wyoming. Lander is about seventy-five miles southeast of Dubois. Joe had researched the land records at the Freemont County Courthouse and learned the subject land tract had been transferred to the Collins’ last January. Mr. Adams had been forthcoming and described how he never met the Collins, but Wyoming law required identity documentation before land transfers take place.

Adams said that it was a double-closing, meaning Windy Mountain’s purchase and its transfer to the Collins took place back to back. The LLC was formed in Delaware just five days before the closing. The organizing members of the LLC were a Lawton Hawks and a Clarence Livingston.

It was fate or a rare coincidence that enabled Joe to discover the identity of Clara Livingston, or it was Russell Williams’ lifelong bad luck. Attorney Adams said that Wyoming was the toughest state in America on requiring closing attorney’s to properly identify buyers and sellers, even those, as he said, “trying to hide behind near-impenetrable walls of a corporation.” If not for Blair and her Evernote database we likely would never have learned that Clarence Livingston was Russell Williams live-in girlfriend from Smyrna, Georgia. Her real name was Clara Livingston. Adams had required photo IDs for both Hawks and Clarence. Russell had done a poor job of disguising himself. Although he had worn a wig and a fake mustache, he had ignored disguising the long scar on the right side of his neck that Joe had learned was obtained during a fight with a former girlfriend over the ownership of nearly a gram of cocaine.

It was difficult to figure out why Lawton Hawks had made no effort to conceal his identity. The only thing I could come up with was that he someway had a premonition that he wouldn’t get out of the Adam Parker death and autopsy adventure alive.

What connected things back to Roger was the deposit uncovered by Joe in the mountain of discovery materials at Dalton’s office. Joe had spent days trying to find something, a check or some other type withdrawal, that could account for the million-dollar transfer to Bart and Danielle Collins. Bart, rather Dr. Culbert, had told Joe the deposit was made by wire transfer to an account his assailants had set up at Wells Fargo Bank in Dubois, Wyoming. Joe learned that the source of the million dollars was an account titled Clara Livingston at the Wells Fargo Bank in Smyrna, Georgia.

It certainly appeared that Roger was the originating source of the million dollars and that he had done a rather sloppy job of getting the money to its intended target. To me, it seemed he had used his ex-con son to facilitate another crime. I could hear Roger now saying that he had given money to his son to keep from being unfair, given the amount of money he had invested in his other son’s political campaign.

No matter what Roger would say, any one with half a mind would conclude that Roger Williams was guilty of, at a minimum, covering up the crime of falsifying an autopsy. My gut was telling me he was a full conspirator in the murder of Adam Parker.

What cinched things in my mind was what Blair discovered in her Open Curtains assignment. She had learned that Russell Williams had driven his 2017 Lexus GS 300 Sedan to 2904 Westcorp Blvd., Suite 107 in Huntsville, Alabama on the morning of Tuesday, January 2nd, two days after the body of Adam Parker was discovered. Couple this with marvelously persuasive work by Joe, I was certain it was Russell that had convinced Dr. Culbert to make the life-changing decision to falsify Parker’s autopsy, abandon his medical practice, and move to Dubois, Wyoming, changing his full identity along the way. Joe had someway persuaded Jill Traynor, a Huntsville Pathology secretary, to reveal to him Russell’s medical file. He, as Clarence Livingston, had used subterfuge to obtain an appointment to see Dr. Culbert. I found it hilarious that Russell had used the same disguise. In the medical file was a photo of the Pathology Associates new patient. Seems like Wyoming wasn’t the only entity that believed in some sort of identifying process.

Late Monday afternoon, as I sat at my desk after everyone had gone for the day, I couldn’t help but feel my grief over Emma and Ella’s deaths, slowly subsiding and being replaced with hope that I was on the trail of getting Adam Parker a little justice. As is often the case in criminal investigations, the detective isn’t always as close to solving the case as he believes. It would be a while before I learned this.

Novel Excerpts—The Case of the Perfectionist Professor, Chapter 35

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

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?

Chapter 35

Word spread rapidly about the school shooting. For most of Friday night and now for three hours Saturday morning I had watched coverage by both local and national TV stations. Since a little past dawn this morning, thousands of protesters had descended on Montgomery, Alabama demanding the legislature overturn the bill requiring all teachers to carry a pistol. They believed they had unassailable evidence the idea was fatally flawed, figuratively and literally. I couldn’t quite figure out why the protesters had chosen a Saturday, one where the legislators were not in session, to organize and present their complaint. But, I realized it was a natural human emotional response. The tragic death of anyone was enough, but couple that with the horrible circumstances of death at a place of learning and where innocent children should be safely exploring ideas, small and great, it was enough to spur even the coldest heart. My own heart was broken. All I had been able to think about was the sweet, adorable, and talented Emma and Ella singing about freedom at First Baptist Church of Christ just a little over a month ago. I couldn’t imagine what the Williams’ family were going through. My heart broke for all of them no matter what I believed about their religion and politics.

Just before noon, Mark called. “I thought you might like an update.”

“Thanks. I’m a little surprised you’d have much, other than what’s on the news. I didn’t figure you’d try to see Roger until after the funerals.”

“That’s your way Connor. You know I take my responsibility seriously. Sometimes, things can’t wait.”

“So, you have talked with Roger Williams?” I had no doubt that Mark would eventually talk with him. I had kept him up-to-date with the ongoing threats by Tommie Lee. I had figured Mark would have been a little more sympathetic to Roger’s grief.

“He just left. I was easy on him when I called late last night but told him it was imperative we speak. The man does have a unique ability to categorize things.”

“Some people call it cognitive dissonance.” I said.

“Don’t go psychological on me. Listen, I don’t have a lot of time. I’m about to head out to the James place down in Sand Valley. That’s where Tommy Lee was living.”

“I know.”

“Back to Roger. The bottom line is we don’t have enough to arrest him.”

“I know.” I said again, not knowing for sure, but I had already placed my bet. People like Roger Williams don’t get to the top without learning a few tricks along the way.

I could tell Mark was getting a little impatient. His breathing became more pronounced. “Roger denies everything about Natalie’s kidnapping and imprisonment. He has a theory. That Beanpole and Tommy Lee conspired on their own. Roger believes Tommy Lee so infected Beanpole, the always up until now faithful to Roger Beanpole. Its possible Tommy Lee learned, through Beanpole probably, about Roger’s lake house, and choose to use it to gain some leverage over Roger if the need arose.”

I couldn’t keep quiet. “It sure doesn’t explain who killed Beanpole.”

“I see it differently. Why wouldn’t Tommy Lee get rid of the weak Beanpole after you and Paige rescued Natalie and ruined their extortion plan?” Mark asked.

“You’re forgetting the abortion clinic’s address in Beanpole’s pocket. I know we can’t prove it, but it’s clear to me that those two, Beanpole and Tommy Lee, weren’t the kingpins. They were being bought and used. Roger Williams and maybe Alex, designed and executed this plan.” I said believing my words one hundred percent.

“I suspect you’re correct. But, you know it wouldn’t play out well before a jury. Natalie could only testify to being abducted and held by two men. One she could identify as Beanpole. The other she couldn’t identify. Roger’s testimony would only implicate Tommy Lee and his threats to extort money. Unfortunately, we simply don’t have anything tangible to tie Roger to the crime.”

I tried asking Mark if he had learned anything new in the Adam Parker investigation, but he virtually hung up with, “one subject per phone call. Talk later, bye.”

I walked to the kitchen and could hear talking out on the back porch. I looked through the side door and saw Natalie lying in the hammock and Paige standing beside her. I started to walk out and join the conversation when my cell phone rang again. This time it was Blair.

“Hey Blair. I’m not used to hearing from you on a Saturday.”

“Adam’s iPad is talking.” She said, and I jumped in before she could continue.

“Oh yea, thanks for taking it home and giving me a break.”

“Sorry, but I forgot it last night. Left it in my car. I just got back from Walmart and it cheeped a notification while I was unloading my groceries. I normally don’t open it when it’s Marissa. But, curiosity killed the cat you know.”

“I never did understand that saying.” I said.

“I thought I’d see what a Professor does on a Saturday. Goes sightseeing I guess. She’s stopped for a break I guess.”

She was guessing a lot. “Uh, Blair, do you have some news I need to hear?” I was, as usual, getting impatient with trivia.

“Sorry to bother you.” Blair sounded as though I had hurt her feelings.

“I didn’t mean it the way it came out.”

“Anyway, just thought you might wonder as I did why Marissa is in Dayton, Tennessee.”

“Uh, that’s kind of odd. Maybe, maybe not. I might give her a call. Now, Ms. Blair, you’ve got me curious. Curious as a cat.” My attempt to lighten up and be funny normally didn’t work. But, the last thing I wanted to do was offend Blair. She was no doubt the best assistant I had ever had, including paralegals when I was practicing law.

After we hung up, I continued to ponder why on earth Marissa would be in Dayton, Tennessee? I filed it in the giant ‘irrelevant’ bin I kept mentally handy and walked out to talk with Paige and Natalie.

Since last Friday’s school shooting there had been a heavy cloud hanging over the entire area. Fog, rain, and wind had descended as though necessary to clothe everyone with sufficient sadness and grief for the six children and four teachers gunned down in what should have been the safest place in town.

By late Saturday the names of the ten dead had been made public. The combination of TV, radio, newspapers, Facebook and other social media, and plain old gossip, had created a brew of truth and lies that would perplex an army of trained investigators. One thing that appeared certain was that Tyler Ingle and Neil Perkins, both teachers and coaches at Boaz Intermediate School, were just as guilty of killing as was Tommy Lee Gore. No doubt their intent was radically different, but the net result was the same. Autopsies as reported in the Sand Mountain Reporter (and confirmed to me by Mark) revealed that only one of the teachers, Tamara Elkins, had been killed by the Smith & Wesson 357 Magnum that Tommy Lee had used. The other three teachers, Beth Harper, Omorosa Kaplan, and Dawn Osborn, had all died because of bullets from Tyler and Neil’s Glock 34’s—the weapons issued after they had successfully completed their training less than two months earlier. As for the children, both Emma and Ella died by the hand of Tommy Lee and his 357, as did Kyle Underwood. But, again, tragically, the other three children, Martin Fraiser, Jennifer Silvers, and Heath Johnson, all died from a teacher’s bullet.

