Of
Execution
by
Gary Whitmore
This story is a work of fiction from the author’s mind. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to events or places, time machines, or persons living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Copyright 2017 by Gary Whitmore
Cover Copyright: http://www.123rf.com/
profile_AlienCat_AlienCat 123RF Stock Photo
Most humans don’t know the exact day and time they will depart this life. But a few, as was the case of Henry Hollister, do know the exact day and time their souls will depart their bodies.
It was early Monday evening on October seventeenth, back in nineteen sixty in the State of Georgia. An average day for most Americans across this state. But it wasn’t average or extraordinary for nine-year-old blonde-haired Kent Hollister.
There were tons of local media coverage concerning Henry Hollister today. Most folks in the Warner Robins and Macon area hated Henry’s guts with a passion. They wanted to lynch him themselves.
Kent was with his twenty-eight-year-old blonde-haired mother, Brenda, in Reidsville, Georgia, this evening. They were visiting Kent’s daddy and Brenda’s husband, Henry, who had been incarcerated in the state prison for three years.
Tomorrow morning at seven sharp, Henry had a date with Old Sparky. His young life was scheduled to end, and a stay of execution was not expected to come from Governor Perry Grace.
Thirty-year-old black-haired Henry Hollister was being executed by the State of Georgia for the murder of seventeen-year-old Angie Abbott back in the summer of nineteen fifty-seven. Angie’s naked body was found in a clearing in the woods near Meyers’
cabin.
That cabin was in the woods north of Warner Robins and northwestern of Robins Air Force Base.
Two hunters were shocked when they stumbled upon Angie’s dead naked body on Monday, August
twelfth. The Warner Robins Coroner surmised that she was killed either Friday, August ninth, or Saturday, August tenth.
Two days after Angie’s body was found, an anonymous letter was received by forty-eight-year-old Colonel Richard Abbott at Robins Air Force Base. The letter stated Henry Hollister was Angie’s killer on that Saturday night.
The anonymous person stated that he couldn’t come forward since he was a homosexual and feared for his life. This person wrote that he saw Henry in the woods with Angie. He witnessed Henry strangle Angie over refusing to have sex with him. This person stated Henry had a 38-Special revolver tucked in his pants.
This letter was closed, stating Henry took Angie’s clothes and ran out of the woods.
Colonel Abbott put massive pressure on Chief Delaney of the Warner Robins police department to search Henry’s home.
Chief Delaney stated that this anonymous letter could be bogus and could be from the real killer.
Colonel Abbott didn’t buy the Chief ’s theory.
Colonel Abbott threatened to go to the news media and state that Chief Delaney wasn’t doing his job to arrest his daughter’s killer.
Chief Delaney caved and had his officers conduct a search of Henry’s home. The search ended, and to their surprise, they found Angie’s clothes, shoes, and purse stuffed up in the attic of Henry’s garage.
Henry swore he had no earthly idea how her belongings got up in his attic. Colonel Abbott didn’t believe Henry, and finding his daughter’s clothes in his attic was all he needed to feel confident Henry was her murderer. He pressed for murder charges to be brought against Henry.
Henry’s alibi was he was out in the woods late Saturday afternoon doing target practice with his 38-Special revolver. Henry stated he wasn’t anywhere near
Meyer’s Cabin. His family and friends knew Henry went into the woods every Saturday evening for target practice. But he always went alone.
Chief Delaney resisted the pressure to arrest Henry, as he wanted to conduct an investigation for other possible suspects. Colonel Abbott wouldn’t hear of it. That anonymous letter and Angie’s belongings found in Henry’s garage attic convinced him Henry was his daughter’s killer. And if the Chief didn’t arrest Henry, Colonel Abbott would use his influence and contact the Governor of Georgia.
Most of the Warner Robins and Robins Air Force Base folk also believed Henry was the killer.
Chief Delaney caved again to Colonel Abbott’s pressure. Detective Chuck Chambers arrested Henry for the murder of Angie Abbott. Still, he did it privately at the Warner Robins police station. They brought Henry in through the station’s back door to avoid the media frenzy outside the front of the department.
Detective Chambers ignored Chief Delaney’s orders and conducted his own secret investigation. He couldn’t find any possible suspects, and that ate at him.
Henry was found guilty in court for the murder of Angie Abbott on September ninth in, fifty-seven.
Henry professed his innocence all during the trial, but the jury still found him guilty. Henry’s trial lasted one day, and the jury only deliberated for an hour for their guilty verdict.
The evidence of Angie’s clothes and purse being in the attic of Henry’s garage was the primary reason the jury arrived with their guilty verdict. The jury didn’t believe Henry’s alibi of being in another area of the woods doing target practice with his 38-Special. Nor did they believe the theory by Henry’s public defender that the anonymous letter could have come from the real killer.
But Henry was persistent in that he didn’t know how her belongings were placed in the attic of his garage. All of Henry’s fellow coworkers believed the real killer framed him.
But Chief Delaney was under orders from the Mayor of Warner Robins not to do an investigation.
He also felt Henry was guilty and received concerns that the police might wrongly arrest an innocent man for this murder. They felt this way since Henry was a Warner Robins police officer.
Chief Delaney, Detective Chambers, and the other officers of the Warner Robins Police Department were shocked by the guilty verdict.
So on this October evening in a prison visitation room, Henry was allowed one last visit with his wife and son under the watchful eyes of two prison guards.
Henry’s father, Elmer, wouldn’t allow Henry’s mother, Gale, to visit him in prison. Being a strict Baptist, he was ashamed of his son being a murderer of a young girl. Gale cried all night, knowing her baby boy would die in the morning.
Henry, Brenda, and Kent sat around and did some idle chat. Brenda occasionally walked to the other side of the room to wipe away her tears so young Kent wouldn’t see her. Kent was still puzzled by all this and couldn’t understand why everybody wanted to kill his daddy in the morning.
The guards also allowed Henry and Kent to play catch in the room with a baseball and gloves. Even though it wasn’t their backyard, Kent was still happy to relive his favorite pastime with his daddy.
“I want you to come home, Daddy,” said Kent while he tossed the ball back to Henry.
Henry fought back his tears while he tossed the ball back to Kent. He didn’t want his son to see him cry. The two guards looked away as they felt sorry for Henry. And if the truth is known, some of the prison
guards actually felt Henry might, in fact, be innocent.
But they were not part of that process with the law.
They had to accept the jury’s verdict. Some of them privately recalled Henry crying in his bed in the wee hours of the morning. All the killers they’ve known in the past were too busy trying to find a superior bullshitting attorney to get them out of their scheduled date with Old Sparky. That rarely worked.
Brenda’s eyes welled up again, and she walked over to the other side of the room to dry her eyes.
When they were dry, she walked back to Henry and Kent.
Fifteen minutes had passed.
One of the higher-ranking guards entered the room. “I’m sorry, Henry, but visitation time is over,”
said the higher-ranking guard.
Henry tossed the baseball back to Kent for the last time.
Brenda’s eyes welled up, and Kent saw her.
Kent’s eyes welled up.
“Everything’s going to be alright, Kent,” said Henry, then bent down and gave his son the last hug he would give him. Henry fought back his tears. “Now, I want you to take care of Mommy. You’re now the man of the house. And I want you to grow up and be a good man. Do you understand?”
Kent nodded that he understood while his eyes welled up.
Brenda walked over to Henry while he stood up.
They gazed into each other’s eyes and thought the same thing. How could this have happened to us?
“I’ll always love you,” said Henry.
“I’ll always love you,” said Brenda.
Henry hugged his wife so tight for their last hug.
The three prison guards glanced away and fought to keep their eyes dry.
Henry gave Brenda their last kiss in this life.
“Henry, it’s time to return to your cell,” said the higher-ranking guard.
“Okay,” said Henry and gave Brenda one last glance.
The higher-ranking guard escorted Henry out of the room.
The two other prison guards stood by the door and tried to keep their eyes off Brenda while she held Kent’s hand.
After five minutes had passed, the two guards escorted Brenda and Kent out of the prison’s front gates. Brenda and Kent walked out of the prison gates.
They spotted a crowd of spectators gathered outside, holding handmade signs stating they wanted Henry to die. But a few protesters felt Henry was indeed innocent and felt Georgia was going to kill an innocent man.
“Why do they want daddy to die?” said Kent while she rushed him away from the crowd.
Brenda remained quiet while she rushed Kent to their car and avoided the crowd. Tears ran down her cheeks. She got Kent inside the front of their blue nineteen-fifty-one Chevrolet Bel-Air, cranked up the car, and drove out of the parking lot.
Back in his cell, Henry lay on his bed. Tears rolled down his cheek.
The next morning arrived, and Henry was executed on time at seven. “I’m innocent. You’re killing an innocent man,” was his last words.
Colonel Abbott witnessed the execution and was satisfied that justice was served for his daughter Angie.
He went on with his Air Force career.
Also in the room was Detective Chambers, and he also had tears running down his cheek. He knew they had killed an innocent man.
Two days passed, and over in Sumter, South Carolina, near Shaw Air Force Base, First Lieutenant Grant Bowers sat in his quarters.
He sat in his USAF khaki 1505 uniform in a chair while he drank his second cup of coffee and read his Sumter Item newspaper. He read the article about murderer Henry Hollister being executed in the State of Georgia the other morning.
He drank his coffee while he read the article for the third time. He had a hint of a smile about Henry being executed. Grant knew Henry, and they first met in February of nineteen forty-nine.
He finished his coffee, got up from the chair, left his quarters, and headed for his new Air Police assignment.
Two weeks had passed, and Kent was back home, trying to live a normal life without his daddy. But the kids at his school teased him unmercifully that his daddy was a killer and got what he deserved. Kent spent numerous nights crying to sleep and, within a short period, became withdrawn with no friends.
Henry’s parents also sold their farm outside Warner Robins. They moved to Cedar Rapids in the winter of nineteen fifty-eight. Gale’s brother Peter got Elmer a job at his plant. They talked about moving to Cedar Rapids before Henry got arrested. But after his trial and he was found guilty, they decided to proceed with the offer and moved.
In the spring of nineteen fifty-eight, Brenda decided to move Kent away from Georgia and back to Cambridge, Massachusetts, to be closer to her family.
Life continued for the Hollister family.
Twenty-one years passed, and life moved on.
When Brenda and Kent moved to Cambridge in fifty-eight, her dad Robert Coleman, the Dean of the Physics Department at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology (MIT), was able to help her land a job as a secretary on campus.
Brenda was now forty-nine years old and never remarried. She felt Henry would always be her true love and didn’t want another man. Besides, she always felt that the wife of an executed murderer wouldn’t make her attractive to any loving and caring man. She was actually fearful of attracting the lousy element.
As far as Kent’s life, he remained a quiet and withdrawn kid with a few acquaintances. He also didn’t date girls during high school figuring they wouldn’t want the son of a murderer as a boyfriend. So he shied away from the beauties in his school. But he sure did like this one girl named Kelly who had long, silky blonde hair down to the top of her butt. But she didn’t know Kent existed, as she was more interested in the football players.
He kept his hair long to the shoulders, and it was now more of a dirty dishwater color.
After Kent graduated from high school by the skin of his teeth, his grandfather Robert came to the rescue and landed Kent a job as a janitor at MIT.
One of the physics professors at MIT took a shine to Kent over the past years. He’s seventy-eight-year-old Linus Bernstein, and was Kent’s only friend.
Linus’ specialty at MIT was quantum physics. When he wasn’t teaching, he was busy working on experiments he concocted in his laboratory. Linus had worked at
MIT for the past fifty-four years and was definitely an old fixture on campus.
Since he was a scientist, he also conducted experiments in his barn on his property. He’s been doing this since he purchased the place in nineteen forty. And, of course, Linus looked the part of the kooky scientist with snow-white hair that shot out all over the place since he rarely used a comb.
Kent learned so much about physics from the oddball Linus. But it was this project that Linus told Kent when Kent first started his job as a janitor at MIT
that had him curious. Linus called it “His extremely unique project” but would never go into detail about it.
“One day, I’ll tell you more about it. One day. I promise,” Linus often told Kent, and that piqued his curiosity.
It was now Saturday, the seventeenth day of October in nineteen eighty-one. Kent’s thirtieth birthday was this day, but he wasn’t excited about turning this age. His daddy was thirty years old when he was executed by the State of Georgia in nineteen sixty. And his daddy was executed the day after his ninth birthday.
Kent left his apartment in Cambridge and arrived at his mom’s house at four-thirty that Saturday afternoon. She called him last night to tell him everybody would be at her house at five.
It was now five in the evening. All the guests had arrived, including his grandparents, Uncle Fred, Aunt Betty, and Linus.
After dinner, it was time for Kent to open his presents in the living room.
Kent opened three wrapped boxes from his mom, and she got him three new shirts. “You have to look sharp for dates with a nice girl,” she said after he opened the presents and gave him a wink.
“Thank you, Mom,” said Kent, and he gave her a kiss on the cheek. But he trembled inside at the
thought of getting up the courage to ask a girl for a date. Kent opened a present from Uncle Fred and Aunt Betty. It was another stylist’s shirt. “Thank you, Uncle Fred and Aunt Betty,” he said and gave Aunt Betty a kiss on her cheek and shook Uncle Fred’s hand.
“Another outfit for the young ladies,” said Uncle Fred, giving Kent a wink.
Kent got a little red with embarrassment over everybody’s suggestions of him dating a girl.
“Here’s a present from Grandpa Elmer and Grandma Gale,” said Brenda while she handed Kent another wrapped present.
He opened it up, and it was a sweater for those cold winters in Boston. “I’ll send them a thank you card,” he said.
“Here’s my present,” said Linus while he handed Kent a wrapped gift.
Kent unwrapped Linus’ gift. It was a copy of H.G.
Wells’s The Time Machine book. “I loved reading that book when I was a lad. It made me become fascinated with time travel,” said Linus while Kent flipped through the pages.
“I love time travel stories,” said Kent. “Thank you, Linus. I can’t wait to read it.”
“I remember seeing that movie, The Time Machine, at the theater when it came out in sixty,” said Linus, then cringed knowing that was a lousy year for Brenda and Kent. “I also remember when you were a lad, and we would watch that Time Tunnel TV show on Friday nights back in sixty-six,” said Linus.
Kent had to think about that for a few seconds.
His eyes soon lit up. “I remember that show. I couldn’t wait until the next Friday night to arrive for another episode.” Kent glanced at the cover. “Thank you, Linus.”
“Time travel, the only way to go,” said Linus with a hint of a smirk on his face.
“Again, thank you all for my birthday presents.
They’re great,” said Kent.
“Let’s go to the dining room for cake,” said Agnes.
Everybody left the living room and headed to the dining room for some birthday cake Agnes had baked.
After the cake, everybody returned to the living room for coffee and idle chat.
It was now eight that evening, and everybody started to leave.
Kent walked Linus to the front door.
Linus glanced around to make sure nobody was within earshot of them. “I need you to come to my place tomorrow.”
“Why?”
“There’s that extremely unique project you need to see,” said Linus, and he looked like he was trying to be discreet. “You really need to see it.”
“Extremely unique project? What’s this extremely unique project?” said Kent with a hint of interest.
“Don’t you remember me telling you about that years ago?”
Kent thought about his question for a few seconds. His eyes widened a little. “Ah, yes, I recall you saying something about that years ago.”
“Good, you really have to see it in person to believe it,” said Linus and gave Kent an excited smile.
“Believe it?” “I don’t understand.”
“Come over at ten tomorrow morning, and it’ll all make sense,” said Linus. Then winked at Kent, opened the door, and left the house.
Kent closed the front door and didn’t think anything was weird with Linus, as he often acted like this. This incredibly unique project probably was something really minor, like a mouse being able to drive a model car. But he was still curious.
Kent went into the den to watch television from the Lazy Boy chair. He decided to spend Saturday and Sunday nights with his mom. After all, going back to
his lonely apartment on a Saturday night was something he dreaded.
It was now ten that night, and Kent’s mom retired to her bedroom, so he decided to watch Fantasy Island on the television.
Thirty minutes into the show, he started thinking about his daddy. He sure missed him.
Thinking about his daddy sent Kent into the den closet and removed his mom’s old family photo album.
Kent was nervous about opening the album when he sat back in the Lazy Boy chair.
He hesitated for a few seconds but finally opened the album.
The first picture he saw was of Henry, Brenda, and his buddy Grant Bowers, who had two gorgeous drop-dead ladies by his side. Henry and Grant were in their Army Military Police Khaki uniforms at a bar outside Fort Devens in Massachusetts during the summer of nineteen forty-nine. They both had the rank of Sergeant at the time. Henry and Brenda had been dating for six months when this picture was taken.
The following picture was Henry and Brenda’s wedding picture taken on November eighth in nineteen fifty. Another wedding photo showed Henry, Brenda, his grandparents, Uncle Fred and Aunt Betty, and forty-eight-year-old Linus. Linus’ suit had a bow time and pants that were high waters making him look like a geek back in the early fifties. And, of course, his hair was all over the place from not using a comb.
The following picture was of Kent when he was six months old with Henry and Brenda, two gleaming proud parents. Kent wished he could remember that day in April nineteen fifty-two, but he was too young.
He stared at the page of a couple of other pictures when he was younger than two years old.
He flipped the page.
He smiled at seeing another picture of Kent when he was five. He stood by Henry next to Henry’s nineteen fifty-three Ford black and white police squad car. Henry was a police officer with the city of Warner Robins, Georgia, and wore his police officer’s uniform.
Kent even wore a kid’s police officer uniform. “I remember that day,” said Kent with a warm smile.
When Kent was a lad, he was always proud of his daddy being a police officer. He wanted to become a police officer.
The following picture, taken at Christmas 1955, showed Kent with a Zorro official guitar for kids.
The following picture was taken in the summer of fifty-six. It showed six-year-old Kent and Henry sitting in the living room. Henry played his nineteen fifty-five J-45 sunburst Gibson Acoustic guitar while Kent played his Zorro official guitar. “I wished I stayed with the guitar,” said Kent while he flipped the page.
Playing the guitar wasn’t the same for young Kent after his daddy was executed.
Brenda took the following picture from the kitchen window. It showed Henry and Kent tossing a baseball back and forth in the backyard.
The next page showed Henry with his best buddy Grant Bowers in May nineteen fifty-seven. Henry and Grant wore softball uniforms and were standing on a baseball field with two fellow players, Chuck Chambers, Andy Malone, and Phillip Smith. In the background was a nineteen fifty-seven Ford T-Bird in the background parked next to a nineteen fifty-one Chevrolet Bel-Air.
Kent smiled at the sight of that picture. He remembered that Bel-Air as being their family car.
And, of course, he remembered getting a ride in Grant’s T-Bird one day with the top removed.
The rest of the six photos in the album were of Kent growing up with his mom but without his daddy.
Kent returned the photo album to the closet and retired to his old bedroom.
Once Kent got in bed, he couldn’t sleep. So he got out of bed, headed to his closet, and opened it.
Kent reached up on the top shelf and removed a book. It was a book titled The Exploration of Mars, a Christmas present from Linus in nineteen fifty-six.
I loved this book. Recalled Kent while he headed back to his bed with the book. When Kent read this book as a kid, he always wanted to travel in space.
