The Alibi (A John Chance Mystery) – Chapter 3 (New…Mostly Kinda…)

As mentioned in The Alibi (A John Chance Mystery) – Chapter 1 (Redux), I work to nail down the opening of whatever I’m working on.

Here’s The Alibi – Chapter 3 and borrows heavily from what was The Alibi (A John Chance Mystery) – Chapter 5

I’ve learned to live with my rewriting. Hope you can, too.


The Alibi – Chapter 3

 
Dev Surely remembered The Farm recruiting her in high school. It was Friday, her last day of detention – the last day this time, anyway – everybody else had bugged out early, and the clock was sweeping towards five-pm. Special Assistant Blah-Blah-Blah Cam Connelly came up to her in detention hall, sat at the desk next to hers, gave her a once-over, and smiled.

She gave him the finger.

He chuckled but said nothing.

She decided to give him a once-over, too.

No idea what he was doing at McLouth, Kansas, high school. His clothes were too nice – light blue suit with a navy blue stripe on cream shirt, tie matching his suit – his face too clean shaven and with absolutely no stubble at all even though it was closing in on five in the afternoon, his dusty brown hair too well groomed, his hands nicely manicured and almost graceful if you didn’t notice the veins and tendons sliding over each other as he clasped them together, and an amazing smile under bright gray eyes, and he didn’t smell of farm. Everybody around here smelled of farm. Wheat, corn, cattle. Lots and lots of cattle. Some pigs. A couple of sheep. Hay.

Who was this mud-fucker?

She checked out his shoes. Everybody around here had cowshit on or under their shoes. You couldn’t help it.

But this guy had clean and recently polished black patent leathers.

With laces neatly tied and even.

He smiled when she caught his eyes.

Smiled and nodded, like he watched her evaluate him.

That’s when she knew he let her inspect him.

She turned her head away, didn’t want to give him the satisfaction.

He sat without talking for a full three minutes.

She knew because she timed him.

Finally she turned to face him full on, one hand flat on her desk and the other holding the back of her chair. “What?”

He kept on smiling. “That’s pretty good, Devorah. Most people your age won’t last thirty seconds. Hell, most people your age won’t last three.”

“Don’t call me Devorah.”

“Right, right. Dev. I saw that on your record.” He held his hand out. “So, Dev, nice to meet you. I’m Cameron Connelly. Most people call me Cam.”

She didn’t take it. “So what’s this about?”

Cam Connelly kept his eyes on hers and didn’t blink unless she did. “Your school’s star linebacker makes a pass at you and you knacker him? Impressive.”

“Knacker?”

“Kneed him so hard in the balls he won’t play this weekend. Maybe not even next.”

“He picked me up.”

“Not much else to do in McLouth?”

He made it rhyme with cloud. “It’s McLouth. Like your teeth after getting punched in the face.”

He nodded. “How tall are you?”

“Five fuck off.”

Cam Connelly laughed. “Okay. I have a favor to ask you. Give me this favor, it might change your life. Don’t grant me this favor, you’ll never see me again.” He cocked his head slightly left. “He picked you up? You mean off the floor?”

“I was at my locker. He tapped me on the shoulder. I had my pack in my hands. He grabbed me by the elbows and lifted me up to his face level.”

“Maybe he wanted to ask you out.”

“Maybe he’s an asshole. Maybe the two of you are related.”

His eyes obviously ran down her body. “You’re what, five-one? Five-two? You’re basically a perfectly – some might even say wonderfully – formed woman in a tiny body. What’s not to like?”

“You looking to get your balls knackered, too?”

His head rocked back and he laughed, loud and unashamedly. He sounded like some African tribal leader bragging about the wealth of his people. “So how about it, grant me the favor?”

“Why should I?”

“No reason, really. But it could change your life.”

“No thanks.”

“Okay. Still, I think we could use you. With the proper training and education, you’d be outstanding.”

“Who’s we? What training and education?”

“You have to grant me the favor.”

“You haven’t told me what it is.”

“Meet me here tomorrow, nine o’clock sharp.”

“If I show up – and I won’t – I’m bringing my dad’s handgun.”

“Exactly the kind of attitude we’re looking for.” He held out his hand again. “See you tomorrow?”

