Three Crime Stories
Gary Whitmore
Copyright By Gary Whitmore 2011
Smashwords Edition
This story is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to events or places or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Confession
Chapter 1 – Confession
It was a serene and clear night with a beautiful full moon in Phoenix, Arizona in July 1995. But it wasn’t so peaceful for Sam Woods who was a 65 year old FBI agent, with silver streaks in his black hair, who lived in Scottsdale.
Tonight, Sam tossed and turned and muttered to himself while he had another nightmare in a pool of sweat. These nightmares had haunted him for the past 30 years.
In Sam’s nightmare, field crickets sang in the night in some woods of the Deep South.
Twigs and small branches cracked while someone stepped on them while they walked in the woods.
Sam appeared while he prowled through the woods and the full Moon provided enough light to navigate without bumping into a tree.
Sam used a flashlight while he searched the woods. He looked worried to death while he illuminated the trees in search of something.
Then his flashlight found the object of his hunt.
Sam’s flashlight illuminated a tree where there was someone tied to a tree. It was a 21 year old drop dead gorgeous girl with shoulder length blonde hair. She was naked and dead, and hundreds of flies buzzed around her rotting and stinking flesh.
Sam’s eyes welled up the second he saw her. He slowly walked over to her and kept her body illuminated with his flashlight.
He studied her gray clammy lifeless body that was severely beaten from her knee caps to her forehead by a blunt object.
I’m so sorry! He muttered to himself while he reached out and touched her cold cheek. Then the girl’s eyes suddenly opened, and he gave Sam a blank zombie stare.
“Forgive me!” Sam called out while he grieved her death.
She gave Sam a warm smile and he noticed that that blunt object had smashed in all of her front teeth. She gave Sam a blank lifeless stare. She screamed a blood-curdling scream and it echoed throughout the woods.
Sam jumped back scared to death and waited for her next move.
The woods were eerie while he stared at this dead girl.
She stared at Sam and then her eyes fill with tears. “Why didn't you catch him Sam? It hurt so much. I can't rest until you catch him. You have to catch my killer! You owe me!” Angie cried out then she sobbed. She immediately stopped and stared like a zombie at Sam. Her head dropped down and she remained motionless. Then her skin slowly dissolved along with her organs. Then she was nothing but a skeleton tied to the tree.
Back to reality in Sam’s bedroom he bolted up from the bed in a panic. “I’m so sorry!” he screamed out with his face full of sweat. He quickly looked his room over for the dead girl, but she wasn’t there. Then he realized he had another nightmare.
He glanced over at the bare spot next to him and remembered when his wife, Katie, once occupied that spot. But that stopped eight years ago when she divorced him after 28 years of marriage. His drinking and nightmares were intolerable and she couldn’t take it any longer.
He sat up on the edge of his bed and silently prayed that they would cease. He reached over at the bedside table and grabbed the bottle of Jack Daniels whiskey, and it contained less than a glass full of whiskey. He gulped it down then dropped the bottle to the floor.
Sam stood up and staggered to the bathroom at the other end of his room.
When he was four feet from the bathroom door, he stumbled on another empty whiskey bottle on the floor. He started to tumble but quickly grabbed onto the dresser.
He didn’t fall, but knocked down a framed picture of his son, Charles Woods, a 40 year old Major in U.S. Marine Corps with his wife, Beth and eight year old daughter, Mindy. Sam was proud of his son and his accomplishments with the Marines.
He staggered into the bathroom.
After he shaved and took a hot shower, Sam ate his typical breakfast of Cocoa Krispies and coffee alone in his kitchen. After he cleaned up his dishes, Sam went to his bedroom and got dressed his black suit with red tie.
This particular drive through the city streets of Atlanta to his office today was the drive Sam had thought about for many years.
Sam entered the FBI building where he worked for the past 28 years.
He walked through a maze of cubicles that was a beehive of activity of agents trying to keep America safe from criminals.
“Good morning Sam. Are you happy this day finally arrived?” a FBI agent called out from his cubicle the second he spotted Sam.
“Yeah. It’s hard to believe it’s here,” Sam replied while he walked past the agent.
Sam entered his cubicle and stared at it for a few seconds. There were a few pictures on his cubicle wall of Sam, George Williams and Peter Bronson on their annual fishing trips to California and some old pictures of Sam and Charles.
Sam grabbed his coffee cup off his desk and walked out of his cubicle.
He came back five minutes later and sat down. He kicked his shoes up on his desk and sipped his cup of morning Joe. He relaxed and didn’t bother to turn on his computer.
Peter Bronson, 53 years old with salt and pepper hair, entered the cubicle. Peter was Sam’s chief but Sam remembers when Peter first joined the agency back in the 1970s.
“They’re ready for you,” Peter told Sam.
Sam got up with his coffee cup in hand and followed Peter through the maze of cubicles.
They walked to the coffee pot where Sam quickly refreshed his cup.
They walked toward a conference room.
The conference was large with a capacity of 50 individuals and it was packed this morning.
On the one end of the room hung a "Happy Retirement Sam Woods" banner on the wall above a table with a cake decorated with a fishing boat in water with “Good Luck Sam” above it. At the table stood, Harry Charles and Nick Wilson two of the top dogs in the office.
“Is he on his way?” Harry asked Nick.
“I heard Peter went to get him,” Nick replied.
Sam entered the room with Peter, everybody stood up and clapped to honor his long waited retirement.
Sam motioned at everybody with his coffee cup while he walked up to the table. He set his cup down by the cake and shook hands with Harry and Nick.
Nick motioned for everybody to sit down and be quiet, and they obeyed.
“Thank you all for attending this special occasion, the retirement of one of the best agents the bureau has had the pleasure of paying. Mister Sam Woods,” Nick addressed the crowd.
“And I would like to add that America has been a safer place with Sam out there putting criminals behind bars,” Harry added.
“And now, if Sam would like to say a few words,” Nick said while he looked at Sam.