He got back in bed and started reading his old book. After he read a few pages, he closed his eyes. “I wished I worked for NASA,” he quietly said while placing his book on the bedside table and drifting off to sleep.
It was Sunday morning, a day Brenda and Kent never celebrated. Today marked Henry’s execution twenty-one years ago.
Kent woke up when the aroma of bacon and eggs being cooked filled his bedroom. He loved his mom’s bacon and scrambled eggs in the morning.
“Good morning, Mom,” he said when he entered the kitchen.
He walked over and kissed his mom on her cheek while she got two plates of scrambled eggs and bacon ready. “Good morning, sweetie, she said while Kent walked over, grabbed a coffee cup out of the cupboard, and poured coffee from the Mr. Coffee.
He sat down at the kitchen table.
“What are your plans for today?” said his mom while she walked over to the table with the two breakfast plates in hand.
“Oh, Linus wants me over at his place this morning. Said he has some extremely unique project he wants to show me,” said Kent while she placed his place in front of him.
“He’s a nice guy, but I’ve always thought he was a bit of a kook,” she said while she sat down at the table with her plate.
“Yeah, but boy is he smart. So I’m curious what kind of project he’s been working on,” said Kent, then he started eating a slice of bacon.
Brenda didn’t care what Linus worked on, so she didn’t ask any questions.
It was quiet while Brenda and Kent ate their breakfast.
An hour passed, and Kent left his mom’s house in his red with red interior nineteen seventy-six Chevrolet Monza. He drove out of Cambridge and headed off to the Belmont area.
He arrived at Linus’ two-story farmhouse with a wrap-around porch on two acres.
Kent parked his Monza beside the house next to Linus’ green four-door, nineteen seventy-eight Chevrolet Impala.
Kent looked at the house while he turned off the engine. He remembered spending some of his summer days at Linus’ house and recalled the old tire swing that hung off the big branch of a large Oak tree. It was taken down twelve years ago.
Kent got out of his Monza and headed to the front porch.
He walked up the small wooden porch steps and went across the porch. He opened the screened door and knocked on the front door.
After a few seconds, the front door opened, and Linus appeared. “Good morning, Kent,” said Linus while he stepped out on the front porch.
“So, where’s this extremely unique project?”
“It’s inside my barn,” Linus said in a low voice and acted like a spy. He scanned the area and then motioned Kent to follow him.
Kent followed Linus off the front porch steps, and they headed off to the barn with Linus glancing over his shoulders.
They reached the barn door, where Kent noticed it was locked with an old Master lock.
Linus removed a set of keys from his pants pocket. “I started locking this barn back in fifty-seven,” he said while he stuck a key in the bottom of the lock. “Back in those days, I was paranoid aliens would come in and steal my experiments,” he said, unlocking the lock, then sliding the barn door open.
He looked at Kent and chuckled. “Aliens, boy, I was a goof back then,” he said and chuckled again.
They stepped inside, and he slid the barn door closed and locked it with the lock from the inside.
Linus flicked on the overhead barn lights from a switch by the door.
Kent glanced around the barn and saw tables on one side of the barn that housed numerous electronic boxes and other old technology gadgets. Why would aliens want that old stuff? He thought with a discrete chuckle.
On the other side was a car under a green Army tarp. “What car is under that tarp?”
“Why it’s my old Rambler,” said Linus while approaching the car. “I bought it when I first started teaching at MIT.”
When Kent got to the car, Linus removed the tarp to show off his green nineteen-fifty-four Rambler. It was in good condition.
“I remember that Rambler.”
“She still runs, and I take her out on Sundays for old times’ sake,” said Linus while he reinstalled the tarp back over the car. “Come,” he said and motioned for Kent to follow him.
Kent followed Linus to the other side of the barn, where there was a room without any windows and a door. Linus unlocked the door of that room and motioned to step inside while he flipped on the overhead light switch.
Kent stepped inside the small room and saw something significant hidden under a green Army type of tarp in the middle of the room.
Off to the right corner was a Bell & Howell 8mm projector on a stand with wheels.
Linus rushed over and quickly removed the tarp.
He stood by a contraption with a proud smile. “Ta-dah,” he said with a sparkle in his eyes.
Kent wasn’t sure what to make of this contraption he saw. It resembled the time machine from the H.G.
Wells story but was modernized.
It sat on a round six-foot diameter silver metal base, and the body of the contraption was enclosed with sheet metal.
Near the front of the body was a door that led into a cockpit area covered by a bubble canopy. It looked like the offspring of that H.G. Wells time machine and a nineteen-fifties Air Force jet.
Kent walked to the rear of this contraption with Linus by his side. He saw that the rear had a silver concave six-foot-in diameter saucer at the back end.
The saucer was in the vertical position and had a drive shaft connected to the rear section of the body.
Hundreds of wires ran from the center of the saucer to the outer edge, where there were hundreds of small ports. These small ports ran all along the diameter of the saucer.
“It rotates,” said Linus while Kent checked out the rear saucer. “Counterclockwise.”
“Ah, counterclockwise, okay,” said Kent at the rear of the body where the shaft exited. “What’s in here?”
“The special engine,” said Linus.
“Special engine? What kind of special engine?”
“Ah, let’s just say it’s sorta nuclear.”
“Nuclear?” said Kent and unsure he heard correctly.
“Yep, nuclear,” said Linus with a proud smile and a puffed-out chest.
Kent walked away from the rear and looked at the right side of the contraption. He eyed the round base that it sat on and saw the same small ports on the saucer were all around the diameter of the base.
He eyed the bubble canopy and saw a small bench seat and two harnesses inside. “It seats two,” said Linus.
“Ah, seats two,” said Kent while he peeked through the canopy.
Kent walked around to the front of the contraption and saw the bullet-shaped nose. He walked back over to Linus.
Linus lifted up a lever on the door, and it opened with a whish sound. “Please sit inside.”
Kent’s curiosity couldn’t resist, so he sat down inside this contraption. He sat down on something that hurt his bottom. He lifted his butt up and removed the buckle to a harness.
“One needs to be strapped in when this machine is running. Too risky for bodily injury,” said Linus while he leaned inside. “I got those two harnesses from an old PT Stearman at the airport.”
Kent looked at Linus and thought that comment about the potential bodily injury was odd. He turned his eyes to the console of the contraption. There were toggle switches, small round lights, a gauge, two small numbered dials, and digital panels with small dials.
“What is this thing?” said Kent while he looked at Linus, who still leaned inside. Kent suspected what it was but decided to play clueless.
“Why,” said Linus while he motioned for Kent to scoot across the seat.
Kent scooted over while Linus sat inside.
Linus looked at Kent. “This is the time machine I’ve been working on since nineteen sixty-six.”
Kent looked at Linus. “Time machine? This is a time machine?”
“Why yes. I started on its design after being inspired by that Time Tunnel TV show we watched in the mid-sixties,” said Linus. “I finally finished it two months ago.”
Kent glanced over at Linus. “You sure spent a long time on this time machine prop. Are you using it in some movie you want to make? Maybe a science fiction movie?”
“No movie; it’s a real-time machine,” said Linus with serious eyes.
“A real-time machine?” said Kent, looking at Linus and then back at the machine. “No way.” Kent glanced back at the rectangular sheet metal dashboard.
Everything on the dashboard was labeled with red tape using a Dymo label maker.
He started looking at the dashboard, starting from the left side of the dashboard going across the top.
The first toggle switch and associated light were labeled “Power” above that switch. Below the switch was a circular light.
The second toggle switch and associated light were labeled “Door” above that switch. Below that switch was a circular light.
The third toggle switch was in the center of the panel, and the associated light was labeled “Travel Dates” above the switch. Below the switch was a circular light.
Three large panels were in the center of the dashboard, below the “Travel Dates” switch.
These three panels had four small digital readout panels with associated dials below them. The four smaller panels were each labeled “Month, Day, Year, and Time.”
Also, at the lower right corner of those panels was a small button to disable that panel.
The digital panel to the left was labeled “Now.”
The large panel in the middle was labeled “Travel To.” The digital panel to the right was labeled “PickUp.” The fourth toggle switch and associated light were labeled “Instant Return,” and below that switch was a
circular light. Below that light was a circular dial with numbers starting from zero on the bottom left to ten on the counterclockwise at the bottom right.
The fifth toggle switch and associated light were labeled. “Repeated Pick-Ups,” and below that switch was a circular light. Below that light was a circular dial with the zero, twelve, twenty-four, and forty-eight numbers.
The sixth toggle switch and associated light were labeled “Engine.” Below that switch was a circular gauge for the engine. Inside the gauge, it was divided into three pies. One was white, green, and red with a needle that sat on a small peg at the bottom of the white pie.
The seventh toggle switch and associated light were labeled “Adventure in Time,” with a circular light below that switch.
Kent saw a small door at the bottom left corner of the dashboard. It looked like a glove box.
“There’s no way this is a real-time machine,” said Kent while he glanced back over the dashboard’s switches, lights, panels, and dials.
“I’m serious! It’s a real functioning time machine and I have proof,” said Linus.
Kent chuckled while he looked at Linus and sensed he was dead serious. “Proof?”
“Yeah, come watch,” said Linus, exiting the machine.
Kent got out of the machine and followed Linus to the projector in the corner of the room.
“I filmed my test trip,” said Linus while he moved the projector stand away from the corner and aimed it at a wall. “Turn off the lights,” said Linus while he plugged in the projector.
Kent rushed over to the door of the room and flicked off the lights.
“Get ready to be amazed,” Linus said while he turned on the projector.
Kent walked up to Linus and saw the inside of the machine on the 8mm film being projected on the other wall of the room. “What did you film this with?”
“My Bell and Howell eight-millimeter movie camera.”
In the film, Linus reached over and flipped the first “Power” toggle switch, and the circular light illuminated green.
“That turns on the power,” Linus said to Kent.
In the film, Linus reached over and flipped the second “Door” toggle switch. The circular light illuminated green.
“That locks the door. Don’t want to fly out of this machine,” Linus said to Kent.
Kent looked at him like he was kidding and wanted to chuckle. But he didn’t when he saw Linus was dead serious.
In the film, Linus reached over and flipped the third “Travel Dates” toggle switch. From the film, you could see the three circular lights illuminated green.
The three large digital panels light up, and all the digital readouts are zeroes in orange.
In the film, Linus reached at the “Now” panel and dialed in 10, 10, 1981, and 1400.
“You did this last Saturday?”
“Yep.”
“You use military time?”
“Yep.”
In the film, Linus reached to the “Travel To”
panel and dialed 7, 4, 1901, and 1400.
“This is the date you want to time travel to.”
“Why that day and year?”
“This house and barn were built in nineteen oh two.” “Ah.”
In the film, Linus reached to the “Instant Return”
switch and flipped it up. The circular light below it
turned green. He reached over to the dial and turned it to the first mark off near the zero.
“This is how long the machine will stay in that year, then it will automatically return to the “Now”
date. I set it for one minute.” “I’ll only use the Pickup one when I want the machine to come back and get me at a much later date.” “Like a week later.”
“Okay,” said Kent trying to hold back his chuckle while he wondered when Linus would finally tell him this was all a joke.
In the film, Linus reached over and flipped the
“Engine” toggle switch. The circular light below that switch illuminated green.
In the film, Linus reached over and flipped the
“Adventure in Time” toggle switch.
Linus turned to Kent, gave him a Wait For This look, and smiled.
In the film, the engine started whining, and it soon got louder.
Kent looked at Linus and saw he had a smile on his face.
On the film, visible from outside the canopy, were hundreds of beams of bright blue lights that shot out horizontally from the rear. These beams started to rotate counterclockwise while the rear saucer started spinning.
Also visible from outside the canopy were beams of bright green lights shot up horizontally from the base. The beams of green lights started spinning while the base started to spin the machine clockwise.
In the film, the needle in the gauge with the green, yellow, and red pies moved off the peg, and the needle moved to the middle of the green pie, then it moved to the middle of the red pie.
The machine spun faster and faster, with the blue and green lights starting to merge and soon turning to a soothing cyan color.
In the film, the cyan light exploded, and it was pure white for a split second and vanished. Nothing but woods was instantly visible outside the canopy.
“We’re back in nineteen oh one. Nothing but woods was here back then.”
In the film, the engine’s whining slows down to a whisper.
A minute passed on the film, and the engine started whining loud. I t soon got louder.
In the film, hundreds of beams of bright blue lights shot out horizontally from the rear. These beams started to rotate counterclockwise while the rear saucer started spinning.
Beams of bright green lights shot up horizontally from the base. The beams of green lights started spinning while the base started to spin the machine clockwise.
The needle in the gauge with the green, yellow, and red pies moved off the peg and was soon in the middle of the green pie, then moved to the middle of the red pie.
The machine spun faster and faster, with the blue and green lights starting to mix together and turning to a soothing cyan color.
The cyan light exploded, and it was pure white for a split second and vanished. The inside of the barn room was visible again in the film.
“See, I told you that it’s a real functioning time machine,” said Linus with a huge proud smile.
Kent stood in awe while the film ended.
Linus turned off the projector.
Linus rushed over and flicked on the room lights.
He rushed back over to Kent, who stood there speechless.
Kent looked at Linus. “What are you going to do with this time machine?”
Linus thought about his question for a few seconds. “I actually never gave it much thought. I was
so wrapped up in making an actual time machine that I, ah, never thought what I would do with it,” he said and paced back and forth in deep thought.
After a few seconds of pacing, Linus’ eyes lit up.
“I could use it to go back in time to record actual historical events,” he said, smiling at that idea. “Yeah, like, go back to Dallas in November sixty-three. Use my camera and secretly record if there was a shooter behind that fence at the grassy knoll. Get the film developed and in the hands of some trustworthy reporters.” “And I could go back and secretly film George Washington crossing the Delaware. It would be cool to see footage of him fighting the Revolutionary War. And see if those painted portraits were accurate with how he looked,” he said. The more he thought about it, the more other areas of America’s history he could record. “Film the gunfight at the okay Corral.”
Kent thought about Linus’ suggestion for a few seconds. “I like that idea. I would also love to go back and record history. You could solve some of these conspiracy theories hanging around for years.”
“That’s a wonderful idea. I could also target conspiracy theories and put them to bed,” said Linus, and the more he thought about it, the more he liked it.
“And out of business,” said Kent.
Linus nodded at that comment.
“Now, you can’t tell a soul about my time machine.”
“I won’t.”
“Promise?”
“I promise,” said Kent, and he looked serious.
“Good.”
Linus and Kent spent the next few minutes having Linus explain to Kent the operating procedure for operating the time machine.
It was now three in the afternoon, and Kent left Linus’ and drove back to his mom’s house.
It was now seven that night, and Kent sat with his mom in the living room watching 60 Minutes.
Halfway into the show came a story about Air Force Major General Grant Bowers of the Pentagon.
It was about General Bowers being accused by a seventeen-year-old girl of him sexually assaulting her.
“I’m innocent,” said fifty-four-year-old General Grant with a head full of white hair. He was on the TV while being interviewed by the 60 Minutes reporter.
“She’s making up this story for financial gain,” he said, looking dead serious.
Brenda’s eyes widen a little. “I know that guy,”
she said.
“That Air Force general?”
“Yeah. I know him from somewhere,” she said, recalling where she met him. “But where?”
“Maybe you saw him around MIT?”
“No, not there,” she said, then thought for a few seconds. Her eyes lit up, and she got off the couch and rushed out of the living room.
Kent thought nothing of it and continued watching the story about General Bowers.
Brenda returned to the living room a few seconds later with that family photo album in hand.
She sat back down on the couch and opened up the album. She flipped through the pages and stopped.
“That’s him,” she said, pointing to a picture.
Kent leaned over and saw she pointed at the nineteen-forty-nine picture of Henry, Brenda, and his best buddy Grant Bowers with the young ladies by his side. He looked at General Bowers on the TV and then back at the photo. “You’re right. It’s him.”
Brenda got a bit of a chill. “I never liked that guy.
He was kinda creepy.” “Made my skin crawl, but your daddy really liked him.”
“Creepy? How?”
“I never told your daddy this, but back in forty-nine, he tried his hardest to date me before I started dating your father. He was persistent even when your father and I dated. Then when we got married, I think he was a little jealous of your father,” she said and paused for a few seconds.
“When he was in the Air Force and transferred to Robins Air Force Base, Grant again made a couple of passes at me. He wanted me in the worst way. After your daddy was arrested and sent to prison, Grant tried to say he was there for me by giving me a hug. He only wanted romance, so I told him to leave me alone.
Then after your daddy’s trial was over, Grant was transferred to another Air Force Base six months later.
“He called me a few times from South Carolina, and I told him again to leave me alone, or I’ll file a complaint with the Air Force.”
“Did he call again?”
“No, I never heard from him again. And believe me, I was glad.”
“I remembered how I would find Mister Bowers in our garage on occasions on a Saturday evening when daddy was out target practicing in the woods,” said Kent. “Your daddy said Grant was always borrowing his fishing pole for fishing on Sundays. Apparently, Grant didn’t have a pole since he was always moving from one base to another,” said Brenda.
Kent thought that was a plausible excuse as he remembered seeing Grant place his daddy’s fishing pole back in the garage one Sunday afternoon. Kent looked at General Bowers on the TV again, professing his innocence.
“He’s probably guilty,” said Brenda, then she glanced at Kent. “Well, enough of this creepy guy. I’m going to bed,” said Brenda, and she wanted to put Grant out of her mind. “Good night,” she added while getting off the couch.
Kent watched the rest of the show, and after it was over, he went to bed, as he had to get up really early in the morning.
Kent tried to sleep that night, but all he could think about was Linus’ time machine.
On Monday morning, October nineteenth, Kent left his mom’s house around eight.
He headed off to his janitorial job at MIT.
A song came on the radio while he drove his Chevy Monza to the job. It was Johnny Cash’s song Folsom Prison Blues.
After hearing the introduction riff to that song, Kent had a flashback to June nineteen fifty-seven.
In Kent’s flashback…
Kent was five years old and sat on the couch in the living room of their Warner Robins, Georgia home.
He had his Zorro guitar in hand, while Henry had his Gibson acoustic guitar.
Henry started the introduction riff to Johnny Cash’s Folsom Prison Blues. Kent tried to play that riff but was nowhere close. Henry started singing Folsom Prison Blues while strumming out the chords. Kent couldn’t keep up but still had a blast playing along with his daddy.
Back to reality…
Kent turned the radio station off, as he had never liked hearing that song since his daddy was executed.
In fact, that day in fifty-seven was the last time Henry played and sang that Johnny Cash song since he would have been arrested for murder a few months later.
He pulled his Monza into the employees’ parking lot at MIT, parked, and headed to his job.
It wasn’t long before he pushed his cleaning cart down the hallways of one of the buildings.
He stopped the cart by the Ladies’ Room and heard a toilet flush. He waited.
After a few seconds passed, the bathroom door opened. Melissa, a gorgeous brunette with shoulder-
length hair, soft brown eyes, pouty lips, and shapely curves, walked out of the Lady’s Room.
Kent’s heart fluttered at the sight of this beauty he’s seen so many times in this building. She was a secretary down the hall. “Hi, ah, Melissa, I was wondering,” said Kent, and he wanted to ask her out for a date.
