The primary aim of the "Novel Excerpts" blog category is to showcase my creative writing, specifically from the novels I've written. Hopefully, these posts will provide a glimpse into my storytelling style, themes, and narrative skills. It's an opportunity to share my artistic expressions and the worlds I've created through my novels.

The Boaz Scorekeeper, written in 2017, is my second novel. I'll post it, a chapter a day, over the next few weeks.

Neither one of us said anything as I drove west on Cox Gap Road.  When I turned left on Mountainboro Road, Gina said that she was growing weary of staying with Wade. She said that he was becoming more erratic and unpredictable.

“Explain what you mean.”  I said.

“He’s started carrying a gun.  Something he’s never done.  He is worried sick that something is going to happen to him.  Yesterday, he came home for lunch and said he had spent nearly all morning looking for Fred, including calling his cell phone.  Wade said he had gone to the Bank and spoken with Fritz.  He said Fred had gone to Gatlinburg and should be back by Tuesday.  Wade said that there was something strange about how Fritz looked at him, almost like he was lying.  His eyes darted around and he never did look Wade directly in the eye.”

“Did Wade say why he was wanting to talk with Fred?”  I said.

“He didn’t say exactly but I feel it’s about how James has been acting toward him and Fred.  You remember how mad James was on the transcript when he found out that Club Eden was still selling pretty Hispanic girls to the Russian mob.”  Gina said.

“Have you formulated a plan?  A plan for where you are going, what you will be doing?”  I said.

“I have an aunt in Atlanta, Mother’s sister.  Her two children, my cousins, are also there and own a florist.  You can tell by my blouse that I love flowers.”  Gina said looking over at Micaden and smiling ever so slightly.

“You know you will have to come back, maybe more than once, after we file suit.  The court could order mediation before a trial.  And, either separately or as part of mediation, there will likely be settlement negotiations you will need to attend.”

“Oh, another thing I was going to tell you.  Wade said he has a theory that Fred is gone for good and that, if that is true, there is no doubt that Boaz has a serial killer on the loose who is targeting the Flaming Five.  He said he and James were really in a terrible place.”

“From what I’ve heard, John and Randall’s disappearances could be something as simple as a disgruntled parent.  In a way, it sounds unbelievable that a father would go to such an extreme of abducting his son’s coach.  All to pay him back for his son’s lack of playing time or acceptable attention during Bible study?  Of course, you have heard many stories of people committing horrific crimes over seemingly insignificant things.”  I said.

“You’re probably right.”

“Can I ask you a question?”  I said to Gina.

“Of course.”

“You say you are ready to leave Wade, that you are growing very tired of your relationship with him, yet you continue to wear his wedding ring on your finger. I was just wondering why that is.”

“It’s a valid question.  First, the simple answer is a strategic one.  If I pulled it off Wade would notice and would become suspicious.  The second reason is a little more complex.  You know that Wade and I didn’t marry because we were in love.  Our lives together started with a shotgun wedding as I’ve told you.  This multi-diamond cluster that I’m wearing isn’t my first ring.  Wade’s parents bought us our first rings, just matching bands, just for the wedding, just for show.  You know, love is strange.  I would never have believed that I could be forced into loving Wade.  But, in a real sense, that’s exactly what happened.  Our move to Tuscaloosa right after the wedding was probably the best present we received.  There, we learned to depend on each other.  Wade, back then, was sweet, kind, considerate, much different away from his four buddies.  Four years later, just before we graduated, Wade proposed to me at Denny Chimes on bended knee and placed this ring on my finger.  That night, we went back to the apartment and made love like we never had.  It wasn’t just sex, it was real love.  The next morning Wade asked me if I was still okay with the ring and his idea of proposing as his way of showing me he wanted our lives to have real meaning as a married couple.  I told him I loved it all and that I would wear his ring forever.”  Gina said.

“One thing I have learned since High School is to be careful about swearing and believing that I would never change my mind.  When I was a kid growing up I was, as they say, knee deep into faith and my belief in God and Christ.  To say the least, that has changed radically.”  I said.