I simply couldn’t wrap my head around the most horrible event in the history of Boaz, and possibly all of Alabama. It seemed the fact police officer Tinsley’s shot killed Tommy Lee amplified the tragedy. Of all the shooting by teachers Tyler Ingle and Neil Perkins, not one of their bullets had hit its target. Again, an autopsy had revealed the facts: Tommy Lee Gore had died because of being struck by one bullet from Tinsley’s Glock 9-millimeter. In a surreal sort of way, it was as though Tyler’s and Neil’s intent had been to kill their colleagues and wards. Of course, this wasn’t true but, that is what had happened.

Wednesday and Thursday there were eight funerals in our small town. No doubt a record. I missed all eight. Even though I didn’t know any of the teachers or students, I would have probably gone to as many of the funerals as logistically possible. Just out of respect. But, I was in Jackson County with Dalton testifying in the longest suppression hearing I had ever heard of. Even though I was a seemingly insignificant witness—I had located a key witness early on before Bobby Sorrells got involved—the only thing I could testify to was the make and model of the vehicle that was parked outside the man’s mobile home located at the edge of Skyline when I interviewed him. What really had kept me in Scottsboro was that DA Rhoades had asked Judge Holt to keep me for recall testimony.

It was Friday, a week after the shooting, and I was determined to attend Emma and Ella Williams funeral. Of course, I didn’t personally know them, but I certainly had a connection. Having heard them sing at the Independence Day celebration at church was enough of a motivator to draw me to First Baptist Church of Christ at 2:00 p.m. I usually avoided funerals, but the circumstances surrounded the deaths of these two adorable twins could only be summarized as ‘truth is stranger than fiction.’ Surely, no novel writer could have created such a heart-breaking tragedy. The bottom line, I’m sure, was I wanted to see Alex Williams, and see for myself how on earth he could possibly survive the ceremony knowing that in every cause and effect scenario imaginable, his actions had resulted in the death of his two precious daughters.

Camilla had attended Beth Harper and Dawn Osborn’s funerals since they both were customers of Serenity Salon. She had cautioned me to brace myself for an emotional sadness like I had never experienced. It seemed Pastor Caleb, according to Camilla, was the master of funeral psychology. She said if you come away from one of his funeral sermons not pleading to Christ for salvation, you were a mindless rock.

As we drove to the church (all local funeral homes were too small to manage the expected crowd) Camilla shared with me how she had gotten to know the twins the last three weeks at children’s choir practice. I had almost forgotten that after we had heard the girls sing at the Independence Day celebration, Camilla had followed through with her interest and desire to work with young singers. She had spoken with music director Steven Knott and he had put her to work the next Wednesday night, shadowing Jada Silvers as she led the middle school aged choir. What added to the overall tragedy was that Jada’s daughter Jennifer, was one of the six students killed in last week’s shooting.

Camilla had shared how she had heard the twins, between songs and at breaks, talk with excitement about returning to Boaz Intermediate School and the fifth grade. They had just, on August 1st, celebrated their eleventh birthdays and were looking forward to sharing with their friends how they would be singing at their father’s gubernatorial celebration in Montgomery if he won his election in November.

I can’t imagine how she did it, but Jada Silvers, as a tribute to Emma and Ella, sang “No Chains on Me,” by Chris Tomlin. This was the last of two songs sung by Emma and Ella at the Independence Day celebration. As everyone in attendance stood in honor of the two sisters, I could almost see them running across Heaven, in a field of Daisies, happy, smiling, and shouting in perfect tone and pitch:

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.

As Jada Silvers repeated the chorus I could almost hear Alex Williams thoughts. They were all about regrets. Regrets over ever meeting with Gaston Glock and attempting to motivate him to bring his company to Boaz. Regrets over proposing legislation that led to the requirement that all public-school teachers be armed with a Glock. Regrets over choosing to woe and win the hearts of two young girls, Gabby Taylor and Natalie Goble, who both became pregnant with Gabby having an abortion and Natalie’s baby avoiding the same fate by one day. Most of all, I heard Alex’s biggest regret: not spending more time doing anything and everything the girls had wanted to pursue. Now, his family was a wreck.

After Pastor Caleb delivered on Camilla’s warning, and Jada had sung another song, this time, the Chris Rice song the twins had sung at the Fourth of July celebration, I heard a blood-curling scream coming from under the balcony. As Jada had taken the stage and stood behind the podium I had seen Erica get up from the front row and exit the auditorium to the right of the choir loft. Alex had followed her out. Half way through “O Freedom” was when the scream burst through the church walls as though they were paper-thin.

I imagined Erica was so overcome with grief she had to leave, and that Alex was simply trying to comfort her. Just as the scream died, I saw Hannah Knott and the pastor’s wife go out into the hallway. As they opened the door I heard Erica say, at full blast, “you bastard, you have killed my daughters and destroyed our family. I hate you forever.”

I didn’t envy Pastor Caleb’s job as he tried to end the service. From what I could tell, Alex didn’t return to the auditorium as did Erica, choosing instead to avoid being seen.

Camilla and I decided not to attend the graveside services at Hillcrest Cemetery. The sadness and grief were simply more than we could bear, and we felt the family should be given some privacy as they said their final goodbyes to Emma and Ella.

Novel Excerpts—The Case of the Perfectionist Professor, Chapter 34

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

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?

Chapter 34

It had been a little over a month since I had heard, via the Open Curtains App, about the hot water Roger Williams had gotten himself in concerning Tommy Lee Gore. The intensity of this relationship was about the only thing that kept me sane over the past four plus weeks.

Bobby Sorrells had always referred to this stage of an investigation as Antarctica, after the extremely cold continent at the south pole covered by an ice cap up to 13,000 feet deep. Bobby had been right. No matter how strong a case develops, it seemed before it was ever resolved there was a period that every aspect turned to ice. Rigid, frozen.

The only thing in the case that had any movement at all over the past month was the level of threats that Tommy Lee had spouted off to Roger. I had caught three more phone conversations where the ex-con had promised he was going to either kill Roger’s wife, blow up his lake house, or tell the world about Alex’s baby baking inside the adorable Natalie. I hated the baby baking analogy.

I was glad it was Friday and Camilla and I had another weekend planned in Mentone. I regretted we hadn’t returned since May, especially after I had made such a strong commitment to at least a quarterly weekend get-away.

Just as I was closing my desktop computer in my office I heard Blair running down the hall. When she turned inside my doorway I could tell something was wrong. “Listen to this.” She handed me Adam’s iPad and the ear plugs she was using. She said, “It’s Jake Stone in his police cruiser.”

“The ambulances just left. It’s bad. At least six kids and four teachers dead.” It sounded like he opened his car door and got out because that was the end of the audio. I removed the ear plugs from the iPad and turned up the volume.

“What’s going on? All I heard was several people have died, kids and teachers.”

“The notification came about thirty minutes ago, maybe longer. I’m sorry but I ignored it. The many notifications we’ve been receiving have lulled me into ignoring them until about an hour before I leave every night. At that time, I’ll do my review of all our drivers.”

A squeaky sound came from the iPad. I figured it was from the police radio, the Boaz dispatcher was saying in a high pitch voice, “Officer Stone maintain position; Chief on his way.” I then heard Jake say, “10-4.”

For the next five minutes or so I heard him call his wife, Sandra. He told her about the shooting at Boaz Intermediate School and that it had occurred right as school was letting out for the day. If I was a crying man I think I would have shed tears for those who had come to such a sudden and horrible death. I breathed a prayer for their families.

“Stone, what happened?” This had to be Chief Gaskin. I assumed he was either standing beside Stone in his car or was in the passenger seat of Stone’s cruiser.

“I was the third officer on the scene. Car four was in the area and was here in less than two minutes from the command. Someone in the school’s office alerted us. I don’t know if it was a 911 call or direct. The shooter was waiting in that red Ford pickup over there. When the last bell rang, and the kids started coming out, he, the shooter, walked towards them. One of the teachers said it was like he waited a minute or so before firing.”

“How on earth did we disable him?” The Chief asked. “I’m not sure yet but sounds like it was some daring police work. Problem is, to me at least, it violated protocol. Officer Tinsley shot the shooter, kids and teachers everywhere. I don’t know how he did it. He’ll probably pay like hell for it, but I’m convinced he saved a ton of lives. But, that’s not all. There’s even a bigger problem.” Stone said.

“What are you talking about?”

“Several of the teachers and possibly all the kids except two were killed by friendly fire. Teachers killing teachers and students. I’ve had a bad feeling about arming teachers ever since the beginning.”

“Oh my God. Please be making this up. This can’t be true.” The Chief said.

“It is. Sounds like it was mass chaos. It’s beyond tragic.”

“I really don’t want to ask, but I have to know. Who are the victims?” The Chief asked.

“All I know for sure is that the twins are dead, Alex’s girls. Emma and Ella. When I saw them, I was in such a shock I came back here and called Roger. I wanted him to know so he could go and tell Alex and Erica. It’s devastating.”

“I’ll call Alex as soon as I leave. Do we know the shooter?” The Chief said as the same dispatcher sounded out a request for an update.

“Hold on Karen. Be with you shortly.” Stone said. “The man’s name is Tommy Lee Gore. I’ve seen him around. A low-life ex-con. He’s worked some for Roger at his horse farm.”

I could tell the Chief left and Stone started talking to Karen, the dispatcher. I looked at Blair and just shook my head.

Novel Excerpts—The Case of the Perfectionist Professor, Chapter 33

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

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?