“What, Kent?” she said and waited.
He got really nervous. “I was wondering, ah, I was wondering,” he said, starting to ramble.
“You were wondering what?” said Melissa, getting irritated.
“I was wondering if the bathroom was free of other female occupants,” he said, chickening out by asking her out for a date.
“Yes, it is,” said Melissa and walked away down the hall. Kent opened the Lady’s Room door and pushed his cart inside.
He started cleaning the toilets and kicking himself for chickening out by asking Melissa for a date.
It was Monday night, and Kent was exhausted from cleaning bathrooms all day.
Back at his apartment, Kent sat in the living room of his one-bedroom apartment, watching TV while drinking iced tea.
He flipped through the channels and didn’t see anything of interest on the main channels. He turned to the PBS station.
A documentary about men being executed that might actually have been innocent started. It was titled
“Murdered by the States.”
Kent stared at the TV for a few seconds and couldn’t stomach watching this documentary. He immediately turned the channel.
But after a few minutes, Kent’s curiosity got the best of him, and he returned to the PBS channel.
“We’ll cover the story of Henry Hollister executed by the State of Georgia in nineteen sixty,” said Sadie Kershaw from the TV while reviewing the list of men the documentary would cover.
Kent stared at the TV that showed a mug shot of his daddy taken in fifty-seven when he was arrested.
He turned the channel and then paced by the TV.
Kent didn’t know if he could stomach watching this documentary.
He got up off the couch and started pacing around the living room.
After a few seconds of pacing, Kent decided to be brave. He changed back to the PBS channel and sat back down on the couch. His stomach got nervous while he watched the documentary.
Twenty minutes had passed…
“And now for the story of convicted murdered Henry Hollister. He was executed by the State of Georgia on October eighteenth in nineteen sixty. Mr.
Hollister was executed for the murder of seventeen-year-old Angie Abbott outside Warner Robins, Georgia.
Her body was discovered by hunters on Monday, August twelfth. It was believed she was murdered sometime between August ninth through the eleventh back in fifty-seven,” said Sadie while a high school senior picture of Angie appeared on the screen.
“Miss Abbott was the daughter of Colonel Richard Abbott, stationed at Robins Air Force Base at that time.” “Mr. Hollister professed his innocence all during the trial and moments before he was executed at seven that morning on October eighteenth in nineteen sixty.”
Hearing all this started to flood Kent’s mind with memories of his last visit with his daddy at that prison.
He felt like he wanted to cry and fought off the tears.
“A year ago, we were informed of a gentleman’s confession from his death bed that makes one believe Mr. Hollister might have, in fact, been innocent,
meaning,” said Sadie. At the same time, she paused and gave the camera a serious look with a raised right eyebrow.” “The State of Georgia murdered an innocent man,” she added then the show immediately went to a commercial break.
Hearing that caught Kent’s attention. He jumped up from his couch and rushed into his kitchen.
He rushed over to the phone that hung on the wall. He punched in a phone number.
“Mom, it’s me, Kent.”
“Why Kent, do you miss me already?” his mom said from the phone.
“No, I mean, yes. But that’s not the reason I called. There’s a documentary on the PBS channel called Murdered by the State. They are now talking about Daddy and may have evidence to prove Daddy was innocent,” he blurted into the phone.
There was a few seconds of silence from the phone.
“Mom? Are you still there?”
“Listen, Kent, that happened over twenty years ago. Nothing can bring back your father.”
“No, if they have evidence, maybe we could sue the State of Georgia for his death.”
There were a few more moments of silence on the phone. “Honey, I don’t want to go through all that again in court. I t’s best we just forget it. We moved on with our lives and are doing fine.”
“Mom, we can’t ignore this.”
“Kent. Just let it go. I don’t want that heartache again. Now I have to go to bed. I love you.”
“I love you, Mom,” said Kent, and he hung up the phone.
He returned to his living room and sat back on the couch. The documentary returned after the commercial break, and Kent had to watch. His curiosity was in high gear.
“Fast forward over twenty years, and the execution of Henry Hollister has been long forgotten in the State of Georgia. Back in January of this year, we had a forty-two-year-old gay man named Derek Allen from San Francisco,” said Sadie. Then another man appeared on the TV with Sadie. He was being interviewed in a living room setting. The name
“Timmy Young” appeared on the screen.
“What exactly did your friend Derek tell you on his deathbed?” said Sadie.
“Derek was dying of cancer and surprised all of us by stating he had a confession. A confession he had to tell before he passed. He said he had kept it inside of him since nineteen fifty-seven. It ate away at him,”
said Timmy, and it was apparent Timmy was also gay with his mannerisms.
“What was this deathbed confession?” said Sadie.
“Yes, Derek said he knew Henry Hollister did not kill seventeen-year-old girl Angie Abbott. He said Henry Hollister was innocent of murder.”
Kent sat up on the edge of his couch and was all ears. In fact, he turned up the volume to make sure he could hear everything.
“How did he know Henry Hollister was
innocent?” said Sadie.
“He said he saw the killer strangle Angie Abbott,”
said Timmy. “When we recorded Derek’s confession, that was the first I heard of this story.”
“Let’s play it,” said Sadie.
“Yeah, let’s play it,” said Kent.
On TV, Sadie had a Panasonic portable cassette recorder. She hit the play button.
“My name is Derek Allen, and I’m confessing something that has been eating away at me since August of nineteen fifty-seven,” said Derek in a strained voice. You could tell he was dying. He paused for a few seconds for a cough to subside.
“It happened on a late Saturday afternoon on August tenth in fifty-seven,” said Derek, then paused again to catch his breath. “It was in a secluded place in the woods not far from the runways of Robins Air Force Base. There was an old, dilapidated cabin in the woods. I t was called Meyers’ Cabin off a dirt road off route twelve,” he said, then paused to catch his breath.
“It was a place known for guys to, you know, could hang out and be alone, all alone, if you know what I mean,” said Derek pausing again to cough, and then he wheezed.
Kent was all ears and moved off the couch and sat on the floor near the TV.
“Me and my lover were leaving the cabin and getting into my car when we heard a girl yelling,” said Derek, then coughed. “She was yelling that she was going to tell her daddy that someone got her pregnant and won’t marry her. She also yelled out that her daddy will have him in Air Force prison for the rest of his life,” said Derek.
Kent was still all ears from the couch and inched closer to the TV.
“We got curious and snuck around the side of the cabin and snuck off in the direction of this female’s yelling. “We snuck through the woods and saw the clearing. We peeked around the trees, and I saw someone I knew was an Air Force officer at Robins,”
said Derek, pausing to catch his breath.
“He was strangling Angie Abbott,” said Derek, then paused, coughed, and wheezed. “It wasn’t long before I could see she was dead,” said Derek pausing for another wet cough and wheezing again.
“He removed all of her clothes and left her naked in the clearing,” said Derek, then coughed and wheezed again. “He ran off with her clothes to a Ford T-Bird, got inside, and drove away.”
The voice of Timmy came on the recording.
“Did you know the name of this officer?”
“Yes, he was my Commanding Officer and a well-known Playboy around the base. Plus, he had a temper that frightened me,” said Derek, then he had another coughing fit.
“Why didn’t you go to the police?” said Timmy.
“I couldn’t. I was too scared and feared for my life,” said Derek in a strained voice.
“Why were you scared?” Timmy said, as he knew the answer but wanted it recorded.
“Because I was a gay man in the Air Force. And because I was with another gay Air Force man. We were lovers. We had to keep it secret or face being severely beaten up, given dishonorable discharges, or killed. We both loved being in the Air Force and wanted to make it a career,” said Derek, and he went into another coughing fit, and it wouldn’t stop, so the recording ended.
“As you can tell by the tape, he had another horrible coughing fit. We planned on making the rest of his confession but,” said Timmy, and he paused while his eyes welled up. “But my Derek died two hours later,” said Timmy while his eyes welled up.
“Did he ever tell you the identity of his commanding officer?” said Sadie.
“No, and he didn’t have any of his Air Force records from his first enlistment,” said Derek.
“I understand. So did you ever know the identity of this other Air Force lover that was with Derek that night?” said Sadie.
“Derek said he kept in touch with him, as they eventually got different assignments, but he died in Vietnam in sixty-nine. For the sake of his family, I’m not going to give out his name,” said Timmy.
“I understand,” said Sadie.
“Derek stated when he learned his lover was killed in Saigon. Derek believed he was killed because some
other soldiers found out his friend was gay, and they beat him in a back alley.”
“Didn’t Derek retire from the Air Force?” said Sadie. “Yes, he retired in seventy-seven and was able to keep his lifestyle a secret during his entire career in the military. “I’m retired Air Force, and I was also able to keep being gay a secret all those years. Derek and I met while stationed at Ramstein Air Base in seventy-one,”
said Timmy.
“I want to thank you for coming forward with this story and providing more evidence that innocent men are being executed or murdered,” said Sadie.
“It’s my pleasure; Derek wanted this made public and truly regretted not coming forward back in fifty-seven. He felt he was responsible for killing Henry Hollister, but under the times back then, he had to save his own life,” said Timmy.
“We fully understand. So, there you have it, another innocent man executed by other state officials,”
said Sadie
The documentary returned from the commercial break, and Sadie was now interviewing seventy-two-year-old retired Colonel Abbott.
“Colonel Abbott, what do you think about the deathbed confession of Derek Allen?” said Sadie.
“Boloney! Henry Hollister murdered my daughter Angie in August of fifty-seven. Pure and simple! I mean, this guy kept that secret all these years and finally told it on his deathbed? No! I’m not buying that.
Besides, Angie’s clothes, shoes, and purse were found hidden in Hollister’s attic in his garage. I’m satisfied that the real killer was tried, convicted, and got what he deserved,” said Colonel Abbott looking confident.
The documentary transitioned to another person, and it was fifty-four-year-old Chuck Chambers. Chuck had thinning hair and was chubby.
Kent looked at the TV. “I’ll be,” he said and had always liked him when he was a kid.
“So, Mister Chambers, you were a Detective with the Warner Robins police department in fifty-seven?”
“Yes, I was.”
“What do you think of Mister Allen’s deathbed confession?”
“Well, I wish he would have returned in fifty-seven with that information. But I can understand being gay in those days would have been a death sentence,” said Chuck, who paused for a second. “I had a contact with the Air Police at Robins Air Force Base. My contact could have helped me investigate this officer.”
“What can you tell me about your investigation back then?” said Sadie.
“I had to do a discreet investigation.”
“Why?”
“Because Colonel Abbott firmly believed Henry was automatically guilty because his daughter’s belongings were found in Henry’s garage attic. I believe he just wanted someone to pay for his daughter’s death. And he took the easy way out and didn’t care for a thorough investigation.”
“I take it that your investigation didn’t find any suspects?”
“No, I wondered if someone was at that cabin that day. Our department heard rumors gay guys used that place to be alone. But at the time, Chief Delaney didn’t want to bother with them since he felt they weren’t bothering anybody. Plus, I believe the Chief feared who he would catch down there. He didn’t want to ruin any marriages.”
“What was Henry like?”
Chief Chambers paused for a second. “He was a great friend, a loving and caring father and husband. I miss him dearly,” he said, his eyes welled up.
“Do you believe the State of Georgia killed an innocent man?”
“Now that I’m retired from the police
department, I can honestly say that I believe they killed an innocent man.” “And I find Colonel Abbott guilty of killing an innocent man by not allowing us to do a thorough investigation.”
“There you have it. Another innocent man killed by the states” said Sadie with a serious glare.
Kent sat on the couch and just stared at the TV.
“Daddy was innocent!” he said while he thought about Derek’s confession. He didn’t know what to do. He wanted to call his mom but knew she didn’t want to hear it. So he sat and thought about what he heard.
He also thought about old Detective Chambers stating that Colonel just wanted someone to pay for his daughter’s death and didn’t care for a thorough investigation.
Kent returned to watching the documentary. “And now we’ll tell the story of Willie Malone of North Carolina, executed for the apparent rape and murder of a young girl back in fifty-four,” said Sadie. Then the show went to another commercial break.
Kent decided to watch the story of Willie Malone.
An hour had passed, and the documentary was over. “And there you have it. Some evidence that state officials murdered some innocent men. And this has one wondering why can’t they be brought up on murder charges? Maybe we should focus on outlawing capital punishment? Thank you for watching,” said Sadie then the ending credits started rolling.
Kent’s eyes lit up with an idea; while the credits rolled, he rushed to a small desk in his living room and jotted down Derek Allen’s name on a piece of paper.
He turned off the TV and got ready for bed.
Kent tossed and turned under the covers all night.
In that documentary, Derek’s confession and how his
father was framed for murder weighed heavily on his mind. Kent’s blood started boiling. But who killed Angie? He wondered over and over in his mind.
He sat up in bed. “I can’t go to the police. A dying man’s confession on a tape recorder might not hold up in court. Especially since the murder happened so long ago. Plus, that Commanding Officer could be already dead. He could have died in Vietnam.
He could have also died from cancer or some other illness,” said Kent, then he got out of bed.
He paced all around his apartment, thinking about that documentary.
Tuesday morning arrived, and Kent went back to his job at to work at MIT with his lunch box in hand.
All he could think about while he cleaned bathrooms in another building was last night’s documentary.
He ate lunch in the janitor’s break room. While he munched on his ham and cheese sandwich, he looked at a magazine seeing an ad for the new red with red interior nineteen eighty-one Camaro Z28. “Man, I wish I could afford a new Camaro Z28,” he said, drooling over that magazine ad.
He closed the magazine and went back to his sandwich.
A fellow janitor named Earl Heche entered the break room with his lunch box in hand. Earl was fifty years old and an MIT janitor for thirty years. In fact, Earl was the only friend Kent had at MIT.
“Hey, Kent,” said Earl while sitting at the table.
“Earl.”
There was a few seconds of silence between them while Earl opened his lunch box.
“I saw that documentary on PBS last night,” said Earl while he removed a hoagie from his box.
Kent didn’t know what to say. He figured some of the guys at MIT knew who his father was, but nobody ever mentioned it. “So did I.”
“What are you going to do about it?” said Earl.
“Nothing, I guess,” said Kent.
“I would try to sue the State of Georgia,” said Earl. “Or bring this Air Force Commanding Officer up on murder charges.”
“I don’t know who this Commanding Officer is, and besides, Derek Allen is dead. I don’t think a tape recording weighs very much in court,” said Kent.
Earl thought for a few seconds then his eyes lit up.
“I have a younger cousin that works at the Air Force Manpower and Personnel Center at Randolph Air Force Base. Maybe he can help?”
“How?” Kent asked.
“I think he could look up the records on this Derek Allen. Maybe find out who was his Commanding Officer back in fifty-seven,” said Earl.
Kent thought about Earl’s suggestion for a few seconds. “That might work,” he said as his curiosity about the real killer peaked.
“I’ll call Jerry this afternoon, and I’ll call you at home later tonight,” said Earl.
“Thanks, Earl,” said Kent.
It was quiet during the rest of their lunch. But Kent still had that documentary on the back of his mind.
Kent returned to his cleaning cart after lunch, and he had difficulty focusing while cleaning the toilets.
It was six that night. At the small table in his kitchen, Kent was back in his apartment eating a TV
dinner consisting of fried chicken, mashed potatoes, corn, and a brownie.
The phone on the kitchen wall rang. Kent got up and headed over to the phone. “Hello, he answered the call. “Kent, it’s me, Earl. I talked to my cousin Jerry, who will dig into their files. He said it might take him a week, but he’s confident he’ll find what you need.”
“That’s great. I’m surprised he would do that.”
“After I told him why this information was important, he was extremely willing to help. I recalled him always being sort of a crime buff. And I know he’ll do the best he can.”
“Thank you, Earl. You don’t know how much this means to me,” said Kent.
“No problem, my friend. I’ve always wanted to ensure the real criminals get what they have coming.
So if you don’t mind, I told Jerry to call you directly at home.”
“No, I don’t mind.”
“Good, and let me know what he finds out.”
“I will. And thanks again. I’ll talk to you later,”
said Kent, and he hung up the phone.
Kent returned to his fried chicken TV dinner.
A week passed, and Kent never told his mom about how that documentary ended and how he might be able to locate the real killer.
It was Wednesday evening, October twenty-eighth, and Kent was on his couch watching WKRP in Cincinnati on the TV. His phone in the kitchen rang.
Kent got up off the couch and headed into the kitchen. “Hello,” he answered the call.
“Kent, it’s me, Jerry Woodstone. I’m Earl’s cousin that works with the Air Force Personnel Center. He called about some information you needed.”
“Ah, yes, Jerry.”
“I found what you wanted.”
“Okay,” said Kent, and his stomach started to get a little nervous.
“Derek Allen’s Commanding Officer while he was stationed at Robins Air Force Base in fifty-seven was Second Lieutenant Grant Bowers,” said Jerry.
“Grant Bowers, got it,” said Kent while jotting down that information. It took a few minutes, but it hit him like a ton of bricks. “Wait, did you say, Grant Bowers?”
“Yes, I did. I found this from Allen’s APRs.”
“APRs? What’s an APR?”
“Airman Performance Report. It’s done annually for the enlisted, and Lieutenant Grant Bowers signed them for Airman Second Class Derek Allen,” said Jerry.
“I know this officer.”
“You do? No shit,” said Jerry. “From where?”
“He was friends with my daddy back in fifty-seven. They got along since daddy was a Warner
Robins police officer and Grant was Air Force Air Police.”
“That’s way too bizarre with this Derek Allen was being Air Police at Robins.”
“No wonder he was scared,” said Kent.
“Yeah, Earl filled me in on that documentary. I hope you get this guy.”
“I don’t know what I can do. It will be hard to imprison a General of the Air Force,” said Kent.
“You’re probably right,” said Jerry. “Listen, call me at area code one, two one, five, five, thirteen, fourteen if there’s anything else I can help you with. I hate it when scum bags like this get away with murder.”
“I will, and thank you, Jerry,” said Kent, and he hung up.
“My pleasure,” said Jerry, and he disconnected his end of the call.
Kent grabbed the pencil by the pad of paper near the phone. He wrote down that number and then tore off that paper. He shoved it in his pants pocket.
Kent walked back to his couch, thinking about the information he received. “Grant Bowers. Fucking Grant Bowers!” he said and wondered what he should do. He knew his mother just wanted to forget that part of her past. His blood started boiling the more he thought about Grant Bowers.
Then he recalled Derek’s taped confession “He ran off with his clothes and ran off to his Ford T-Bird, got inside, and drove away” words. “How did I miss that?” said Kent when he remembered Grant’s Ford T-Bird.
He stayed on the couch, thinking about how all he learned recently.
The next day, staying focused on cleaning at work took a lot of work. All Kent could think about was the information he received and what he should do about it.
His eyes lit up with an idea. He grabbed a pencil from his cleaning cart, rushed out of the third-floor ladies’ bathroom, and ran down the stairs to the first floor. He rushed down the first floor to the pay phones by the front doors of the building. He removed his wallet, removed a piece of paper.
He deposited a quarter into one of the pay phones and dialed that number from that paper.
“Jerry Woodstone, how may I help you?”
“Jerry, it’s me, Kent Hollister from Cambridge.”