I pulled in front of the Gadsden Post Office telling Gina I had a few things I needed to mail.  She stayed in my truck.  With gloveless hands, I carried the ransom folder inside and let the two smaller envelopes slide into the outgoing mail chute being careful not to touch them.

I then drove us to the courthouse and told Gina I would only be a few minutes.  Again, she waited in my truck as I went to the Clerk’s office to kill some time.  I didn’t have any specific business I needed to attend to.  I simply wanted to show Gina I had a reason to drive to Gadsden other than going to the Post Office.

On the drive home, I decided to go the back way through Noccalula Falls.  We talked very little on the way back.  We did talk some about the beautiful Fall colors on the trees surrounding us as we made our way up the mountain.  A hundred yards before I reached Dogwood Trail on my left, I decided I would show Gina my secret office at Oak Hollow.  There was no doubt this was a bad idea.  I had never even mentioned it to anyone else, but someway Gina had broken through my defensiveness and become a trustworthy friend.  What could it hurt?  No one would ever know.  I truly had no ulterior motives, even though I was attracted to her.  I would never have attempted anything sexual or otherwise intimate.

“You got time to see where I do my really serious writing, both for work and for fun?”  I asked.

“Sure, you got a tree house?”

I turned left onto Dogwood Trail and was about half way there when I saw Franklin and Danny Ericson, John’s father and son, standing in the yard just off Blanton Riggins front porch.  His wife, Shelia, waved as I drove by.

“I really hope they didn’t see me.”  Gina said melting down into her seat.

“I suspect the Ericson’s were there talking to the Riggins about selling their house.  I heard a few weeks ago that Blanton was retiring from Goodyear and he and his wife wanted to move to Orange Beach.”

I drove on to Oak Hollow, unlocked and opened the gate, and drove down to the house.  My mind was about to explode.  First, I should never have come here with Gina even without being seen.  Second, I was confident that, at a minimum, the Ericson’s recognized me simply by my truck.  Third, if they saw Gina, it wouldn’t be long until Wade and James knew.  And, most likely, Wade would think Gina and I were having an affair.  But, the most explosive thought I had was I had voluntarily invited a future detective to come snooping around the one place I had, up until now, done everything I could to keep secret.

Gina and I spent thirty minutes inside the house with me showing her a stack of unpublished short stories.  She had been more interested in the wood-burning cook-stove in the kitchen than anything.  I made up a story about how I needed to keep this place a secret and had her promise she wouldn’t tell anyone.  When I told Gina that even Karla didn’t know about Oak Hollow, I could see she felt I saw her as a very close friend.

When we returned to Hickory Hollow, I asked Gina to let me know when she was safe in Atlanta.  I urged her to keep me posted of everything that happened between her and Wade.  She opened her car door, but before she got in, she walked over to me and hugged me once again saying, “I am so glad you are my attorney, but most of all for becoming a faithful friend.  I’m going to miss you.”

I told her I felt the same.  She walked back to her car and drove off.  It was the last time I saw Gina alive.

The primary aim of the "Novel Excerpts" blog category is to showcase my creative writing, specifically from the novels I've written. Hopefully, these posts will provide a glimpse into my storytelling style, themes, and narrative skills. It's an opportunity to share my artistic expressions and the worlds I've created through my novels.

The Boaz Scorekeeper, written in 2017, is my second novel. I'll post it, a chapter a day, over the next few weeks.

I don’t know if it was Fred’s justice or the fact it was Halloween night, but I didn’t sleep well at all.  I got up and came into the kitchen for coffee just as Karla was leaving for school.  She kissed me and as she was walking out the side door told me Kaden was with Lewis, that he had gotten home around 6:00 yesterday afternoon and the two of them were taking a long weekend to fish and relax at our cabin in Guntersville.