Chapter 33

Yesterday after church I had received a notification on my iPhone that Adam’s Open Curtains App was active. I still had mixed feelings about having Tony at the Sheriff’s office add my phone number to the App on Adam’s iPad. On the one hand I liked knowing when either Roger, Alex, Russell, or Jake were moving about in their vehicles. And, for some strange reason, it was pleasing to know when Marissa was mobile. But, the notifications were too frequent. It was every day that I now received half a dozen or even a dozen texts—every time one of the five drove even an inch. Two days after Tony had added my phone number, I had stopped going to Adam’s iPad to see if the OC’s App was recording any audio that was worth listening to. It was now Blair’s job to review the content of each one of these notifications.

Maybe because it was the weekend, more particularly, it was Sunday afternoon, and I was kind of bored. Camilla, Emily, and Natalie were visiting Amy at the Playhouse and I was between novels. I walked to my study and pulled Adam’s iPad from my briefcase. I clicked on the Open Curtain’s icon and quickly saw that it was Roger who was on the move. There was about a five-minute delay between the beginning of the target’s words and the sending of the notification. I pressed the ‘Audio’ button and listened.

Roger: “I’ve told you a dozen times I will not pay you $100,000. But to shut you up and show you I’m fair I’m going to give you another $5,000.”

Second voice: “Fair? Mr. Hotshot, you don’t want to know what is fair. You’ll pay me the exact amount I’m demanding, or you’ll regret learning about fairness.”

I would have known the voice anywhere. It was Tommy Lee Gore. There was several seconds of silence. It felt like a minute or more.

Roger: “Meet me at Cox Chapel Methodist Church. It’s on Cox Gap Road, after you go off the mountain, about a half mile before you get to Sand Valley Road.”

Tommy Lee: “I know where it is.”

Roger: “Pull to the back of the church next to the creek. Be there in fifteen minutes. I’ve got your money.”

Tommy Lee: “I’ll be there.”

I walked into mine and Camilla’s bedroom and outside onto the balcony. I sat alone waiting. I switched to the ‘Travel’ side of the App and watched a little blue dot on a map make its way south on Highway 431, turn left on Cox Gap Road and wind its way down the long curvy road through two-horseshoe bend turns. No doubt the App used Google Maps. The church was labeled just like it was on Google. In less than ten minutes, the blue dot stopped just a little to the northwest of the church, right beside the thick blue line drawn depicting the creek. I heard Roger mumble to himself as he no doubt got out of his Cadillac.

Roger: “I wish I had the fucking guts to kill the bastard.”

In a couple of more minutes I heard Tommy Lee say, “what you got?” That was the last thing I could understand, but that didn’t keep me from knowing there was a very heated argument taking place between the two men. They apparently were just far enough away from Roger’s car and the Open Curtains device to inhibit the needed clarity.

The next thing I heard was Roger say, “we’ve got a fucking problem. I just met with Tommy Lee Gore. I thought he might kill me. He is hotter than hell. Threatening to teach me a lesson.” Roger was now back in his Cadillac talking with someone on his cell phone.

I wished someway the Open Curtains App could detect something, maybe a phone number, for the person called from inside a target’s vehicle. Nonetheless, the only response the male voice said was, “I’ll take care of it.”

That was all Roger, or anyone said. I sat and watched the blue dot return to Boaz and park at Rand Corp in the Industrial Park. Roger didn’t mouth a word during the entire drive, either to himself or to anyone else.

I walked back to the study and put Adam’s iPad back in my briefcase. I heard Camilla calling from the kitchen, “Connor Cat, where is you?” Since our second date and since she learned what I did for a living she had called me that, saying she bet I was as cunning as a cat after its prey. I was glad the drop-dead gorgeous brunette was fully deluded.

I spent all afternoon yesterday with Mark and Tony trying to convince the DA to issue a warrant for Roger’s involvement in Natalie’s kidnapping. We split our time between the Sheriff’s Department and DA Abbott’s office. Every time we would walk some new fact back across the street to Abbott, he would request something else. One would think that what we already knew would be more than enough to at least bring him in for questioning. Paige and I were a witness to Natalie being held against her will at Roger’s lake house. Not to mention, Mark’s team having found Beanpole dead shortly after Paige, Natalie, and I had seen Jake Stone driving towards the house (I hadn’t mentioned that I was not positive it was Jake). All this and the recordings of Sunday afternoon’s conversation between Roger and who I knew was Tommy Lee Gore clearly illustrated direct involvement by both Roger and Tommy. I knew when I left Guntersville that Roger Williams was a powerful man around Sand Mountain and that money talked. I suspected we were going to have to produce a videotape showing Roger admitting his complicity in Natalie’s kidnapping. Driving back to Boaz, I thought about contacting Sherlock Industries or whoever created the Open Curtains App to suggest they somehow add a camera to their GPS and audio-recording device.

Novel Excerpts—The Case of the Perfectionist Professor, Chapter 32

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

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?

Chapter 32

I couldn’t wait to get to the office. Late yesterday afternoon Dalton had called and said he was expecting to receive by courier a copy of Roger Williams’ second deposition first thing Tuesday morning. This entire scenario was sheer luck if it was anything.

A couple of weeks ago, over lunch, Dalton had said his Sand Mountain Bank case had become more complicated. Roger Williams had counter-sued the Bank and Kurt Prescott for defamation. Roger claimed that Kurt, as an individual and in his role as the Bank’s President, had said he was a crook and a con, that he had paid out a fortune over the years to bail out his two sons from certain shipwreck, and even claimed that Kurt had accused him of having contributed to the death of Adam Parker.

Normally, in a civil case, depositions are taken once. Around two months ago, Dalton had taken Roger’s deposition. Those questions had all dealt with the Bank’s lawsuit alleging Roger had and was continuing to violate his investment contract by overstepping his authority. But now, Judge Broadside had granted Roger’s motion to amend his Answer, his response to the Bank’s original Complaint. Since there were now new issues in the case, the Alabama Rules of Civil Procedure expand the right of parties to depose. Again, luck or fate had opened a door of opportunity and Dalton had gone along with my idea. It was a no-brainier since my questions for Roger, via Dalton, were relevant to his defense of Kurt and the Bank. Dalton’s need, even duty, to carefully probe the veracity of what Roger was alleging in his counterclaim was nothing but a gift for my investigation. At least, that’s what I thought two weeks ago.

At 8:30 I was at my desk reading the mornings news when Blair walked in and handed me a package. “Debbie just dropped this off, said give it to you.” The large Bearden, Tanner, Martin & Lewis label on the thick envelope told me this was Roger’s deposition.

Inside the front cover Dalton had placed a sticky note listing the relevant pages, the places where he had asked the questions I had requested he ask of Mr. Roger Williams. On Page 8, “In 2014 did you pay $125,000 to a Ben and Dorothy Taylor of Guntersville, along with their daughter Gabby in exchange for their silence over your son Alex’s affair that resulted in Gabby’s pregnancy?” At first, Roger denied the accusation. After Dalton showed him a copy of the confidentiality agreement (thanks Adam Parker), Roger had no choice but to agree. Dalton never was able to get Roger to agree that Alex had forced Gabby to have an abortion, since that was never mentioned in the Agreement.

On Page 11, Dalton had asked, “How much did you pay Jake Stone, Sandra Goble, and Natalie Goble for their silence from Alex Williams affair with Natalie and the resulting pregnancy?” Roger denied paying any money, even denied all knowledge concerning the affair. Since Dalton and I weren’t so fortunate as to have a copy of this Agreement, there wasn’t much Dalton could do to pressure Roger to tell the truth. Of course, this money might not have come from him. Alex himself may have purchased this silence with his own money.

On Page 14, Dalton asked, “do you know Dr. Harry Culbert?” Roger denied knowing him. Dalton expanded this question to include Bart Collins. After about a dozen questions related to the Adam Parker autopsy performed by Dr. Culbert, his sudden move to Wyoming, money and real estate transferred to him, and the falsification of the autopsy report, Dalton gave up. There simply was no way Roger was going to admit any knowledge of anything even remotely connected to the death and cover-up of Adam Parker.

Dalton didn’t fare any better with questions concerning Glock, Inc., or the recent abduction of Natalie and her imprisonment at Roger’s lake house. Roger denied all knowledge of any kickback scheme related to Glock. The only thing he admitted was that Glock had purchased from him a ten-acre tract of land beside Rand Corp in the Boaz Industrial Park. The purchase price was three million dollars, which, to me, was clearly excessive.

The next six questions dealt with Roger’s involvement with his son Russell’s criminal cases. After reading the first two, I saw the pattern. Roger denied that he had played any role in the sweet deals that Russell had obtained from the Marshall County District Attorney’s office. He denied making any direct or indirect payments to anyone. The only thing that came close was his payment of $50,000 to DA Abbott’s last campaign. Dalton had someway been able to learn this but was unable to tie this to the favorable dispositions of any one of Russell’s cases.

After rereading every one of Roger’s responses to the questions I had proposed, I couldn’t help but wish I had known two weeks ago about his involvement with Tommy Lee Gore. Since I just learned about this last Sunday, I would have to depend on Goldstein’s efforts, and my own, to determine the extent of their relationship.

After my review of Roger’s supplemental deposition, I was disappointed I hadn’t learned more.

I couldn’t believe I had spent nearly ten hours yesterday at Albertville’s Main Street Music Festival. Someway, I had allowed Camilla and Emily to convince me I needed to relax and celebrate our Nation’s birthday. Not only had my girlfriend and daughter entrusted me with protecting Natalie, they had insisted I needed a day away from Hickory Hollow. The conspiracy had continued. The two beautiful ladies concluded my size, strength, and skills uniquely qualified me for the best choice to push my dear ex-wife’s wheelchair among and around half the folks on Sand Mountain.

Today, all I wanted to do was sit in my office and see if our air-conditioning system could soothe my sunburned head, neck, and arms. I wished I had worn a hat so now I might not feel like a grilled hamburger.

At 9:00 a.m., I had Blair walk across the street to Pirates Cove and buy me a large tea. “I got you extra lemon.”