“Hey, Kent.”
“Listen, I do need a little piece of information.
Can you get me the phone number of General Grant Bowers at the Pentagon?”
“Sure, it might take a few minutes. Can I call you back?”
“No problem. I’m at area code six, one, seven, five, five, five, nine, nine, zero, three,” said Kent.
“Got it. I’ll call soon,” said Jerry.
Kent hung up the phone and waited.
Five minutes had passed, and the pay phone rang.
“Kent Hollister,” he quickly answered the phone.
“Kent, it’s me, Jerry.”
“Yes, Jerry. I have that number you wanted.”
“Great,” said Kent, grabbing a pencil from his cleaning cart.
“The number you need is area code two, two, zero, five, five, eight, one, eight one.”
“Area code two, two, zero, five, five, five, eight, one, eight one. Got it, and thanks,” said Kent while he wrote the number on the wall by the phone with his pencil.
“Keep me informed on what you’re going to do.”
“I will,” said Kent, and he hung up the phone and stared at Grant’s phone number on the wall. What should I say? He pondered in his head while he stared at Grant’s number. His eyes lit up.
He deposited more change into the pay phone and punched in that phone number. He got nervous when he heard the number he punched start ringing. He looked around to make sure nobody was near him.
The coast was clear.
“General Bowers,” said Grant answering the call.
“Ah, General Bowers. The same General Bowers that was stationed at Warner Robins? Back in nineteen fifty-seven?” said Kent into the phone with a low enough voice not to be heard by someone walking by.
There was a few seconds of silence. “Who is this?” “I know you killed Angie Abbott back in fifty-seven, you asshole! You framed an innocent man, and I hope that you’ll be put behind bars for the rest of your FUCKING life!” Kent yelled into the phone then hung up.
Way over in the Pentagon, General Bowers sat behind his desk. “Hello, who the fuck is this?” he said into his phone, then realized the mysterious caller hung up. He hung up his phone and was baffled by this strange blue phone call. But General Bowers wasn’t worried in the least. He knew nobody could connect him with Angie’s murder. That was so long ago, and he knew he was in the clear. He saw that documentary and knew a recording from a dead man couldn’t convict him.
But he still wondered how someone connected him with Angie’s murder. “Ah, bullshit,” he said and shrugged off that call. But there was the recent accusation that had him a tad worried. “Ah, it’s her word against an Air Force General with an impeccable record. I have nothing to worry about,” he said with a smirk while reviewing a budget report.
After all, he’s been accused in forty-nine, sixty-six, and seventy-two, and nothing happened. He felt he was untouchable, and so far, he was.
A few seconds later, Grant put down his paperwork and glanced back at the phone. “But, who the fuck was that?” he muttered, and for a second, he got nervous with this strange caller. “Who the fuck is also after me?”
At MIT, Kent strutted back to the stairs and returned to the third-floor ladies’ room.
He returned to cleaning toilets.
After he was done with this building, Kent pushed his cleaning cart down the first-floor hallway.
He went by the pay phone and spotted General Bower’s phone number on the wall. “Shit,” he muttered and quickly grabbed a cleaner and wiped away the evidence of him harassing General Bowers.
He pushed the cart out of the building and returned to the janitor’s office nearby.
Later that night at his apartment, Kent wanted to forget about Grant Bowers for the evening, as this man weighed heavily on his thoughts all day. So Kent started reading the book Linus gave as a birthday present.
With a glass of iced tea, Kent relaxed on his couch and began reading H.G. Wells’s The Time Machine book.
Halfway through the first chapter, Kent recalled something he had seen a few weeks ago. He looked at the cover of the book. “No, I can’t,” he said while a wild idea popped up. The more he thought about it, the more he felt that this was his only option.
Kent jumped up off the couch.
He rushed to his small desk, opened the middle drawer, and removed an address book.
With the address book in hand, he rushed into the kitchen and over to the phone. He opened up the book, looked up a name, and made a phone call.
“Hello,” said Linus from the phone.
“Linus, it’s me, Kent.”
“Hi Kent, what a lovely surprise to be hearing from you. Do you need something, or are you just calling to say hello?”
“Actually, I do need something.”
“I’m always available to help. What do you need?”
There was a pause for a few seconds while Kent wondered if he should pursue this idea. “Well, there was this documentary on PBS the other night about innocent men that were executed.”
“That’s always a possibility.”
“So this documentary mentioned my daddy. And then there’s this guy on his death bed who confessed that he saw an Air Force Officer kill that girl they said daddy killed.”
“Why didn’t he tell the police back then?”
“He couldn’t.”
“Why not?”
“He was also in the Air Force. He was gay and with another gay Air Force guy in the woods. The guy that killed that Angie Abbott girl was his Commanding Officer. He feared for his life if he said anything.”
“Oh my, that would be a huge dilemma back then.”
“Did that guy provide the name of the Commanding Officer?”
“No, he died shortly after recording his confession.”
“That’s a shame.”
“But I was able to track down who his
Commanding Officer was. He’s now a General in the Air Force at the Pentagon. His name is Grant Bowers.
And mom and I knew him when we lived back in Warner Robins in fifty-seven.” “He was daddy’s friend.”
“Wow, the plot really thickens. Are you going to the police with this information?”
“No. I don’t think they’ll do anything since I’ll accuse an Air Force General. Plus, I’m using a dead
man’s word. How can I prove it since it happened twenty-four years ago?”
“You’re probably right. So how can I help you?”
Kent paused for a few seconds and wondered if he should ask. He took a breath of courage. “I’m thinking that maybe I could use your time machine.”
“Use my time machine; why?”
“Well, I was thinking, I thought, if I use your time machine, I could go back to fifty-seven and record Grant Bowers in the act. I’ll have proof that my dad was innocent and framed for murder.”
There was a few seconds of silence on the phone.
“Linus, are you still there?”
“Yes. I didn’t build my time machine to alter the course of past events. I want to use it to record history as it actually occurred.”
“Well, wouldn’t this be recording history as it actually occurred?”
A few seconds of silence while Linus thought about Kent’s question. “Well, you got me there. But I don’t know,” said Linus, and he paused again. “Let me think about it for a couple of days. I’ll call you Friday evening.”
“Okay. Thanks, Linus,” said Kent with a hint of disappointment.
“I’ll call you Friday evening. I promise. Good night, Kent,” said Linus.
“Good night,” said Kent, and he hung up.
Kent moped back to his living room and sat down on the couch. “Rats,” he said while he picked up the H.G. Wells book. He glanced at the cover seeing the illustration of the time machine. He put the book down on the coffee table. He lost interest in reading that story.
He turned on his TV to take his mind off his idea of having Grant Bowers get what he deserved. He spent the rest of the evening watching TV, but his thoughts still drifted off to Grant Bowers.
Thursday arrived, and all Kent could think about at work. At his apartment that evening, all he could think about was his dad’s execution.
Friday morning arrived, and Kent was back to scrubbing toilets at MIT. He was going to remember the documentary and Grant Bowers. I can’t change the past. He thought over and over again.
He spent Friday night at his apartment, and it seemed like forever while he waited for Linus to call.
But he knew what his answer would be, he couldn’t use the time machine to alter past events.
At eight that night, his phone rang in the kitchen.
“Here it comes,” said Kent while he headed into the kitchen from the living room.
“Kent,” he said, answering the call.
“Kent, it’s me, Linus,” he said from the phone.
“Linus, I fully understand your reason for not letting me use your time machine to go back and alter the past. I guess it was a dumb idea,” said Kent thinking he was beating Linus to the punch.
“Did you change your mind?” said Linus.
“Well, no, based on our call the other night, I figured that you won’t let me use your machine.”
“Well, I did a little research about this, Grant Bowers. It appears that he’s had a past of being accused of sexually young girls. He’s being accused again right now,” said Linus.
“That’s right. I forgot about that news report on TV when I visited Mom a few weeks ago.”
“He’s a piece of work and needs a little justice. So, I say go back and get the bastard.”
“Wow, thank you so very much.”
“So, what’s your plan?”
“My plan?”
“Yeah, you can’t just show up back to nineteen fifty-seven without a viable plan. You’ll have to blend in so nobody will get suspicious.”
“Oh, right, blend in. I didn’t think that far ahead.”
“Come up with a plan and run it by me. I don’t want you getting caught.” “And don’t forget that the time machine stays in that spot at a different time. So you’ll have to find transportation to where you must go.” “That’ll be Warner Robins, Georgia.”
“Yes, Warner Robins. Again, the time machine will drop you off in fifty-seven and then return back to this time. So you’ll have to be back in Cambridge at the selected return time,” said Linus.
“Okay, I understand the rules; I will, and thank you so much, Linus.”
“It’s my pleasure. Call me on Sunday evening with your plan, and we’ll go from there.”
“I will, and bye for now.”
“Bye, and I’ll talk to you on Sunday,” said Linus, and he disconnected his end of the call.
Kent hung his phone and did a victory dance out of the kitchen, into the living room, and over to his desk. He opened the top drawer and removed a paper pad and a pen.
He victory danced over to the couch, sat down, and jotted down a few ideas for his time-traveling plans.
Kent spent all Saturday and Sunday planning out his time travel trip back to nineteen fifty-seven.
He finally came up with a viable plan.
He thought of all sorts of options, with one even being he’d go back as a USAF Sergeant. But he figured that would be too hard to pull off. Where would he get a nineteen-fifties USAF uniform, military ID card, and orders that looked believable? So he figured he’ll go back as a civilian.
Kent went into his kitchen and made a phone call.
“Is that you, Kent?” said Linus answering his call.
“It’s me.”
“What did you come up with?”
“I figured I’d arrive on August fifth early in the morning, take a Greyhound down to Savannah, then a Greyhound to Macon, and arrive on August seventh.
That gives me some time to get familiar with the Warner Robins area.” “Maybe scope out the murder scene and be there that Friday, just in case Derek recalled the wrong day.”
“So you know exactly where?”
Kent thought about that question for a few seconds. “Near some old abandoned cabin called Meyers’ cabin.”
“You better do some research at a library. Maybe a book has the exact spot where her body was discovered.”
“Yeah, I better.”
“Did you figure out how you’ll dress?” asked Linus.
“I thought I’d dress like a civilian from that time.”
“There are some clothing stores in Boston I can take you to shop. I’ll help in that area.” Linus offered.
Kent cringed a little. “I forgot about the money.
I can’t use my present-day currency. They’ll lock me up for being a counterfeiter,” said Kent, looking lost on what to do about this.
There was a pause of silence from the phone. “I know of some good coin shops in Boston.”
“Good.”
“Okay, call me when you’re ready to move forward with this,” said Linus.
“I will.”
“Oh, don’t forget to get a fifties-style haircut.”
“Man, there’s so much to do with this time-traveling business.”
“Now, how will you collect evidence against this Grant Bowers?”
Kent thought about his question for a few seconds. “I didn’t think about that. What should I use?” “Do you have a movie camera?”
“No.”
“You can borrow my eight-millimeter Bell and Howell. I’ll get you some film cartridges to ensure you have enough footage. That should be enough to nail this creep.” “And, this camera has lock feature with the button, so you don’t have to keep pressing it to film.”
“Thanks, Linus; I couldn’t do this without you.”
“Think nothing of it.” “But how will you get this evidence to the police? You can’t walk to the station and hand it to them. They’ll start asking questions.
They might want to see your identification.”
“You’re right, I can’t do that, but I can leave it at their front door with a note stating to develop this for evidence on Angie Abbott’s killer.” “Leave it in the middle of the night, then high tail it back to Cambridge.”
“Sounds like a viable plan. So call me when you’re ready to do this,” said Linus.
“I will,” said Kent, and he hung up his phone.
Kent left the kitchen and headed back into the living room. He sat on his couch and started getting nervous about this trip. “Should I go through this?” he pondered a few times. “I have to,” he said after thinking about living most of his life without his daddy.
“I have to make this work!”
Kent turned on his TV and started
watching CHiPs, but staying focused took a lot of work. The thought of using a time machine filled up his mind. It was exciting to think of going back in time. Four days passed, and Kent started losing his courage to travel back to nineteen fifty-seven.
It was now Friday morning, and Kent was pushing his cleaning cart down the third-floor hallway of the Physics Department.
“Kent,” called out Linus from behind Kent.
He turned around and spotted Linus in his white lab coat while he rushed up to Kent.
“Kent,” said Linus while he rushed over. Linus looked around to make sure nobody was too close.
“Did you decide when you,” said Linus, then he looked around to double-check to make sure nobody could hear them? “You know, make that special trip?” he added, then glanced over his shoulder for anybody who could be spying on their conservation.
“No, but I’m a little nervous. Are you sure I won’t be vaporized into a million pieces or something like that?”
“Oh no, it’s quite safe. Trust me.”
Kent thought about it for a few seconds. He started to feel brave again. “How about next Saturday?” “I still need to get prepared.”
“Of course. Preparation is extremely important,”
said Linus. Then he reached into his shirt pocket and removed a piece of paper folded into a two-inch by two-inch square. He glanced over his shoulder again.
The coast was clear. “Here’s a list of coin shops where
you can get currency for the trip,” he said, discreetly handing Kent the paper.
Kent shoved the paper into his left pants pocket.
“Thanks.”
“And don’t forget about the haircut and clothes style.”
“I won’t.”
“Okay, good, come early next Saturday morning,”
he said, glancing over his shoulder. The coast was clear. “The machine will be ready.”
“That sounds great, Linus.”
Linus patted Kent on the shoulder and walked away with a smile. He was excited that his time machine would be used for something good. To save a human life!
Kent pushed his cart in the opposite direction and flip-flopped between being scared to death and brave.
Linus’ eyes widened, turned back around, and rushed back to Kent. “Kent,” he whispered.
Kent stopped his cart and turned around.
“I’ll get you three film cartridges for my movie camera.” “That should be plenty of footage for evidence.”
“Thanks.”
Linus smiled at Kent, then turned around and headed down the hallway.
Kent returned to pushing his cleaning cart down the hallway.
Kent’s work shift ended on Friday, and he returned to his apartment. He spent the entire night drafting out his trip and plan on a piece of paper.
“What if I get stuck in fifty-seven? Then what?”
he pondered for a few seconds. “Well, I guess I can get a janitor’s job somewhere and survive,” he said, then thought about that for a few seconds. “I’ll be fifty-seven years old when today rolls around again.” “It’ll be worth the risk to have Dad alive!”
He looked at this plan over and over for fifteen minutes until it was ingrained in his head. He felt confident it would be a smooth plan.
After he felt his plan was memorized, Kent turned on the TV. He flipped through the channels, found an old Cary Grant movie, then relaxed on the couch and watched it.
Saturday arrived, and Kent took Linus’ list. He headed off in his Monza to numerous coin shops until he had currency from the nineteen fifties. He had one hundred dollars and estimated that would be sufficient.
After visiting the coin shops, Kent headed to a Men’s Store and bought a gray suit and gray Fedora hat. After buying the suit, Kent headed off to various other clothing stores. He bought some shirts, Levi’s jeans, and black Converse sneakers to help him blend into nineteen fifty-seven.
Kent went back to his apartment, completely exhausted. He was sound asleep by nine that night.
Sunday arrived, and Kent stayed inside his apartment, reviewing his plan.
Monday arrived, and Kent went back to work cleaning toilets on the MIT campus.
It was a long day for him.
He was eating lunch in the janitor’s break room when Earl Heche entered with his lunch box.
“I heard my cousin got you that information.
What are you going to do with it?” said Earl while he sat down at the table.
“I’m trying to figure that out. We’re talking about an Air Force general that works at the Pentagon. It’s a sticky wicket to convince any law enforcement official to investigate him. Especially since it happened twenty-one years ago.”
Earl thought about Kent’s response. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. Besides, you can’t reverse what
happened to your daddy,” said Earl while opening his lunch box.
“Yeah, I can’t reverse it,” said Kent with a smirk.
It was quiet while the two ate their lunches.
Tuesday and Wednesday dragged on, and Kent thought someone slowed the clocks around campus.
On Thursday, Kent snuck off to the campus library. He found a book on crimes with a detailed story about his dad’s case. He sat alone at a table that offered paper and pens as a courtesy. He grabbed a piece of paper and a pen.
It was difficult, and this was the first time he did research on his dad. It was difficult for him to open up the chapter about Angie Abbott’s murder. But he knew it was something that had to be done.
He read the case and saw the pictures taken by a Warner Robin Detective of the crime scene.
He saw a photo of the evidence in his dad’s garage attic. It was a photo of Angie’s white blouse, black Capri pants, black flat-soled shoes, white bra, white cotton panties, and small black purse.
He turned the page and saw a sketch of where Meyers’ cabin was located off the road. The sketch in the book stated that that road was Route 12, and it had an area shaded to the southeast of the cabin labeled Robins Air Force Base. Kent started sketching the sketch from the book.
After he sketched the sketch, he went back to check out the pictures and information about the crime scene. This provided Kent with excellent information for his trip. He jotted down tons of notes on a separate piece of paper.
He studied the pictures the detective had taken, saw the clearing where Angie’s body was found, and saw two large bushes not too far away. “Perfect.”
From one of the pictures, he could see the front of Meyers’ cabin in the background. “Perfect.”
He read a short article about how Roscoe Meyers built that cabin for his family in nineteen eight. He was a Moonshiner and was killed in a shootout with some G-Men in nineteen thirty-eight. His family abandoned the cabin and moved to South Carolina. The Moonshine still was destroyed. The article also stated how men who were gay in that area would use that cabin. The city of Warner Robins demolished the cabin in the winter of nineteen fifty-eight after Angie’s murder.
He also read a little biography about Angie Abbott, her activities at high school, and her part-time job as a cashier at the Piggly Wiggly. When Kent read that, he wondered if he had seen her when he was a kid shopping with his mom at the Piggly Wiggly. He figured the odds were high but didn’t remember her from her picture.
He stayed another ten minutes studying the pictures in that book to get them burned into his brain.
He was tired of looking at that book, so he left the library and headed back to his apartment.
He spent the entire night studying his notes and sketches until they were ingrained in his mind.
Kent’s next day at work on Friday was even longer. The butterflies started to multiply in his stomach, thinking about tomorrow.
On the way home from work, Kent stopped at a hair salon that allowed walk-ins.
He had to wait thirty minutes when an opening occurred with a stylist.
“How would you like your hair cut?” said Jenny after she put the white cape on him.
“I need it styled.”
“Do you have a particular style in mind?”
Kent looked at himself in the mirror. “Well, I need it dyed black, and I need it styled like Cary Grant.”
Jenny looked unsure she heard correctly. “Did you say dyed black with a Cary Grant style?”
“Yes. That’s what I need.”
“If that’s what you want. Give me a second,” said Jenny while she walked away from the chair.
Jenny returned a few seconds later after doing some research on some books. “Okay, if that’s what you want,” she said, cutting away at Kent’s hair.
An hour had passed, and Kent looked like a new man with his short black Cary Grant hairstyle. And, of course, he got a few stares while he left the salon and headed off to his Monza.
Kent returned to his apartment and spent the night packing his new clothes in his suitcase and some toiletry items in a small bag.
He sat on the bed, reviewing his plan, notes, and sketch.
