​Best Selling Dead Author
 
Joe Regan was a writer. His suicide note was not his best piece of work. It simply read, “Fair well cruel world.” Joe took all the sleeping pills and sat down in his recliner. When he opened his eyes again, he was looking into the face of his agent, Bernie Blackwell.
 
Bernie smiled and brushed back Joe’s hair. “Hey.”
 
“Hey. Oh, my head hurts.” Joe looked around. “Where am I?”
 
“You are in St. Thomas Hospital. I found you and called 911. The doctors pumped your stomach. You’ve been in a coma for five days, man.
”
“Oh. I don’t know if I should thank you or not. I just wanted to die.”
 
“I know, man. I found your note. Why did you do it?”
 
Joe smiled. “You’re my agent. I think you know why. My novel has been rejected by 45 publishers and I haven’t earned a dime in three years.”
 
Bernie chuckled. “It is 47 publishers now. I didn’t get a chance to tell you about the last two. However, while you were in a coma, I’ve been busy. I posted your suicide note on a few key social media web sites and wrote what a tragedy it was since your novel is so great.”
 
“My suicide note? I did not say much in my note.”
 
Bernie smiled. “Yeah, well, I sort of rewrote it. I also went ahead and published the e-book version of your novel. It is going viral. We sold over 10,000 copies in four days. We now have offers from three publishers. I think if you had died, your novel would make the best sellers’ list.”
 
“Lucky me! I have to nearly kill myself for my novel to sell.”
 
“Joe, what do you expect? You wrote a romance novel about gay pygmies living in San Francisco-not a great genre. Anyway, since you really don’t want to live, would you consider killing yourself? It would mean a lot to me. I could help.”
 
“What! My novel is finally published and you want me to kill myself? Are you crazy?”
 
Bernie shrugged his shoulders. “No big deal. Come on, get up. I brought a wheelchair. I am taking you out of here.” He handed Joe a glass of water and some pills. “Here, take these.”
 
Joe took the pills with the water. With Bernie’s help, he got into the wheelchair. Bernie wheeled Joe out of ICU and headed for the elevators. Bernie pushed the up-call button for the elevator.
 
“Where are you taking me?”
 
“Don’t worry about it. I am taking you to the tenth floor. The second elevator is out of service. I should be able to open the doors there.”
 
“Bernie, I don’t feel so good. What were those pills?”
 
“Sleeping pills.”
 
“I took four. Am I supposed to take that many?”
 
“No, man. You are supposed to take only one every 12 hours.”
 
“Won’t that kill me?”
 
“No. It will make you comatose. In your condition, you won’t notice that the elevator is not there. The fall from the tenth floor will kill you.”
 
“But Bernie, I don’t want to die any more. I want to live.”
 
“Listen, man. I’m telling you. If you die, we will make the best sellers’ list. We’ll be able to negotiate a big contract. We’ll attract more money.”
 
“We? I’ll be dead.”
 
The elevator arrived and Bernie pushed the wheelchair inside and pushed the tenth-floor button.
“Well, yeah,” said Bernie. “Quit thinking about yourself for once. Did you even consider me? This is my big break. When I post your next suicide note, we’ll sell a million copies of your novel. Plus, I am sure I can get a six-figure advance for your next novel.”
 
My next novel? I never wrote a second novel.”
 
“It will be found among your things after your death.”
 
“Bernie, don’t do this. I don’t want to die.”
 
“Quit being selfish! Close your eyes now and rest. It will all be over in a few minutes. You are going to be a bestselling author. Congratulations.”
 
THE END

I blogged about this on January 11, 2021. If you missed it, scroll down and read it. Later. I remembered a few more. Here they are:

1. Crawling in duct work. This mistake drives me nuts because I used to be a facility manager. To begin with, ducts aren’t made to support the weight of a person or persons. They’re suspend from the ceiling or beams by thin strips of metal or wire. With one or two people inside, they would come crashing down. On TV, they appear to be 16X16 which is big. Ducts work like this; they come out of a furnace or air handler and progressively downsize as they supply heat or AC to a room. A duct vent in a room could be 12X4 – hardly big enough to crawl inside. They’re also filled with things like filters, smoke dampers and fire dampers. Just once I would like to see our hero fall into the furnace.
2. Unlimited ammo. Writers are getting better at this, but there’re still scenes where our hero never runs out of ammo.
3. Super lightweight machinegun ammo. This one is a little complicated. In the scene, our hero grabs a machinegun and begins killing hordes of zombies or whatever. So far so good. If he/she grabbed a M249 light machine gun (LMG), it weighs only 22 lbs. The ammo is the standard light 5.56x45mm NATO round. The M249 can fire 725-rounds per minute. If our hero carries 200 rounds of ammo, that’s about 7.2 lbs. That means he/she can shoot for about 15 seconds. But does our hero pick up the M249? NO. Our hero picks up a M61 Vulcan, a hydraulically driven, six-barrel, Gatling-style rotary cannon which fires 20 mm rounds at a rate of 6,000 rounds per minute. Our hero would need a wagon or truck to carry enough ammo for one minute, and they’re heavy.
4. Instant hacks. The crime TV shows give the impression that computer nerds can hack anything instantly. Not true. I expect to see a show where the electric toothbrush gets hacked.
5. High speed transportation local and international with no jet lag. I know you’ve seen this one. Our hero has 48 hours to stop the criminal master mind before a weapon of mass (WMD) destruction is detonated in NYC. To stop the master mind, our hero must first fly to Moscow to locate the master mind’s partner, then fly to Antarctica to get the code book needed to defuse the WMD, then return to NYC during rush hour to save the city – all within 48 hours. Yeah, right.
6. Licking cooking spoon. This one I love. The scene is in the kitchen. The world renown chef is cooking something on the stove. He takes a spoon, tastes whatever is in the pot and places the germ-infested spoon with all his DNA and other bodily fluids back into the pot. No way. No professional chef would risk food poisoning or salmonella. I love to cook and even I know better than to do that.
7. Noise in space. Here’s another one that drives me nuts. In outer space, there’s no air. To make sound there must be air or something to transmit the sound. So why do we watch a space craft soar by with a roaring engine? It wouldn’t happen.
8. Ear buds not detected. I enjoyed watching TV shows like Scorpion, Quantico and Agents of Shield and similar shows. If you are a fan, you know when the agents go undercover, they use ear buds that transmit and receive so they can communicate. Everyone knows that. So why is it that the mega-corporate outfits that are behind all the evil in the world never bother to check in their ears when they do a pat down? Surely, at least one employee has a TV and watches the shows.    
9. Cellphone reception. This is like the ear bud scenes above. Our hero is underground in a cave or under water in a submarine. He/she pulls out a cellphone and makes a call. WTF? I can’t even get reception in an elevator.
10. Giving away the conspiracy. I think screenwriters do this for the audience. It happens in two ways: The criminal mastermind explains his/her plan, or the detectives explain their theory. You know the scenes. The mastermind is about to kill our hero. But before killing, he decides to explain to our hero his entire manifesto for world domination and enslaving mankind. Why? Because he like to hear himself talk, I guess. In the second scene, the detectives bring in their prime suspect, and during the interrogation revel to the suspect their working theory and all the evidence they have so far. Why? Because they’re stupid. I guess they think the suspect will confess on the spot.
11. Liars. On TV crime shows every suspect, every person of interest and every witness is lying. Really? Has society sunk that low?
12. “Over and out.” This bugs the hell out of me. It’s improper radio procedure. “Over” means the speaker has finished his transmission and is waiting for a reply. “Out” means they are done talking and are hanging up.
13. Misuse of a cane. Sometimes the main character has to use a cane. Half the time, they use in the wrong hand. The cane should be held in the hand opposite the injured leg. That way, it’s a more natural stride with twisting.

I hope these tips help you budding screenwriters. Best wishes.  

Common Mistakes Screenwriters Make

I like TV. Okay, I may watch too much TV, and I tend to be critical, because I’m a writer. I’m getting sick and tired of some ridiculous actions and mistakes that so many scriptwriters make in TV scripts. When I see them, I want to scream. I know it’s fiction, but I do expect fiction to make some sense. Here’s what I’m talking about.:

1. Violating Newton’s Laws of Gravity. I know you’ve all seen this one. The hero throws a rope or chain around the villain’s neck and throws the other end over a beam or tree branch. Then, believe it or not he/she hoists the villain off the ground. Here’s the problem – there’d be no advantage without a pulley. The hero must weigh considerably more than the bad guy for this to work. It’s simple mechanics – Newton’s 2nd Law of Gravity (the sum of the forces on a mass) Therefore, the force applied by pulling down on the rope must be greater than the weight of the object, in this case, the villain, to raise the object. It doesn’t matter how strong the hero’s arms are unless his/her feet are anchored.
2. Karate kicks that are too powerful. Here’s another common sight – our hero kicks an opponent, and the opponent goes flying backwards through the air. No way. I have a second-degree black belt in Tae Kwan Do, so I know a little about it. Once again, it’s mechanics -- Newton's third law (for every force there is an opposite and equal force) If one person kicks another hard enough to make them fly backwards, the kicker also will fly backward. Think about it – the foot or fist is small compared to the body. It would be like a chisel hitting a stone. The target wouldn’t fly backwards, but a rib or ribs would break.
3. Parking directly in front of building. This is another scene that bugs me. Our hero pulls up to a build and finds a parking spot right in front and there’s no meter. It what universe would that happen? I have lived in NYC, LA, Chicago, Washington D.C. and a few other big cities. It never happens. People must arrive very early to park in front, and there’s usually a meter. Our hero would have to park in a parking garage or parking lot farther away. It might happen in a rural area, small town or suburb but not in a big city.
4. Ridiculous stake outs. The scene shows one or two detectives sitting in a car on a stakeout right in front of suspect’s house or work-place. Usually, there seems to be a light under the dash. No one challenges them or even notices – in the fictional world no one would ever notice a strange car in the neighborhood. It… would… never… happen. A nosey neighbor or neighborhood watch would notice. Even in a high crime area, people would suspect the detectives were drug dealers or narcs and alert the suspect or police.
5. Extremely explosive hand grenades. You know the scene. Our hero throws a hand grenade and it explodes in a huge fire ball and people fly up into the air. That just blows my mind. Most grenades are fragmentation grenades that look like baseballs. They use a small explosive surrounded by a notched wire – no gas or fuel. Incendiary grenades look like beer cans and burn rather than explode. A hand grenade would not have a huge fire ball and wouldn’t blow people up into the air.
6. Bad guys who are terrible shots. You would think that professional killers could at least hit the side of a barn when shooting. But no, our hero kills someone with every shot while the professional killers can’t seem to hit anything. The hero can run from cover to cover or through open terrain and it’s as if the bad guys are shooting blanks. I guess the bad guys aim low, because the shots kick up dirt around our hero’s feet. Give me a break.
7. Popping up to shoot. Our hero is behind a rock or some other bullet proof cover and periodically pops up to shoot. Yeah, right. That would never work. The bad guys would take aim at that spot and shoot our hero as soon as he/she pops. It might work if our hero could move to a different spot before popping up.
8. Breaking necks with a twist of the hands. Our hero grabs the head of a bad guy with two hands and twists, killing him instantly. Theoretically, it might work, but here’s the problem; the neck muscles are very strong. Even if the villain is totally relaxed and surprised, the body’s natural reaction is to resist. If it were that easy, there would be more deaths in wrestling. I have wrestled off and on for ten years. It ain’t that easy. Now there are way to break a person’s neck, but I won’t disclose them here. Also, a broken neck doesn’t always mean instant death.
9. One punch knockout. This is like the broken neck. I’ve done a little boxing and a lot of karate, and on a few rare occasions I have seen one-punch knockouts, but they are rare. In most cases, the person has a glass jaw.
10. Throwing knives. When I was in junior high, I wasted a lot of my time practicing throwing knives. It wouldn’t be the best choice to kill an opponent. If the thrower misses, the intended victim could use the knife. Throwing knives to cut wires or ropes – forget it.
11. Ticking bombs. It’s a tense scene. Our hero must figure out which wire to cut while a clock nearby counts down the time in bold, red letters. What a laugh. Most bombs consist of a power supply (or just a switch), an initiator that causes the bomb to explode (often a blasting cap), an explosive and maybe something for shrapnel. If the explosive is like C-4, the bomb maker just sticks the blasting cap in the C-4. Therefore, if possible, the quickest way to render a bomb harmless is to pull out the blasting cap. Be sure to move them far away from the explosive.
12. Stereotypical detectives. It seems in every detective show the protagonist keeps some evidence secret or lies about it. They also chase leads and clues without backup and never call ahead to the local law enforcement to secure the suspect. Come on! They can’t all be rogues. Oh, did I mention they like to drink? No tea drinkers.
13. Not wearing head protection. I am appalled when I see our heroes joining the SWAT team without heads protection. Say it ain’t so. At least they don’t get shot in the head.
14. Holding the rope during rappelling. I love this one. Our hero rappels down a cliff while his/her partner (anchor) holds on to the other end. This might be possible if the anchor is sitting, has some way to brace the feet or weighs 400 pounds. Otherwise, the anchor will be pulled over the cliff.

15.  Getting confidential information on patients from nurses and doctors. I go crazy when I watch a TV show where a detective (Chicago PD) or fireman (Chicago FD) goes up to the nurses’ station (Chicago Med) and asks about the status of a patient and is told. It’s a clear violation of The Health Insurance Portability and Accountability Act). It’s illegal for medical personnel to divulge medical information on patients without the patient’s consent. It could happen but probably won’t except in Chicago.
16.Getting romantic after a near death experience. I know you’ve seen this. Our hero and the significant other barely survive disaster. It could be a group of assassins, a natural disaster or space aliens trying to conquer the earth. Immediate the two decide this would be a great time to make out. Duh? I would think it would be a good time to change underwear, stay alert in case the monster returns or one of the killers is merely wounded, or catch some shut eye.
17.Sex in the hospital linen closet. This is why I don’t like hospital shows. I used to work in a hospital. Believe me, if the linen closet was big enough for sex, the hospital would turn it into a patient room. It’s all about business and profit and loss. I doubt that sex in a hospital is a healthy thing.
18.“The last person to see the victim alive.” This also bugs me. The detective is investigating a violent murder and questioning a suspect. He tells the suspect, “You were the last person to see the victim alive.” Duh. The last person to see a victim of a violent murder is the murder. Arrest that person. Might as well say, “You were the first person to see the victim dead.”
 
I hope these tips help you budding screenwriters. Best wishes.  

The following is another excerpt from my work in progress, Jen McDowell—Private Eye; Business is Booming, a Jen McDowell Series. This is a draft. If you want to catch up, order the novella The Throuple Private Eye—Hate Crimes, on Amazon ($2.99). The link is https://www.amazon.com/dp/B084LTTHGN. Enjoy.

MARTY AND NAVADA (Part 2)

Molly kissed Jen on the cheek and started to leave holding hands with Marty. On the way out, She turned and winked at Jen. Navada then sat down to talk with Jen. Jen thought he was very charming although she felt as if he was just being polite and keeping her company.

As long as they had food or drinks, they could take off their facemasks. Navada got up and returned with a plate full of French fries for them to nibble on. He then when over to the bar a returned with two beers. Jen kept a close watch her drink as the bartender filled the glasses. It was habit she developed on the police force. A girl can’t be too careful.

When they both removed their facemasks, Jen got a good look at Navada. She already had noticed his piercing blue eyes. Now she saw his eyelashes. He had beautiful, long eyelashes; the kind that a woman would kill to have. He also had a beautiful smile. He explained how he was Marty’s best friend and roommate from Georgia Tech. They also took ROTC together. When they were commissioned, he was commissioned in the infantry while Marty, with his high GPA was commissioned in the Engineers. Navada was still on active duty, stationed at Fort Stewart, in Savanna, Georgia with the 188th Infantry Brigade. He drove up from Savanna to spend the weekend with his parents.