Sam reached down and picked up his coffee cup and took a sip. “I can't believe I started with the bureau forty years ago. It was a great ride,” Sam said then took another sip of coffee. “Harry said that America was safer with me putting criminals behind bars,” he said then took another sip of coffee. “That’s true but there was one criminal I couldn’t place behind bars,” Sam said then took another sip of coffee. “I have regrets over my failure in catching this killer,” Sam said then took another sip of coffee.
In the back of the conference room, a young FBI agent, named Trevor, rolled his eyes and leaned over to Wilfred, a young FBI agent next to him. “I'm going to puke if I hear that nineteen sixties October Slayer sob story again,” Trevor said quietly to Wilfred.
“Tell me about it! That’s all I heard during my first week here at the bureau. I never caught the killer, whine whine whine,” Wilfred replied.
“I know. Sometime killers just get away. Get over it,” Trevor responded.
Wilfred nodded in agreement along with everybody around them.
Sam looked sadden while he remembered his failure. “I promised someone I would have solved that case. I broke that promise, and that frustrated me so much that it cost me a divorce,” Sam said with a remorseful look. “And then Bo Smithson from the Atlanta took over the case,” Sam said and looked pissed. “Why they stuck the dumbest agent in the history of the bureau on that case, I’ll never know?” Sam added.
Everybody in the room got sick of hearing his whiny story.
“Thank you Sam, now, if I could get someone to cut the cake, we can proceed,” Nick asked the audience.
Laurie an administrative employee walked up to the table. “I’ll cut it,” she volunteered and the fact was she always volunteered because if she didn’t these cakes would never be sliced.
An hour later and Sam’s party was over. Sam was glad, as he wasn’t the partying type and really didn’t like being the center of attention. But he had to play the game, as everybody who retired was thrown a party.
Sam grabbed another cup of coffee and walked back to his cubicle where Laurie placed a cardboard box on his desk 15 minutes ago.
He looked around to make sure eyes were not watching him. He leaned down and opened up a bottom desk drawer. He discreetly removed five folders that were rubber banded together. They were copies of the case files on the five girls that were killed by the “October Slayer.” He quickly dropped the five folders into his box.
George Williamson, 48 years old, entered Sam’s cubicle and startled him.
“George, you scared me,” Sam said.
George stuck out his hand and Sam shook it.
“Sorry about that my friend,” George said while he watched Sam removed all the pictures off his cubicle wall and dropped them inside the box on top of the file folders. “Sorry I missed your retirement party. I was out checking out a lead on a bank robbery case,” George said.
“I understand. So, when you plan on retiring George?” Sam asked,
“Hopefully in two years. My bother in-law said he can get me a job with security at Warner Brothers,” George replied.
“Warner Brothers? That sounds like a sweet gig,” Sam said.
“Oh it is. What are your plans with retirement? Do you plan on getting another job?” George asked.
“I’m finished with working, so I plan to relax and fish,” Sam replied.
“Good. Maybe if you let go of that old case those dreams will cease,” George said.
“I know, I had another one last night,” Sam said.
“Maybe you’ll find a sweet woman to take care of you in your golden years,” George added.
Sam looked sad as he still missed Katie. “That would be nice,” Sam said.
“Hey George, you have a call about that bank robbery,” another FBI agent yelled across the cubicles.
“I’ll be there in a second,” George yelled back.
“Well Sam, keep in touch and maybe we can do some fishing out in the Atlantic this time,” George said.
“I would like that very much,” Sam replied while they shook hands.
George rushed away to that agent that yelled.
Peter entered Sam’s cubicle.
“I guess this is it, Sam,” Peter said.
“Yep, the final day,” Sam replied.
“Listen, I’m working on a transfer to the Tampa office. If that happens, I’ll let you know and we can do a lot more fishing,” Peter said.
“That would be grand,” Sam responded.
Peter stuck out his hand and Sam shook it. “I’ll be in touch soon,” Peter said.
Sam smiled while he watched Peter leave.
Sam picked up his box and walked out of his cubicle for the last time with an unsatisfied feeling of never solving the October Slayer case.
Two months later, Sam packed up his house in Scottsdale to move to Florida to finish off his golden years.
Billy Stein, 48 years old, was a bully of a man with a temper to match. He sat inside his 1995 Chevy Impala, with Mississippi plates, a few houses down from Sam’s house. He watched while Sam chatted with the Allied moving men outside their van, which was backed into his driveway. They spent the last four hours moving Sam’s belongings into their van.
“It’s about time,” Billy mumbled to himself, as he was relieved that Sam finally retired from the FBI.
He waited and sipped on a bottle of Budweiser while he staked out Sam’s house.
Two hours later, the men closed and locked the doors to the trailer. They got inside the truck cab, started it up, and drove off.
Billy started up his Impala and drove off and followed the moving van.
Then for some bizarre reason, Billy followed the moving van all the way to Florida.
He drove off back to Mississippi as soon as he got Sam’s new address in Daytona Beach.
Chapter 2 – Confession
Ten years have passed and it was a nice cool morning in February across the southeast.
The brother of Billy Stein was Allan Stein, who was 69 years old, thinning gray hair, with a huge pot belly from poor health from years of bad diet, smoking and drinking. Allan lived in St. Cloud, Florida. Allan was a retired Army Lieutenant Colonel and spent his entire career with the Army Criminal Investigative Command (known as CID) up in Fort Gillem at Forest Park south of Atlanta. He retired from the Army 20 years ago after a successful thirty-year career, where he was one of their most respected agents.
Allan picked St. Cloud for his retirement home since his 40 year old daughter, Becky Adams, and she lived in Kissimmee a nearby city. Another for living in this area was that Disney was close by, and Patrick Air Force Base was another hour to the east for any military needs. In addition, he frequented the Daytona Beach area but stopped those travels five years ago.
Allan spent his golden years writing fiction murder mystery books, which was an idea born during the late 1960s. He decided to make it profitable, as he didn’t want all his CID experience to go to waste.