He ensured his wallet only contained the nineteen-fifties currency he bought last Saturday. But he needed his driver’s license to drive to Linus in the morning.
He stared at his gray suit and Fedora hat in his closet.
He grabbed the papers from his library research, folded them, and placed them in the inside pocket of his suit jacket.
He stripped down to his tee shirt and boxers and crawled under the sheets. He tried to sleep.
He tossed and turned and couldn’t sleep a wink all night. He was getting nervous and extremely nervous by the minute.
It was now Saturday and six in the morning.
Kent sat on his couch in the living room in his gray suit, Fedora hat in his lap, and his suitcase by the door. He thought about eating breakfast but wasn’t sure he would vomit like a sprinkler all over the inside of the time machine. So he refrained from eating or drinking.
He sat there in the quiet of his apartment and waited.
At nine that morning, Kent got off the couch and entered his kitchen. He made a call on the phone.
“Is that you, Kent?” said Linus answering the call.
“It’s me.”
“Are you ready?”
“I believe I am.”
“Come on over, and let’s get this started,” said Linus, and he disconnected his end of the call.
Kent hung up his phone and walked out of the kitchen. He entered the living room, grabbed his Fedora hat off the couch, and headed to the door.
Kent grabbed his suitcase and glanced back at his apartment. He wondered if this would be the last time he saw this place.
He headed out the door before he changed his mind. Kent got in his Monza and drove out of the parking lot of his apartment complex.
Fifteen minutes had passed, and Kent parked his Monza at Linus’ place next to his green Impala. He grabbed his Fedora hat, suitcase and got out of his car.
Linus was already waiting in a rocking chair on the front porch. “You did a good job and shouldn’t have any problem blending into fifty-seven,” said he while getting up from the chair the second Kent stepped on the porch.
“I have to admit, I’m really nervous about doing this,” he said while he slipped the Fedora hat on his head. “Understandable. You’ll do fine,” said Linus, then he held out his right hand. “Best you give me your car keys. They won’t do any good in fifty-seven. Besides, they might look suspicious. And you might lose them.”
Kent nodded that he agreed and handed Linus his keys.
While Linus shoved Kent’s car keys into his pants pocket, he spotted Kent’s suitcase. He frowned. “That suitcase is too modern for nineteen fifty-seven. It might raise suspicions. I have an old one you can use,”
he said, motioning for Kent to step inside his house.
After ten minutes, Kent transferred all his clothes into Linus’ old fifties brown Samsonite suitcase. He also packed his Bell and Howell eight-millimeter movie camera in its case with three film cartridges.
“Ready?”
Kent nodded. He was ready, and they left the house.
While Kent walked with Linus to his barn, he felt like he was walking the green mile and would never be seen again.
Linus unlocked his barn door and opened it.
They both slipped inside, and Linus closed the door.
They walked to the other room, and Linus unlocked that door. They stepped inside that room.
Once Kent got inside, he looked at the time machine.
“I spent all night going over the machine with a fine toothcomb. She’s ready for your journey,” said Linus while he walked to the time machine.
Linus opened up the machine door. “First, I’ll secure your suitcase and hat.”
Kent walked over and handed Linus his suitcase and Fedora hat.
Linus leaned in the time machine with the suitcase and hat and secured them with the other seat harness.
“Please have a seat.”
Kent sat in the time machine, and Linus showed him how to use that seat harness. He tugged on it to make sure Kent was snug in his seat.
“Okay, here’s how it’ll work. I’ll be here and check the history books.”
“Why?” said Kent as he thought that was a weird thing to say, which confused him.
“Well, if it works, I’ll know soon after you depart,” said Linus, and he noticed that Kent looked confused. “Twenty-one years will pass quickly,” said Linus while he snapped fingers.
“Oh, now I get it.”
“So if something went horribly wrong, I can come back and try to bale you out.”
“Thanks, but I don’t think that’ll be necessary.”
“Well, it’s the best backup plan I can develop.”
“Now, let’s get started. Follow my instructions, and you’ll arrive safe and sound.”
Kent’s eyes lit up. “Wait, if I catch him in the act, maybe I can save Angie’s life?”
Linus thought about that for a few seconds. “I don’t know. Altering the past is dangerous enough with your father.” “You probably shouldn’t alter Angie’s life.
She was destined to die that night. All you’re doing is identifying the real killer.”
Kent thought about his response for a few seconds. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”
“Good,” said Linus, then he reached into his left front pants pocket and removed a folded piece of paper. “Here are the operating instructions for using my time machine. Put them in this small glove box after using them,” said Linus, and he reached over to the bottom left corner of the dashboard, opened the small glove box, and closed it. “That way, you won’t lose them while traveling down to Georgia.”
Kent took the paper and unfolded it. He glanced over it. “This looks easy enough.”
“Place it in the glove box before flipping the last switch,” said Linus, then glanced at Kent. “Good luck, my friend,” he said, then closed the time machine’s door. The inside of the machine was quiet, and he started to get butterflies in his stomach when he saw Linus leave the room and close the door. “It’s now or never,” he said, then glanced at the instructions.
Kent flipped the first “Power” toggle switch, and the circular light illuminated green. A low hum was heard from the rear engine area.
He flipped the second “Door” toggle switch. The circular light illuminated green, and the door clicked in the locked position.
He flipped the third “Travel Dates” toggle switch, and the three circular lights illuminated green. The three large digital panels lit up, and all the digital readouts were orange zeroes.
He reached over to the “Now” panel and dialed in 11, 14, 1981, and 1030.
He reached over to the “Travel To” panel and dialed in 8, 6, 1957, and 0230.
He reached over to the “Pick-up” panel and dialed in 8, 15, 1957, and 0230.
He glanced at the instructions. “Only flip the
“Instant Return” toggle switch if you want the machine to return to nineteen eighty-one right away with no pickup plans,” he read the instruction.
He reached over to the “Instant Return” switch and flipped it up. The circular light below it illuminated green. He reached over to the dial and turned it to the five-minute mark, figuring that would give him enough time to be at a safe distance.
He glanced back at the instruction. “Only flip the
“Repeated Pick-Ups” toggle switch if you want the machine to come back every twelve, twenty-four, or forty-eight hours,” he read the instructions. Kent left that switch alone.
He reached over and flipped the “Engine” toggle switch. The circular light below that switch illuminated green in the same second the engine started a strange louder humming sound. The needle on the engine gauge moved off the peg a little.
Kent stared at the “Adventure in Time” toggle switch for a few seconds. He folded the instructions and placed them in the glove box.
He reached over, and his right index finger touched the bottom of the” Adventure in Time” toggle switch.
He pulled his hand back, starting to chicken out.
Then recalled that morning his dad was executed and how his mom cried for two days.
He reached back over and flipped the switch up.
The circular light below that switch illuminated green, and for that split second, Kent knew there was no turning back.
The engine whined louder and louder.
Hundreds of beams of bright blue lights shot out horizontally from the rear. These beams started to rotate in a swirling counterclockwise motion while the rear saucer started spinning.
Beams of bright green lights shot up horizontally from the base. These beams of green lights start spinning while the base starts to spin the machine clockwise.
The needle in the engine gauge moved into the middle of the green pie, then to the yellow, then to the red. The machine spun faster and faster and made a strange whirling sound, with the rotating swirling blue and green lights starting to mix together and turn to a soothing cyan color.
The cyan light exploded, and it was pure white for a split second and vanished.
The small room door opened, and Linus
cautiously poked his head inside. He saw that the time machine had vanished. He closed the door.
Linus waited outside that room for five minutes.
He heard loud humming from inside the room, and it got quiet.
He opened the door to the room and carefully poked his head inside the room. He smiled when he saw that his time machine had returned and nobody
was inside. He knew Kent had traveled to nineteen fifty-seven.
Linus locked that room door and left the barn, locking the barn door from the outside.
He headed off to his house to check some of his history books on crime he had in his den.
Kent was sick to his stomach and fought hard not to vomit inside Linus’ time machine while he spun around at hyper speed. Plus, the psychedelic light show outside the canopy and that ear-piercing humming sound didn’t help. Kent got the dry heaves.
The machine started slowing down, and the ear-piercing humming got quieter. Kent’s dry heaves started to subside.
The psychedelic light show outside the canopy dissipated in sync with the machine slowing down and getting quieter.
The machine stopped spinning and was quiet except for that low hum.
Kent’s stomach felt better, with no threat of vomiting. He glanced out the canopy and saw that that room in Linus’ barn was gone, and he only saw the inside of the barn. The barn door was at the far end of the barn.
He also saw Linus’ green nineteen fifty-four Rambler parked in the barn. It was shiny and not under that green tarp. “I arrived!”
He unbuckled his harness and then unbuckled the harness around his suitcase and Fedora. He opened the door and got out with his suitcase and hat in hand.
He stood outside the time machine and closed the door. A few seconds passed then remembered the timer.
The time machine had a cyan-blue glow, providing light for the dark barn.
Kent ran away to the barn door with his suitcase in hand.
Kent glanced back at the time machine.
It started to hum louder.
Hundreds of beams of bright blue lights shot out horizontally from the rear of the machine. These beams of bright blue light started to rotate counterclockwise in a swirling motion while the rear saucer started spinning.
Beams of bright green lights shot up horizontally from the base. These beams of green lights started spinning while the base started to spin the machine clockwise.
The machine spun faster and faster, with the blue and green lights starting to swirl together and turn to a soothing cyan color.
The cyan light exploded, and a soft white light filled the room for a split second, dissipating. Nothing but a cyan-colored circle remained on the dirt floor of the barn.
Kent opened the barn door, slipped outside then closed the barn door with his suitcase and Fedora hat in hand.
Kent stood outside the barn, briefly glancing around the area. It looked different when he saw the bottom lights of the house turn on. “Linus,” he said, putting his Fedora hat on his head and slipping away into the darkness.
After Kent was safely away from the house, a fifty-year-old Linus stepped out in his pajamas with a Remington double barrel shotgun on the front porch.
Linus still had uncombed hair that shot out everywhere, but it was more salt and pepper than snow white.
He cautiously inched off the front porch and gingerly headed to his barn with his shotgun.
He stopped at the barn door and hesitated, a little afraid of what he might encounter inside the barn.
He ever so slowly opened the barn door and peeked inside. It was dark and quiet inside.
Linus cautiously slipped inside the barn, reached over to the left of the door opening, and flicked on the four overhead lights.
He had his shotgun ready to protect him when the light came on. Nothing. The barn was quiet, and nobody was inside.
Linus spotted the cyan glowing circle in the dirt at the other end of the barn. He glanced around the inside of the barn again and saw nobody.
He cautiously inched his way over to that circular glow with his shotgun ready to fire.
Once he got to the cyan-colored circular glow, he bent down. He touched the glow, and it was lukewarm.
“What just happened?” he said while he pondered the possibilities. Then he recalled that movie Not of This Earth sci-fi movie he had seen six months ago at the theater. “Aliens!” he cried out, shaking in a little fear.
The circular cyan-colored glow vanished. Linus touched that spot again, and it was cool.
He sprang up and rushed out of the barn leaving on the lights.
He closed the barn door and glanced around his property for signs of aliens.
He glanced up at the sky for any signs of an alien spaceship. Nothing but stars were visible, so he rushed away. “I need to keep my barn locked from now on,” he said while he walked backward in his yard, keeping an eye and his shotgun on the barn. You never know if an alien might jump out of the barn and eat or kill him.
Linus was ten feet from the barn when he tripped over his feet from walking backward.
He fell backward to the ground with his shotgun going off into the sky when he landed on his back.
Linus jumped back to his feet and ran back to his porch.
Once he returned to his front porch, Linus sat in his rocking chair with his shotgun across his lap. He planned to stay awake all night to protect his property and life.
Some of the lights from his neighbor’s homes turned on down the street from his house. Some of his neighbors stepped outside their homes to check out the sound of that shotgun.
Two neighbors, Gus and Malcolm, stood in their driveways looking in the direction of that sound.
“What do you think that was Malcolm?” said Gus while he walked over.
“I don’t know. Probably a car backfiring,” said Gus when the neighborhood was again quiet.
“Yeah, you’re probably right.”
They both headed back inside their home, as did the other neighbors that came outside.
Meanwhile, Kent was a half-mile away down the street from Linus’ house. He knew he was back in fifty-seven by all the cars in the driveways.
He saw fifties model Chevys, Fords, Studebakers, Dodges, Plymouths, Hudsons, and Cadillacs. All are in pristine condition.
A couple of hours had passed, and it was five in the morning. Kent had finally walked to the Greyhound bus station in Boston. He was exhausted and starving.
Kent went inside the station and up to the ticket counter. “I need round trip tickets heading to Savannah, Georgia. Leaving Boston on the next available bus and leaving Savannah on August fourteenth, heading back to Boson,” he said.
The ticket clerk nodded that he understood Kent’s order. He printed out two tickets. “That’ll be fifteen dollars,” said the clerk.
Kent removed his wallet from his suit pants pocket and removed a twenty dollar bill. He handed it to the clerk.
The clerk took the money and gave Kent his change with the tickets. “Bus leaves at ten thirty this morning.”
Kent took the tickets and then walked away.
He saw that the bus station was empty, with very few travelers. He also spotted a small restaurant that was closed.
“What time does that restaurant open?” he asked the clerk.
“It opens at seven,” said the clerk.
Kent’s stomach growled. He was starving but knew he would have to tough it out. “I should have brought some food,” he said while walking over and sat on a wooden bench. He sat and waited. After a few minutes, he was bored to death.
Seven that morning arrived, and the bus station filled up with travelers.
Kent also noticed the restaurant opened its doors, and the lights were on. “Finally,” he said and got up off the bench with his stomach growling louder. “I haven’t eaten in twenty-one years,” he jokingly said while he walked to the restaurant.
A woman in her fifties on a nearby bench heard Kent and thought he was odd for making that comment.
Kent went into the bus station restaurant and enjoyed an eighty-five-cent breakfast that consisted of two fried eggs, four slices of bacon, two slices of buttered toast, and all the coffee he wanted.
After he was finished with breakfast, Kent walked across the station to a book stand. There he bought the July twenty-ninth issue of Life Magazine and a pack of Dentyne chewing gum, three packs of Beer Nuts, and four Rocky Road candy bars.
“I have a long trip to Georgia,” he told the clerk while he paid his bill.
The old man clerk just smiled and didn’t care since he made a small profit.
Kent walked away from the book stand and sat on another wooden bench. He watched the station fill up with travelers. All dressed in suits, hats, and nice dresses. He loved how people dressed up back in the
fifties when they traveled, unlike the eighties, where some people dressed like slobs.
It was now ten-fifteen, and Kent’s bus to Savannah was being boarded.
Kent found a window seat near the rear of the bus and was looking forward to seeing nineteen fifty-seven America while he headed down south.
The bus left the station promptly at ten thirty.
It navigated through the streets of Boston and eventually headed south on U.S. 1. Kent loved the view of nineteen fifty-seven Boston.
A couple of hours had passed, and the Greyhound bus pulled into the station in Philadelphia.
There was an hour stop to allow some passengers to get off and the other ones to grab a quick lunch before heading back south.
After a quick hot dog and Cocoa Cola lunch, Kent got back on the bus. It departed the station and headed south.
During the drive, Kent read his Life magazine to help kill time.
It was now early evening, and the bus stopped at the Greyhound station in Washington D.C. for dinner, for other passenger’s destinations, and to pick up new passengers. It also offered time for the bus to refuel.
Two hours had passed, and Kent was back on the bus, and it headed back down south on U.S. 1. Five of the new passengers were U.S. Army soldiers heading to their next assignment.
Hours had passed, and the sun went below the horizon while the bus headed south.
Kent fell fast asleep.
He had a dream…
In Kent’s dream, he was in Warner Robins, Georgia.
He was in the woods and heard a woman
screaming. He ran in that direction.
The screams got louder the father ran through the woods.
He ran to a clearing and saw a man strangling a teenage girl.
“STOP!” screamed out Kent.
The man looked at Kent. It was his dad. “NO!”
Kent yelled out.
Back to reality…
Kent jumped up in his seat in a sweaty panic.
He looked around and saw he was on a dark bus going down U.S. 1. He was relieved. But that dream made him wonder if he might, in fact, learn the truth that his dad was a real murderer. He closed his eyes but couldn’t go back to sleep.
It was eight that morning, and the Greyhound bus pulled into the Greyhound station in Fayetteville, North Carolina, at eight that morning. The five Army soldiers got off the bus and were met by an Army Sergeant ready to take them to Fort Bragg.
Kent had a ninety-minute layover, and he went into the station for breakfast and coffee, used the restroom, and bought four more Rocky Road candy bars. He started to get a little nervous, knowing he was getting closer to Macon, Georgia.
The ninety minutes had passed, and Kent was back on the bus. It headed back south.
Kent reread his Life magazine and wanted to avoid this long bus ride.
Five that evening, the Greyhound bus pulled into the Savannah, Georgia, bus station.
Kent got off the bus and grabbed his suitcase and Fedora hat. He went inside the station.
He went to the ticket office and bought a ticket for the next bus to Macon, then a ticket for Macon and Savannah for August thirteenth. He was told that the bus to Macon was leaving in two hours. This gave him enough time for some dinner and another bathroom break.
Kent boarded another Greyhound bus, and it headed west on Highway 80.
Kent tried to sleep, but knowing he was getting closer and closer to Macon by the minute kept him awake.
Three hours had passed, and the Greyhound bus pulled into the Greyhound station in Macon.
Kent got off the bus, grabbed his suitcase and Fedora hat, and headed into the station.
He walked out of the station’s front door and saw two nineteen-fifty-four Chevrolet Yellow Cab taxis waiting for new fares.
He walked up to the driver’s door of one of the cabs. “I need to go to Warner Robins.”
The cab driver got out of his cab, grabbed Kent’s suitcase, and put it in his trunk.
He got back behind the wheel while Kent got in the back seat.
“Where in Warner Robins?” said the driver while starting his cab.
“I need a motel on the northeastern side of town.”
“Okay, no problem,” said the driver, then put the cab in gear and drove away.
Thirty minutes had passed, and the Yellow Cab dropped Kent off at the Peach Tree Motor Court on the northeastern side of Warner Robins right off Route 12. While the cab pulled into the Peach Tree Motor Court gravel parking lot, Kent suddenly remembered this place as a kid.
The cab drove up to the motor court office and stopped.
He paid the cab driver the two-dollar fare, grabbed his suitcase, and left the cab.
While the cab drove away, Kent heard the sound of an airplane. He saw the lights of a C-130 landing at the runway of Robins Air Force Base.
He went to the front door and stepped inside the Peach Tree Motor Court’s office.
Ernie worked the night shift and glanced up from his August issue of Hot Rod magazine from behind the counter. “Howdy,” he said the second he spotted Kent enter the office.
“I would like a room for five nights, please,” said Kent while he walked up to the counter.
“I can do that,” said Ernie. Then he reached under the counter and placed a small registration form in front of Kent and a pencil. “Please fill this out.”
Kent took the pencil, filled out the registration form, and used his Cambridge apartment address.
Ernie took the form and glanced over it. “Looks good; that’ll be twenty dollars.”
Kent paid Ernie twenty dollars, and Ernie gave him a key to Room 15.