I had purchased it last winter.  It was owned by a client who was brighter than most when it came to pre-divorce planning.  He said he believed it was inevitable that he and his wife divorce but he was going to postpone it for two years or so to extract some assets from their marital estate.  The cabin on Guntersville Lake was something I would not have intentionally sought after but I bought it for about half what it was worth.  Now, standing at the sink with my coffee, Karla backing out of the garage, I realized that I had done a smart thing making the cabin’s seller sign an acknowledgment that he had come to me for only a consultation and that I could not be his attorney in any upcoming divorce action.  The seller never got a chance to file a divorce action against his wife.  She beat him to the punch last month.  I didn’t know much about their case other than what was published in the Alabama Public Records database, but I did know that she was accusing her husband of absconding with over a million dollars.  Yet, he hadn’t been served a copy of the complaint.  It seemed no one knew where he was.

I walked to my closet and pulled down an old laptop computer and mini-printer that I had used to load the ransom files on from my office computer, the one I had disposed of just in the nick of time to avoid the unpleasant but natural result of the search warrant a few weeks ago.  After setting them on the round table in my study I drafted a ransom note to Fritz, and Fred’s wife Phyllis.

It read:

“Fred has been kidnapped and is dead.  Under normal circumstances you, as Fred’s loving family, would not be motivated to pay a ransom.  However, this situation is anything but normal.

Unlike you, I know a few things that can help you protect a large portion of the sizable estate you have been able to illegally accumulate.  First, you have no choice but to follow my directions.  Exactly.  You may have some knowledge that John’s family didn’t comply with the requests in my letter.  This disobedience cost John his life.  In your situation, if you fail to comply perfectly, not only will you lose your life, but also the lives of Fred’s two children, Fulton and Stella, will come to a dreadful end.

Here’s what you must do to retain life:

1. Before Saturday, November 4, 2017, wire transfer $4,000,000 to Fidelity Bank Limited in Grand Cayman, Cayman Islands.  This bank’s physical address is: Cayman Financial Centre, 36A Dr. Roy’s Drive, Grand Cayman, KYI-1103, Cayman Islands.  The bank’s Routing Number is 063012136.  You are to have these funds deposited to Account Number 90003070.  Please note that I do not care whether you withdraw these funds from the Billingsley estate or Club Eden.

2. Contribute $500,000 towards the project that is under development on the old Boaz Spinning Mills property.  See Micaden Tanner.  He represents a client who has recently purchased this property from the Radford family.

3. Assist U.S. Attorney Greg Gambol with his investigation of the City of Boaz, Club Eden, Wade Tillman, James Adams, and all other members of Club Eden.  Mr. Gambol, as well as Micaden Tanner, have been made aware of the sex trafficking scheme that has been going on in Boaz for the past five years.  These two attorneys worked together years ago in Atlanta.  Mr. Gambol is open to granting you full immunity in exchange for your full cooperation.  He will be contacting you very soon.

4. Testify, if asked by either the prosecution or a criminal defense attorney for James Adams, that you witnessed him threaten to kill both Fred and Wade.  You should know that several meetings between you and other members of Club Eden were recorded and that I have a copy of such tapes. 

Of course, you can involve family, friends, police, and other authorities with this situation.  That is completely up to you.  However, you are bright enough to realize such involvement will not be in your best interest, nor that of Fulton and Stella’s.”

I put on a pair of latex gloves, printed out the two letters, and addressed two envelopes.  One to Fred’s wife Phyllis, and the other one to Fritz.  I folded and inserted the letters into the envelopes, and sealed the flaps using an Aqua Ball.  I affixed two stamps to the envelopes being extra cautious not to lick them.  I then inserted these two envelopes into one manila folder and was about to leave for the Gadsden Post Office when Gina called.

“Micaden, the scorekeeper.”

“I’m outside in your driveway.  Can I see you?”

“I’m about to make a quick trip to Gadsden.  You want to ride along?”  I said without any thought at all.  What could it hurt?  Surely, no one would see us.  What if they did?  I am Gina’s attorney.

I gathered up my briefcase and the manila folder containing the two envelopes and walked outside.  Gina was leaning against her nearly new Impala in blue-jeans and a sleeveless flowered blouse.  Her formerly blonde hair, now black and curly, with gray streaks, was pulled back behind her head.  I couldn’t help but notice how good she still looked at 63.

The primary aim of the "Novel Excerpts" blog category is to showcase my creative writing, specifically from the novels I've written. Hopefully, these posts will provide a glimpse into my storytelling style, themes, and narrative skills. It's an opportunity to share my artistic expressions and the worlds I've created through my novels.