Allan sat inside his den where he had his Dell computer, lazy boy chair, television and a wooden cabinet locked with a pad lock. On one wall hung pictures of Allan, his wife Beverly and Becky.
Allan sat at his computer desk where his six murder mystery books rested on a shelf above him. The titles were; Die My Darling, Prison For Life, No Remorse, Mr. Kind, The Church Man, and The Stalker. These books helped supplement his Army retirement but never became best sellers.
Allan listened to a local country and western radio station with a cigarette that dangled out of his mouth while he typed away on his new Murder At Night manuscript. He planned to send it to his editor, Rodney Burstein, in a couple of weeks.
“Dad, where are you?” Becky yelled from the living room the second she entered his house with the key Allan gave her.
“I’m in the den, darling,” Allan responded then quickly smashed his cigarette out in the ashtray on his desk. He opened up a desk drawer and hid his ashtray inside and tried to wave away the evidence.
Becky with shoulder length blonde hair entered the den with a gym bag in hand. She sniffed the air and instantly knew he was smoking. But she gave up on scolding him about that nasty habit since it went in one ear and out the other one.
She dropped her gym bag on the floor, walked up to Allan and gave him a loving kiss on his cheek. “How’s the new book coming along?” she asked while she curiously eyed the monitor.
“I’m tweaking the final draft now. I will send it to Rodney in a couple of weeks,” he answered.
“Hopefully this will be the best seller you’ve been striving for. And I’m ready to edit your manuscript,” she said.
“I’ll give it to you in a couple of days. And Rodney, is also talking about another book,” he added.
“You should slow down and enjoy your golden years,” she said.
“No way. I love writing,” he replied while he revised some dialogue then saved and closed the Word file.
Nancy, his seven year-old granddaughter and Michael, his nine year-old grandson ran into the den. “Grandpa!” they both cried out in unison, as they loved Allan.
“Nancy! Michael! Come give Grandpa a hug and kiss,” he called out while he opened up his arms.
Nancy and Michael ran up to Allan and they each gave him a loving hug and kiss on his cheek.
Becky sat down in the lazy boy chair and grabbed the remote and turned on the TV. She flipped through the channels and stopped on the Disney channel where a cartoon played.
Nancy and Michael ran over and sat in front of the TV and watched the cartoon. Then Nancy eyed the wooden cabinet over at the other wall and she got curious about it again.
She jumped up and rushed to the cabinet. She fiddled with the pad lock and tried to open it. “Grandpa, are you sure you don't have toys stashed in here?” she said while she fiddled with the lock hoping it would finally open.
Allan got annoyed and rushed over to her. “I've told you before sweetie, please leave that cabinet alone!” he lightly scolded her while he removed her hands off the lock.
“Yes Nancy, grandpa doesn't want you to see his army secrets,” Becky said with a sarcastic tone.
Allan playfully stuck out his tongue out at Becky while he walked Nancy back to his chair and plopped her on his lap.
“Like I’ve said a million times before, it’s just a bunch of old Army stuff in there. No toys. Now, why don't I tell you a new story!” he offered with a smile.
Michael's eyes lit up with joy and ran over to them.
Allan placed Nancy on the floor where Michael joined him.
“Okay, this is the story of Prince Luna from the planet Neileon. The story starts off with six young animals that lived and were best friends at the Kennedy Space Center an hour from my home. There was a gator, skunk, rabbit, bob cat, a snake and a poodle that loved watching all the rocket launches,” he told them.
“What were their names?” Michael asked curiously.
“Well, the gator was named Wally. The skunk was named Stinker,” he said and Michael and Nancy chuckled. “The snake was named Slither, the Bob Cat was named Putty, the Rabbit was named Bugsy,” he said.
“Just like Bugs Bunny,” Nancy called out.
“Yes, just like Bugs Bunny. Let me see, oh yeah, and the poodle was named Touché,” he added. “Then one day, Prince Luna flew his space ship to Earth but was shot down by some mean Aliens from his home planet. His spaceship crashed landed down at the Kennedy Space Center one night.”
“Did he die?” Michael asked concerned.
“Oh no, he was found by the six animals friends who called themselves the Dreamers,” Allan said.
“Whew! I’m glad,” Michael said while he wiped his forehead.
“Why are they called the Dreamers?” Nancy asked curiously.
“Well, because they dreamed of being Astronauts and going on adventures in space,” Allan replied.
“I’m a space dreamer!” Michael called out and looked proud.
Allan and Becky chuckled.
“See Dad, you should write kids books instead of murder books,” Becky praised Allan.
“With my thirty years of Army criminal investigative experience, I write what I know. It comforts me,” Allan relied.
Becky rolled her eyes then she got up from the chair. “What ever. I'm going jogging. Then we'll go after I take a shower,” she said.
Allan continued with the story while Becky grabbed her gym bag and went to the bathroom to change.
An hour later and Allan finished his story about Prince Luna and the Space Dreamers and he worked on his manuscript. Michael and Nancy watched another Disney cartoon while Becky finished her shower and dried her hair.
Becky entered the den showered after her 3-mile jog.
“How was the story?” she asked Michael and Nancy.
“It was great!” Michael replied.
“Good,” she said then looked at Allan. “Are you ready to go?” she asked.
“Yeah, just let me save my Word file and shut down the computer,” he said.
Thirty minutes later, Becky drove them in her 2004 Toyota Sienna mini-van to the Heavenly Peace Cemetery in Orlando.
“I still don’t understand why you choose this cemetery instead of one closer to home,” she said while she drove the van into the parking lot.
“This one just feels right,” Allan responded then coughed a little.
Becky rolled her eyes while she pulled into the cemetery parking lot. Sometimes she never understood Alan’s way of thinking but knew she couldn’t change his stubborn mind.
After she parked the Sienna and they got out, Becky removed a hand trowel and a pot of Daisies they bought at a Lowes.
They walked through the cemetery and stopped by a headstone.
“Beverly Stein, Loving and Caring Mother. Born July 16, 1938, Died February 8, 2001” was carved in the headstone.