Ernie returned to his Hot Rod magazine while Kent left the office.
He went inside his room, took off his gray suit, and hung it and the Fedora hat in the closet.
He unpacked his suitcase and put the toiletry bag in the bathroom and his other clothes in one of the small dresser drawers. He also placed the Bell and Howell movie camera case in the bottom dresser drawer.
He got on the bed under the covers and fell fast asleep. He was totally exhausted from being on the Greyhound bus and being in Linus’ time machine.
Thursday morning, August eighth, nineteen fifty-seven arrived.
Kent woke up at eight that morning, showered, and dressed in a casual knit shirt, blue jeans, and Converse sneakers.
He left his room and headed off to the motor court’s office.
Kent spotted Wilber, the day clerk and owner of the motor court, sitting behind the counter.
“Good morning,” said Wilber.
“Good morning. Is there a good place to eat near here?” Kent said, suddenly remembering where his dad had taken him for breakfast and dinner.
“Yes, the Peach Tree Diner. It’s down the road about a quarter of a mile,” said Wilber, pointing in the westerly direction. “My brother owns it.”
“The Peach Tree Diner. Got it, and thank you,”
said Kent, walking away from the counter and heading to the door. Is everything named Peach Tree down here? He thought while he opened the door and stepped out of the office.
Kent walked through the parking lot of the motor court and soon headed down Route 12
After ten minutes of walking, he spotted the Peach Tree Diner. The diner was small, and behind it was a small house. It belonged to Edith and Homer, who opened the diner in nineteen thirty-eight.
He glanced around the area and saw a Shell gas station farther down Route 12.
Kent walked through the gravel parking lot and headed to the front door.
He entered the diner and glanced around the joint.
Seeing this place brought back fond memories of eating with his mom and dad.
He saw the counter at the rear where you could eat, and then behind that counter was a pass-through window. Behind that window was the kitchen.
There were booths along the front wall and the left side wall. In the middle were tables that seated four. He loved the aroma of his diner.
He walked up to the cash register.
“Table for one, sugar?” said an overweight fifty-year-old Edith from behind the register. Kent loved that southern twang everybody spoke down here. He had that twang when he was a kid but lost it years later after his mom moved him to the Boston area.
Kent looked at Edith and remembered her from when he was a kid. “Yes, ma-am, table for one.”
Edith stared at Kent, and it started to make him feel uncomfortable. “Are you from around here?”
“No, ma’am, I’m from the Boston area.”
“Oh, because you look a little familiar,” said Edith.
“I just arrived in town last night.”
“Are you moving here?” said Edith while she grabbed a menu from behind the cash register.
“No, ma’am, I’m here for business for a few days, then heading back home on Monday.”
“Business at the Air Force base?”
“Yes,” he lied and felt guilty, knowing he had no choice.
“That’s nice, sugar. Follow me,” she said, walking away and heading down the booths by the windows.
She placed the menu on a booth in the middle of the table. “Would you like a cup of our great piping hot coffee?”
“Yes, ma’am,” said Kent while sitting in the booth.
He recalled his dad loving the coffee here, but Kent was too young to try it then. Now was his chance.
Edith smiled and walked away.
Kent opened the menu and glanced at it, but he already knew what he wanted. He ordered this meal all the time for breakfast when he was a kid. He started to salivate, recalling that fond memory.
He closed the menu and glanced around the diner to check out the nineteen-fifty-seven people.
He saw fifty-two-year-old Homer through the pass-through window cooking in the kitchen. Kent thought that if a cook had a huge pot belly, it was a high probability he was a great cook.
He looked around the diner, and his eyes soon widened when he spotted thirty-year-old Grant Bowers in his Air Force 1505 khaki uniform, sporting his silver Lieutenant bars on the collars. Grant sat in a booth along the other wall. He had his right arm around the shoulder of a young busty blonde.
They were flirting with each other with an occasional light kiss and a nibble on her earlobe.
“Jesus, is this guy screwing the whole town?” Kent said under his breath and looked away from his archenemy.
“Grant, that tickles,” said the blonde while Grant nibbled on her ear lobe.
“Sickening,” said Kent at that sight. “Just sickening.”
Edith walked to Kent’s table with a cup of coffee.
“Are you ready to order, honey?” she said while she set the cup down in front of Kent.
“Yes, I’ll have your French Toast,” he said.
“Good choice,” said Edith then she walked away.
Kent started drinking his coffee and agreed with his dad that this was great coffee.
But while he sipped his hot coffee, he couldn’t refrain from taking discreet glances over at Grant and that blonde. Grant was just like he remembered back when he was a kid. Oh, how he wanted to go over there and beat the crap out of that creep. He fought off that urge and stared out the diner window. But that
didn’t last long, and he had to take a few more discreet glances at Grant.
Edith brought Kent his plate of French Toast with four slices of bacon and two slices of buttered toast. She set the plate in front of him with her normal warm smile, then walked away to assist someone at the cash register.
Kent started eating his French toast, and that first bite brought back so many fond memories.
Kent was halfway through his breakfast and on his second cup of coffee when he saw Grant and that blonde get up from their booth from the corner of his eye. He glanced away, stared out his booth window, and ate breakfast.
It wasn’t long before Grant and the blonde walked outside by his window, arm in arm.
A few more minutes passed, and Kent finished his breakfast and headed to the cash register.
He paid eighty-five cents and left the dinner with Edith’s famous, “Please visit us again.”
“I will,” said Kent and smiled back at Edith while he walked out of the diner.
Once outside the diner, he headed across the dirt parking lot. But something caught his attention. It was the rear of a red 1957 T-Bird with a white hard top, and it was nestled between two trees near the rear of the diner.
He stopped. He knew that car, as he remembered taking a ride in that car when he was a kid. “What an asshole,” he muttered, figuring Grant was doing the nasty with Ashley. From the rear window, he could see Grant was inside but appeared to be alone. But then he saw blonde hair bob up and down from Grant’s crotch.
“I knew it. A blow job. He’s getting a blow job,” he said. Then he got an evil idea.
Kent gingerly walked up to the rear of the T-Bird.
He paused for a second, then inched his way to the rear
window of the hard top. He could now see that blonde was, in fact, giving Grant a blow job. With his fist, he reached over and gave the rear window a hard slam. He could see Grant jump up.
He ran away, chuckling.
Inside the T-Bird, Grant fumbled while he pulled up and buckled his pants.
“Asshole!” yelled out Grant the second he got out of his T-Bird and saw this stranger chuckling while he was running away toward Route 12.
Kent ran down on the shoulder of the road, still chuckling.
A little while later, he heard tires screeching from behind him. He heard a car racing down the street in his direction.
He glanced over his shoulder and saw Grant’s T-Bird racing after him on the shoulder. “Shit!” he cried out and drove into the grass seconds before Grant’s T-Bird would have flattened him.
The horn of the T-Bird blew while it raced away to let Kent know Grant didn’t appreciate what he did back there.
Kent stood up and smiled, knowing he had pissed Grant off. He brushed his pants off and continued his walk down Route 12, heading to the motor court.
Inside the T-Bird, Grant was chuckling about, almost running Kent over.
“That wasn’t very nice. You could have killed him, “said the blonde.
“Oh, that asshole got what he deserved for banging on my rear window like that.”
“I know; I almost bit off your dick,” said the blonde.
“I wouldn’t hit him, just scare him for a little payback.”
“Okay,” said the blonde, then she reached over and massaged his crotch. “Some more of this tomorrow?”
“You bet,” said Grant, and he continued his drive and headed to the Air Force base.
Ten minutes passed, and Kent returned to his motor court room and sat around bored.
Ten minutes had passed, and Kent was so bored being cooped up in that small room. He got up and left. He headed off down the shoulder of the road in the direction of the diner. He decided to check out some of the old homesteads.
While Kent walked down Route 12, he started to see sights that looked familiar.
He turned left onto Broadview Avenue.
While he walked down Broadview, he noticed that the clouds started to turn black, and there was a storm on the horizon. But he felt it wasn’t a threat and heading off in another direction, so he kept walking down Broadview.
After fifteen minutes of walking down Broadview, he recognized the Piggly Wiggly store his mom always shopped for groceries.
He got curious and headed off through the parking lot and then to the front doors of that store.
There was someone he hoped was here so he could catch a glimpse of her.
He went inside, stood near the entrance, and glanced around the store. The store felt familiar.
He walked around the store to bring back some fond memories of shopping with his mom.
He walked down a few aisles, then down the one always his favorite. This aisle had the good stuff –
cookies.
He glanced at the cookies and then saw his favorite – Fig Newtons. He grabbed a box.
“That’s my son’s favorite,” said a familiar-sounding female voice behind him.
He turned around, and his mouth almost dropped to the floor. His mom was standing behind him a few feet away with a shopping cart. He stared in disbelief at how young and beautiful she was.
“My son loves Fig Newtons,” she said while grabbing a box off the shelf.
Kent was speechless and wanted to hug her but knew that if he did, he would get slapped and arrested by his dad. “I also love them, and my mom always bought them when I was a kid,” he said.
“I bet our mom was the best mom in the world,”
said Brenda.
“Oh, she was. I mean, she still is,” said Kent, and still couldn’t believe how beautiful she was as a young mom. Brenda smiled at Kent and then pushed her cart down the aisle.
Kent walked the opposite way down the aisle and headed to the checkout lines.
He stopped and looked at the three checkout lines.
He smiled when he spotted the individual he hoped was working.
He headed to the middle checkout lane, where a teenage girl worked as the cashier.
He saw her “Angie” name tag when he got to her. “How are you today?” said Angie.
“I’m doing good,” he said, and a thunderclap was heard outside.
“Sounds like a nasty storm is coming our way,”
said Angie.
“Yes, it does,” said Kent, and he looked worried when he saw the black clouds outside from the storefront windows.
Angie rang up the Fig Newtons and put them in a small paper bag.
Kent paid for the Fig Newtons and then left Angie’s lane after she gave him a warm smile.
What a nice girl. He thought while grabbing the paper bag and walking to the glass front door. He felt sorry for her.
The second Kent went outside, the clouds started dumping rain all over Warner Robins.
Kent knew he couldn’t walk back to the motor court, so he waited by the Piggly Wiggly front entrance since it provided shelter.
Fifteen minutes had passed, and the sky didn’t look like it would stop pouring soon.
“Are you okay?” said Angie while she walked out of the store.
Kent turned around as that voice sounded familiar. He saw Angie with a clear plastic rain bonnet covering her head and a raincoat.
“I don’t have a car.”
“Did you walk to the Piggly Wiggly?”
“Yes.”
“Where do you live?”
“I’m staying at the Peach Tree Motor Court.”
“That’s not much of a home.”
“I just arrived in town the other day.”
“Well, I know where that place is,” said Angie with a hint of a smile because that’s where Grant would take her after she was done working at the Piggly Wiggly.
“I hope that won’t take you out of your way.”
“Oh no, it’s on my way home to the base.”
Kent wondered if he should take her up on her offer. “That would be very nice,” said Kent, as seeing that storm looking like it would last a while changed his mind. “I’ll get my car, and I’ll be right back,” said Angie, and she rushed off into the rain.
While she headed off to her car, Kent glanced back at the store windows and saw his mom with her
shopping cart full of paper bags. She was waiting inside the store for the rain to stop.
The sound of a car stopping was heard, and Kent saw a yellow and black fifty-seven Ford Fairlane stop near him. Angie was behind the wheel. She motioned for Kent to get inside.
Kent rushed through the rain and up to her Fairlane with his paper bag. He opened up the passenger door and sat inside.
“I’m Angie Abbott,” she said while she drove the Fairlane away.
“I know,” he said, and she looked at him, wondering how he knew that. “I know your name is Angie from your Piggly Wiggly name tag.”
“Oh, yeah, silly me,” she said with a girlish giggle.
“What’s your name?”
“Kent Hollister,” he said, then cringed, thinking that maybe he should have made up a fake name.
“So Kent, where are you from? I don’t think you’re from here since I’ve never seen you at the Piggly Wiggly.”
“Cambridge, Massachusetts.”
“That’s way far away,” said Angie, then she turned out of the Piggly Wiggly parking lot and onto Broadview.
“Yes, it is.”
“What brings you all the way down here?”
“Well,” he said and hesitated. “To find your killer,” he wanted to say. “Well, I was thinking of moving back down here,” he said, as that was the first thing that came to his head.
“Moving back? You lived here before. When?”
Kent had to think for a few seconds. “Back in the early forties.”
“Why did you leave?”
Kent looked at Angie and started to think this was a huge mistake. “My dad died, and mom wanted to move near her parents. So we moved to Cambridge.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry,” she said, patting Kent on his arm. “Thanks. But that was a long time ago.”
“Do you have a girlfriend?” said Angie while she turned the Fairlane down another street.
“Ah, no, I don’t,” said Kent, and her asking that question made him wish he had a girlfriend. But he tried a few times, but nobody wanted to date a shy janitor.
“I have a boyfriend,” she said with love in her eyes, and Kent saw her lightly rub her belly. He knew what that meant.
“Does he go to your high school?”
“Oh no, he’s older but so dreamy,” she said with a sparkle in her eyes and a loving smile.
Kent rolled his eyes.
Angie looked at Kent. “You know, I, ah, could be interested in dating you,” said Angie, giving Kent a warm smile. “You know if I didn’t have a boyfriend.”
Kent looked at Angie’s beautiful blue eyes and smiled. “I would like that,” he said and knew she was underage but still thought she would be a dream come true. “But I know you have a boyfriend.”
It got quiet in the Fairlane while Angie turned the Fairlane down Route 12, and the storm showed signs of weakening.
Angie reached over and turned on the radio.
“And here’s Elvis’ brand new song,” said the DJ.
“Oh, I love that new Elvis song!” said Angie.
“Oh baby, let me be, your lovin’ teddy bear,”
Angie sang along with Elvis. She had a beautiful voice, and Kent was impressed.
He saw the Peach Tree Motor Court up ahead.
“There’s the motor court up ahead.”
The rain stopped, so Angie turned off the wipers.
She turned into the parking lot.
“I’ll get out here,” he said.
She stopped the Fairlane.
“Thank you for the ride, Angie.”
“Oh, you’re welcome. I hope we’ll run into each other soon.”
“Oh, I’m sure we will,” said Kent, then opened the car door and stepped outside with his paper bag.
He gave Angie a little smile and then closed the door.
Angie drove off and tooted the horn.
She pulled the Fairlane on Route 12 and headed to the Air Force base.
Kent walked off to his room with a smile, thinking that Angie was so sweet and adorable. She’s way too sweet to die. He thought while he walked up to his room door and unlocked it.
He returned to his room and took a little nap on the bed.
Kent woke up from his nap, which was now five in the evening. His stomach growled.
He got off the bed and left his room.
He walked through the parking lot and headed down Route 12. He was going back to the Peach Tree Diner for supper.
When he got to the diner, Edith immediately seated him at the same booth he sat at this morning.
He ordered chicken fried steak, mashed potatoes, cream corn, and a glass of refreshing sweet tea.
The diner was crowded this evening, and Kent glanced around the diner while he waited for his food.
Some of the people eating there looked familiar, but he wasn’t sure he knew them.
Edith brought him his dinner and sweet tea.
Kent ate supper and thought about Angie again.
After he was done and paid his supper bill, Kent left the diner, walked off through the parking lot, and headed down Route 12.
Kent returned to his room at the motor court and retired for the evening. He fell fast asleep within ten minutes.
Kent began a dream…
In his dream, he saw the room where they kept Old Sparky. An unknown person was strapped to Old Sparky with that leather hood over the individual’s head.
He looked around the room of people watching the execution. He didn’t see his mom, dad, or Grant.
He wondered who was being executed.
One of the guards flipped the switch on the wall.
Volts of electricity flowed into this individual’s body, and he violently shook.
“DADDY!” he cried out in his dream.
He heard the sound of a female crying and looked around the room.
A woman in a black mourning veil and large hat was crying, but he couldn’t see her face.
“Mom!” he cried out in his dream.
Back to reality…
Kent bolted up in a cold sweat. He glanced around the room, trying to understand where he was. I’m in a motel room. He thought and realized he had a dream.
He closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep.
Friday morning arrived.
Kent woke up around seven-thirty.
He took a shower, shaved, and got dressed back in his same outfit of jeans, shirt, and black Converse sneakers.
He left his room and returned to the Peach Tree Diner, his stomach growling the whole trip.
“Well, you are becoming my new regular,” said Edith when she greeted Kent by the cash register. “I might have to put your name on that booth,” she said with a chuckle.
“I know, I can’t resist this superb home cooking.”
“Well, that is the fine work of my husband, Homer,” said Edith. “What would you like, sugar?”
“French Toast again?”
“Yes, French Toast and coffee, please.”
“I have this blonde hair boy that every time he comes in here for breakfast, he eats French Toast. An adorable kid named Kent,” she said. “What’s your name, sugar?”
“I’m also named Kent,” he said.
“Well, Kent, I’m Edith,” she said, winking at Kent and walking away.
Kent glanced around the diner, and there wasn’t anybody he saw that looked familiar.
Edith walked back over and set a cup of coffee down in front of Kent then she walked away.
Kent started drinking his coffee when the front door of the diner opened, and in walked twenty-four-year-old Warner Robins Police Officer Lester Peabody.
“Good morning Lester. Want your usual?” said Edith.
“Yes, ma-am,” he said, salivating at his normal breakfast delight.
Edith walked away from the counter with Kent’s plate of four pieces of French Toast and four slices of bacon.
She walked over to Kent and set his plate in front of him. She returned to the counter where Lester waited.
Kent kept an eye on Lester since he was the law, but when he saw him buy six glazed donuts, he knew this guy wasn’t a threat. He stared at his thick pieces of French Toast, and his stomach growled, ordering him to hurry up and eat.
Kent started eating while Officer Peabody let the diner with his donuts in a paper bag in hand. He was heading off to the police station.
After Kent finished his breakfast, he left the diner and headed back to the Peach Tree Motor Court.
He sat in his room and started to get nervous.
Will tonight be the real night? He wondered over and over while he paced around the room.
Kent was going stir-crazy, staying in his motel all afternoon.
It was now three in the afternoon, and Kent decided he better head on out.
He went into the closet and took the folded sketch out from the inside pocket of his suit jacket. He shoved it in his blue jeans left front pocket.
He opened the dresser drawer, entered, and removed the Bell and Howell movie camera case.
He left the motor courtroom and headed off through the parking lot.
He turned right and started walking off down the shoulder of Route 12.
Five minutes after he walked down Route 12, he spotted a USAF C-54 Skymaster taking off from Robins Air Force base. It was full of cargo and on its way to another air base. He stopped and watched the
C-54 ascend into the sky. He recalled those days when he and his daddy would get on base, watch the planes land, and take off from the air base. He smiled at those fond memories but then frowned, knowing Grant got them access to the air base.
Kent walked for another twenty minutes, and he stopped on the shoulder. He reached into his jeans pocket and removed the folded paper. He unfolded it, glanced at his sketch, and looked up and down the road. He saw a dirt road off to his left. He folded the paper and shoved it back into his jeans pocket.
He headed off down that dirt road.
He walked down that dirt road and wondered if this was Meyers’ old driveway to his cabin. He figured it probably was and kept on walking.