“Thanks.” Blair poured the tea from the large Styrofoam cup into my Alabama Crimson Tide thermos already sitting on my desk. “Gloria said it’s okay to bring my own thermos.”

“I know. I forgot. Oh, Garrett said to give this to you.” I had noticed Blair had a newspaper cupped under her arm when she walked in.

“He still at the Cove? A little late for him.” I said.

“He was sitting with that group of old codgers who spend half their morning drinking coffee and solving the world’s problems. Garrett said for you to look at page two.”

After Blair left, I scanned the first page with about a dozen snapshots of yesterday’s fireworks show in Gadsden along the Coosa River. When I flipped to page two, I saw an article titled, “Alex Williams is Pro-Kerry.” There was a photo of Alex superimposed with Kerry Arnold who is President Kane’s Supreme Court choice to fill the slot being vacated by the retiring Ruth Bader Ginsburg. The article told of Williams speech yesterday at an early morning political rally in Birmingham where he was asked if he thought Kerry would be confirmed by the Senate. After answering in the affirmative, another questioner had asked Williams what he thought about Tuesday’s firing of the Deputy Director of the CIA and four of his subordinates.

The article quoted Alex as saying, “I think the President was absolutely correct in cleaning out those despicable rogues. They are a disgrace to our Christian nation.” The reporter’s last paragraph got my attention. “The Gadsden Times has confirmed the five CIA employees fired were secretly working on a project they had dubbed ‘Climate Change,’ and that three of the five were former University of Tennessee students who had earned their PhD’s with the controversial Kramer Dickson as their faculty advisor. The reporter said all her efforts to contact and interview Mr. Dickson had so far failed.

After reading the article a second time I laid the newspaper to the side of my computer and returned to catching up on the news on Flipboard. One of the featured stories was the CIA firing. It had taken place late Tuesday afternoon, and given yesterday being the Fourth of July, either the story had gotten buried or I just hadn’t paid attention. The Flipboard article from NBC News said that ‘Climate Change’ was simply a code or a cover for the true intent of the dismissed group of five. After an inspection of their files, both physical and electronic, it was discovered the five rogues (there’s that word again) believed the greatest threat to our Nation was the lack of interest in and commitment to following the truth where ever it led. The five had written a paper titled, “A Plea for Sanity” which not only addressed the need to confront and contend with the threat posed by weather changes, but the threats from an unwillingness by a majority of Americans to rationally discuss science theories related to guns, abortion, and religious myths.”

Once again, I reread. The mention in the Gadsden Times of Kramer Dickson and now the NBC words that sounded as though Adam Parker could have written them, triggered my request to Blair for her to run a query in her Evernote database. I asked her to see if the abbreviation, ‘CIA,’ or the phrase, ‘Central Intelligence Agency’ were mentioned in the thousands of pages she had scanned and organized for me in the Adam Parker investigation. It didn’t take long. As soon as I returned from the restroom I heard her yell. “Conner, come here. Quick.” I was glad there was no one else in the office.

I nearly jogged down the long hallway to her office. “What is it?” I asked.

“Look here. These are notes from Adam’s office computer. You know, from the “Deep State” folder I found. I now have all those files loaded in my Evernote database. When I ran a search on ‘CIA,’ several entries popped up.”

“Open up that first one.” I said. She did and we both read it together. Then, I had Blair print out this note and the other five. I walked to the conference room and spread all six notes out on the table and read them in the order Adam had written them. I could hardly believe what I had discovered. The so-called “Rogue Five” had hired Kramer Dickson and Adam Parker and were using their research to develop a theory. The theory was embodied in the project titled, ‘Climate Change.’ It seemed three of Kramer’s former students, all who were at UT at the same time as Adam Parker, had gone to work for the CIA and had been, along with the Deputy Director, commissioned by President Kane to do two things. One, determine why most Americans did not believe human conduct was causing changes in the earth’s climate, and second, whether there is a link between that reason and Christianity?

In the last document, which was the most recent in time, Adam had described a physical meeting he and Kramer had with ‘Team CIA,’ his phrase. Apparently, the four men and three women had met two months before Adam’s death in a hotel in Mount Ida, Arkansas, a town of about 1,000, and as Adam wrote, “as far out in the sticks as we could find.” At that meeting, Adam referenced his and Kramer’s recent confirmation that their hypothesis concerning God and guns were about as central to Southern Baptist Christianity as Jesus and the Resurrection. The note listed eighteen states, including Alabama, where the Republican candidates for governor were all committed to pushing legislation that required the teaching of Creationism in high school science classes and to oppose all efforts to regulate the ownership and possession of guns.

Reading this final note spawned for the first time, the thought that what was going on in Alabama was going on throughout America. I couldn’t help but wonder whether Kramer Dickson was in danger. I had long ago convinced myself that Adam was killed because of his research. I made a mental note to ask Garrett what he knows about Mr. Dickson and whether he and Gina are continuing Adam Parker’s research.

Novel Excerpts—The Case of the Perfectionist Professor, Chapter 31

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

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?

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’ 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 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.

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.

Novel Excerpts—The Case of the Perfectionist Professor, Chapter 30

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

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?

Chapter 30

It had been ten days since the Alabama legislature had passed legislation requiring all public-school teachers to, in essence, become security guards. As it should, the new law had set off a firestorm. Nearly three-fourths of Alabama’s female teachers had, almost from the beginning, protested. Less than a third of male teachers had joined them. This later fact was somewhat perplexing since I knew from reading enough of Parker’s research that there was a negative correlation between education level and a die-hard commitment to guns and the Second Amendment. In other words, the more educated a person was, the less interested he or she was in the possession and usage of guns, and the more he or she was in favor of reasonable gun regulation. I figured Parker had a solid explanation for why the clear majority of male public school teachers appeared in favor of the new law requiring them to carry a weapon as they taught their classes. I hadn’t read Parker on this aspect, but my feelings were that since the gun culture, especially in the South, was so entrenched in the male culture, it is harder for even a reasonably educated man to overcome a near lifelong indoctrination.

The protests were widespread. The centerpiece was in Montgomery where, now for nine days, progressive citizens from around the State and even from across America, along with thousands of Alabama teachers (and even some from other states) gathered outside the Capital in Montgomery to march and tote signs, and engage in near-unending speech to oppose the legislation that had first originated in the mind of Alex Williams, Alabama congressman and Republican candidate for governor.

Montgomery wasn’t the only place protests were taking place. The Alabama public school system was in total disarray. At virtually every elementary, middle, and high school in the State, there were dozens, and often hundreds, of teachers refusing to go to their classrooms. There was a statewide teacher strike by those opposed to the new legislation. However, those in favor, were continuing to show up and teach and three times per week comply with the state mandate to become trained in firearm possession and use. Most were already well-versed in how to shoot the Glock 34 the Alabama legislature had approved three days after passing the core teacher-carry legislation.

Six days ago, after Mark, Blair, and I had watched Dean Naylor’s videotape, I was fully determined to confront Jake Stone. I was now glad Joe had talked me out of it. Sometimes a relatively new investigator has much more sense than an old veteran. He had convinced me that Stone would simply deny everything. It now seemed Joe’s idea for him to start tailing Stone had produced some fruit.

Joe had called me from his car and asked me to wait for him. “I think you will like what I’ve just discovered.”

I started to suggest we wait until tomorrow morning since Camilla had gotten off early and her and Natalie had cooked a big dinner. Joe had sounded excited so, as usual, the case came first.

I was waiting in the conference room when Joe walked in. He looked like a kid who had just seen a candy store for the first time. “It’s down Bruce Road, just beyond Horseshoe Creek. I just returned from Guntersville.” Joe blurted out even before he sat down.

“Thanks. You know I like bottom-line reporting, but here I might need a little more context.”

“I mentioned Saturday that I had followed Stone to a place down Bruce Road. Just beyond Horseshoe Creek he turned left through a new pasture gate and drove his Black Tahoe about a quarter of a mile and into a grove of trees and out of sight. Yesterday morning early, right before daylight, I got up and drove back out there. The gate was closed but it wasn’t locked. I opened it and drove down the pasture road. About a hundred yards after you enter that grove of trees a new house is being built. It’s a big one.” Joe needed a break, so I interrupted.

“You think this is Stone’s? You think he’s building a new house? I hope you have more than this. He might have just been visiting a friend, or maybe Sandra his wife has a wealthy brother. Have you checked?” I asked.

“Give me a little credit. You have taught me better than that. In Guntersville, I went to the Land Records office. Guess who bought this eighty-acre tract.” Joe loved playing the guessing game.

“Somebody or something, like a weird-sounding company.” I said.

“How did you know?”

“Let me describe for you the outline of the picture you have inspired my mind to draw as we’ve been talking. The Stone’s have come into some money. They are like most people and need to spend it, or at least some of it. They’ve bought this land and have not titled it in their personal names. How close am I so far?” I almost regretted my little speech. It felt I was bragging and showing off how smart I was.

“Horseshoe Creek, LLC. That’s who the land is titled to. Don’t ask. I already know. The owners, they’re called members, of the LLC, that stands for limited liability company.”

“I know.”

“Sandra Goble and the Rand Corporation. That’s who owns the eighty acres.” Joe said, pushing his notepad away from him towards the center of the table.

“Good work. No, great work. So, now we have direct evidence that Roger Williams and Jake Stone are connected.” I said, thinking more about the unopened package Blair had placed on my desk as she left for the day.

“Caught you. It’s a rarity.” Joe said.

“What? Sorry, I’m not as good at thinking about two things at once as I used to be. It’s not a direct link but it is still a link.” I said.

“How do we find out why the Rand Corp would purchase land with Sandra Goble? Don’t you suspect it, he, Roger, furnished the money?” Joe asked.

“I suspect you are correct about that. Based on what we know about Jake Stone, or think we know, it appears this is a payment for services type of thing.”