Becky knelt down at the headstone and removed the dead Daisies. She used the trowel and planted the new Daisies.
“I don't remember Grandma that much,” Michael said while he stared at the headstone.
“You were around five years old when she died. But she sure loved you and would always give you kisses on your cheeks,” she replied with a warm smile while she dropped the Daisies into the hole.
Allan walked away 20 feet and lit up a cigarette, as he couldn’t fight off the craving.
“Did she love and kiss me?” Nancy asked.
Becky saw Allan while he smoked and frowned. “Of course. She loved you very much and I can imagine she’s blowing you kisses from heaven, right now,” Becky said while she scooped up some nearby dirt to seal up the flowers.
Nancy looked up and blew kisses up at the sky. “I love you grandma,” she said and followed up with some more kisses.
Michael rolled his eyes as he thought his sister was being goofy.
Allan saw her performance and smiled at Nancy then took another drag on his cigarette. Then Allan went into a bad coughing fit and turned beat red. He coughed so hard that he coughed up blood that dripped down his chin. Then he looked concerned and dropped to his knees and vomited. There was blood involved; lots of blood.
Michael and Nancy moved away 10 feet at the sight of the bloody barf on the ground.
Becky rushed over and got Allan to his feet. “We’re going to the emergency room,” she said while she got Allan to his feet and rushed him through the cemetery.
Nancy and Michael lagged behind afraid Allan might vomit any second.
Becky drove Allan to the Florida Hospital in east Orlando and during the drive Allan had a few more coughing fits. Nancy and Michael cringed in the back seat afraid he would vomit again.
At the hospital, they ran a bunch of tests and released Allan the next morning. Becky picked him up and drove him straight home.
On Friday morning, Becky drove Allan to his doctor’s office to hear the results of the hospital tests.
Allan, Becky, and her husband Marty, 43 years old, waited in the doctor’s office.
Dr. Alicia Kennedy entered the office with a folder in her hand. She looked serious while she walked over and sat down behind her desk. She opened up the folder and looked at the test results again. She paused while she glanced at everybody. “Allan, I'm afraid your tests show you have lung cancer and it's in stage four. You also have cirrhosis of the liver,” she said and hated these moments.
Becky's eyes welled up and Marty comforted her.
“What does this mean, Doctor Kennedy?” Becky asked and feared the news wouldn’t be good news.
“It's terminal. I would estimate that Allan has about eight to twelve months. We could try some treatments but there’s no guarantee it will go into remission,” Dr. Kennedy added.
Becky sobbed and Marty comforted her. “Let’s get started right away.”
Allan looked shocked, as he knew everybody was going to die but he thought he had at least 20 more years to live. Then he accepted his fate of having a year at the most. “No! I don’t want any treatments. Just let it run its course,” Allan said.
“Dad, it’s worth trying,” Becky pleaded.
“She’s right dad,” Marty added.
“No!” Allan said with a firm tone and got up and walked out of the doctor’s office.
Becky sobbed in her hands.
“I can prescribe something to relieve any pain he will endure,” Dr. Kennedy offered.
Becky nodded in agreement while she blew her nose into a Kleenex.
A week later, Allan sat in his fishing boat with his brother Billy in Lake Tohopekaliga near St. Cloud. Becky accepted Allan’s opportunity to tell his brother about his condition. Billy was now 64 years old and they sat quiet with their fishing lines in the water. Allan just broke the terrible news to Billy.
“It can't be possible!” Billy said while his eyes welled up over hearing his big brother would be dead in months.
“I can't stop it Billy,” Allan said.
Then Billy looked extremely concerned. “I’m so glad you burned our secrets years ago. That was smart.”
Allan looked caught when he heard Billy’s comment. “Well, about that. I never burned it. But don’t worry it’s in a safe location. You can trust me little brother, nobody will find it,” Allan said and looked confident.
Billy glared furiously at Allan and wanted to smack the crap out of him. “Where is it? I can’t take any chances!” he screamed out. He screamed it out so loud, that nearby boaters looked to see what was brewing.
Allan opened his mouth to respond but suddenly went into a huge coughing fit and his face turned beat red. He coughed to hard that blood ran out of his mouth and dripped down his chin. He rushed over to the side of the boat and vomited into the lake. When he was finished, he looked at Billy and looked scared. He passed out and fell to the bottom of the boat.
Billy rushed to Allan’s side and sat him down. Billy started up the boat and raced off toward the dock.
Later that night, Allan lay in the St. Cloud Regional Medial center. Allan was asleep in his hospital bed and Becky sat by his side and held his hand. She silently prayed that he would not die too soon.
The room door opened and Billy stepped inside the room.
Becky saw him and jumped up furious. “Get out!” she screamed at Billy who just stood at the door.
“But, he’s my brother,” Billy pleaded.
“Nurse!” Becky screamed out loud.
Billy rushed out the door at the same time the nurse entered.
She rushed over concerned something happened with Allan. “Something wrong?”
“I don't want that man who just left to step one foot inside this room. His name is Billy Stein,” Becky replied and looked pissed.
“Yes ma-am,” the nurse said while she looked Allan over to make sure Allan was stable.
The nurse was satisfied Allan was stable so she walked out the room.
Becky sat back down and stroked Allan's arm.
A month passed and Allan looked thinner while the cancer was taking over his body. He watched TV from his lazy boy chair in his den when Nancy ran into the room. “Grandpa!” she cried out while jumped on his lap.
Allan cringed in pain. “Be careful sweetie. Grandpa's not as strong as he use to be.”
Nancy gave Allan a hug. “I’m sorry grandpa.”
Allan picked up his remote and changed to the Disney channel.
Nancy rested her head on Allan's chest and watched TV.
Becky entered with Michael, who was dressed in his soccer uniform. “Dad, will you be okay with Nancy while I take Michael to his soccer game?” she asked.
“We’ll be fine. I’m feeling really good today,” he replied.