Her eyes went from his face to his hand and back. She took it. He had rough hands but they didn’t feel like farm-roughened. “Guess you’ll have to wait and see…Cam.”

The clock rang five.

He held the door for her on their way out.

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The Alibi (A John Chance Mystery) – Chapter 2 (New)

As mentioned in The Alibi (A John Chance Mystery) – Chapter 1 (Redux), I work to nail down the opening of whatever I’m working on.

In the case of The Alibi, it means I’ll rewrite opening chapters/scenes/anything and everything until I feel I’ve got it close enough to move on.

And, of course, I’ll share all these writes and rewrites and rerewrites with you because, I know, you enjoy them so.

So here’s The Alibi – Chapter 2, but not again because this is brand new material (read carefully and you’ll even see a note to myself in the text, something I do to make sure I review a specific aspect of a story during the real rewriting as opposed to the I’ve-got-to-get-this-correct rewriting.


The Alibi – Chapter 2

 
Leddy Cranston saw the flickering blue of their living room TV even though the blinds were drawn. “Time.”

Her phone answered, “It’s 11:57, Leddy.”

Pop would be livid.

If he were awake.

But awake or not, he got home first so the door cam would be disabled and she’d have to use her key to get in.

She entered quietly, the only sound in the house some low voices from the TV and Pop snoring on his recliner, probably a book – a genuine book, not an ebook on a reader – half open on his lap, his readers perched on the end of his nose, his sport coat off and his tie loosened but still knotted.

And a fifth of Grand MacNish Scotch barely touched on the end table beside his chair.

Pop would never succeed as a drunk.

She entered the living room just as the glass in his hand started its slide to the floor.

Glass safely on a coaster on the coffee table, Leddy sat on their loveseat. Mom and Pop hogged the loveseat once Leddy was too big to sit between them. Back then Pop never used his recliner. They’d sit side-by-side, Pop with his hand under Mom’s leg or on her leg or holding her hand.

Leddy was relegated to Pop’s recliner.

Did they ever pay attention to what was on the tube or did they just like to sit and cuddle with each other?

That all changed when they came home from the hospital one day. Mom wasn’t feeling well and kept losing her balance. Pop was pale but Mom kept her smile on. That’s when Pop’s hand went from on or under her leg to always around her, holding her close, cherishing each second. That’s when Mom’s hand would rest on Pop’s leg.

They sat her down in the kitchen a few months later. Mom smiled, Pop’s face shined with tears.

“I’m dying, Leddy.”

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Previous entries in The Alibi (A John Chance Mystery):

Previous entries in The Alibi (A John Chance Mystery)

Rob and Joan Carter’s MEET THE AUTHOR interview Snippet 4 – Current Titles

I mentioned Rob and John Carter and I chatting on their MEET THE AUTHOR show in previous blog posts.

This post is the fourth in a series of thirteen snippets taken from the full interview video. You can also listen to the interview via podcast

Today’s snippet deals with my currently available titles (both wholly mine, anthologies I appear in, fiction and non-fiction).

I mean, that’s what’s happened with The Alibi, and that’s turning into one heck of a piece.

Enjoy!

 

The Alibi (A John Chance Mystery) – Chapter 1 (Redux)

I’ve mentioned a few times how much I work to nail down the opening of whatever I’m working on. Doesn’t matter if it’s a short story, novella, novel, poem, … unless and until that opening sequence is working, everything’s going to suffer because I have no clear direction of where things are heading in the story.

Yes, I may know the major plot points, may have scenes fully formed, know the plot line, story arc, often I’ll have the complete throughline either written down or in my head.

Which is why, after getting much of the second section of The Alibi written, I knew there were holes in the storyline and basic structure in the beginning.

So here’s The Alibi – Chapter 1 AGAIN!

feel free to compare it to the previous version

You can get the backstory on this rewrite at The Alibi (A John Chance Mystery) – Chapter 1 (backstory).
Enjoy!


The Alibi – Chapter 1

 
Ed Voss stood in the middle of his apple orchard and let the scent of the blossoms envelop him. He focused on G. His only knowledge of G came from Maestro Fortuna, the stories he told him. Once Maestro Fortuna stood on this very spot and smiled as a shape formed in the air.