“The house that’s being built at Horseshoe Creek dwarfs Sandra and Jake’s house on Tami Street. From a little more research, I’ve learned that house was built in the late seventies. Sandra bought it after her and Zach Mohler divorced. Jake moved in after he and Sandra married. We know what he makes as a police officer.”

“Sandra, I’m sure, makes good money as a VP at First State Bank, but, how big a house do you think they’re building?” I asked.

“I’d say at least five thousand square feet. It’s long and deep, two stories. It’s still being framed but if they finish it just average for this area, they’ll have at least half a million in it. That’s just the house. I bet the land could have cost half that much. That’s seven-hundred fifty thousand for the full load.”

“Remember, Natalie has told us that Alex Williams paid her, Sandra and Jake a hundred thousand for silence over Natalie’s pregnancy.” I said, realizing I needed to get going. I had promised Camilla I would be home by seven. Even though it was Monday, and not a Friday, I needed to treat it kind of like a date.

“That’s not a drop in the bucket. Changing the subject but Blair called me just before I got here and told me to make sure we looked inside the package she left in your office before she left. She said the idea crossed her mind last week when she was getting bored listening to Adam’s iPad.”

Joe followed me to my office. I opened the package and saw a bright blue box with a picture of a theater and a long and rich red curtain standing half open. At the bottom of the box it said, “you can’t watch the play unless you open the curtain.” I knew without doubt, even before opening the box, what Blair had done.

The invoice taped to the outside of the clear plastic that wrapped the rather heavy device, what looked like an iPhone on steroids, revealed that Blair has spent nearly three hundred dollars. Joe got her on his cell phone as I was beginning to flip through the ‘Operator’s Manual’ that was also in the box.

“Talk to the man. I’ve got you on speaker phone.” Joe said.

“Connor, I hope you’re not mad. Marissa has already approved. When I shared my idea with her she insisted that I place the order. She wants you to find a way to put it on Jake Stone’s police cruiser.”

At first, I started to reveal who was boss around Connor Ford Investigations. But, reminded of Pastor Caleb’s sermon a few weeks ago about being less selfish, I instead said, “Why would I be mad? This is great work by the best assistant a P.I. could ever hope to have. Thanks Blair for the idea and the initiative you’ve shown. But, you’re work on this strategy isn’t complete. You and Joe need to figure out how he will have the opportunity to access Stone’s car.”

“Why the police cruiser? I was thinking his black Tahoe.” Joe said.

“I had the same thought but listen here. When I shared it with Marissa, she said, ‘that’s an easy fix. We’ll put one on both vehicles.’ Blair said.

“I don’t see but one device.” I said making sure the box I was holding was empty.

“According to UPS tracking, the other Open Curtain should be here tomorrow.”

“Again, great work, but I’ve got to go or the curtains at Hickory Hollow will be closed when I get home. Camilla and Natalie are waiting dinner on me.”

“You go on boss; Blair and I will figure out a great plan.”

I set the box back down on my desk and grabbed my briefcase. As I was walking toward the back door I heard Joe ask Blair if he could buy a pizza and drop by. The last words I heard were Blair saying, “I didn’t think you would ever ask.”

It seems it had been two weeks since I had breakfast with Garrett. In fact, it had only been five days. When I walked into Pirates Cove, I could see Garrett’s smiling face over in the corner but I couldn’t make out the woman who was sitting across from him.

“Good morning Sherlock. I didn’t think you’d mind Gina joining us.”

“Not at all. Nice to see you Gina.”

“You too Connor.” Gina said taking a sip of her coffee. I made a mental note to ask Garrett the next time we were alone why Gina wasn’t married. She was the type woman that grew on you. That is, every time you saw her you noticed something else that added to her appeal. Today, it was her perfectly curled lips. I shouldn’t be noticing this stuff.

“Gina drove up a day early. We’re heading to First Baptist Church in Bridgeport tomorrow morning. That’s a long drive even from here, much less from south of Birmingham.” Garrett said, motioning for Gloria to come take our orders.

I chose a Southwestern Omelet with extra onions and their hottest sauce. “How’s the research coming?” I asked looking at Gina.

“I have to admit I’m excited. Kramer Dickson has joined me. He was a friend of Adam Parker’s.” Gina said, then calling Gloria back to change her order to a fruit salad. That’s not breakfast.

“I feel like I know him. Adam mentioned him a lot. That is, in his journals and other writings. Wasn’t it Dickson who launched Adam’s lifelong obsession with evolutionary psychology?” I asked.

“You’re correct. Even if he is as old or older than Dad, he’s still got one of the sharpest minds I’ve ever seen.” Gina said.

Gloria came by and topped off our coffee. “You better look at that.” Garrett said. Even though I had the volume down on my cell phone, it had dinged loud enough for him, and probably Gina, to hear it.

“Whatever it is can wait.” I said.

“I hope it’s not that one witness you’ve been wanting to hear from, the anonymous one who has finally gotten the courage to contact you and who now, with your ignoring her, will never reach out again.” Gina could be mighty persuasive.

“That’s hard to resist.” I pulled out my phone and noticed it was a text from Blair. We were scheduled to meet after breakfast, but she was letting me know she wasn’t feeling well and needed to postpone.

“Well, was it the key link as Gina described?” Garrett asked when I put my phone back in my jacket pocket.

“It was Blair. She’s been reviewing a court file of a civil lawsuit I had her copy. We were supposed to meet after breakfast, but she’s kind of under the weather.” I said.

“Those are public records, right? The court files.” Gina asked.

“Yes. Since I’m among friends I’ll share. Garrett probably already knows more than I do.” I said looking over at Gina.

Gloria delivered our food and reached down and straightened Garrett’s tie. I don’t know why he thought he always had to wear those God-awful green ties. “Who does it concern?” He asked.

“Sand Mountain Bank is suing Roger Williams. He’s the Bank’s biggest investor and I hear he tried to micromanage the operation even though he’s not an officer.” Kurt Prescott wouldn’t have it and sued the mighty tycoon.”

“Dickson has mentioned a Kurt Prescott from Tennessee. It appears the two of them were friends, along with Adam.” Gina said.

“This Prescott is from Tennessee. It’s my understanding he moved here to restart the Sand Mountain Bank. His great-grandfather was one of the original founders back in the 1930’s.”

“From what I’ve heard, its growing by leaps and bounds, causing First State Bank to lose deposits.” Garrett added.

“Sounds like the same guy.” Gina said pulling out her iPhone and pressing a few keys. “Let’s see.” We three sat in silence a minute or so while Gina played with her phone. Garrett and I enjoyed several bites of our omelets. Mine was extremely hot. “Here. Yep, its the same guy. Dayton, Tennessee. He was in banking there also. From what Dickson has said, Prescott got run out of town. Something about accusations he was involved with a high school girl. Dickson said that was a rumor started to shut him up. He was one of only a few who openly voiced support for Adam over the big controversy at the University of Tennessee and around Knoxville.”

“You might not learn the full story when you meet with Blair to review the court documents. From what I hear, Prescott wanted to raise the money to buy out Williams. Apparently, he, Prescott, didn’t know what he was getting into when he let Williams invest in his bank. If you think Alex Williams is a Christian, gun-toting zealot, you will be surprised by his father. Like father like son, but son has picked up some diplomatic skills he didn’t learn at the feet of dear old dad.” Garrett, I wasn’t surprised, knew a lot of scuttlebutt.

“So, exactly what is Kurt Prescott’s position? You said, he was an Adam Parker supporter in Tennessee.” I asked, looking at Gina.

“First, he is a zealot of a different sort. He is fully committed to education. According to Kramer, who apparently knows him quite well, Kurt continues a decades old hobby of visiting the local high schools and encouraging the students, especially the seniors, to adopt reading as a way of life. He’s been deeply interested in Adam and Kramer’s science research since it started in Tennessee. Kurt is fully against teaching creationism in the public school’s science class and is a die-hard fan of gun control. In fact, he recently contributed to my project.”

“Well, that seems to add a thick layer of drama to what I suspect is already a tense case between two zealots.” I said, taking the last bite of my omelet.

“It’s funny you bring up Roger Williams. Last Sunday, Paige, Dad, and I were at First Baptist Albertville. It was my second trip there but last week they were hosting a national celebrity of sorts, Ken Ham. He’s the creationist of all creationist. He’s the one who built the Ark replica in Kentucky and runs the Answers in Genesis organization. Anyway, Roger was there, along with his wife and three grandchildren. It seems Roger was the reason Ken Ham was there. Probably Roger had invited him and paid his way. Roger may be ignorant about a lot of things but he no doubt is a great business man and a loving grandfather. He mentioned how blessed he was to have a set of twin girls and a boy. He kept on and on talking about Ella and Emma, and Reece. I couldn’t forget their names if I wanted to. Maybe that was his intent. Before Roger turned the meeting over to Ken Ham he said that children everywhere Ham goes are fortunate to hear the truth and to learn how the Bible story fully reconciles with science.”

Looking at Garrett while listening to Gina, I could tell he was about to bust a gut to say something. “From what Gina has shared with me about Adam’s work, this crap is exactly what Adam was afraid of. I see it as child abuse.”

“It being what Ken Ham is teaching, what Roger says they should be taught?” I asked.

“Exactly, science in no way agrees with the Bible and vice-versa. It’s pure indoctrination and needs to stop. Children should be taught to think critically, not told what to think.” Garrett said. It was hard for me to believe these words came from a retired Methodist preacher.

“Both Adam and Kramer fully believed the data would eventually reveal that this teaching and the very environment from where it comes, is literally changing the genetic makeup of those constantly exposed to it. Of course, I believe it too and that’s why I work virtually full time to stop Alex’s proposed legislation to teach creationism in Alabama’s public schools. I can’t wait to learn how in the hell, pardon the French, Russell Williams broke away from the cult.” Gina said.

“What? Say that again.” I said wondering what I had heard. Maybe I wasn’t listening carefully. It seemed Gina had thrown in an extraneous fact.