Becky walked over and gave Allan a kiss on his forehead. “Call my cell phone if you start feeling sick,” she said.
“I will,” he responded while he watched Becky leave the room with Michael. Then he looked sad while he looked down at Nancy. “Sweetie, did Mommy tell you that your grandpa wouldn’t be around much longer?”
“Yes, but everything will be all right,” she replied without a worry.
“Why do you say that?” Allan curiously asked.
“Because Jesus will take care of you as he loves everybody.”
Allan looked extremely worried. “I'm not sure about that.”
He looked at his wall and eyed an old 1960s era picture of himself in his Army uniform with Captain bars, and his face darkened.
Chapter 3 – Confession
Two weeks had passed and Becky moved Allan into her spare bedroom, in Kissimmee, to watch over him. It was their computer and exercise room but she had Marty move them other locations in their house. She even bought him a new laptop so Allan could write when he had the strength. She also made sure he had plenty of family pictures on his dresser.
In order to give him the constant care he needed, Becky took a leave of absence from her cashier job with Publix.
Allan sat in deep thought in the bed with his new laptop. He stared at a blank Word file and pondered if he should pursue his new book idea. He opened up the White Pages on the Internet and searched for a phone number. He wrote down the phone number on a piece of scratch paper.
He turned off his laptop and set it on his bed.
He walked out of his room and looked determined while he walked down the hallway.
“Where are you going, dad?” Becky asked while Allan walked down the hallway and headed to the front door.
“I feel like taking a little walk,” Allan responded.
“Want me to tag along?” she asked.
“No, I’ll be fine. I want to walk alone,” he said.
“Okay, but if you’re not home in ten minutes, I’m coming to look for you,” she replied but still looked worried.
“Okay,” Allan said while he left through the front door and went outside.
Becky rushed over to her living room curtains and peeked out. She watched while Allan walked down the sidewalk and headed to the CVS drug store at the front entrance of her neighborhood.
Sam Woods lived in a house in a neighborhood across A1A by the beach in Daytona Beach, Florida. Sam was now 75 years old with a head full of silver hair. He relaxed on his back porch sipping on a cup of coffee. He quit drinking booze immediately after he moved down to Florida.
His phone rang from the kitchen, and he got up and went inside.
Sam entered his kitchen and picked up the phone. “Hello,” Sam answered.
“Ah, is this Sam Woods? The retired FBI agent?” Allan replied from the phone.
“Yes it is. May I help you?” Sam replied.
Allan quickly hung up his end of the call.
Sam stared curiously at the phone.
“Who was on the phone?” asked Cindy Leinbach, Sam’s 72-year-old girlfriend for the past five years.
Sam hung up the phone and saw Cindy at the entrance to his kitchen.
“I don't know, Cindy. Someone called and asked if I was Sam Woods the retired FBI agent then they hung up,” he answered.
“That’s really weird,” she replied.
“I know,” Sam responded then shrugged it off.
“Well, I need to get home. I’ll pick you up tomorrow and we’ll take my granddaughter Kristen to the movies,” she said then walked over and picked up her purse off one of the counters.
Sam walked her out of the kitchen.
Back in Kissimmee, Allan walked back to Becky’s house in deep thought.
The second he got back home; he went back into his room and turned on his laptop. He opened a new Word file and started a new manuscript. On the title page, he called it A Killer’s Tale by Allan Stein.
After he wrote “Chapter 1” on a blank page, he stared at the monitor and pondered again if he should start this new book. He nodded in agreement and started writing his new book.
“My name was Jimmy Nalla and have you ever wondered, why humans kill other humans?” Allan typed as the introduction to his first chapter. The desire to write this new book before he checked out in this world became strong.
“How was your walk?” Becky said while she entered his bedroom.
“It was extremely rewarding,” he replied with a smirk.
“That’s good,” she replied then looked at his monitor as she saw him quickly close out the Word file. “So, what were you working on?” she asked curiously.
“Oh, while I was out, I had an idea for another book and started to jot down some ideas,” he said while he looked at his monitor.
“Well, I let you have some privacy so you can get your creative juices flowing,” she said then left his room.
Allan quickly opened up his new manuscript and started typing out some more words.
It was early March and Allan looked thinner and sicker and it was obvious his days on this Earth were numbered. But the drive to finish his last book, A Killer’s Tale, was so strong that he mustered up all of his energy to complete his first draft. This story came easier for Allan to bang out in record time than his other books.
Becky saw his manuscript on his monitor while he typed away. “How's the new book coming along?” she said when she entered his bedroom.
“I’m tweaking the final draft now,” he replied while he closed the file.
“I’m ready to do some editing for you,” she replied.
“We’ll see as Rodney is itching to get his hands on the manuscript before I depart,” he said.
“What about the Murder At Night manuscript? Did you send it off to Rodney?” she asked while she sat down on his computer chair.
“Not yet. I’ll send it along with this manuscript,” he replied.
“Good, now on this new book, does this killer get away like most of your killers?”
“It depends if the FBI agent got smarter over the years,” he responded.
“It sounds interesting. So why can’t I edit it? I’ll rush it along,” she asked still a little confused as to why he refused.
“No baby, this one I want you to read after it’s published,” he replied and looked at her like he wanted to be alone.
“I don’t understand. You’ve always let me edit your manuscripts,” she said bewildered.
“Don’t worry. It will make sense when it gets published,” Allan said then gave her a fake warm smile.
Becky knew he would never cave in so she gave up. Then she looked at the dresser where she placed a couple of family pictures. She walked over and picked up one picture of herself at age three, with Allan in his Army fatigues. “I still wonder what I looked like as a baby.”
Allan got irritated. “I’ve told you, we weren't into photos when you were first born the way parents are these days, with digital cameras and what not.”
Becky placed the picture back and rolled her eyes as she hit that familiar sore spot with Allan.
“I know and I also wished I had a brother or sister,” Becky replied.
“We decided to only have one child since you were the best kid a parent could ask for,” Allan quickly replied.
Becky smiled over his compliment and walked over and gave him a kiss on his forehead.