Jen couldn’t take her eyes off his eyes. On his part, he held her gaze while talking. Despite herself, she was attracted to him. She decided she should slow down her drinking. She was two beers short of going home with him. She started nursing her beer. As Navada talked, Jen played with her hair—twisting and twirling it. Eventually, she moved her fingers down to the top button of her blouse and fiddled with it. She fantasized a little. He was funny. He made her laugh ever few minutes.

Soon she was convinced that Navada was flirting with her. She also realized that she was flirting with him. On the one hand she felt guilty because she had two live-in boyfriends at home. She felt like she was cheating even though everything was innocent enough. On the other hand, she was excited to find out she could still attract a hot guy like Navada. After she lost her legs, she thought no guy would be interested in her. Doc was an exception.

At one point, Navada lightly touched her hand. He pulled his hand back quickly and apologized. Jen liked it. She had noticed his arms earlier. He obviously worked out and was in good shape. She imagined that he had six pack abs.

Finally, the bartender called last call. It was time to go. Jen said good night and started toward the door. Navada followed. Once outside, Jen stopped. “My car is just over there,” she said as she pointed.

“I’ll walk you to your car.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Jen said. Truth is, she didn’t trust herself not to jump into bed with him. “Listen, Navada,” she started to explain. “You’re a nice guy and all, but I’m in a committed relationship.” She decided not to say ‘two’ committed relationships. “Let’s not start something we can’t finish.” It didn’t sound like herself.

“Oh, I see,” Navada said. “I understand—we just met. I was being polite. Can I kiss you goodnight?”
Jen shook her head. “Like I said, let’s not start something.” She turned and walked away. On the drive home, she kept kicking herself. Afterall, she thought. One hook up wouldn’t  hurt would it? Jen already knew the answer to her question. She began to review her conversation with Navada. The entire time she talked to him, he never once looked at another woman. Lord knows there were plenty of hot woman there with two good legs, she thought. So, what does that make him? Is he gay? A trans? A captain in the infantry—not likely. So, what is it? Maybe he’s a sociopath, or a serial killer. Nobody’s perfect.

Something else seems a little off to her. She felt the same about Marty. Then it struck her. Navada and Marty were born and raised in Atlanta and yet hardly had an accent. She knew from her experience on the police force, that most people in Atlanta don’t have a distinct Southern accent. The accent was more Midland. In these guys’ case, Jen figured after four years of college and a few years in the Army where everyone from all the over country was thrown together, the guys lost most of their accent. They hardly ever dropped a ‘fixing to’ or a ‘y’all’.

Later that night, as Jen was working late in her office, Molly texted her. Attached to her text was a selfie of Molly grinning with Marty in the background removing his artificial leg. The picture wasn’t too clear, but Jen was certain that Marty was naked. Now she regretted not kissing Navada.

Jen couldn’t sleep, so she decided to do a background check on Marty. It was easy enough to find information on him. He was searching for work, so he had a large social media presence. After a few clicks, Jen found what she was looking for.

Marty earned a BS in engineering from Georgia Institute of Technology, also known as Georgia Tech, here in Atlanta. He had a full ROTC scholarship and was commissioned a lieutenant in the Engineers upon graduation. He served one tour in Iraq and was wounded twice. He later volunteered for a tour in Afghanistan where he was seriously wounded and lost his leg. He was awarded the silver star for his actions. Jen was impressed. She decided not to do a background check on Nevada. She wasn’t planning on seeing him again.

Prada crawled over to Jen and whined. “Shit, girl, “Jen said. “I almost forgot about you.” Jen figured she was stuck with feeding Prada and walking her before going to bed. Jonah joined her on the walked but didn’t ask her about going out that nightg. Doc was watching a football game, actually a rerun, because of the pandemic. Jen couldn’t get Navada out of her mind. It was one of those ‘coulda, shoulda, woulda’ situations. She decided that if she had sex with Doc and Jonah simultaneously that night, she’d forget about Navada. It was not the first time she lied to herself.
​
Prada slept in bed with Jen, squeezed in between her and Doc with Jonah on the other side of Jen. It was a bit crowded, but Jen thought it was sweet of the boys to let Prada share the bed. The next morning, Jen got up early and gave Prada some kibble for breakfast. She then made a cheese omelet with bacon for herself. She left the omelet on the table as she made herself a cup of coffee. When she returned, the omelet and bacon were gone. She looked at Prada’s bowl. She hadn’t touched the kibble.

“WTF? Young lady,” she half shouted at Prada. “Did you eat my omelet?” Prada tried to look innocent, but the bacon and cheese on her lips gave her away. Jen just laughed and made another omelet and bacon. 

Another Excerpt from my WIP (39)
 
Happy New Year everyone.
 
The following is another excerpt from my work in progress, Jen McDowell—Private Eye; Business is Booming, a Jen McDowell Series. This is a draft. I’m at 71k words now and still writing. If you want to catch up, order the novella The Throuple Private Eye—Hate Crimes, on Amazon ($2.99). The link is https://www.amazon.com/dp/B084LTTHGN. Enjoy.