Ed shook his head to clear it and blinked a few times before he could recognize the shape as female, its body’s curves outlined in earth tones of browns and greens and blues. Eyes floated in what now and again seemed to be a face, and he heard laughter.

No, not quite laughter. More like a chuckle. A playful chuckle, the kind of sound someone makes when they’re tickled by someone they know.

And love.

And a moment later Ed’s orchard came to life. Leaves budded, apples ripened, flowers opened, birds nested, bees buzzed, worms burst through the soil.

And that was just what he could see. Could feel. Hear. Taste. Touch.

Could experience.

Maestro Fortuna sighed as the shape faded. “Her gift to you, Ed, for inviting her here.”

But Ed couldn’t find her – communicate to her? – on his own. Not yet.

He lowered his gaze to the still rich soil. No, not yet. Possibly not ever.

He wondered if he couldn’t do it because he lisped. Maybe G couldn’t understand him?

No. Maestro Fortuna chuckled when Ed mentioned it to him. “It’s not so much the words as the intention. We can do some things – exercises – about the lisp, and would you want to? Remember, your strength is your weakness, your weakness your strength. You talk slowly and consider your words before you speak so you won’t lisp when you talk. You mean everything you say and mean what you say. That’s a gift from you to others, Ed.” Maestro Fortuna rubbed Ed’s back gently. “And it’s your call. We can do some things if you wish.”

Ed shook his head slowly, smiled shyly, and spoke clearly. “No thank you, Professori. I’m fine like this.”

The warm, August sun dried sweat on Ed’s bare chest and back, both permanently tanned from many summer suns above and below the equator. He took his ballcap off to wipe his brow and felt furrows there, as if plowed like his fields, and realized he was tense with concentration.

That’s not how Maestro Fortuna did it.

Maestro Fortuna relaxed with slow, even breathing.

First lesson; Lower-Center-Relax-Breathe.

Ed descended through levels of awareness as Maestro Fortuna taught him and smiled. He imagined – or heard? – Maestro Fortuna’s voice. “Good! You remembered. Now again…”

Ed closed his eyes, breathed deep and exhaled slowly. His feet tingled inside his workboots, a sign G was near, could feel him, recognized his presence.

Low, deep, wide.

What was that?

A sound?

Ed cocked his head.

A sound?

His name?

Someone called his name?

But not his name, not his given name. They used the name Maestro Fortuna gave him.

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The Alibi (A John Chance Mystery) – Chapter 12 – Ed Voss and Tony Morelli at AirCon

Enjoy!


The Alibi – Chapter 12

 
Tony Morelli reached over the center console to the Impala’s glove compartment.

Ed Voss’ booted feet snapped against the car’s floorboards as he pushed himself back into the passenger seat. “Brake!”

Morelli’s eyes returned to the road. A pudgy-faced, middle-aged, overweight man, long black hair, wraparound Ray-bans and needing a shave stood in front of the Impala in a jogging suit with his mobile up in front of him, his eyes on the mobile’s screen.

Morelli stopped and honked his horn.

The man spread his feet into a power stance but otherwise didn’t move.

Voss opened the glovebox. “What do you need?”

Morelli reached into his pocket, pulled out a badge, lowered his window, and called to an idle patrolman watching the crowd. “Officer? A little assistance, please?”

The man stood his ground as the officer approached.

Voss nodded at the man holding the mobile. “Must be the government plates.”

Morelli held his shield up for the officer. “Mind removing that gentleman from our path and telling the rest of the BPD we’re coming through?” The officer looked at the man, still videoing, and shook his head as he shuffled towards him.

Morelli watched. “There’s a Federal ID in a plastic sheet in there. Mind handing it over?”

Voss glanced at it. Official looking badges and banners stood over legal looking words giving Morelli, the car, and anybody with him access and safe passage to anything they wanted. “Can I get one of these?”

Morelli chuckled as he placed it on his dashboard where everyone could see it. “You wouldn’t want one.”

The officer and the fat man got into a shoving match with the fat man working hard to keep his mobile on Morelli’s car and its occupants. The officer pushed hard and knocked the fat man back. The fat man reached behind him and pulled out a small handgun.

Morelli yelled, “Gun!”

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