He walked about a quarter of a mile and finally saw an old wooden dilapidated cabin off to his left.
“That Moonshiner sure lived way out here in the boonies,” said Kent while he scanned the area over.
“No wonder it did moonshine; it’s so secluded. No one would bother you way out here.”
He scanned the area, recalling those crime book pictures of Angie’s dead body on the ground.
He saw the dilapidated front porch of Meyers’
cabin in the background and knew he was close to the spot. He walked around the area and came upon a clearing that looked familiar from those pictures in the crime book. He glanced around the area and saw those two bushes he recognized from that crime book.
“Perfect.”
He walked over to the bushes and saw this was a perfect hiding place. He could be out of view from the dirt road and the clearing. This would be a breeze and save his father’s life before sundown.
Kent nestled down behind the bushes. He opened up the movie camera case and removed the camera.
He found a spot inside the bushes where he could prop the camera up on some branches to discreetly record the clearing.
He nestled the movie camera case in the bottom of the bushes.
The woods were quiet except for the songs of a few birds.
He looked over at Meyers’ cabin, about two hundred feet away. He wondered why the secret gay guys of Warner Robins and the air base would choose this place. The woods were quiet, and this place was secluded, so he figured that had to be the main reason.
His curiosity started getting the best of him, so he walked to the cabin.
Kent got to the dilapidated front porch of the cabin. He carefully stepped on the wooden slats. The slats creaked but didn’t break, and he safely made it to the closed wooden door.
The wooden front door creaked open while he stepped inside the cabin.
He saw it was in the living room with a stone fireplace along the wall to the right.
He glanced up and saw there was a huge hole in the wooden roof.
He saw that all the living room windows had been smashed and saw numerous rocks on the floor. He figured teenagers did this for kicks.
A counter and an old wooden table were at the other end of the room. A window with broken panes was above the counter, and to the left of the counter was a rear door. “The kitchen,” he thought.
He looked to the left and saw two rooms.
He went inside the first room and saw nothing but a mattress on the floor. The mattress appeared fairly new, and I figured the gay guys placed it there. Also on the floor of that bedroom were about twenty empty Black Label beer cans, a few empty packs of Marlboro
cigarette packs, and lots of cigarette butts scattered all over the floor.
He left that room, went into the other bedroom, and found it bare except for ten empty Black Label beer cans.
Kent left the second room, went to the counter, and glanced out the window. A dilapidated wooden outhouse was out in the back, about twenty feet away from the cabin.
Kent figured he’d seen enough and better get back to the camera in case Grant and Angie showed up.
He left the cabin and rushed back to the bushes.
He sat down nestled in the bushes and felt confident that this would be the perfect hiding place.
He sat and waited.
He waited and waited and swatted away some buzzing flies and other annoying flying pests.
An hour passed, and nothing. The woods were quiet, and not even the gay guys came to the cabin.
Kent figured that tonight wasn’t the night, so he packed up his camera from the bushes, placed it back in the case, and headed toward the dirt road.
Once he got to the end of the dirt road, he ran across Route 12, turned right, and headed off down the shoulder of the road. He heard something and saw a C-124 Globemaster II airplane descending for a landing at Robins Air Force Base.
He got five hundred yards down Route 12 and saw a fifty-seven Ford Fairlane car heading down the road. He didn’t think anything of it until the driver glanced at him while her car drove past him. He recognized the driver as Angie Abbott.
He turned around the second he heard the brakes of the Fairlane and the sound of the tires pulling off the road onto the shoulder.
“What are you doing walking again?” said Angie while she poked her head out of the opened driver’s window.
Kent smiled and turned around, and walked over to her Fairlane.
He walked over to the passenger door window that was also rolled down. He leaned in the car and saw she wasn’t wearing her Piggly Wiggly outfit.
“Here you are again, roaming the streets,” she said and gave him a warm smile.
“I know.”
“I take it you’re heading back to the Peach Tree Motor Court?”
“Yes, I am.”
“Out seeing the sights again? But I must admit there are not too many interesting sights around this part of town.”
“I was actually filming,” he said, holding up his Bell and Howell movie camera case.
“Filming what?”
“Meyers’ cabin. I heard an old Moonshiner once lived there. I thought I could film it as a documentary.”
“I also heard stories about that old Moonshiner.
Now the cabin is a place for people to make out,” she said, with a grin that she’s familiar with doing just that.
Kent knew she smiled thinking about Grant.
“That’s what I’m hearing,” he said, then paused.
“You’re not coming from work at the Piggly Wiggly?”
“No,” she said and looked disappointed. “My boyfriend was supposed to meet me at the Piggly Wiggly parking lot and take me out on a date. But he showed up and said he had to work tonight,” she said, looking at Kent with pouty lips. “And I had something extremely important to tell him.”
“Oh, I see,” he said, wondering what Grant was up to tonight.
“Oh well, maybe he’ll take you out for a date tomorrow night?” said Kent prying for confirmation.
Angie’s eyes lit up. “He did say we’d go out tomorrow evening. He promised,” she said, but it still
looked like something bothered her. Kent had a hunch about what this could be.
“Well, I better get back to my room at the Peach Tree,” said Kent.
“I hope to see you again.”
“Oh, I can imagine you will,” Kent said.
Angie wondered what he meant by that but figured their paths would cross again since they’d run into each other during the past two days.
Kent walked away and headed down the shoulder toward the Peach Tree Motor Court.
Angie pulled her Fairlane back onto the road and tooted the horn to say “Goodbye.”
Kent looked saddened. He wanted to save Angie’s life, as he felt she was such a sweet kid. Anger built up inside him when thinking Grant was using her. “Sex toy,” he said, thinking that’s why he wanted Angie.
“She’s only a sex toy to him.”
Kent walked to the Peach Tree Motor Court and went to his room. His stomach growled, so he placed the movie camera case back in the dresser drawer.
He left his room and walked off to the Peach Tree Diner.
A little while later, he entered the Peach Tree Diner.
“Welcome back,” said Edith the second she saw him, then grabbed a menu.
She walked him to his booth. “Want some sweet tea?” “Yes, ma’am.”
Edith winked at Kent, then walked away.
Kent looked at the menu and decided on what to eat for supper.
“Ready to order?” said Edith while she placed a glass of sweet tea before him.
“I’ll have your catfish dinner, please.”
“Excellent choice,” said Edith, and then she took the menu and walked away, heading back to the counter.
Kent glanced around the diner and saw it was starting to fill up quickly.
Ten minutes passed, and Edith brought Kent his catfish dinner with Okra and hush puppies.
He started eating and continued to glance around the diner. He didn’t recognize anybody.
After eating his catfish dinner, Kent paid his bill and left the diner.
He got a little way down the shoulder of Route 12
when he had his strange déjà-vu feeling. He turned around, and his eyes widened when he saw a blue nineteen fifty-one Chevrolet Bel-Air. It pulled into the parking lot of the Peach Tree Diner. “I know that car.”
He watched while the Bel-Air parked in the parking lot. As a six-year-old boy got out of the Bel-Air, his eyes lit up the second he saw his daddy, mom, and himself. He wanted to run over there to them but knew that would be too strange.
He walked away, smiling at the old memory he witnessed.
Kent walked back to his motor courtroom, sat on the bed, and watched The Adventures of Jim Bowie on the TV.
It was now eight that evening, and the sun started dropping below the horizon.
Kent was bored, and the TV show The Ray Anthony Show could have been more entertaining for his taste. And since Saturday was approaching, he started to get nervous.
He paced around the room.
The commotion in the room next to him caught his attention. So he plastered his ear to the wall by the head of his bed.
He wasn’t sure he was hearing what he thought he was hearing. It was. It was the sound of a bed
squeaking and a woman moaning in ecstasy.
“Someone’s having some fun tonight,” he said, feeling jealous.
After the woman let out a loud orgasm scream then, the room next door got quiet.
Five minutes had passed, and he heard the door next to his room open and close.
He jumped off his bed and ran to the windows.
He just had to see the lucky guy. So he peeked through the curtains.
He saw a man and woman outside.
They walked over to a red fifty-seven Ford T-Bird.
“Wait, he looks familiar,” Kent quietly said. “Real familiar.” After a few seconds of looking at this guy, Kent realized who he was. “Grant Bowers. That’s Grant Bowers,” he said while he saw Grant escorting a hot brunette to his T-Bird.
He watched while they got inside Grant’s T-Bird.
The T-Bird cranked up, backed out of the parking space, drove off through the parking lot, and pulled out onto Route 12. The T-Bird was shortly out of view as it raced down the road.
Grant canceled his date tonight because he knew that woman wasn’t Angie. “That’s the reason why Friday wasn’t the day. Grant had another woman to poke.”
He returned to pacing back and forth in his room, wondering if tomorrow would be the day. He figured it would be high probability and couldn’t wait to nail Grant. But he still thought about sweet Angie.
He stripped out of his shirt and jeans down to his tee shirt and boxers leaving that sketch in the front pocket of his jeans.
He climbed into bed under the sheets, closed his eyes and was sound asleep in ten minutes.
It was now Saturday morning.
Kent got up around eight, showered, got dressed, and headed out of his motor courtroom.
He walked back down to the diner for breakfast.
When he entered the diner, he noticed it was packed with Warner Robins folks. So Edith had to seat him at the counter at the rear of the diner.
After his French Toast breakfast, Kent left the diner and returned to his motor courtroom.
He paced around his room and got nervous about this afternoon. “I have to stop her from meeting with Grant,” he said while he walked back and forth by the black and white Zenith TV. “I’ll call her. Tell her not to see him tonight,” he said and thought that that was a great idea. “If she asks why, I’ll tell her that,” he said but didn’t know the rest of his response. “I’ll tell her that,” he said again and pondered what to tell her.
Then his eyes lit up. “I’ll tell her that Grant’s married, and he’s cheating on his wife,” he said, thinking that would work.
He rushed to the room door and went outside.
He got halfway through the parking lot and thought about this idea again. He stopped dead in his tracks. “That won’t work. She’ll find out he’s not married, and they’ll meet another day. I can’t stay here in fifty-seven forever,” he quietly said, then turned around and headed back to his motor courtroom.
He stopped when his eyes lit up with another idea.
“I’ll call Colonel Abbott. I’ll tell him about Grant having sex with his daughter. That’ll work. He’ll get furious and pound on Grant and forbid his daughter to see him,” he said, believing that was his only choice.
“No, dead girl and my daddy won’t be arrested for
murder. It’s perfect!” he added, and the more he thought about that idea, the more he thought it was the perfect plan. “Why didn’t I think of this before?” he said, rushing off toward Route 12 and down the shoulder of the road toward the diner.
It wasn’t long before Kent arrived at the phone booth at the Shell gas station, all out of breath.
He deposited a dime into the pay phone and pressed the zero button for the operator.
“Operator,” she answered the call.
“Yes, I need the phone number for Colonel Abbott at Robins Air Force Base. He lives on base,” he said into the phone.
There was a few seconds of silence. “I’m sorry, but I’m not locating a number for Colonel Abbott. It must be unlisted,” said the operator.
“You gotta have his number,” said Kent.
“I’m sorry, but unlisted numbers cannot be given out,” said the operator. “Is there another number you need?”
“No, ma’am,” he said, and he hung up the phone.
Kent moped away from the Shell station and moped his way down Route 12, heading back to the motor court.
He returned to the room and moped while he sat on the bed.
After fifteen minutes of moping, he lay on the bed and soon fell asleep.
He had a dream…
In his dream, Kent was standing on the front porch of Meyers’ cabin.
Suddenly, a ghostly image of Angie faded into view before him. “Why didn’t you save me?” said Angie’s ghost with sad eyes.
“I wanted to. I really wanted to,” said Kent.
“You didn’t save me. You didn’t save me,” cried out Angie’s ghost with sadder eyes.
“I tried! I tried?” cried out Kent.
“I’m dead,” cried out Angie’s ghost. “I’m dead,”
she said, and the ghost started fading away.
Back to reality…
Kent tossed and turned in bed. “I tried! I tried! I swear I tried, Angie,” he cried out in his sleep. He woke up and glanced around the room in a daze.
He saw the alarm clock on the bedside table. It was now three that Saturday afternoon, and he knew it was that time again.
He thought about calling the police. But would they believe me? He thought. If Grant and Angie didn’t show up for some strange reason, then he could be arrested for making false calls. Sunday could be the actual day. He thought. He knew his only choice was to film this crime and leave the film cartridge by the front door of the police station.
He got out of the bed and walked over to the dresser drawer. He opened up the drawer and removed the Bell and Howell movie camera case.
Kent left his Motor Courtroom, walked through the parking lot, and headed down the shoulder of Route 12 with the Bell and Howell movie camera.
“Take two,” he jokingly said, trying to put humor into this messy situation to calm his nerves.
Thirty minutes passed, and Kent walked down the dirt road and headed to the bushes where he hung out yesterday.
Five minutes later, he had the Bell and Howell movie camera out and again nestled in the same spot in the bushes. He nestled the camera case back at the bottom of the bushes.
Kent nestled down behind the bushes.
The woods were again quiet while I waited at this hiding place.
He heard the sound of a pistol being fired way off in the woods. It was a faint sound, so he knew it wasn’t a threat. Then he recalled how his father was target
practicing in the woods this Saturday evening. He smiled, as that was actually a nice sound to hear.
Ten minutes passed.
Kent almost fell asleep, but the sound of a car driving down the dirt road woke him up.
He glanced around the bushes and saw a green four-door nineteen-fifty Chevrolet Bel-Air driving down the dirt road and headed straight for Meyers’
cabin. He saw his secret lover in the passenger side of the front seat.
“Just like Derek’s confession,” said Kent when he saw the Bel-Air drive and park behind the cabin out of view from the clearing. “That explains why Grant didn’t see them.”
Behind the cabin, Derek and his lover got out of the Bel-Air and rushed inside the cabin through the back door, unaware that Kent was hiding in those bushes.
Down on Route 12, Grant drove his T-Bird with Angie in the passenger seat. She wore a white blouse, black Capri pants, and black flat-soled shoes with her small black purse in her lap.
There was a little tension in the air inside the T-Bird. “Where are we going?”
“Someplace private so we can talk about this,” said Grant. He glanced at her and knew he had to escape this mess.
He drove his T-Bird down Route 12 with a smirk while Angie glanced at him with love in her eyes.
After five additional minutes of waiting and swatting away more bugs.
The faint sound of that gunfire way off in the woods ceased, and Kent knew his daddy was finished.
Then came the sound of another car driving down that dirt road. It wasn’t long before he heard the car brakes. He turned on his Bell & Howell film cameras. He was ready.
He heard the car engine turn off.
Two car doors opened and closed.
Grant and Angie stood by the T-Bird. Grant scanned the area and saw nobody was around. He felt safe. Grant held Angie’s hand to give her a false sense he cared.
Kent peeked around the bushes and saw Grant’s T-Bird parked in the clearing.
He saw Grant in civilian clothes and Angie in her white blouse, black Capri pants, and black flat-soled shoes. The same clothes he saw in that photo in that crime book back at the MIT library.
He discreetly watched them walk, holding hands farther into the clearing, closer to the woods.
They stopped, and Grant glanced at Angie’s eyes.
Kent nestled the camera in the bushes, looked in the viewfinder, and repositioned the camera to have Grant and Angie in view. He pressed the button to start filming, and had it in the locked position.
“Why do we have to talk way out here?” said Angie.
“This is where we met on numerous occasions for privacy. Besides, we can’t afford to have anybody listen in on our delicate matter,” said Grant, and he glanced around the area and felt confident the coast was clear since he didn’t see any cars parked at the cabin. In addition, from that angle of the clearing, the trees blocked the cabin from view.
“Now Angie, are you sure you’re pregnant?”
“Oh, I’m sure. I haven’t had my period for two months now. And I’ve been throwing up in the mornings.” “And I learned what that meant in biology class.”
Grant wanted to kick himself in his butt for himself for getting in this mess. “Did you tell anybody about this?” said Grant, and he started to sweat, being nervous Colonel Abbott already knew.
“No. No way. My girlfriends would blab it to the whole school and town. Nobody knows. I swear.”
“Are you sure?”
“Cross my heart and hope to die,” she said, and Grant believed her.
Grant thought about his situation for a few seconds. “Maybe we can find a doctor up in Macon that can, you know,” he said.
“Know what?” said Angie, not following where he was going with this.
“You know, you could get rid of the baby,” said Grant, and he looked dead serious. “I’ll pay for it, of course.”
Angie’s eyes widened. “Abortion? I won’t get rid of my baby!” she said while rubbing her stomach. “No way!” she said and got upset with his suggestion.
“You’ll have to marry me. That’s the only answer,” said Angie said she always wanted to be an Air Force Officer’s wife.
Grant quickly thought of another way out while his blood started to boil. His eyes lit up with an answer. Should I do that? He pondered. “Well, I’m not going to marry you,” he said, sounding dead serious.
Angie wasn’t sure she heard him correctly. “Did you say you’re not going to marry me?”
“That’s right. I’m not going to marry you.”
Angie got furious. “You have to! You got me pregnant! And Daddy will insist as soon as he finds out. He’s not going to have a bastard grandson.”
“Besides, you said you loved me!”
“I only said I loved you so I could get you naked under the sheets,” he said, then paused for a few seconds. “Plus, how do I know you weren’t fucking one of the guys on the football team.” “Hells bells, you’re so easy; I bet the whole football team fucked you in the locker room,” he said in the heat of the moment.
Angie got fire in her eyes with his comment that she was a slut. She slapped Grant hard across his right cheek.
Grant was furious and slapped Angie so hard it knocked her on her butt.
Grant looked at Angie, down on her butt on the ground. Should I? he pondered. But if I don’t?
Colonel Abbott would soon discover his beloved daughter was pregnant. He’ll pressure her to identify the father. Colonel Abbott will kill me if I don’t marry her! he thought. He felt this was his only option to be free. I can’t marry her! Then he racked his mind with ways to be clear of this plan. I need a patsy. He thought for a second. But who?
His eyes lit up. Yes! He knew the perfect patsy he could frame. After all, his wife refused his advances over the years. Plus, he knew that the Warner Robins police department was too inept at solving a murder.
And the evidence he’ll plant will ensure Colonel Abbott will believe without a shadow of a doubt that his patsy was his daughter’s killer. I can’t do that. He thought, chickening out.
Angie stood up and faced Grant with fire in her eyes. “I’M GOING TO TELL DADDY TONIGHT
THAT YOU GOT ME PREGNANT AND WON’T
MARRY ME. HE’LL HAVE YOU IN AIR FORCE
JAIL!” “FOR THE REST OF YOUR STINKING
LIFE!” she screamed, and it echoed in the woods.
Grant knew Colonel Abbott would use his influence to ensure he spent time in Fort Leavenworth with a dishonorable discharge. His life would be ruined, and that made his blood boil. “SLUT!” he yelled and reached out with his hands and grabbed Angie by her neck. He squeezed her neck.
Kent had it on film, but the cartridge was all used up. He quickly opened the camera, removed that used cartridge, and set it down in the dirt at the bottom of
the bushes. He immediately installed a new cartridge, nestled the camera in the bushes, and returned filming.