MARTY AND NAVADA

It was late September on a Friday. Jen and Molly worked all day inside their office, doing research on their computers. Finally, late in the afternoon, Molly stood up and said, “Let’s get out of here. We need to unwind.”

Jen looked up. “Okay, I’ll see if the boys want to come.”

“No. Girls night out. Just you and me.”

“And do what?” Jen asked.

“Well, it’s Friday. My VFW post has an all you can eat fish fry every Friday and also a country band. For an extra $2 you can add shrimp.”

“I don’t know,” Jen replied. “Do you want to hang out with a bunch of old folks?”

“Wait a minute,” Molly cautioned. “I hang out there. On Fridays, the older vets come for the fish. The young vets come for the band and to dance. Besides, most of the fish is take out.”

“How do they have a dance during the pandemic?” Jen asked.

“Well, they can only allow a certain number of guests inside, something like 25 or 50 percent,” Molly answered. “Then in a large room they placed marks six feet apart in rows. They only allow line dancing, and everyone follows social distancing and wears masks.”

“I haven’t tried dancing in my prothesis yet,” Jen said. “I don’t know if I can.”

“It’s about time you found out. Besides, we don’t have to dance. We can listen to the music and drink beer,” Molly suggested. “We can also watch some of those young guys dance. Some of them are hot.”

Jen finally relented and volunteered to drive. It was still warm enough not to wear a coat. The smell of fireplaces burning filled the air. Molly signed Jen in as her guest, and they found a table near the dance floor. Jen decided that Molly was right; some of the guys were hot, the band was good, and the beer was cold. The fish was white fish, but there was plenty of it. After an hour, a guy walked over to Molly. “Hello, my name is Marty Hennessey. Would you like to dance?” he asked through his facemask. He held out his hand to help Molly get up.

Molly shook her head and pulled up her pant legs to reveal her two protheses. Marty pulled one pant leg to reveal a major protheses on his left leg, extending down from just below his hip.

“Okay,” Molly conceded. “You got me beat, but I haven’t danced since I got these.”

“No problem. I’ll show you how.”

“No, no, no,” protested Molly. “I don’t think so.”

Marty bend down and leaned on the table. “What was your rank when you got discharged from the military?”

Molly was taken back by the question. “Staff sergeant.”

Marty straightened up. “Well, I was a captain and I’m giving you a direct order to get your ass out on the dance floor… sergeant.” Reluctantly, Molly stood up. Marty half led and half pulled Molly to the dance floor. It wasn’t crowded. No one objected to them not social distancing since several other couples did the same. Marty stood behind Molly and held her waist to steady her. Molly moved his arms tighter around her. All the dances were line dances, and, at first, Molly struggled to keep up. She did stubble a couple of times, but Marty caught her. Jen was certain the last fall was fake. After a few minutes, Molly mastered the steps without falling. Molly and Marty dances a few more dances.

As another line dance started, Molly and Marty walked and pulled a protesting Jen onto the dance floor. Molly stood on one side holding Jen’s hand while Marty held her other hand. It was awkward at first, but soon Jen was keeping up without falling. Once she got the hang of it, she resumed social distancing. After a few minutes, a guy cut in between Molly and Jen without a word. After a few dances, Jen headed back to her table, turning down a couple of offers to dance on the way including one from the guy who had cut in earlier.

Marty walked over with another young man. “Ladies, this is Navada Lucas, my best friend. He still has both legs, but he’s okay.” Marty made introductions all around. Jen took an instant liking to Navada. She could tell he had a sense of humor. He had drawn a set of lips on his facemask, but they were a woman’s lips—bright red. The four of them danced a few more times.

Finally, Jen said, “Folks, I’m not use to this, and my legs are killing me, so I need to sit down.”
“We’re going to call it a night,” Molly said. She kissed Jen on the cheek and left with Marty. On the way out, Molly turned and winked at Jen. Navada sat down to talk with Jen. Jen thought he was very charming although she felt as if he was just being polite and keeping her company.

As long as they had food or drinks, they could take off their facemasks. Navada got up and returned with a plate full of French fries for them to nibble on. He then when over to the bar a returned with two beers. Jen kept a close on the beers as the bartender filled the glasses. It was habit she developed on the police force. A girl can’t be too careful.

When the band took a break, Molly walked over to Jen. “Don’t worry about driving me home. Marty said he’d give me a ride.” She winked at Jen. “I might go over to his place for a nightcap.”

Jen sternly asked, “Molly do your panties fall off every time you meet a good-looking guy?”

Molly smiled. “What panties?”
​
Jen laughed. “Sorry, for a minute I forgot who I was talking to. Okay, but send me a text or call so I’ll know where to go to claim the body.” Molly just laughed. “I’m not kidding,” Jen yelled as Molly walked out holding hands with Marty.

​I, for one, am glad to see 2020 come to an end. Now we must prepare for 2021, and it doesn’t seem that the pandemic will magically disappear next year. With that in mind, here are my New Year Resolutions for 2021:

1. I resolve to wear pants when I participate in a Zoom meeting, especially while drinking hot coffee.
2. I resolve to wear sweats whenever I’m in the same room as the camera on my computer.
3. I resolve to remove the lipstick from my mask before I return home.
4. I resolve to let my wife back inside the house as soon as this pandemic is over.
5. I resolve to change masks as often as my underwear or every month, whichever comes soonest.
6. I resolve to double check to ensure I arrive home with the same spouse and kids that I left with.
7. I resolve to practice social distancing: 6 feet from friends, 12 feet from strangers, 18 feet from in-laws, and 10 miles from work.
8. I resolve to stop using plastic bags as masks.
9. I resolve to change my underwear once a month whether I need to or not.
10. I resolve to shower once a month whether I need to or not.