The Boaz Scorekeeper, written in 2017, is my second novel. I'll post it, a chapter a day, over the next few weeks.

I left him there and went for my four-wheeler.  I had brought it on a small trailer behind my truck.  Fred was a little smaller than John but still a big challenge to get him stood up, leaned over, and strapped to the four-wheeler. I had bolted a half-sheet of thick plywood crosswise and installed six hooks to use bungee cords to keep Fred in place. I also cuffed Fred’s hands.  I grabbed my duffel bag out of the cab of my truck and set off toward Aurora Lake.  I drove past the cabin glancing to my left to see the fire pit and tent still in tack.  I wondered whether the sons of the Flaming Five had stepped into the shoes of their Fathers spending their weekends here with chosen females, those from in and out of town.  I crossed the little creek that was fed by the runoff from the dam and headed northwesterly up our hiking trail.  I had to stop three times to remove dead or dying trees from my narrow path.  During the last 150 yards or so a streak of fear raced through my mind.  I was now knee deep in the most dangerous of all my Flaming Five missions.  It was daylight.  In effect, I was cornered.  My truck and Fred’s Camaro were setting by the cabin for anyone to see if they drove through the unlocked gate and down Club Eden’s driveway.  I was in possession of a semi-unconscious body strapped down with cuffed hands.  Someone could be out on the lake or hiking around it.  I concluded that I was taking too great a risk for any possible benefit that might someday arise from disposing of Fred here at Club Eden. Within fifteen minutes from the time I had tasered Fred, we were at the southwestern shore of Aurora Lake, about 100 yards from the dam and forty feet or so from my aluminum boat. 

I walked to it and pulled back all the limbs and brush I had piled on it.  I then slid it over to the shore’s edge.  I returned to Fred and started to get him up but decided to leave him lying there on his back.  He was beginning to moan just a little.  I took two small fold-out chairs and my duffel bag I had strapped to the front of the four-wheeler and set the chairs about five feet from Fred.  I sat down in one and unzipped the duffel bag and started laying out the contents on the other.  I had brought a high-quality tape recorder and camera. I had also brought my depth finder for my boat and a small notebook that contained a list of questions I had for Fred.  I now waited for him to return to planet Earth.

It was almost 4:30 p.m. when Fred turned his head toward me and said, “where’s Wade?”  For a first statement from one in physical custody, lying flat on one’s back, I thought Fred would have said something like, “what the hell are you doing?” or maybe “Tanner, you have lost your mind, let me loose.”   I told Fred that Wade was not coming and that he was headed to the bottom of the lake unless he complied with my requests.  I watched his eyes look around and lock onto the boat that was barely visible from the angle he lay.

I stood up and walked over to him and told him that I would let him sit up in a chair if he would behave.  He nodded his head.  I removed the bungee cords and helped him up and off the plywood deck. I sat him down in the chair I had been sitting in and pulled a lightweight set of chains and shackles from my duffel bag.  I alternated putting them on and removing the handcuffs.  I looped an extra chain around a six-inch diameter pine tree that was directly behind where Fred was sitting and used a small pad lock to secure it to the chain between his two shackled hands. 

“Why are you doing this Tanner?”

“Are you going to play that lame card?  You know exactly why.  But, I’ll play along for a bit.” I flipped on the tape recorder and told Fred he had to answer me out loud when I asked him a question. “Do you remember our High School graduation party we had here at Club Eden?”

“Yes.”

“What crimes did you and the other members of the Flaming Five commit that night and early Saturday morning?”

“I had nothing to do with any of that.  You know me and Wade stayed with you at the fire pit while James, Randall, and John took the girls and left.”

“Fred, playtime is over.  Here is how this is going to work.  I ask questions and you tell the truth, the full truth, unshaded in any way.  If you lie to me, and I certainly will know when you are lying, I will smack you across the face with this shovel.”  I pulled out an Army surplus shovel with a two-foot foldout handle.  I mimicked how I would strike him.