“That’s why Russell is the black sheep of the Williams family. For years now, probably sometime after he moved to Georgia and went to work for Glock, Inc., he shed his faith. The only reason Roger and Alex put up with him now is he holds the key in convincing the big gun manufacturer to build a facility here in Boaz.” Gina clarified.

The three of us talked another fifteen minutes or so before Garrett received a call. He was needed at the hospital. I was fortunate to have such a good friend, one who deeply cared for others. I admired how he managed to give support to so many in our community, including those who were at death’s door.

Novel Excerpts—The Case of the Perfectionist Professor, Chapter 29

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

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?

Chapter 29

Friday night was a disaster. But, only to me. Camilla and Amy seemed to thoroughly enjoy themselves as they shared stories of how disconnected I could be. My feelings were hopefully not evident to my current and former girlfriends, but my gut seemed to be telling me this wouldn’t end well. What man had ever been able to sustain a good relationship with a young and beautiful woman after she started deeply caring about his former, and very long term, wife? At least the German Chocolate cake Camilla had bought at Walmart was non-threatening and delicious.

Camilla and I spent Saturday cleaning out her Paradise Self Storage unit in Albertville. Just Thursday she had learned of a family who had lost everything in a house fire. One of the main things I loved about Camilla was her generous heart, but sometimes I felt she needed to balance that with a serious dose of reasonableness. She had placed most everything she owned in storage when she moved in with me and Emily at Hickory Hollow back in March. Many of the items were furniture, appliances, and beautiful but inexpensive paintings, that Camilla’s late grandmother had left her. In all, there was enough to comfortably arrange an entire household. In addition, there were also a ton of women’s clothes packed away in a dozen or more boxes. By the end of the day we were beat. And, thankful that Natalie had taken the initiative to have dinner cooked for the three of us when we pulled up at 6:30 p.m.

I was glad it was Sunday. We could go to church and then come home for a long nap. Things didn’t work out that way, at least the nap part. Brother Caleb’s sermon was interesting but made me think of Paige and Natalie and their hell-raising in Erica Williams’ Sunday School class. Caleb’s statement, I think he said it came from Oswald Chambers, ‘Just because I don’t understand what Jesus Christ says, I have no right to determine that He must be mistaken in what He says,’ really got me to thinking. I couldn’t remember a single time that Jesus had ever truly talked to me, whether I understood Him or not. Maybe Paige and Natalie were right to question their faith.

As Camilla and I were standing in line to shake Pastor Caleb’s hand after the service ended, Steven Knott eased up beside me and whispered so only I could hear. He said, “you got time this afternoon to talk?” I didn’t even consider my high hope for a nap. An hour and a half later we were sitting in my conference room.

“It’s a little weird you asked me to meet. I fully intended this week to call and ask you the same thing.” I said, hoping he would start us toward the subject that was the most important to him.

“I’ve been wanting to talk with you a while, but didn’t know if I could trust you. Hannah convinced me I could. What could I say to her encouragement to meet with you after she confessed how the two of you had been spying on me.”

“Since you bring it up, I might as well just ask you. Are you having an affair with Peyton Todd?” I asked.

“Lord no. But, I can see why Hannah thought as much. It, an affair, happened once before, in Montgomery. That taught me a lesson I will never forget. It also reminded me of how blessed I am to have Hannah as my wife.”

“From what I’ve gathered, she is a remarkable woman.” I had watched Steven carefully as he answered my question. He was hard to read. I was undecided whether he was telling me the truth. Talk was cheap. Time alone with Peyton Todd, who was every bit as attractive as Hannah, could be mighty tempting to any man, even those who were honest.

“She’s not only beautiful, but sweet, kind, honest, and faithful. What else could a man want? Anyway, I suspect we have more to talk about than Hannah. Why don’t you ask me what you want?” I was a little surprised at Steven. At church I hadn’t observed his activism. I had concluded he was rather passive. Now, it seemed he was usurping my role.

“I appreciate your offer but let’s remember you asked me to meet. So, to be polite, you start us off.” I said.

“No doubt, as I’ve indicated, Hannah is the reason I’m here today. Her prompting, as you can easily conclude, was caused by finding Adam’s leather bag and iPad on my desk. To cut to the chase, Adam Parker and I were friends. I believe he was murdered and Peyton and I were trying to figure out who killed him.”

“That’s a lot to unpack, but I appreciate that tight summary. Now, I accept your invitation to ask a few questions. First, what is your connection with Peyton Todd? What got you two on the same team?” I asked.

“I met her at Sand Mountain Bank. The Church has a policy of rotating who makes deposits on Monday morning, after the haul from two Sunday services.”

“That’s kind of funny. I’ve never heard it put quite like that.” I said feeling Steven might lean away from the stereotypical minister of music.

“I had seen her a time or two walk behind the tellers. You know she’s not one. She’s Kurt Prescott’s executive assistant. Anyway, when she would see me, she would always say hi and smile, even though we hadn’t formally met. I have to say, I liked that, and as you know, she’s a very attractive woman. After, gosh, I bet it was months, she saw me one day in the bank, by then I had already opened my own account, and asked if I had a few minutes. I followed her to her office and we talked.”

“I have to ask. Why did she want to talk with you?”

“Some way she had heard I was a counselor. I don’t broadcast that. She might have Googled me or something. Anyway, she was concerned about her daughter, Paige.”

“She wanted you to counsel Paige? I know that she lost her best friend to suicide. Back in high school wasn’t it?” I asked.

“That’s right but it wound up that I counseled Peyton. Over a period of a week or so, and after she had asked Paige to meet with me, Peyton and I started meeting. No, Paige didn’t want my counseling.”

“If you don’t mind me asking, where did you counsel Peyton? Where did you two meet?” For whatever reason, my mind was painting a picture of Steven’s counseling getting way too personal with the beguiling Peyton. I could think this about her, but I was surmising only.

“Different places. She wanted to keep it secret. Both from her current and former husbands. You may know she’s currently married to Jerry Todd, and her ex-husband is Jake Stone.”

“I’m aware of both.” I said.

“Back to your question. We have met several places, including Health Connections on a regular basis, and a couple of times at her house when Jerry was out of town. That wasn’t too smart.” I decided not to ask him why.

“Oh, and one time at Jane Ellsworth’s place down on Henderson Road. She’s Peyton’s former sister-in-law. She also owns the Brass Lantern Restaurant.”

“Along with her partner, Jake Stone.” I added.

“That’s right.”

“One question before moving on. Now, that I think about it I bet you won’t want to answer, but I’ll ask anyway. What was the focus of your counseling?” I asked.

“Will you keep this confidential?” Steven asked.

“I will.”

“Two things. Of course, Paige and her ongoing battle over the loss of her friend to suicide. The second thing was the anxiety her two men, as she called them, were causing her.”

“Jerry and Jake?”

“Yes. This is now getting close to the answer to one of your earlier questions. You asked how Peyton and I got teamed up. Both Jerry and Jake became public enemies of Adam Parker. In short, we, Peyton and I, became two fans of the perfectionist Parker.”

“Tell me how that came about.”

Steven stood up and pulled off his suit coat. I could tell he was beginning to perspire. “I hate to say it but several guys in my Sunday School class became kingpins against Parker and his research.”

“The Seekers Sunday School class.” I said.

“You’ve heard?”

“I’ve heard that Lawton, Jerry, Jake, and seems like one other, and of course you, started communicating with Parker. This is how you met him and the beginning of your friendship. Right?”

“It’s also the way Peyton met him and became a fan. She couldn’t stand what Jerry and Jake, and others, were doing. The main thing she, and me for the most part, knew they were doing was attacking Parker on Facebook. As time passed, this was early last Fall, we three grew closer and closer.”

“There’s something I need to ask, and I really need a complete answer. Why is one of the Williams’ paying you, or you and Peyton, money?” I asked.

“I’ll answer that, but how in the hell, sorry, did you know about that?”

“Don’t forget, Hannah hired us to investigate you and Peyton. The details of how we learned this are not that relevant. Just know, an investigator, a good one, has his methods.”

“Again, is our conversation here confidential?”

“Yes, but I’m not here as your attorney. There is no investigator/witness privilege.”

“I hear you are an attorney. Can we transform our session into an attorney consultation?” Steven asked.

“We can but just know I’m not agreeing to represent you in any type case.”

“Okay. Deal. Peyton and I blackmailed Roger Williams.”

“How, why?” I asked.

“It was back before Adam died that we learned Natalie wasn’t his son Alex’s first mistress.”

“Let me interrupt. How did you learn this?”

“From Adam. He was quite the sleuth if you know what I mean. Roger and Alex were way subtler with their opposition to Parker. At least Roger was. Someway Adam found out about Alex’s affair a year or two earlier. It was another young girl from Guntersville.”

“What made you and Peyton decide to blackmail Roger?” I asked.

“It’s funny really. We both, separately, were attending the kick-off of Alex’s campaign for governor. It was held in Guntersville and there were all types of high fa-luting people there. They all were touting Alex as the best thing to come along since sliced bread. It was Roger that did it to himself. He was his arrogant self, in his speech supporting his son, he had to make several not so subtle remarks that highlighted his own success and wealth. If that weren’t bad enough, he spent probably fifteen minutes describing what a man of God Alex was, and describing how God, just like He had with Joseph in Egypt, had a plan to use Alex to save America, starting first of course with Alabama. Roger’s little speech pissed off both Peyton and me. We sat through it already knowing, from Adam, that Roger had paid off the young girl’s family from Guntersville.”

“How did you pull this off? The blackmail?” I asked.

“Easy peasy. In short, we hired a guy to drop off a little package to Roger’s office at Rand in the Industrial Park. Someway, and I don’t know how, Adam had been able to obtain a copy of the confidentiality agreement Roger, Alex, the girl and her family had signed. We simply asked for $100,000 to keep it quiet. Get this. The girl had an abortion to get rid of her and Alex’s baby.”

“I guess we could say Alex is consistent. Can I ask what you did with the money?” I asked.