 
So, happy New Year and may 2021 be safe and fruitful for you and yours. --Monte

Merry Christmas everyone.
 
The following is another excerpt from my work in progress, Jen McDowell—Private Eye; Business is Booming, a Jen McDowell Series. This is a draft. I’m at 71k words now and still writing. If you want to catch up, order the novella The Throuple Private Eye—Hate Crimes, on Amazon ($2.99). The link is https://www.amazon.com/dp/B084LTTHGN. Enjoy.
 
THE SNAKE BIT CASE (Part 4)

“Mostly rat poison. Dad mixes it up himself. He won’t let me or anyone else help. Won’t tell me the formula. He says if anything happens, he alone will be responsible.”
​
At that point, the pastor motioned for Isaac to come up front. “Time to put the snakes to bed,” Isaac said. “Oh, look at the time.” As he glanced at the back wall. Jen thought he was looking at a clock high on the back wall. When she turned to follow his gaze, Isaac slipped Matthew the snake around her neck. She froze. She was afraid that if she moved, the timber rattler would bite her. She tried in vain not to shake. Tears started to form. She tried to remain calm, but she was hyperventilating. If she didn’t gain control quickly, she could have a panic attack or a flash back.
 
A young woman not much older than Isaac approached Jen. “Here, let me take Mathew from you. You look terrified.” She was much taller than Jen, taller than Isaac. She wore a simple dress. Her long blonde hair hung down around her shoulders. As she draped Matthew around her own neck, the snake disappeared under her curls.
 
“I am terrified,” Jen answered a little too loudly.
 
“I saw my brother do this to you. He does this all the time. He thinks it’s funny. This is why he has no girlfriend. I’m Sarah, Isaac’s older sister. Welcome to our church. Can I answer any questions… other than how to kill my brother?”
 
Jen took a deep breath as she tried to stop her hyperventilating. “I’d like to talk with Pastor Falk if I can,” she finally answered still out of breath.
 
“I can take you to his office, but let’s wait a minute. The service is ending, and Pastor Walt will want to say goodbye to his flock.”
 
“Walt?” Jen asked.
 
“He prefers to be called Pastor Walt—less formal.”
 
As they talked, Pastor Walt walked down the aisle. He paused to touch Sarah’s shoulder. He looked at Jen. Sarah attempted to make introductions. “Walt, this is…”
 
Jen took the cue, “My name is Ms. Jennifer McDowell. If I may, I’d like to talk with you. It won’t take long.”
 
Walt smiled. “Very well. We can talk in my office in a few minutes. Sarah will show you where.” He nodded his head and walked outside as people began to file out. Sarah and Jen waited near the door until the crowd thinned out.
 
“I’ll take you to his office now,” Sarah said as the last person walked by. “Follow me.” Sarah started walking and Jen followed. Jen expected her to head toward the front of the church, assuming the pastor had an office somewhere behind the altar. Instead, Sarah walked out the front door. Once outside, Jen saw Pastor Walt talking to people, shaking hands and saying goodbyes—without a mask. He towered over his congregation. She took out her cellphone to take a picture. Sarah called her father, and he turned his head toward her voice. “Turn around,” Sarah yelled. Walt turned to face the camera as Jen took the picture. Sarah turned back to Jen. “This way.”
 
Sarah led Jen behind the church. In the back was a large shed attached to the rear of the church. As they entered Jen saw Isaac putting snakes into glass cages. As Sarah approached, Isaac looked up. “Oh, there he is.” He held up his arms around Sarah’s neck. “Come to poppa.” Matthew the snake slithered from Sarah’s neck and wrapped around Isaac’s outstretched arm. Isaac gently placed the snake in a glass cage.
 
Sarah glanced at the cages. “There’s Ham, Abraham, Noah and Jacob. I don’t see Rachel. You better go finder her before she goes outside.” Isaac ran inside the church. Sarah led Jen into a small office somewhere behind the main church. She motioned for Jen to sit in a chair facing the desk. Jen looked around to make sure she wouldn’t sit on a snake. The office wasn’t airconditioned and even in May, it was hot. Sarah turned on a rotating desk fan.
 
“Dad will be here shortly,” Sarah said. “Meanwhile, I’ll keep you company and answer any questions.” Sarah walked over to a small refrigerator and took out a cool bottle of water and handed it to Jen. Jen noticed that the glass pitchers of poison and milk were now in the refrigerator. “This will help you relax.”
 
Jen opened the water bottle and took a long drink. The cool water did help to calm her nerves. Her mouth was parched after the incident with Matthew. “I noticed that no one was wearing a mask.”
 
Sarah smiled. “It would be silly to come here to handle snakes and drink poisons and then wear a mask, don’t you think?”
 
Jen laughed and nodded her head. “I doubt the mayor would agree. She has shut down all church services.”
 
“I doubt she cares much about a poor church like ours.”
 
“Maybe,” Jen agreed. “Isn’t handling snakes and drinking poisons just a literal interpretation from the Bible?”
 