“I am as guilty as anyone for what happened that night.  After we all took turns raping Wendi and Cindi we realized we had to have a plan and the plan gave no option for them to survive.  Please know we had not planned on raping them.  In our arrogance, we believed they would willingly consent to having sex with us.  We were wrong.”

“So, do you admit raping and murdering Wendi and Cindi Murray the night of May 25, 1972?”

“Yes, but I didn’t actually kill them.” Fred said.

“And, who killed their parents, Bill and Nellie Murray?”

“I don’t know. I swear I don’t know anything about that.”

I used about a quarter of my strength and swung the shovel I was still holding.  It struck the right side of Fred’s face and his chair tipped over while his body leaned against the edge of the plywood.  I set him back up and noticed a rather shallow cut running from his right eye down to his chin.  It was bleeding, but not badly.

“Okay, enough of the shovel.  We all met two weeks or so before the beginning of your trial and created a plan.  One part of the plan was to offer a million dollars to settle.  You well know that offer was rejected.  The other part of the plan was to get rid of the Murrays.  John and Randall came up with the idea.  David and Walter carried it out.”

For the next thirty minutes Fred gave me details on how the Murray’s were killed, how David and Walter broke into their house Friday night while they were at the prayer meeting.  How David and Walter had waited on them, how they surprised them, tied them up, injected them with the cyanide, and placed them in their bed.

Fred also told me about how Club Eden had carried out three other murders, all by ancestors of the Flaming Five.  He told me the stories of murders taking place in 1901, 1926, 1946, and 1973.  All men who were threatening the status quo that had to be maintained at all costs.  In 1901, it was Leroy Jones and his son Toby, the son and grandson of an ex-slave.  Leroy and family had moved to Boaz from Gadsden.  In 1926, it was David Howsley and Baynard Reed, a homosexual couple who had moved from San Francisco to Boaz to operate a flower shop David had inherited.  In 1946, Fred shared the story of Vincent Prader, the decorated war hero that Harold Maples had told me about.  The man who threatened to build a Volkswagen automobile dealership.  The final murder Fred confessed to was Shawn Taylor and his father.  Shawn was probably the only reason I was not convicted back in 1973.  This young boy had been brave enough to tell my jury that he had seen James, John, and Randall with Wendi and Cindi at the Dairy Queen, and drive off in their little blue Plymouth.  Fred told of how David Adams and Raymond Radford had compromised the brakes on Shawn’s father’s car.  This led to their crash and the death of this father and son, which, in effect, wrecked the prosecutors murder case against the Flaming Five.

Fred also admitted, after I showed him copies of several bank account statements, the Club’s illegal business activities including payoffs to several local businessmen.  After another shovel blast to his head, Fred told me in detail how the Club, with help from four select Boaz Police officers, were seizing and selling pretty Hispanic girls to the Russian mob.  I suppose it was the threat of the shovel laying across my lap that made Fred volunteer some things I hadn’t even asked about.  He told me how the Flaming Five and their fathers had rigged Deacon elections at First Baptist Church of Christ and City Councilmen elections for the past fifty years or so.

At 5:45 p.m., I gave Fred a drink of water from my canteen.  I let him stand while I took about thirty or forty pictures from several angles and multiple distances.  I then repacked the duffel bag and secured it, along with the two chairs, back to the front of the four-wheeler.  I placed the shovel into the boat.  I then unlocked the extra chain and removed it from behind the tree.  I ordered Fred into the boat after I had pulled it into the lake.  At first, he refused, but then I reached for the shovel and he stepped over into the boat.  I had Fred sit at the back of the boat while I pushed it out into the lake climbing in as the water deepened. 

After rowing a few hundred yards, I found my spot.  I had strapped the depth finder to my waist as I had secured the duffel bag.  Two weeks ago, when I had delivered the boat I had found a spot about 150 feet from the dam.  The water was 80 feet deep.  When I stopped rowing, I asked Fred if he wanted a quick death or one more like what Wendi and Cindi suffered from the force of a shovel.  By this time Fred was resigned to his death.  He knew there was no need in begging me.  While rowing to this spot I had told him about how John and Randall had died.  I even described in some detail how John looked after my fifth and final shovel blow.  “Shoot me, make it quick.”