“I’ll let you work on your book,” she said then walked out of his bedroom.
Becky walked into the living room and suddenly this creepy feeling became strong.
She walked over to her living room windows. She peeked out her curtains and saw a 2005 Chevy Impala parked across her street. She got pissed the second she saw Billy was inside watching her house.
She rushed out of the living room.
She rushed down the hallway and went into her bedroom.
She rushed down the hallway and went to the front door. She opened up the front door and stepped outside.
Inside Billy’s Impala, he saw Becky standing outside by her front door and watched while she pulled out a Glock pistol out of her back pocket.
“I want you to stay away or I’ll call the police!” Becky yelled out at Billy.
Billy knew she was a good shot because Allan would tell him stories on how they practiced at a local gun range when she was a teenager. He started up his car and drove away not wanting to draw a visit by the police.
Becky went back inside her house and closed the door. She turned around and saw Allan standing four feet away.
“What’s the matter?” he asked concerned.
“Uncle Billy was parked across the street,” she said then walked away down the hallway still pissed.
Allan followed her into her bedroom where she placed her Glock back in her hiding place in the closet.
Allan thought for a few seconds. “Becky, I was wondering if you could find it in your heart to forgive Uncle Billy and talk to him.”
“No!” she snapped back.
“Becky, that happened so long ago and he’s sorry. Can't you find it in your heart to forgive him? He'll be your only family and has the money to take care of you.”
Becky got visibly upset and glared at him. “I'm going to ignore the fact you would actually forgave him for such a horrible act!”
Becky stormed out of her bedroom.
Allan left her room and went back to his bedroom. He sat back down on his bed with his laptop. He opened up his new manuscript and his eyes welled up while he looked at his new story.
It was now April and Allan mailed the manuscripts for Murder at Night and A Killer’s Tale off to Rodney two weeks ago.
Becky and Allan sat, with a blanket around his legs, in the living room and he now weighed 180 lbs. Flabby skin remained where that pot belly once protruded. A wheel chair was by the couch, as he didn’t have the strength to walk anymore.
Allan glanced at some paperwork in his hand. “Rodney’s expecting this release, as it will give you all my royalties from the sale of my new books and any royalties from my other books,” he strained to talk then handed her the signed papers. “Use the money for Michael and Nancy’s college.”
Becky took the papers and her eyes welled up. “I don’t know what to say,” she said.
“You don’t need to say anything. I just hope my new book becomes a best seller like Rodney believes it will,” he said then coughed.
“He really believes that?”
“He does and I hope it works out the way I want it to,” he strained to tell her.
“How's that?” she asked curiously.
“I don't want to spoil the big secret, so you'll have to wait,” he said and looked like he wanted to fall asleep any second.
“I hope it's not Army secrets.”
Allan nodded his head to disagree to save his strength as talking was becoming too difficult
Allan got a little remorseful, then coughed a little. Then he mustered up some more strength. “Listen, I changed my mind about Uncle Billy,” he said then took a rest for a few seconds. “Don't let him near my house or near you. I have something I don't want him to get his hands on,” he said and took a rest for a few more seconds. “I want you to find it and,” he said then stopped to catch his breath as this was wearing him down. “I want you to do what's right,” he concluded and looked glad he finally completed his comment.
“That's clear as mud. Can you help me out a little?” she said confused.
“Read my book,” he strained to tell her.
“You and your mysteries. Marty should love this one.”
“I’m tired,” he said and closed his eyes.
Becky got up and assisted Allan up off the couch and into his wheel chair.
She wheeled him out of the living room and down the hallway.
She wheeled him into his bedroom and up to his bed. She assisted him onto his bed on his back and made sure he was comfortable. She kissed his forehead then walked out the room.
His eyes closed and he was soon asleep.
After dinner with Marty, Michael and Nancy, Becky went into Allan’s room to check up on him.
Allan lay in bed and stared at the ceiling.
“Dad,” she said while she walked up to Allan’s bed. Allan remained silent and didn’t respond to Becky.
She walked up to him and got suspicious so she felt for a pulse. She didn’t get a pulse and immediately knew he passed away.
She dropped to her knees and cried by the side of his bed.
Marty, Michael and Nancy heard Becky’s cries and they rushed into the room.
“He’s gone!” she cried out while she held Allan’s hand.
Michael and Nancy’s eyes welled up over the loss of their grandfather.
A few days later, Allan was buried in Heavenly Peace Cemetery in Orlando next to his wife Beverly.
A week later, Becky with a potted flower and a trowel in her hand, Marty, Nancy and Michael stood and stared at Allan's headstone.
"Allan Stein, Loving And Caring Father, Born September 11, 1936, Died April 12, 2005,” was written on his headstone.
Becky knelt down and planted the flower by his headstone. Nancy knelt down and assisted Becky plant the flower.
They stood up and tears ran down Becky’s cheeks.
Nancy looked up at the sky and blew a kiss. “I love you Grandpa. Give Grandma a kiss for me.”
Marty placed an arm around Becky. “We better go,” he said.
She removed a Kleenex from her purse and nodded in agreement while she blew her nose.
They walked away from Allan’s grave.
They walked about 50 feet from Allan's headstone when Becky got an eerie chill. She stopped dead in her tracks and Marty noticed.
“What's the matter honey?”
Becky turned around and saw Billy standing at Allan's headstone, and she got pissed. “He was told I didn't want him here!”
“Who's that man by grandpa’s grave?” she asked curiously while she eyed Billy.
“Nobody. Let's go,” she told Marty.
Becky grabbed Nancy and Michael's hands while they all walked away.
Billy watched Becky and her family leave. He pondered his next move while he stared down at Allan’s headstone.
Chapter 4 – Confession
It was now September and life moved on for Becky and Allan’s new books A Killer’s Tale and Murder at Night were on sale in the bookstores. Becky even received a check for $6,000 for an advance in royalties.
Way over in Daytona Beach, Sam and Cindy ate lunch in Momma’s Home Cooking restaurant just I-95.