“Perhaps,” Sarah said. “Did you know that Catholics believe that wine is turned in the blood of Christ? That a literal interpretation from the Bible too.”
 
Jen realized that she wouldn’t win an argument with Sarah. She was very smart and obviously used to handling these issues. Her answers seemed rehearsed. Jen changed the subject. “Where is your mother?”
 
“She was called to be with her Lord about five years ago. The cancer took her.”
 
“Oh, I sorry,” Jen replied. “So, that left Pastor Walt alone to raise two children by hisself.”
 
“Three kids, actually. I have another sister who is thirteen. We are raising Dad, not the other way around,” Sarah said with a chuckle. Just then a young girl entered the office carrying a cross, linen cloths and other items from the altar. “Speak of the devil. Here’s my sister now.” The younger sister was also very tall for her age, nearly as tall as Jen. She also wore a simple dress matching Sarah’s dress and had thick curly black hair.
 
“This is my kid sister, Ruth,” Sarah started to make introduction. “This is Ms. McDowell. She’s here to talk to Walt.”
 

The following is another excerpt from my work in progress, Jen McDowell—Private Eye; Business is Booming, a Jen McDowell Series. This is a draft. I’m at 70k words now and still writing. If you want to catch up, order the novella The Throuple Private Eye—Hate Crimes, on Amazon ($2.99). The link is https://www.amazon.com/dp/B084LTTHGN. Enjoy.
 
THE SNAKE BIT CASE (Part 3)
“Is the name of Pastor Falk’s church listed?” Jen asked.

The Director glanced through the file and finally said, “The Appalachia Pentecostal.”

“Can I have a copy of that file?”

“Not without a court order,” the Director answered. “I may have shared too much already.”

Jen got directions to the town cemetery and the approximate location of the graves of unknown bodies. It was nearby and not hard to miss. She walked over to the corner of the graveyard and found a grave and headstone without a name with the proper. It said, “Known only to God. Rest in Peace.” The date of death was fifteen years ago. Jen took some pictures and drove back to Atlanta.

The next Sunday…

According to the webpage of The Appalachia Pentecostal Church, Pastor Falk was still the pastor there. Jen made a note of the times of the services and, drove over for the service. The church was an older building that had seen better days. The roof sagged in a couple of spots and the handrail leading up along the front steps was loose. A couple of windows were cracked but not broken. Much of the white paint was peeling.

As Jen approached the church, she could hear loud organ music blasting. The church was nearly filled with people. She noticed no one was wearing a face mask, so she removed her so not to be conspicuous. On a low table next to the altar were several glass cages containing snakes. Jen cringed. People in the congregation were passing around several snakes. Many people were dancing and shaking their arms and shouting, “Halleluiah and praise the Lord.” Behind the alter was a man that looked to be in his late forties. He wore a black suit with a white dress shirt open at the collar. He also was dancing with his eyes closed. A snake hung from his neck.

A teenager walked up to Jen and said, “Hello, and welcome. From the look on your face, this must be your first time to visit.” He was dressed like the pastor. He was a thin young man a couple inches taller than Jen. He had a nice smile and black hair tied back in a ponytail. Jen thought he was handsome. Then Jen noticed around the teen’s neck was a large snake. She  stepped back quickly. “My name is Isaac. I’m the greeter today. I’ll answer your questions.”

“Hello, Isaac. And who is this?” Jen asked, pointing to the snake around the teen’s neck. She didn’t bother to whisper since the music and singing was so loud.

“This is Matthew. He’s a timber rattler. He’s quite friendly. Would you like to hold him?”

“I think I’ll take a hard pass,” Jen answered. “Actually, I was hoping to meet with Paster Falk.”

“He won’t be available until after the service. He’s my step-father.”

Jen observed the service for a few minutes and then asked, “Don’t people get bitten?”

Isaac smiled. “Sometimes, but that’s not a problem.”

“I would think it would be,” Jen shot back. “They could sue you.”

“True believers don’t get bitten and if they do, they don’t die. The Good Book says, ‘They shall take up serpents; and if they drink any deadly thing it shall not hurt them.’--Mark 16:18.”

“You drink poisons too?” Jen asked.

Isaac pointed to the altar. On the alter was a large glass pitcher filled with a dark liquid. Next to it was another glass pitcher with a white liquid. “The darker stuff is poison, and the white stuff is milk.”

“So, if someone drinks the poison, do they drink milk to dilute it, so they don’t die?” Jen asked.
Isaac laughed. “No. The poison tastes terrible. It can make you vomit. The milk helps to keep it down, but it’s optional. I recommend it.”

“So, members of the congregation handle snakes and drink poisons as part of the service?”

Isaac smiled again. “I’ll let you in on a little secret.” He held up his pet snake and forced the mouth open. The fangs were exposed. Isaac pointed to a spot in the mouth. “I removed the poison glands. We’ve had problems in the past.”

“Doesn’t that defeat the purpose?” Jen asked.

“As my dad always says, if it helps people in their walk with God, does it matter?”

Isaac moved on to welcome another person while Jen continued to watch the service. People danced, passed around snakes and shouted. Finally, an old man walked up to the altar, took a paper cup and poured a half-cup of poison from the pitcher. He then poured a full cup of milk. He drank the poison with a milk chaser and returned to his seat. A second woman was waiting her turn. She poured herself a half cup of poison and drank it down without milk. She then reached under the altar and retrieved a large plastic bucket. She held her head over the bucket until she vomited into the bucket. She took a handkerchief from her pocket and wiped her mouth and cheeks.