I did.  With my 45 and my silencer that I also had removed from the duffel bag.  It seemed there was always something I hadn’t planned for.  I had brought six cement blocks with me when I delivered the boat.  Securing them to Fred’s body wasn’t difficult at all.  But, getting him out of the boat into the lake while not tipping over was a challenge.  I finally figured it out.  After I crammed his body into a body bag I had purchased online, I attached three life jackets to his wrapped body and, with considerable strain, pushed him into the lake.  I then could secure the six cement blocks with chains to his body.  Finally, I cut away the life jacket straps and his body immediately sank.

I rowed the boat across the lake to Jeff Marks’ property, got out and pulled it onto the shore.  I then hiked back down to the dam and across to where I had left my four-wheeler at the edge of the lake.  I loaded everything and headed back down the trail to the cabin at Club Eden.  By 6:30 p.m., I had the four-wheeler loaded on the trailer behind my truck.  I backed into the turning around spot and felt the second wave of terror stream through my body.  I had failed to removed Fred’s car keys before I dumped his body.  My once dangerous mission had now transformed into extremely dangerous territory.  I put on gloves and searched Fred’s Camaro.  No extra set of keys.  But, there was a cell phone on his console.  I activated it and noticed he didn’t have it secure.  No password required.  There were three missed calls.  All from his wife Phyllis.  I was glad there were no calls from Wade or James.

I thought about keeping his phone but realized what a mistake that would be.  Phones were now highly traceable.  I returned it to the car’s console.  I had no choice but to leave Fred’s red-hot Camaro setting right where it was.  No doubt it would be discovered in, at best, a few days.  Hopefully, police and investigators would not look for Fred’s body at Aurora Lake.  Idiot me, who was I kidding?  There would be an extensive search of this area and no doubt someone would discover many clues, such as the trees that had been thrown back from the hiking trail. The indentations in the grass where Fred and I sat in folded chairs having our little conversation.  Blood droplets would no doubt be on the ground right behind where the four-wheeler was parked.  I was confident that divers would be brought in and the lake would be searched.  It would be just a matter of time until Fred’s body was found.

I left in a hurry and raced to Oak Hollow, dropped off the four-wheeler and trailer and connected to the boat trailer.  I drove back to Jeff Marks, loaded the boat, and returned to Oak Hollow to drop it off.   It was almost 8:00 p.m. when I returned to the office, changed clothes, and drove toward Hickory Hollow. Then, a daring idea sprouted in my head.  I knew what I had to do.

I drove on past the turnoff to Hickory Hollow and on to Dogwood Trail and turned right.  I opened the gate at Oak Hollow and drove to the barn and backed up to the sixteen-foot flatbed trailer that was under the shed on the left side of the barn.  I connected the trailer to my truck bumper and grabbed two come-a-longs and a thirty-foot chain hanging on the wall in the center of the barn. My actions this day were now approaching the stupid zone.

I drove back to the cabin at Club Eden.  The gate on Shady Grove Road was still open.  When I was rounding the final curve, my headlights caught the front of the cabin and the door stood wide open.  For a few seconds, I thought my heart would stop.  But then, I recalled that Fred had been on the front porch when I arrived at 3:30.  My headlights then caught the red Camaro.  It was still here and for now at least, it looked as though it had not been discovered.  I turned into the driveway and backed up towards the rear of the Camaro.  It took me nearly thirty minutes to connect the chain around the Camaro’s axle and winch it up onto the trailer. It took longer because I was unable, without a key, to put the vehicle into neutral.  I secured the car to the trailer using both come-a-longs.  I slipped on a pair of gloves and removed Fred’s cell phone from the Camaro’s console.  I then walked to the cabin and, using my flashlight, took a good look inside to make sure Fred had not left anything, even though I didn’t believe he had come inside.  I walked back on the porch, locked and closed the door, and drove off. 