“We hired Goldstein & Associates, it’s an investigative firm out of Atlanta. You’ve probably heard of them.” Steven said.

“Definitely, they’re big time, international, often involved in major cases that hit the media.”

“I have to ask. What, so far, has Goldstein discovered?”

“In a way, not a whole lot, at least to me. The thing that got Adam’s antenna on alert was Alex’s tie to Glock, the big gun manufacturer. It seems the two have big plans, starting with Glock coming to Alabama in exchange for Alex’s help in selling guns. You know there is a big push to arm every public-school teacher.”

“It seems it’s more than hopes and promises. The Alabama legislature just passed a law making it mandatory for teachers to be trained and armed.”

“I hadn’t heard. That’s about the most stupid thing I’ve ever heard.” Steven said.

“It is except for folks like Alex who obviously see personal gain coming his way.”

Steven and I talked another hour. Mainly, about his and Hannah’s dream of moving away from Boaz. It seemed the two of them were getting tired of the ‘singing in the choir,’ as he put it. This was his way of stating his and Hannah’s opposition to the one song that ninety-nine percent of locals sang. Steven even described it as the ‘bullets, babies and bullshit’ indoctrination, thanking their late friend Adam Parker.

Tuesday afternoon I revisited Adam Parker’s office at Snead State. After nearly two hours of searching every square inch I gave up and left. I didn’t have a clue what I was looking for but was convinced I would know it when I saw it. This case was the most bewildering I had ever encountered. Coming down the Administrative Building’s second floor stairs, I saw Mark Hale coming in through the rear entrance.

“Mark.” I yelled when he was inside the building, looking around as though he was lost and needed some direction.

“What are you doing here?” Mark said, as he looked up towards me as I stood on the final landing before turning and coming down to the first floor.

“I thought I might get lucky and find something helpful in Adam’s office. I could ask the same question to you.” I said.

“You won’t have to ask, just join me. I must go by Dean Naylor’s office. Do you know where it is?”

“Second floor. Follow me.” I lead Mark back upstairs. Every time I had been here I had seen the Dean’s name on the door in the corner office before turning down the long hallway to the left to reach Adam’s office.

Mark walked in and introduced himself to Kitty Brown, the Dean’s Assistant, according to her desk plaque. She handed him a small package and thanked him for coming by. I followed him back out into the hallway.

“You still don’t know why you’re here?” I asked.

“Let’s go to your office and watch this tape. It might be helpful in solving the Adam Parker murder.”

“I assume you’re speaking of a video tape?”

“Yep. I can’t believe you didn’t discover it. I thought you were hired to investigate Parker’s death.” Mark said, looking at me as though I was a greener than green P.I.

“I was told there were no cameras in the parking lot behind the Science Building.”

“Who told you that?” Mark asked.

“The supervisor with the maintenance department, Greg or Craig, something like that.”

“You should have talked with the Dean.”

“I tried, but he was out of town. I guess I dropped the ball.”

“He might not have told you anyway. No one here, including the maintenance department, knows about the six cameras he had installed mid-Fall last year. He personally hired a company out of Tampa, Florida. I don’t think the Dean would have told me if I hadn’t been an investigator with the Sheriff’s Department. Sometimes it pays to be official.” Mark said taking another dig at me. I didn’t hold the power and influence, including subpoena power, like members of the executive branch.

Blair was helpful in setting up the tape for viewing. It was just a DVD. Blair was intrigued, as I was, with Mark’s account of what Dean Naylor had shared with him. It seemed Naylor had gotten concerned about campus rumblings, most of them to do with Professor Parker and his controversial research, and the local backlash. So, the Dean decided to install a security system that only he knew about. The Tampa company had an ingenious way of hiding their high-tech devices. They used a large, specially designed, bracket that appeared to hold a two-foot by two-foot campus flag on an existing parking lot light pole. The system was highly sensitive and recorded only if triggered with movement, of a human. A dog, cat, bird, any non-human, wouldn’t activate the system. Someway, wireless, the system transferred data to a computer in the Dean’s office. He then could burn a DVD of any day’s recordings. The computer was designed to hold a year’s worth of data for a maximum of ten cameras.

Mark had asked for a day’s recording of the camera that was best positioned to capture the spot where Adam Parker’s vehicle was parked when he was discovered late that Sunday afternoon. Instead of taking up to twenty-four hours to probably learn little or nothing, Dean Naylor had left a sticky note on the DVD with instructions where to find the five places the camera had recorded movement.

The first recording started at 16:30 on the DVD’s counter. Blair quickly determined this was 9:30 a.m. Sunday morning. The camera showed Adam driving forward into his assigned parking spot. We all assumed that he had come to work in his office. At the 19:35 spot (12:35 p.m.), Adam returned to his car and drove away. At 19:56 (12:56 p.m.) the camera recorded him returning. All three of us agreed Adam was carrying a Zaxby’s Chicken sack; he had driven for lunch and returned to his office to eat.

At 20:12 (1:12 p.m.) the camera revealed two men returning to Adam’s car. The man was Lawton Hawks and it appeared likely he was forcing Parker to come with him. The man had his right hand inside his jacket as though he might be holding a pistol. The giveaway was when Adam unlocked his car door and slid across to sit in the passenger seat. Hawks drove Parker’s car.

The fifth and final place Dean Naylor had pointed us to on the DVD revealed Adam’s car being backed into his parking spot. The time was 2:48 p.m. (21:48 on the DVD’s counter). The videotape also showed another vehicle, what looked like an older model Nissan Quest van, backing in beside the driver’s side door of Adam’s Chevrolet Impala.

This time, there were two men, and both were wearing a tight, black hood. One got out of the driver’s seat of Adam’s car, and the other from the van. What was horrible to watch was the men removing Adam’s body from the back of the van through its sliding door on the passenger side. They quickly put Adam into the driver’s seat of his Impala, leaving him to be found by none other than Jake Stone less than two hours later. Watching this last scene revealed why Adam’s car was found backed into his parking spot. I virtually kicked myself for not seeing this during one of the many times I had stood looking in the Science Building’s parking lot. There was a curb and a landscaped area including a Bradford Pear tree immediately to the left of Adam’s car door when he pulled in front forward.

After re-watching the 21:48 scene two times, all three of us easily concluded one of the hooded men was Lawton Hawks. Less confidently, Blair and I believed the second man was Jake Stone, partly based on the sixth and final scene that showed Stone in his police cruiser pulling up cross-ways behind Adam’s Impala at 4:55 p.m. (DVD counter beginning at 23:55). Mark was reluctant to join Blair and me on our second opinion.

Blair left to return to her desk and Mark gave me the bad news. Obviously, Lawton Hawks wouldn’t be saying much since he was dead, but there still wasn’t enough evidence to bring Stone in for official questioning. I didn’t fully agree with Mark, but he didn’t think it best strategically to go talk to Stone even on an unofficial basis. I was glad I wasn’t subject to Mark’s authority and made a mental note to speak with Stone about the extent of his police department investigation.

Novel Excerpts—The Case of the Perfectionist Professor, Chapter 28

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

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?

Chapter 28

Blair was standing outside the office’s front door as Garrett and I walked out of Pirate’s Cove. She motioned me over. “I had just unlocked and was about to walk over and see if you were eating breakfast. Marissa just called. Sounds important.”

Blair walked back inside, and I said goodbye to Garrett. When I reached my desk I almost chose not to return Marissa’s call. I already knew that Adam had been murdered. Gut feelings aside, it was necessary to have this confirmed. I dialed Marissa from the land line.

“Morning Connor. Why is it that I feel even worse now that I know for sure Dad was murdered?”

“I suspect there was a part of you that wanted it not to be true, maybe a hope he simply died naturally. I’m not sure that came out right. Sorry.” I said, opening Flipboard for today’s top news.

“Dr. Singer called late last night. He’s emailing me the official report this morning. Dad died of cyanide poisoning. Singer’s words, ‘the drug screen revealed enough of the poison to kill two horses.’”

“Marissa, I am so very sorry you are having to go through this. And, your mother.” Adam’s body had been exhumed ten days ago. Dalton had not had any trouble convincing Marshall County Circuit Judge Chris Abel to grant the exhumation petition. The Chicago Judge was obligated by the Full Faith and Credit clause of the U.S. Constitution to acknowledge and support Judge Abel’s order, but chose to call the Alabama judge just to verify the order’s authenticity.

“She’s taking it pretty hard, living with a lot of regrets.” Marissa said, I could tell she was crying. She had found Dr. Ted Singer, a Board-Certified Pathologist and PhD at the University of Chicago’s School of Medicine. Marissa’s connection had been a colleague in the same university’s School of Divinity, a former classmate at Southwestern School of Theology in Fort Worth.

“Be sure to email me a copy of the official report. Also, if you don’t mind, mail me a hard copy.” I said, wanting to say more to console Marissa but not having a clue how to do so.

We spent another twenty minutes with me updating her on what had happened in Boaz, everything that was even remotely related to the case. Two things got her attention: the abduction of Natalie, and the appearance of Adam’s leather bag with its iPad contents. The last thing Marissa said was, “Steven having Dad’s bag and iPad makes a little sense now, given what he said when I saw him in Nashville a few weeks ago. Steven said, ‘your father was a counselor’s counselor.’ At the time I didn’t have a clue what he meant. I think he was telling me that he had gotten good advice from my dad.”

I spent the rest of the morning with Adam’s iPad trying to work my way backwards through a ton of routes and recordings for all three Williams’. So far, nothing had pricked my interest. A few minutes before noon I called Hannah at Snead State hoping to catch her between classes. She was busy with student conferences and couldn’t talk but promised to call me back around two.

At 1:45 p.m., Blair buzzed me over the intercom and said Hannah was on the line.

“Thanks for calling me back.” I said.

“I’ve been meaning to call you.”

“I’d about decided you didn’t get anywhere with Steven over Adam’s leather bag and iPad but for some reason today I had to know. Something spurred my interest I guess.”