Isaac walked up behind Jen and leaned closer. “I told you the poison tastes terrible. It will make you throw up unless you drink some milk.”

“What is it, if I may ask?”
​
“Mostly rat poison. Dad mixes it up himself. He won’t let me or anyone else help. Won’t tell me the formula. He says if anything happens, he alone will be responsible.”

The following is another excerpt from my work in progress, Jen McDowell—Private Eye; Business is Booming, a Jen McDowell Series. This is a draft. I’m at 70k words now and still writing. If you want to catch up, order the novella The Throuple Private Eye—Hate Crimes, on Amazon ($2.99). The link is https://www.amazon.com/dp/B084LTTHGN. Enjoy.
 
THE SNAKE BIT CASE (Part 2)

“So. What happened to that plan?”

“We put Erika on a bus to Columbus. My sister met the bus there, but Erika wasn’t on the bus. The bus driver said she got off in Lone Oak on the way to Columbus.”

“Did you look for her?” Jen asked.

“No. She told us that if we sent her away, the first chance she had she’d run away. We figured that’s what she did. Anyway, we couldn’t find better jobs here. We never heard from her again. She’d be thirty-one now.”

“Do you think she ran away?” Jen asked.

“I don’t know,” Mrs. Sorg answered. “Like I said, we’re good Christians. We’d forgive her no matter what. There was no reason for her to run away.”

Jen asked a few more questions and Mrs. Sorg gave her a picture of a pregnant Erika. Jen figured she would go to Lone Oak to start her search of Erika. Back at the office, Jen told Molly what she found out. “I guess it’s a waste of time. It looks like she ran away.”

“Did she know someone in Lone Oak?” Molly asked. “Maybe someone met her there to pick her up.”

“Maybe, someone like her boyfriend, the child’s father? It’s possible.”

“Maybe there’s another reason she got off the bus,” Molly suggested. “How far along was she?”

“I think she was at least eight months along.” Jen answered.

“Maybe she had a medical emergency,” Molly suggested. “Maybe her water broke.”

“The bus driver would have said something.”

“Maybe not,” Molly replied.

“I guess I could at least check that out.”

The next day...

Jen drove to Lone Oak, an hour drive on Highway 85. Lone Oak isn’t on the highway but not far off. As she drove into town, she saw the sign that said the population was less than 100. There was a gas station, so Jen stopped there. The attendant said there was no hospital there, and for emergencies, an ambulance would take patients to Grantville, ten minutes farther down the road. Jen headed there. The Grantville hospital was located in the center of town. It was a large county hospital. Jen put on her mask and went inside to talk with the HR director.

“I’m a private investigator, and I’m trying to find information on a young woman named Erika Sorg who might have been admitted fifteen years ago.” Jen told the HR Director. “She was eight months pregnant.”
 
The Director frowned at Jen. “That’s a long time ago, but fortunately, we keep record for sixty years or more. We should have some record on her. Let me call our medical records.” The Director talked to medical records and gave the person on the line the name. She was silent as she waited for an answer. A few minutes later she said, “No person with that name in our records.”

“Is it possible she was treated without giving her name?” Jen asked. “She may have been running away from home.”

The Director thought for a moment. “It’s possible. You said it was fifteen years ago? The head of our OB-GYN was an intern back then. Maybe she can tell you something.” The Director made another call.

A few minutes later, another woman entered the office and the HR Director introduced her to Jen. Jen explained what she was trying to find out. “Yes, I do remember an incident like that,” the Doctor said. “A very pregnant young woman arrived here by taxis. She was having a medical emergency. She wouldn’t tell us her name or the name of the father.”

Jen took out the photograph that Mrs. Sorg had given her of Erika. The doctor looked at the picture and shook her head. “I don’t remember what she looked like, but that could be her, a young white girl maybe seventeen. As I recall she wouldn’t give us a next of kin to notify either, but she did give us the name of her pastor.”

“Would we have a record of that patient?” the HR Director asked.

“Of course,” the Doctor answered. “It would be filed as a Jane Doe with the name of the pastor,”

“Jane Doe?” Jen asked.

“Oh, she died,” the Doctor answered. “Very sad case. If I remember, she died during childbirth.”

The HR Director called medical records again. Soon a woman came into the office with a file. The label on the file read, Jane Doe—Pastor Walter Falk. The Director open the file and began reading some entries aloud. “There were complications during delivery, and we couldn’t save the mother. We did save the baby—a boy.”

“What happened to the girl’s body?” Jen asked. “Did Pastor Falk remove the body?”
​
“No. no,” the Director answered. “We can only release the body to the next of kin. Her body was sent to the morgue and later buried in the town cemetery.”

​My e-books published with Smashwords are enrolled in their End of Year sale, starting December 18 through Friday, January 1, 2021. All my e-books, are discounted 25%. The free ones are still free. The books and the links are:
Archimedes of Syracuse (http:/smashwords.com/b/159447),
The Clone Murders (http:/smashwords.com/b/160136),
The Register Cliff Rapist (http:/smashwords.com/b/588277),
Angels and Gargoyles (http:/smashwords.com/b/149430-FREE)
Enjoy. -Monte