My sudden idea had not matured into a plan containing a destination for Fred’s Camaro.  Now, driving down the long Club Eden driveway, I had to think fast.  I pulled onto Shady Grove Road and stopped, went back and locked the gate, and raced back to my truck.  It was already headed south so I drove in that direction.  I drove until intersecting with Highway 179.  I turned north and drove until I reached Fairview Cove Road on my left.  Turning westward, I drove several miles and turned right on Bud Umphrey Road and continued north until intersecting with Little Cove Road.  I turned left and within a minute or so reached the same little road that Randall, James, and John had used.  It was a hundred yards off Little Cove Road where they had first come to dispose of Wendi and Cindi and their blue Plymouth.  I tried to find the exact spot where I recalled my Wendi and her sweet sister had met a cruel and violent death.  I spotted it up ahead and then remembered I was headed in the wrong direction.  I couldn’t unload the Camaro behind me and be able to get my truck and trailer out of this narrow and overgrown lane.  I wasn’t very good at backing a trailer but finally was able to.  This took me precious time that I didn’t believe I had.  Finally, I was back onto Little Cove Road pulling up and backing down the lane.  I had to be extremely careful not to angle the rear of the trailer down into the ravine on the west side of the lane.  I also started worrying about scratching Fred’s Camaro thinking that might give investigators a lead towards concluding that the vehicle had been transported here.  After another twenty minutes, I was backed up nearly as far as I could to be able to have a big enough spot for the Camaro to rest.  I was fortunate to have a tree close enough behind the trailer to tie to, and pull the vehicle off the trailer.  I couldn’t help but think that there is no way for a criminal to properly plan a crime.  There are simply too many variables to contend with.  No wonder most crimes are solved.  At least those that don’t involve the five prominent, well-connected families from Boaz.  After disconnecting the chain and the come-a-long I returned to the cab of my truck, put on another set of gloves, and removed Fred’s cell phone, and returning it to the Camaro’s console.  While driving here from Club Eden, I had thought about taking his phone to another location but decided if a jury ever had the opportunity to review this case they would more easily believe that Fred had been here with his Camaro if his phone was found right here too.

I raised both trailer ramps, secured them, and drove to Oak Hollow.  Approaching the gate, I noted another mistake I had made.  I left the chain gate down, unlocked.  I drove slowly to the barn and even more slowly backed the trailer under the shed.  I drove back to the law office, showered and changed into a clean set of clothes, and finally, this time, drove all the way home.

The primary aim of the "Novel Excerpts" blog category is to showcase my creative writing, specifically from the novels I've written. Hopefully, these posts will provide a glimpse into my storytelling style, themes, and narrative skills. It's an opportunity to share my artistic expressions and the worlds I've created through my novels.

The Boaz Scorekeeper, written in 2017, is my second novel. I'll post it, a chapter a day, over the next few weeks.

I was doubtful Fred would appear.  After mine and Gina’s goldmine discovery, she had the idea of creating three fake Gmail accounts, one each for Fred, Wade, and James.  She said she had gotten the idea from a book where the wife became suspicious of her husband.  The wife set up a Gmail account descriptive of a secretary’s name where the husband worked.  The wife also set up a fake Gmail account for her husband.  Over the course of the first half of the book the secretary and the husband, with the ready assistance of his wife, carried on an email relationship with each always discouraging the other from any type of physical action for that could disclose their true feelings. 

During one of our meetings, Gina had gone into detail showing me exactly how she had set up these accounts.  She showed me how to log onto each account and even how to create a false message.  Fred’s account was “fitz101972@gmail.com.”  The ‘10’ was Fred’s basketball jersey number and 1972 was the year he graduated from High School.  Wade’s account was tillman121972@gmail.com.”  And, James’ account was “adams131972@gmail.com.”  Gina showed me a copy of an email she had created and sent from Fred to Wade, “Wade, I just prepared a cashier’s check to Gina for $10,000,000.”  Gina laughed and said, “I can only hope that you will settle my divorce case for at least this much.”  I too laughed and told her she better lay off the meds for a while.

