Traveling, Reading, Signing My Latest Novel, 'Haunted Bones

Readings and Signing for Haunted Bones:

I’m off on a book tour this next week. First up is a reading and signing event at the Book Carnival in Orange, between 2 to 5 p.m., on Sunday, Nov. 17. Next, I’ll be in Phoenix being interviewed on the Pat McMahon radio show at 8 a.m., on Friday, Nov. 22. On Nov. 30, I’ll be at the Dog-Eared Page bookstore in Phoenix. If any of you are in the vicinity of any of these events, drop by and say hello.

What I’m Thinking Now:

For the 2016 Presidential campaign, there’s little doubt the Democrats will run a woman, most likely Hillary Clinton. If the GOP wants to win, they’re going to have to meet that challenge with a strong Republican woman/women candidate(s). Here are two highly-capable women now leading their states: Gov. Nikki Haley of South Carolina and Gov. Susana Martinez of New Mexico. Condolesa Rice is a good possibility, but definitely not Sarah Palin – mention of her name causes a fire storm in many quarters. For 2016, is definitely going to be the year of the woman. We’ve got some good choices to go up against Hillary.

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There’s little or no chance of “ObamaCare” being repealed in the foreseeable future. Those opposing it should just sit back and watch things unfold. If it works, so be it. If it collapses, then the nay-sayers were right and the GOP will be the big winner in the next two elections.

My Readers Write:

Hi Tom,

Took advantage of a total “day off” this weekend and decided to spend a few moments with “Haunted Bones.” What a pleasant surprise! The few moments went into hours of full engagement.

I found myself totally immersed in the book. Local references took me to the scenes as if I was part of the investigating team. I was looking for the clues to help solve the crimes. Next morning I almost searched the newspapers for news on the case.

I think those detectives deserve a sequel.

 Loved it! Congratulations

Joe Villela, Oceanside

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Buy your copy of “Haunted Bones” with free shipping at:

 tomorrowsnovels.com

My earlier novel, “Nebraska Doppelganger,” a World War II thriller, also is available at: tomorrowsnovels.com”

A bonus on my web site (above link) you’ll find a complete booklet, “Write You Life Story,” a few idea for writing autobiographies and biographies.

Below, find the next chapter of my novella, “Dark Angel.”

Chapter

5

     Merle Sanbourne operated a small one-chair barber shop in downtown Oceanside. There was a constant babble of jokes, rumors and political pontificating flowing through the air inside his shop. These days a lot was being said about the strange shootings by a sniper in town.

          “From what I’ve seen thus far, I think the guy’s got the right idea,” said one balding customer, who was having what little hair he had trimmed. “In fact, if I knew who he was, I’d offer to buy his ammunition.”

          Merle Sanbourne’s clientel tended to lean conservative in politics, and more times than not, “red-neck” in their social attitude. The shop reflected his own true feelings, but while most everyone knew what they were, Merle seldom commented on anything – occasionally shaking his head to whichever the direction of consensus would take the conversation.

          Merle was finding it hard not to chime in, but he learned a long time ago it was best to keep his opinions to himself. Most, but not all of those who frequented his shop, thought alike. Arguments were frequent; sometimes the discussions got pretty heated.

          Another customer sitting, waiting for Merle’s chair to be empty, agreed, shaking his head, not taking his eyes from the sports page he was reading.

          “They ought to give the guy a medal,” said another.

The barber was dying to confess his part in the day’s news, but knew it was information he’d take to the grave. Not even his wife would ever know.

          “You must really be happy about that molester fella getting’ knocked off,” another customer reckoned.

          Sanbourne looked down his glasses at him, said nothing, going back to the grooming task at hand.

          “Sorry, Merle. Didn’t mean to open up any old wounds,” the customer said when he realized his remark probably made Merle think of the dark days after finding his daughter raped and bludgeoned to death. The culprit was never found.

      Yes, he was delighted with the public service the sniper was performing. In fact, Sanbourne considered the man, whoever he may be, an angel sent from heaven.

Merle Sanbourne remained dumbfounded at his new-found power in directing the death of another human being, no matter how evil they might be. His mind seemed to explode with possibilities in searching for other crimes against society that could well fit this method of elimination, no matter how naïve it may seem. Sanbourne couldn’t stop pondering what sort of person this executioner was who delivers this seemingly righteous justice?

