Shadow Games
by Doug Welch
* * * *
Copyright © 2010 Douglas R. Welch
This book is a work of fiction. Characters, character's names, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination, or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead is purely coincidental.
Caution: contains language which may not suitable for young children.
Table of Contents
Front Matter
Dedication
Chapter 1 One More Straw
Chapter 2 Death, Life and Lies
Chapter 3 Confusion, Wealth and Gypsies?
Chapter 4 Intruders, Guns, and a Diary
Chapter 5 Love at the Lake
Chapter 6 Dancing Shadows
Chapter 7 Shadows in the Machine
Chapter 8 Courtship and a History
Chapter 9 Lawyers and Love
Chapter 10 Guns and Lawyers
Chapter 11 Men Say it First
Chapter 12 Love under Shadows
Chapter 13 Death of a Friend
Chapter 14 Confronting Shadows
Chapter 15 Funeral and a Mission
Chapter 16 Meet the parent
Chapter 17 Desperate Flight to Ecstasy
Chapter 18 Specter of Success
Chapter 19 Coin Toss
Chapter 20 Busted
Chapter 21 Jailbreak
Chapter 22 A New Ally
Chapter 23 Back to the Farm
Chapter 24 Mind Glow
Chapter 25 Shadow Games
Epilogue
Dedication
This book is dedicated to my cousin and childhood friend, Donald W. Bowman 1944 - 2011.
Our adventures in the verdant hills, awesome caves and refreshing lakes and streams of Tennessee and Kentucky were the inspiration for much of this novel.
We worked on the farm with Don’s older brother, (my cousin, Bob), and his father, my Uncle Fred.
In our free time, Don, Bob and I hunted the numerous Indian arrowheads that littered the ground, explored the caves in the hills, traveled the mountains, hollows and valleys, and drank from sweet, crystal-clear springs.
We swam in the numerous swimming holes to cool down from the summer heat, plucked juicy, crisp apples right off the tree, and when we still hungered, conspired to beg food and drinks from their mom, my Aunt Eva.
Don and I were the same age and we huddled together often, sharing boyhood secrets and dreams. When we found ourselves in trouble together, (not often, but we still managed to accomplish it) we faced his dad’s justice together.
It was wonderful place and time to be a young boy.
I’ll miss you, Don.
Chapter 1
One More Straw
I jolted awake to the sound of a scream, halfway between a cry of anguish and a howl of rage.
“Paaaris!”
Disoriented, I wanted to hit the dirt and cower from mortar fire.
No, not Iraq. I’m at home, safe.
I shook it off and leaped out of bed. The sound had come from below. I’d slept in my underwear, so I jerked on my jeans, exited the bedroom, and thundered down the stairs.
“Paris!” The shout came from the study. It was still dark, so I fumbled along the wall and switched on the hall light.
I hurried to the room to find my sister at the entrance. Her face looked red and she trembled. She held a baseball bat over a body of a man slumped near Dad's desk. I moved past her frozen form to enter the room and clicked on the light.
What the hell, I thought, still disoriented. Then I saw the dispatch case, open on the desk. Alongside the case was a manila envelope and near the envelope lay a few sheets of paper.
Alex looked up from her concentration on the man’s still body. “This bastard was trying to steal the case!”
I’d just been roused from a sound sleep and it didn't help my concentration. I knelt to feel the unconscious man's pulse. “Call 911. – What happened?”
As though paralyzed, she didn't move. “I couldn't sleep, and I went down to the kitchen for a glass of water. I heard noises coming from the study so I found my old baseball bat and took it with me to check things out. I saw this guy rummaging through the case. When he saw me, he lunged at me, so I swung – hard. – Did I kill him?” Her eyes grew wide.
I ran my fingers through my sleep disheveled hair to get it out of my eyes. “No, but he's not going to be happy when he regains consciousness. I think I'd better stand guard while you call the police.”
Alex glared at me. “Hey, I took him down and you’re closer to the phone, so you make the call.”
Swallowing a retort, I gingerly stepped over the unconscious man and grabbed the phone to call 911.
I turned to gaze at the burglar. “The police are on their way. – I wonder, what was this guy after? Could it be he was just looking for valuables and ran across the case?”
“No. He was reading one of the papers.”
I gestured to the items on the table. “Is this all?”
Alex shook her head. “I don’t know. If I had opened it, I would have cataloged each item. Now there’s no way to prove anything.”
“Let's leave it until the police get here. Give me the bat and you go to the living room to wait for them.” Alex hesitated. I knew her stubborn, independent streak was about to emerge, but the guy outweighed her and he could be faking. “Alex, trust me. Give me the bat and wait in the living room.”
Alex opened the front door of the house when the police arrived and let them in. The two uniformed officers called an ambulance, which carried the unconscious burglar away in handcuffs.
One of the cops was about my age, the other older and overweight. So while the young guy flirted with Alex, the fat officer cautioned me to leave things as they were because the investigators would arrive shortly.
He lied, because it was way past dawn before anyone came to the farm.
I’d only visited Jamestown occasionally since I’d returned from Iraq, so I didn’t recognize either of the two people who walked through the door. The uniformed officer was an attractive blond female followed by an imposing older man in plain clothes. He introduced himself as Detective Simmons and the woman as Officer Kelly.
Simmons had dark brown hair graying at the temples, and his matching gray eyes drew laugh lines as he talked to Alex. He seemed amused when she admitted she’d hit the intruder.
“Technically, the kitchen door wasn’t locked, so this is a case of unlawful entry to commit theft, not a breaking and entering. But I think we can get him for assault, since he made a move at you, Alex.” He laughed, “– even though it wasn't a wise move.”
I didn’t find the situation humorous. “I don't think this is funny, Detective. Alex could’ve been hurt.”
“We know, Mister Fox. You guys should lock your doors,” Officer Kelly said.
I felt outraged and disillusioned at their indifference. “Who in hell locks their doors in Jamestown?”
Simmons stared at me. “You've been away from town for a while, haven't you?”
I sensed where he led. “I live in Covington.”
“Then you should know better.”
I shut up. I knew he was right, but home should be safe, not like a big city.
Alex tried to defend me. “Paris was in Iraq. He's only been back for a year.”
Simmons flashed a cynical grin at me. “Welcome home.”
Simmons and Kelly looked over the scene and made a few notes. Apparently satisfied, they informed us we’d likely be called to court as witnesses. After they departed, we returned to the study and the old case that lay on the table.
Alex prodded the leather flap. “I wonder what the thief wanted.”
I
grimaced with distaste at the antique dispatch case and the letter that lay beside it. “Maybe something in that envelope. It was in the case along with the letter.”
My mind flashed back to the previous night. I bitterly regretted opening the damn thing and it was one letter I wished I’d never read.