Yesterday, I had used Gina’s creation to attempt to lure Fred to Club Eden.  I, as Wade, had emailed Fred’s actual email account asking him to meet Halloween afternoon at 3:30.  Wade had told Fred it concerned James and not to reveal this meeting to anyone.  Wade also told Fred in the email that their secrets, safety, and slush funds may depend on this meeting.  Also, I, as Fred, had emailed James’ fake account requesting he come to the Club Eden cabin.  Finally, I logged onto James fake account opened the email from Fred’s fake account, read it, and replied.  I, as James, stated that I would be there but it might be as late as 4:00, but I would be there.  I knew that no one except Fred would read or know about any of these emails, at least for now.

I had parked across the road beside the convenience store thirty minutes early, waiting and watching for Fred to arrive.  At 3:20 p.m., he pulled off Shady Grove Road up to the gate, got out, unlocked it and then drove his red 2017 Camaro up the dusty trail to the woods and onto the cabin.  As his car disappeared into the woods I drove through the gate.  When I drove up behind Fred’s vehicle he was on the cabin’s porch about to unlock the front door. He turned and saw me getting out of my truck.  The look on his face was priceless: surprised, no, shocked, bewildered.  I even saw a hint of terror.  He started walking down the steps towards me and I said, “Fred, Wade is on the way. He wants us to make a deal and stop James from destroying us all three.”  This too surprised Fred but also relaxed his guard.  I had a notebook in my hand that hid my taser.  We reached the back of his Camaro at the same time.  With his back facing the cabin I looked over his shoulder and said, “what is she doing here?”  This was enough of a distraction for Fred to turn his head to look back towards the cabin.  I then plunged my taser into his chest.  He fell to the ground, getting his thousand-dollar suit covered in dust.

The primary aim of the "Novel Excerpts" blog category is to showcase my creative writing, specifically from the novels I've written. Hopefully, these posts will provide a glimpse into my storytelling style, themes, and narrative skills. It's an opportunity to share my artistic expressions and the worlds I've created through my novels.

The Boaz Scorekeeper, written in 2017, is my second novel. I'll post it, a chapter a day, over the next few weeks.

It was Halloween and only the second time I had returned to the Club Eden cabin at Aurora Lake since the life-changing graduation party on May 25, 1972.  Two weeks ago, I had come to deliver a 16-foot aluminum fishing boat to use with Fred’s disappearance.  That day I hadn’t gone to the cabin for there was no way to deliver a boat to the lake from there.  The cabin was accessible from Shady Grove Road through a locked gate on down a half-mile cherty driveway that wound through a forest of pines and poplars.  The Club’s property backed up to Aurora Lake but there was no way to transport a boat from the cabin to the water’s edge.  The only thing that passed for a road from the cabin to the lake was the hiking trail the Flaming Five and I had carved out, and it would barely support one four-wheeler at a time.

I had delivered the boat from across the lake via Lawson Gap Road on the north side.  That Thursday, I had driven my truck along with boat trailer and boat to Jeff Marks property.  I had decided on this access after several trips to the Etowah County Records Department when I was in Gadsden for court appearances.  Marks lived in Memphis but had bought the property in late August.  I had conducted some simple online research and learned he worked at Kellogg Company and was listed on their employee roster as Vice-President of Distribution.  A White Pages search disclosed he was 70 years old and had family in Gadsden.  A Google search of, “Betty Marks and Gadsden,” revealed an obituary in the Gadsden Times stating she was 94 years old and was survived by two sons, Jim, deceased, and Jeff.  I concluded he had most likely purchased this property for his retirement years.  The property didn’t have a formal boat access but my boat was light, not having a motor, and I was able to get within twenty feet of the water’s edge.  After the boat was afloat I tied it off and moved my truck and trailer across Lawson Gap Road a hundred feet or so down an almost hidden logging trail.  I returned to the boat and rowed it across the lake to the spot the Flaming Five and I had swum on many occasions almost half a century ago.  Then, it was just a large pond, years before the Aurora Lake Reservoir was built.  I got out and pulled the boat on shore and into a stand of Loblolly pines.  I walked west along the shoreline a hundred yards or so to the lake’s dam, then across it and into the final grove of trees before accessing Lawson Gap Road.  I walked east to where I had hidden my truck and boat trailer.  I traveled east to Mountainboro Road, turned north, crossed Highway 431 and continued to Hickory Hollow.