“HELP!” Angie yelled out. Grant tightened his grip on her neck. “Help!” she repeated the words, but his grip started to cut off her air supply.
She had enough strength to start punching Grant’s face. He ducked her mediocre punches and squeezed her neck harder. “Help!” Angie cried out in a low whisper and started to feel weak.
Kent couldn’t take it any longer, as he remembered that sweet girl that gave him a ride on Thursday and their short talk yesterday. “STOP!” he yelled out.
Kent bolted out from behind the bushes. “STOP!
STOP! STOP!” he yelled.
With his hands around Angie’s throat, Grant looked to his left and saw Kent bolting after him.
Where the fuck did he come from? Grant thought and loosened his grip around Angie’s neck.
Angie felt his grip loosen, so she swung and punched Grant upside his head. Grant dropped Angie when Kent was a foot away.
“Kent!” said Angie the second she saw him.
“Kent?” said Grant wondering how Angie knew this stranger, which made him even more furious.
Kent didn’t have time to react when Grant’s fist hit him hard in his forehead catching him by surprise.
His vision went black, and he dropped to the ground and passed out.
Grant glanced down at Kent and knew he wasn’t a threat. He noticed that Angie was gone. He glanced around the area and saw her running into the woods.
He saw Kent, and that gave him an idea. “Perfect!” he said, then gave chase after Angie.
It didn’t take Grant long to catch up with Angie.
He tackled her to the ground.
He flipped her over on her back and pinned her to the ground with his knees pressed on her shoulders.
“Let me continue what I started,” he said, gripping his hands around Angie’s neck. He squeezed so hard she couldn’t scream. She was losing air in her lungs.
It didn’t take long for Angie’s body to go limp, and her soul left her body.
Grant was satisfied Angie was no longer a threat to the Playboy lifestyle he loved.
He glanced back and saw Kent was still passed out. He got off Angie and picked up her body in his arms. Grant walked Angie’s lifeless, limp body back to Kent and dropped her near him.
He proceeded to rip off her white blouse, black Capri pants, bra, and panties and removed her shoes.
She was now bare-ass naked. He smiled at her, recalling those two moments he had hot sex with her here at Meyers’ cabin a few months ago and once in a room at the Peach Tree Motor Court. On that motor court night, Grant instructed Angie to wear sunglasses and a scarf over her hair. He told her it made her look sexier, and she believed him.
He ran back to his T-Bird and didn’t notice four peering eyes that spied on him from the woods. It was Derek and his lover. The two remained hidden out of view, quiet and afraid of Grant, as they knew their boss had just murdered a young girl.
Grant cranked up his T-Bird, turned it around, and drove off down the dirt road.
He stopped a little down the dirt road, got out, and found a broken tree branch with leaves.
He rushed back with the branch and wiped away his tire tracks from his car.
He continued eliminating any evidence down the dirt road until he got to the end. He tossed the branch into the woods and jumped back in his T-Bird.
He turned right onto Route 12 and raced in a northerly direction.
Five minutes had passed, and he pulled over to the right and stopped at that Shell gas station down Route 12 from the Peach Tree Diner.
He got out and used the pay phone in the phone booth near the road, leaving his T-Bird running.
He deposited a dime into the phone and made a call. “Warner Robins police department,” said forty-eight-year-old Officer Mickey Malone answering the call. “Ah, yes, I was down by the old Meyers’ cabin off route twelve. I saw a guy strangle a teenage girl. I think he was trying to kill her,” said Grant disguising his voice to make it sound gay.
“Did you say Meyers’ cabin? Off route twelve?”
said, Officer Malone.
“Yes. Please hurry! He might kill her any second,” said Grant in his disguised voice.
“What’s your name? And why were you down at Meyers’ Cabin?”
“I was hiking, and I can’t tell you my name. He might kill me!” said Grant and sounding scared. Then he hung up the phone, rushed out of the booth, and returned to his T-Bird with a smirk.
He returned to his T-Bird and was satisfied nobody saw him use the phone.
Grant felt confident he was in the clear while he raced his T-Bird down Route 12. He was headed up to Macon.
A few minutes later, Derek’s green Bel-Air quickly drove out of that dirt road and made a screeching turn onto Route 12.
Derek drove with his lover in the passenger seat, and they were scared.
Derek drove his Bel-Air down Route 12 and returned to the Air Force base. His Bel-Air was about a quarter of a mile behind Grant’s T-Bird.
At the Warner Robins police department, Officer Malone and his partner, thirty-six-year-old Officer Peter Smith, raced out of the police station.
They ran to a nineteen fifty-one black and white Chevrolet Bell-Air squad car.
Officer Malone got behind the wheel while Officer Smith got in the passenger side of the front seat. Officer Malone cranked up the Bell-Air, slammed into reverse, backed up the car, and screeched off through the parking lot.
Officer Malone made a screeching turn out of the station parking lot, almost hitting a green nineteen-fifty-three Hornet.
Officer Malone raced the Bel-Air squad car down the street with the red bubble gum rooftop light flashing.
The two officers were excited yet nervous about what they will find at Meyer’s cabin. They kept the siren off so the killer wouldn’t have ample time to escape.
Five minutes passed.
Back in the woods near Meyers’ cabin, Kent became conscious. He got back on his feet and had a splitting headache from Grant’s fist, and was dazed and confused. It took him a few seconds to realize where he was and what happened.
He glanced around, and Grant was nowhere in sight. Something caught his eye. It was the sight of a flashing red light racing down the dirt road.
He glanced down and saw Angie on the ground on her back, bare ass naked. Her ripped-off clothes were placed close to her body. Kent froze the second he saw the flashing red bubble gum rooftop light of the squad car racing down the dirt road. He didn’t know what to do when he saw the squad car screech to a stop. The front doors flew open, and two police officers jumped out of the car.
“Put your hands up!” yelled out Officer Malone while Officer Peter Smith had his 38-Special revolver aimed at Kent.
Kent knew this wasn’t good, so he put his hands up in the air. He saw the two police officers approaching him with their 38-Special revolvers aimed at him. “Shit,” he said, knowing he was in major trouble.
“Drop to your knees and put your hands behind your back,” said Officer Malone when he and his partner got six feet from Kent.
Kent obeyed, dropped to his knees, and put his hands behind his back.
Officer Smith handcuffed Kent’s hands behind his back while Officer Malone kept his revolver aimed and ready to kill.
Officer Smith brought Kent up to his feet.
The two police officers saw Angie naked on the ground, motionless, with a blank dead stare in her eyes and her ripped clothes near her.
Officer Malone knelt down and felt her neck for a pulse. “She’s dead,” he said, then picked up her clothes and did his best to give her some decency.
“You’re under arrest for murder,” said Officer Malone, and he was furious. He punched Kent in his face knocking him down to the ground.
“Put this piece of shit in the back of the squad car and take him down to the station and book him,”
Officer Malone told his partner, then glanced back at Angie. “And have the morgue come out here and Detective Chambers and tell him to bring a camera. I’ll ride back with him,” said Officer Malone.
“You got it,” said Officer Smith, and he walked handcuffed Kent to the squad car.
Officer Smith placed Kent in the rear of the squad car while Officer Malone stood guard by Angie’s dead body.
Officer Smith got behind the wheel of the squad car, cranked it up, turned it around, and drove off down the dirt road.
Officer Malone stayed near Angie’s body and avoided looking at her. He was furious because he knew she was a teenager but didn’t know her name.
Officer Smith’s squad car was halfway down the dirt road.
In the back seat, Kent started to squirm as the handcuffs behind his back started to dig into his wrists.
“Can you please loosen these handcuffs? They’re cutting into my wrist.”
Officer Smith glanced in his rearview mirror and rolled his eyes.
“Can I get some aspirin? I have a splitting headache.”
Officer Smith ignored Kent while the squad car got to the end of the dirt road and then made a right turn onto Route 12
Kent’s head pounded during the entire drive to the police station.
Once he arrived at the station, Officer Smith booked Kent for murder and removed his belongings from his jeans pocket, which included his wallet and that sketch.
He was fingerprinted, had his mug shot snapped, and placed in a small eight-foot by eight-foot concrete block jail cell.
He returned to the office area, called Detective Chambers at home then called the morgue. After that, he went to the coffee table and poured a cup.
He sat at his desk and couldn’t get the image of Angie’s dead naked body out of his head.
Fifteen minutes had passed.
Back at the crime scene, Detective Chuck Chambers drove down the dirt road in his nineteen fifty-six plain black four-door Chevrolet Bel-Air. He wore his standard brown suit, brown tie, and brown Fedora hat.
He parked his Bel-Air next to a white nineteen-fifty-four Chevrolet panel truck that had just arrived a few minutes ago. The panel truck had “Warner Robins Morgue” painted in red letters on both sides of the truck.
Two guys from the morgue sat inside the panel truck, waiting for the okay to remove the body.
Detective Chambers left his Bel-Air with a Kodak Starflash Brownie camera in hand.
He walked over to Officer Malone, still standing guard by Angie’s body.
“Oh my God, what kind of monster would do this?” said Detective Chambers while he got his camera ready.
Detective Chambers started snapping pictures of the crime scene and the dead unidentified teenager.
After finishing that, he motioned for the morgue guys to complete their job.
He and Officer Malone glanced the area over for any evidence.
At the Warner Robins police station, Kent sat on the uncomfortable bunk in that jail cell. His eyes welled up, knowing he was in deep trouble. “Why couldn’t I just have let history remain. I screwed up royally,” he quietly said.
Meanwhile, Grant drove his T-Bird around Macon.
He pulled his T-Bird into the parking lot of the Pink Pussy Cat lounge, where other horny guys were entering the place.
He got out of his T-Bird and strutted inside the lounge.
Back at the crime scene, Detective Chambers and Officer Malone finished glancing over the crime scene and jotting down notes on his small notepad. They didn’t find any other evidence.
The two morgue guys had Angie in the body bag on the gurney. They placed the gurney in the rear of the panel truck and closed the rear doors.
Detective Chambers, along with Officer Smith, got in his Bel-Air. He cranked up his Bel-Air, turned his car around, and drove off the dirt road.
The morgue panel truck was right behind Detective Chambers’s car.
A little while later, Detective Chambers had dropped Officer Malone off at the police station then he drove off.
Ten minutes later, he approached a residential house in Warner Robins. He parked his Bel-Air behind a black nineteen-fifty Chevrolet panel truck with
“Clint’s Camera Shop” painted on both sides of the panels.
He exited his car, walked to the front door, and knocked.
The door opened, and fifty-eight-year-old Clint Woodard appeared. “Chuck, what a surprise.”
“Clint, I need a huge favor.”
“Sure.”
“I need this film developed right away. We had a murder down at that old Moonshiners cabin. It was a teenage girl. We don’t know her name at this time.”
“Oh my, someone was killed down at Meyers’
cabin.”
“Yes. Can you get these developed tonight? It’s for the case file and then for the murder trial on our suspect.” said Detective Chambers handing Clint his Kodak Browning camera.
“You already arrested someone?”
“He was found by her body and is now down at the station.”
Clint looked mad. “I hope he has a date with Old Sparky.”
“Oh, I’ll make sure he will.”
“I’ll run down to my shop immediately, Chuck,”
said Clint, who always helped out the Warner Robins police department.
“Thanks, Clint,” said Detective Chambers, walking away and returning to his Bel-Air.
He got back in his Bel-Air and drove off down the street.
Detective Chambers drives back to the station.
He normally worked the first shift but knew tonight’s overtime would be free. But he didn’t care since a teenager was murdered.
Once he returned to the station, he got a cup of coffee and sat at his desk. He started reviewing his notes from his small notepad.
An hour had passed, and Clint entered the station with a large vanilla envelope in hand.
“I got those pictures developed,” said Clint, and he looked pissed. “I want to flip the switch once after that guy gets strapped in Old Sparky,” he said after thinking about those pictures.
“Thanks, Clint,” said Detective Chambers after taking the envelope from Clint. “Send the Chief the bill.” “I wonder how the fish are biting for him?” said Clint. “Probably pretty good since he’s not back in the office,” said Detective Chambers while opening the envelope.
Clint walked away and returned to the front doors, as he didn’t want to see those pictures of Angie’s dead body again. He left the station.
Detective Chambers blood boiled seeing those pictures of the crime scene.
Ten minutes passed, and Detective Chambers had Kent at a table in the interrogation room. He sat across the table from Kent.
“May I have some aspirin? I have a splitting headache.”
Detective Chambers looked across the table at Kent. “No! It serves you right for what you did,” he said, not having any sympathy for a guy that just killed a teenage girl. He glared at Kent to make him uncomfortable, and it worked.
After a few seconds of staring at Kent, something felt familiar with his stranger. “Do I know you?” said Detective Chambers.
“I ah,” said Kent, then. Detective Chambers was a familiar sight to him. He recalled those days as a kid watching him playing softball with his daddy. And he remembered that photo he saw in his mom’s photo album. “I don’t think so. I just arrived in town a few days ago.”
Detective Chambers removed his small notepad and pen from his suit pocket. “What day?” he said, opening his notepad and grabbing his pen.
“I arrived Wednesday night,” said Kent, and Detective Chambers wrote that down.
“Where are you staying?”
“At the Peach Tree Motor Court.”
“Why are you here in my town?”
“I ah, I was thinking of getting a job down here,”
said Kent, as this was the only viable excuse he could devise.
“Where’s your car?”
“I came down here by Greyhound bus.”
Detective Chambers thought about his story for a few seconds. “So you came here by bus for a job but ended up killing a young teenage girl instead?” said Detective Chambers, and he refrained from reaching across the table and punching Kent. He saw his right black eye and figured one of the two officers hit him, and rightly so.
“I swear, I didn’t kill her!’ said Kent, his eyes welled up.
“You were found by her dead body. I’d say it looks like you did kill her.”
“I didn’t kill her. Grant Bowers did.”
Detective Chambers wasn’t sure he heard correctly. “Did you say Grant Bowers?” he said while he jotted down that information.
“Yes, Grant Bowers. I saw him strangle her and tried to stop him, but he hit me, and I passed out.
When I came to, I was near Angie’s naked body.”
“Did you say her name was Angie?”
“Yes, Angie Abbott. She’s the daughter of Colonel Abbott from the Air Force Base.”
“So you know this girl?”
“Briefly. She gave me a ride the other day from the Piggly Wiggly. It was raining.” “And I saw her yesterday on Route 12.”
Detective Chambers recalled that storm on Thursday. “You also said yesterday? Why did you see her?” Kent started to wonder if he was digging his hole deeper. “I was walking down Route twelve, and she saw me from her car. She pulled over, and we talked for a few minutes, then drove off.”
“What did you talk about?”
“She said her date on Friday night was canceled on her.”
“Do you know this date’s name?”
“No, she never told me.”
Detective Chambers jotted down some notes on his note, pad then he looked at Kent. “How do you know Grant Bowers? You must know him since you gave me his name.”
Kent paused for a few seconds. “I saw him at the Peach Tree Diner during breakfast on Thursday morning. He wore an Air Force uniform, and I saw his name tag.”
“That explains his last name, but how do you know his first name?”
Kent pondered a believable answer for a few seconds. “Well, he had this blonde girl with him. He nibbled on the ear, and she called out his first name, saying that that tickled.”
“Okay,” said Detective Chambers jotting down that information.
“Plus, he tried to run over me when I left the diner and was walking back to the motor court.”
“Tried to run over you. Now why would he do that?” said Detective Chambers knowing this was probably bullshit.
“Because I saw that blonde giving him a blow job in his T-Bird in the diner parking lot.”
“Well, why would you spy on a guy getting a blowjob? Are you some kind of pervert I should be concerned about?”
“No sir, I’m not a pervert. I swear,” said Kent, and he looked serious.
Detective Chambers thought for a few seconds then his eyes widened. “So, here’s how it went down.
You asked this Angie Abbott girl to go hiking with you in the woods. You figured doing that would give you two the chance to be alone. You wanted some pussy.
She refused. You got pissed off, and then you raped and killed her.”
Kent looked at Detective Chambers and couldn’t believe what he just said. “No, no, that’s not what happened.”
“Then tell me the truth,” said Detective Chambers, and they couldn’t wait for another lie. “Why did you have this sketch of the Meyers’ cabin?”
“I went to the woods by Meyers’ cabin to film the cabin,” said Kent. Then he stopped and knew he had to change the reason a little.
“Film that cabin; why would anybody want to film that old dump?” said Detective Chambers thinking that was a bit odd and probably a lie.
“He was a Moonshiner. I was thinking of doing a documentary on it. Maybe selling the film.”
“To film the story about a Moonshiner?”
“Yes, sir.”
Detective Chambers thought about his story for a few seconds. “Apparently, you don’t have a car, as a car wasn’t at the scene, so you walked all the way from the Peach Tree Motor Court to that area by Meyers’ cabin to film a Moonshiner’s cabin?”
“That’s correct.”
“That sounds so unbelievable.”
“Well, that’s why I was there.”
“Okay, so then what happened?”
“I heard Grant Bowers and Angie Bowers having an argument. He got her pregnant and wouldn’t marry her. She threatened to tell her daddy and have him put
Grant in Air Force prison. So he started to strangle her. I tried to stop him, but he hit me. I…”
“You tried to stop him. He hit you. You passed out and woke up next to her naked dead body,” said Detective Chambers interrupting Kent.
“That’s what happened,” said Kent.
Detective Chambers reached into his suit jacket and removed a pack of Lucky Strike cigarettes. He took out a cigarette, lit it, took a drag, then exhaled the smoke at Kent. “That’s total bullshit,” he said. “You were passed out, right?”
“That’s correct, sir.”
“So you didn’t actually see Grant Bowers kill Angie Abbott?”
Kent was slightly surprised by that question but had to tell the truth. “Ah, no. I didn’t see him kill her, but I did see him try at first, so I assumed he finished the job.”
“You assumed,” said Detective Chambers.
Kent knew that he was his hole was being dug deeper and deeper.
Detective Chambers reached into his right suit pocket and removed Kent’s driver’s license. He slapped it on the table. “What kind of forged identification is this?” he said, placing his right index finger on the driver’s license.
Kent saw his driver’s license and cringed, realizing that would make his situation worse.
“Plastic, with your picture,” he said, glancing down at the license.
“Your picture has blondish hair, and it’s long.”
“Are you trying to be a girl” “Are you one of those creeps that like to dress up as a woman?” “Maybe I can get you a dress to wear in my cell,” he added with a chuckle, then glared at Kent.
There were a few awkward moments of silence for Kent while he glanced down at his driver’s license.
“The issue date of October third, nineteen seventy-nine?” “And the birthday is nineteen fifty-one,” said Detective Chambers, glaring at Kent.
Kent kept his mouth shut and didn’t know what to say to escape this one. He now wished he left his driver’s license in the time machine.
“You have to be the dumbest murderer I’ve run across. You created this bizarre identification, then you are so stupid that you put the issue date way out in the future,” he said, then took another drag on his Lucky Strike. He exhaled the smoke at Kent.
Kent moved his face away from the smoke and knew his goose was cooked. “I don’t want to say anything until I talk with an attorney.”
“And then you have a birthday that makes you six years old,” said Detective Chambers taking another drag and blowing smoke in Kent’s face.