Sanbourne thought of myriad crimes he’d like to eliminate. Bank robbers? Burglars? Wife-beaters? Too many to contemplate. The mind boggles, he thought. But, none seemed to reach the magnitude of the child molester.

Suddenly he thought of another – drug pushers. The chatter continued in the barber shop, but Merle’s mind was elsewhere, but his scissors continued their task at hand.

 If drugs could be eliminated, even to a small degree, society would be the better for it,” he thought. Who fits this description in today’s world? Of course, gang-bangers. It didn’t matter what color or ethnic group, Mexican, Black, even Anglo gangs all pushed drugs to young people, Sanbourne thought. And, plenty of them are getting off, scot free. The scissors continued mowing the follicles on the head at hand.

What about sending a question to the PO box in Holtville?

Sanbourne had not destroyed the two-page letter as he was supposed to do. He re-read it and found a line he had missed on his original read:

For questions, send brief verbiage to Holtville; for answers see Tuesday’s edition of daily Blade under “Personals.”

He thought about his proposal all day and into the evening. Around 2 o’clock in the morning, Merle awoke from a sound sleep and decided to pose the following question:

“Angel: Should drug-pushing gang-’bangers be held accountable?”

He put on his surgical gloves, loaded a fresh piece of paper into his printer and composed the question on his computer. After printing it out, he eliminated it from his word processor.

The next day he dropped the question into the mail, only this time he took it to the Vista Post Office so as not to create a pattern.

Sanbourne mailed his question on Thursday. Waiting until Tuesday’s paper seemed like an eternity.

“Had he opened a new can of worms?” he wondered. Maybe not unless he sent further information. There were five days in which to contemplate this life-and-death question.

Tuesday morning Sanbourne heard the newpaper hit his driveway as the Blade carrier drove past his house. It was 4:30 a.m., right on time.

Merle slipped on his pants and scurried out to the front of his driveway. He would have gone out in his underwear, but Mrs. Caldwell across the street might be out watering her lawn. The old woman got up early in the morning, so she could get her nose in everyone’s day break business.

Sanbourne picked up the rolled paper, slipped off the rubber band as he walked back into the house. Stretching the newspaper across the kitchen table, he began poring over the classified section. Suddenly he spied the answer he sought in the Personals. “Angel agrees.”

That was the message -- short, sweet, and very simple. Anyone else reading the notice would have no clue as to its meaning. Placing a classified ad in the “Personal” columns of any newspaper could say and mean anything. A lot of weird folks use this method to communicate. It’s doubtful the classified sales clerks would even question this or any other message. If Merle were more techno savvy the message could have been delivered via e-mail, but that would be too easy to trace. This is a better method.

Merle realized the next move was up to him. He’d have to come up with likely candidates who needed removing from society. He’d have to select those who either have evaded arrest and/or conviction and prison, or those getting light sentences. There were a lot of the latter with state budgetary constraints being what they were.

“For god’s sake, they’re emptying out minimum security prisons to save money,” he thought. “That might be a good place to start.”

What about a convict’s so-called rehabilitation? Surely some do, indeed, reform and lead meaningful and productive lives after leaving prison. But, for drug dealers and gang members, there usually is no such thing as rehabilitation. In fact, going to prison not only is a right-of-passage and a kind of badge of honor among gang-’bangers, but it’s like going to a perpetrator’s college of higher learning. Being incarcerated is an opportunity to learn from more senior gang members. It was a nasty system. It’s as though an honest prisoner doesn’t have a chance behind bars. Sanbourne would do what he could to wipe the bad guys from the face of the earth.

“Where to start? How about the newspaper? There always is a plethora of stories and names concerning such things.” He would begin there.

Just then his wife, Helen, walked into the kitchen, rubbing her eyes.

“What are you doing up at this hour, dear?”

“Oh, I couldn’t sleep. I’m just reading the paper to see who did what to whom and what politicians are screwing us now,” he replied.

“Good luck with that,” she said, shuffling over to the sink to fill the coffee maker with water.

“What if by some magic we could eliminate a lot of crime in this world?” her husband pondered.

“Yeah, good luck with that too, Sherlock.”

Sanbourne ignored his wife’s dry sarcasm and continued scouring the morning paper. A new search had begun for more child-molesting and drug-pushing candidates.