“Kristen's going to be in a play at her school next month,” Cindy said then sipped her sweet tea.
“What's it about?” Sam asked while he sipped his sweet tea.
Cindy motioned for him to wait while she rummaged through her purse.
“I know, that Fall Killer was sick in the way he would tie the women up naked to a tree, then beat them with a baseball bat,” a man told his woman friend at the booth behind Sam.
“And it sure was creepy how he would leave a number on their stomach, as his calling card,” the woman replied.
Sam's ears perked up and got interested with the couple’s discussion behind him. He turned around and looked at the couple.
“Her play is about Romeo and Juliet,” Cindy said when she found the flyer inside her purse.
“I loved how he sent that FBI agent those taunting letters,” the woman told her friend who nodded in agreement.
Cindy saw that Sam was interested with the couple behind them and ignored her response. “Sam, I said. Romeo and Juliet. She's been practicing her heart out all week,” Cindy repeated a little louder.
“Excuse me. What are you talking about?” Sam asked the couple.
Cindy looked upset that Sam ignored her again.
“That new book, A Killers Tale. It's about some guy who killed five girls in the south during the sixties,” the woman said.
“It sounds like that October Slayer I remember reading about on the Internet,” the man added.
Sam looked extremely curious.
“Sam!”
Sam ignored her while he looked at the couple.
“Sam!” she repeated.
Sam turned back around and looked at Cindy. “Yes dear?”
“I believe I was talking to you!” she scolded him and gave a stern look.
“I'm sorry.”
“What was so important with their conservation that would cause you to ignore me?” Cindy said while she glared at Sam.
“This new book that came out, and it sounds like it was written about this case I worked on years ago,” he said.
Cindy looked bothered. “Let’s not go there again. Please!” she pleaded.
“Okay, I won’t. So, tell me about her play,” he added with interest.
“Anyway, her play will be next month and she wants us there. It’s Romeo and Juliet.”
“It would be a pleasure to attend,” he said then he drank his sweet tea but thoughts of that book started to occupy his mind.
The next day over in Kissimmee, Becky sat in her kitchen and drank some coffee while she read the Orlando Sentinel newspaper.
Marty walked inside with a copy of A Killer’s Tale book in his hand. He read the third chapter while he walked up to the counter and poured a cup of coffee. He walked over to the table at sat down.
“I bought a copy of your dad's new books, Murder at Night and A Killer’s Tale,” he said while he sat down. “A Killer’s Tale sounds very much like that October Slayer case from the sixties that never got solved,” he said while he held up the book where the black cover had pictures of five headstones with the names of the five girls killed.
Becky grabbed the book out of his hands and looked it over. “It sounds like this was Dad's version of what happened,” she said while she handed the book back to Marty. “He sure loved solving mysteries.”
“Would you like to read it after I'm finished?”
“No thank you. I had enough of murder mysteries while I edited his previous manuscripts,” she said then returned to the Orlando Sentinel newspaper.
“Maybe I'll figure out that little secret Dad said to you,” Marty said then returned to reading.
“Maybe. All I now is that so far, Uncle creepy hasn't harassed me about wanting something. So I don't have a clue what Dad meant,” she said while her eyes were glued to the newspaper.
The kitchen phone rang, and she looked at Marty who was engrossed in his book.
She got up and walked over to the phone.
“Becky Adams,” she answered.
“Hello Becky, William DeHart from the reality company over in St. Cloud. I have some bad news about your father's house.”
“What's wrong?” she asked worried.
Marty didn’t pay attention, as he was too engrossed in his book.
“I just found out a lien was placed on your father's house by a Billy Stein. Do you know who this man could be?”
Becky looked pissed while she paced around the room.
“He’s my uncle and I don’t know why he would do that,” she replied then she thought about it for a few seconds. “Wait, I know why. He’s a creep!”
“Well, apparently, he's stating his brother was suppose to will him the house and its contents. We can't sell it until this lien is removed.”
“I don't believe this!” she yelled out.
Marty looked up from his book and looked concerned at Becky who furiously paced in circles.
“I'll see what I can do to get it removed. But it might cost you some time in court,” William said.
“I'm going to change the locks of his house. Call me if you can work something out without spending time in court,” she said.
“I’ll see what I can do,” William said then disconnected his end of the call.
Becky hung up the phone and looked like she wanted to kill someone.
“What's wrong dear?”
“Uncle Billy put a lien on Daddy's house and now we can’t sell it until it’s removed. Bastard!”
Marty looked concerned while he watched Becky storm out of the kitchen.
Way up in Curtis, Mississippi was the Stein Chevrolet dealership. Alvin Stein founded it in 1925 when he was only 29 years old. Billy now owns the dealership, as Allan wanted to spend his life with the Army and selling cars was considered a boring way of life.
Billy sat behind his desk in his office where numerous old pictures of Allan and him on fishing trips hung on the wall. These were annual trips he took with his brother from 1957 – 1972.
Billy read his copy of A Killer’s Tale book and was halfway through it. In fact, he read all of Allan’s books and he kept a copy on a shelf in his office. But this new book gave him grave concerns.
Later that night, Sam and Cindy went to the Barnes and Noble bookstore. They walked around for a while, then Sam went in one direction and Cindy went in another.
Cindy checked out a book on the history on the Biltmore Estates. She longed to visit that beautiful home and it was one of the places to visit on her bucket list.
Sam looked around and saw a display that had numerous A Killer’s Tale books. He looked at the cover of the five headstones, and then he walked away but the book weighted on his mind.
He walked over two aisles and saw Cindy while she read her Biltmore Estates book. He looked back in the direction of Allan’s book.
He walked back and stopped four feet from the display of Allan’s books. A man walked up and picked up a copy and rushed away to the cashier.
Sam walked away while he fought the urge to get a copy of the book. But the urge became too strong, so he rushed back to the display and quickly grabbed a book before he changed his mind.
Cindy walked up to Sam with her Biltmore Estates book in hand.