I heard Hannah tell someone, probably a student, to please close her door as she left. “All I know is that Steven and Adam were friends. It seems Steven and several members of his Sunday School class, got caught up in the ongoing public controversy over Adam’s research. They started emailing Adam. All the other members were antagonistic towards him but not Steven. I think they met after Steven asked Adam a question about guns. At some point Steven shared his story, about how he had accidentally shot and killed his twin brother. In time, Steven grew encouraged by Adam’s persistence and his interest in exposing the Southern gun culture. I think, maybe, both men drew encouragement from the other. Steven shared an event that really unnerved Adam. I’m not sure when it happened but the other guys from Sunday School, I think it was Jake Stone, Lawton Hawks, and Jerry Todd, there might have been one other. These guys, alone with Steven, dropped by Adam’s house one night and threatened him if he didn’t pack his bags and move away.”

“You said Steven was with them? When they went and threatened Adam?” I asked.

“By then, Steven had gone undercover if that’s what you would call it. In other words, he was acting openly as a supportive team member with the other Seekers, but privately, he was Adam’s ally.”

What Hannah was saying made sense given what Marissa had said, but it didn’t explain how Adam’s personal items wound up in Steven’s study. “What about the leather bag and iPad? What did he say?”

“At some point Adam became convinced that he was in real danger. He apparently had told Steven about the importance of the iPad and asked him to remove it from Adam’s office if something happened to him. It was hidden in his office and only Adam and Steven knew where it was kept. After Adam’s body was discovered, Steven went and got it.” Hannah said.

“Did he break in or did he have a key to Adam’s office?” I asked.

“He had a key.”

“If that’s true, and I’m not saying it isn’t, I’ll need to talk to Steven. From what I know about Adam, he was never the type to have close friends.”

“I agree he was unique, even weird in a good sort of way, but once you got to know him and didn’t judge him, he was easily likable. I definitely would say the two of us were friends.” Hannah said.

One other question, unless you have something else. Why did Steven keep quiet about having Adam’s iPad?” I asked.

“Of course, he knew about your investigation, but he didn’t know he could trust you, or anyone else. He says he’s still trying to learn more, to hopefully learn something that would help solve the case. Steven definitely believes Adam was murdered.”

I went on to tell Hannah that it was now confirmed that Adam had been poisoned, that we were now dealing with a murder case. She, almost like Marissa, was deeply saddened by the news.

For some reason I had put off talking with Natalie. I left the office early and arrived home in time to see Emily driving off to Birmingham to spend the weekend with Carl. It seemed this had become a regular affair, in more ways than one. Camilla was working until 7:00 so it left me without excuse to have a heart-to-heart with Natalie. She was sitting in the den when I walked in.

“Hey Natalie, how are you feeling?”

“Not bad, but I wish I could have gone with Paige.”

“Where is she going?”

Natalie reached for the remote and flipped off the TV. “Nowhere in particular, she just left and said she might go to the Snead basketball game. I don’t like the sport, but anything would beat being cooped up here.”

“I know you’re used to your freedom, but you see what that got you. Try and be patient as the investigation into your abduction takes place.”

“I guess I don’t have much choice. I’m sure not going home.” Natalie said propping her feet on the coffee table. I was a little surprised that her tummy was as large as it was. The tight tee-shirt she was wearing seemed to accentuate her bulging middle.

“I’ve been meaning for us to have a talk. Do you think that would be okay?” I asked.

“Sure, what do you want to know?”

“To start with, I want your response to something I recently heard.”

“Okay, what’s that?”

“Erica Williams says you are a criminal and that she would bet you killed Lawton Hawks. Sorry, to be so blunt.” I said sitting in my lounging chair across from Natalie on the couch.

“I would think you would know that she hates me. She’d probably say a lot of bad things about me.”

“Other than the obvious, are there other reasons she would not be your biggest fan?” I asked.

“A couple of reasons I could think of. Paige and I gave her hell last year in Sunday School. She was our teacher. It was about the same time the two of us, Paige and me, got tight with Professor Parker. He enabled us to be open about our beliefs. To put it mildly, we were a burr in her teaching saddle. Of course, this cost me and Paige our baby-sitting job.”

“The two of you were baby-sitting for Erica?” I asked.

“Paige for the last few years or so. After Reece was three or four. Me, gosh, forever. I started when I was eleven or twelve, when the twin girls were maybe three.”

“So, you were almost a part of the Williams’ household for seven or eight years?” I asked.

“Yep. I’m nearly twenty now. The twins are ten. Seven or so sounds right. Of course, I haven’t babysat since six or seven months ago.”

“This might get a little personal, but did you babysit any after you started your affair with Alex?” I asked.

“Actually, I did. Made for a weird scene. The two of them coming home with Erica going to put the kids to bed leaving me with Alex. It’s a wonder she hadn’t caught us sneaking a kiss. Looking back, our affair really started way before the sex. Alex, since I was probably fourteen or so, would flirt with me. It’s easy now to see that he had the hots for me even then. Of course, it didn’t help that I was rather mature, physically, ever since I became a teenager.”

“You don’t think Erica noticed anything during all those times?”

“I doubt she thought too much. She just knew her man was a flirt.”

“Changing the subject. Tell me more about your relationship with Adam Parker.” I said.

“After the Facebook attacks against him began, Paige and I started defending him, mainly responding with supportive comments. We both knew him from class, she had him the prior year, and I was a student in Biology I. He didn’t really acknowledge our help until the Post by Jake Stone wearing a gorilla outfit.”

“What? How did you know it was Stone?” I asked.

“Not only was it his post on his own Facebook page, he admitted it by saying something like, ‘cops and non-cops alike can pretend they are an ape. Some folks, like nutty Professor Parker, don’t have to pretend.’ It was stupid. The next day Paige and I went to Adam’s office and had a long talk.”

“Tell me about it.” I said.

“He really didn’t seem too concerned, said he’d been through it before. He told us about his research, how he was gathering data to support his hypothesis that, what he called, southern delusion, was working to further alter or modify every succeeding generation that continues in the closed-mind cycle.”

“What did he mean by that?”

“Slanted education really. Seeing things from a slanted perspective. By the end of our long meeting, he had enlisted us as, I guess you could say, guinea pigs.”

“Let’s back up just a little so I can really understand. Why did you and Paige support Adam to begin with? What caused you two to write comments that were, I assume, clearly counter to the consensus?”

“In a way it was luck or fate. Have you ever heard of post traumatic church syndrome?”

“No, I haven’t.”

“It’s when something major happens to cause you to question your long-held spiritual or religious beliefs. Paige’s event was in high school when her best friend killed herself. Mine was when Alex started slipping his hand down my pants. Sorry to be so blunt. Both events triggered Paige and my questioning: does the God of the Bible actually exist?”

I stood up in front of the fireplace. For some reason I was cold, like a blast of cold air had entered the room. I almost stopped our conversation to build a fire, but I didn’t. “You and Paige started questioning your faith? Right?”

“Over the next several months, he, Professor Parker, guided us through a number of experiments. We even enlisted some of our diehard Christian friends to participate. The common element in each of the experiments was an attempt to determine why a person relied on faith and not fact. To me, it seemed rather simple: if you were brought up in a community where virtually everybody believes the same way and you are conditioned to fear being ostracized (not to mention suffering eternal damnation) from that community, you don’t dare allow yourself to question. This so-called principle applied to not only Christian beliefs, but also every position the community held. For example, issues such as guns, abortion, capital punishment.”

“I see now how you and Paige might have gotten under Erica’s skin as she tried to teach Sunday School.” I said, sitting back down in my chair.

“Erica’s skin apparently wasn’t the only skin we troubled. It seems the more Adam included us in his testing’s, the more Paige and I questioned Erica in Sunday School, and the more the Facebook attacks and the pranks occurred.”

“What do you mean by pranks?” I asked.

“It became clear that Jake Stone, Lawton Hawks, Jerry Todd, Paige’s father, and probably Alex, were involved in ever increasing pranks. They became something totally different. Towards the end, right before Adam’s death, they became vicious.”

“Natalie, you’ll know soon enough, so I might as well go ahead and tell you. Adam Parker was murdered. We have recently learned that he was poisoned. It could not have been anything except murder.” I said.

“That’s no surprise at all. Paige and I have known since the Sunday Adam’s body was found, that he was murdered. Of course, we couldn’t exactly prove it, but we knew nonetheless.”

“Tell me more about the vicious attacks you mentioned.”

“Trying to run him off the road, killing his dog, breaking into his house and leaving a headless chicken on his table. I’m sure I could go on, but you see my point?”

I was about to ask Natalie a few things about Alex when Camilla walked in the back door. She had gotten off a little early and run by Walmart to buy a cake.

“Are you ready?” She asked, standing beside the refrigerator putting in a gallon of milk.

“Ready for what?” I could feel I should know what the lovely Camilla was referring to, but to save my life I was turning up blanks.

“Amy’s. Dinner.”

“Oh yea. Can I take a quick shower first?” I said looking over at a smiling Natalie. It was like she could see inside my head, clearly recognizing the thin ice I was on.

“Go ahead, but hurry.” Camilla said.

I walked upstairs to the bedroom and for some reason flipped on the TV hanging on the wall to the right of the bathroom door. As I was pulling new underwear and a tee-shirt from my chest-of-drawers, I heard, “tell us Ms. Thornton about the controversial legislation that just passed this afternoon.”

The channel was 27 and the station was Trinity Broadcasting Network out of Gadsden. I don’t know who had turned our TV to this station. I walked over and stood watching. The news anchor was interviewing a Donna Thornton with the Gadsden Times newspaper who had spent all day in Montgomery.

All I learned before Camilla came in and shooed me into the shower was that the Alabama legislature had today passed a bill that required all Alabama public school teachers to complete a six-week intensive gun use and safety course. Ms. Thornton had just mentioned the bill’s sponsor, Alex Williams, when Camilla turned off the TV and closed the bathroom door.