“I’m ready if you are,” she said then saw a book in his hand. “What did you buy?” she asked.
“I can’t help it. I’m going to get the A Killer’s Tale book,” he said while he showed her the book.
“Oh honey, let it go. You're retired, remember, besides, didn't that case bring you nightmares? And they stopped after you retired?” she said with concern in her eyes.
“I haven't had one in eight years, so, it wouldn't hurt to read it.”
Cindy looked worried but she knew he was stubborn and would come back here on his own. “What ever,” she said then walked towards the cash registers.
“What did you get?”
“A book on the history of the Biltmore Estates. Since someone won't take me there, I thought I would read about it,” she replied with a hint.
“I’ll take you there. I promise,” he said with a warm smile.
“When?” she asked excitedly.
“Whenever you can slip away from your job. After all, I’m retired and have all the time in the world,” Sam offered.
Cindy thought for a few seconds while they got to the entrance to the cashiers and waited in line. “I can get away in two weeks,” she said.
“Then it’s a date,” Sam replied and followed up with a kiss on her cheek to seal the deal.
Meanwhile, over in Kissimmee, Becky and Marty sat on the couch in the den while Nancy and Michael watched a movie on the Disney channel.
Marty was deep into the A Killer’s Tale book while Becky watched the movie with the kids.
“So far, this book is great. We might have a best seller on our hands,” Marty said while he started a new chapter.
“That's nice dear,” she replied but the movie was far more interesting than a murder mystery book.
Their phone rang in the kitchen.
Becky looked at Marty and wondered if he was going to answer the phone. He had his head buried in his book and didn’t budge an inch.
She got up and walked out of the den.
She walked up to the ringing phone and pick up the receiver.
“Becky Adams,” she answered.
“Becky, it's Uncle Billy,” he said.
Becky cringed and got the creeps. “What the hell do you want?”
“Listen, it’s extremely important that I get the chance to search through Allan's house. He has something he wanted me to keep. Something that belongs to me,” Billy replied in the sweetest tone he could fake.
“I’m sorry, but he didn't mention you in his will! So the answer is, no!” she said.
“He mentioned it when we recently went fishing down there in Florida. So if you let me search through his house just once, I’ll leave you alone and you’ll never see or hear from me again,” Billy pleaded.
“No! And why did you put a lien on his house? I want it removed immediately!” she yelled into the phone.
“If you don’t let me inside his house, that lien will disappear forever,” Billy said then chuckled.
“Bastard!” Becky yelled out then strangled the phone. She slammed the receiver down.
She stormed out of the kitchen and walked back into the den.
She plopped down on the couch and sat with her arms crossed and fumed.
Marty still had his head buried in his book.
“I hate that man!”
Marty glanced over at Becky and saw she was furious.
“What's the matter, honey?” he asked concerned.
“That was Uncle Billy on the phone. He wants something. What I don’t know. And he won’t remove that lien until I let him search dad’s house,” she said and her eyes welled up as this was becoming too stressful.
“Let him. What would it hurt?” he replied.
“I’ll never let him set on foot in dad’s house. Never!” she responded with gritted teeth.
She got up and Marty and the kids watched her storm out of the den.
Way over in Daytona Beach, Sam walked into his den with his A Killer’s Tale book in hand.
He walked past a wall where an updated picture of Charles, now 50 years old and still in Marines but got promoted to the rank of Brigadier General, hung on the wall near his computer desk. Sam sat down on his lazy boy chair and opened the book to Chapter 1.
Chapter 5 – Confession
The story of A Killer’s Tale started…
“My name was Jimmy Nalla and have you ever wondered, why humans kill other humans? Some kill because of war. Some kill because if involves money or power. Some kill because their lover cheated on them. Some kill for self- self-defense. Some kill by accident. And some kill because they love it. I loved killing! Why? I don't know. Maybe I loved it because my first taste happened when I was 12 years old in 1948 Alabama. It was the day when I saved the life of my seven year old little brother,” the narration to the Killer’s Tale stated.
It all started in the woods near Boldger, Alabama. It was a muggy day in August of 1948 and the woods were quiet.
A young Ricky Nalla, seven years old, walked through the woods with a long stick in hand.
Ricky stopped behind a tree and pretended his stick was a M1 rifle. He peeked around the tree and pretended the enemy was approaching. He took aim around the tree trunk with his stick rifle. “Bang! You're dead you stinking Nazi!” he said and got a huge smile pretending he killed the Nazi.
Ricky then patrolled through the woods in search of more Nazi’s to kill. He walked for another 10 minutes.
“Ahhhh!” a girl’s voice gave a bone chilling scream and it echoed in the woods.
Ricky stopped dead in his tracks and looked in the direction of her scream. He cautiously walked and hid behind trees to find the source of the scream.
“Ahhhh!” the girl scream louder and Ricky knew he was getting closer.
Ricky walked another 100 feet then saw some motion near some trees up ahead.
Ricky tiptoed in that direction and was observant to make sure he didn’t step on any branches.
The second he saw a fat redneck, named Buster Chaney who was around 40 years old, Ricky hid behind a pine tree ten feet way.
Ricky peeked around the tree trunk, and saw Buster, who stood bare ass naked and had his hands wrapped around the neck of a 12 year old colored girl. She was stripped completely naked and dangled from Buster’s hands. Both of their clothes lay on the ground five feet away from them.
Ricky never saw a girl naked before and the sight of her kind of turned him on while he stared.
“You think you're gonna tell?” Buster yelled out at the young girl. Then he walked her over to a big pine tree. He squeezed her throat with a tighter grip. “No you won’t,” he repeatedly yelled out the second her head repeatedly slammed into the tree bark.
Her body finally went limp, and e let her drop to the dirt. She was dead.
“Stupid colored girl,” Buster said then gave her a hard swift kick in her face.
Then Ricky’s nose twitched, and he knew what was coming. He pinched his nose to stop the sneeze. That didn’t work and he sneezed from behind the tree.