Billy: A Tale Of Unrelenting Terror
Page 16
“CO FAIRE?” "Why?”
COONASS ethnic term for Cajun; sometimes considered derogatory, sometimes used with pride
“COO-WEE!” “Wow! Look at that!”
COUYON an ignorant person
DEFANTE’ a dear departed sainted woman
“DIT MON LA VERITE’! ” “Tell me the truth!”; a response when told something unbelievable
“EMBRASSE MOI TCHEUE!” “Kiss my ass!”
EN D’OEUILLE to be in mourning
FAIBLESSE faint
“FAIT PAS UNE ESQUANDAL!” “Don’t make so much noise!”
“FEET PUE TAN!” “You goddamn son of a bitch!”
“FILS DE PUTAIN” or “FILS DE PUTE” “Son of a bitch.”
FREESONS goose bumps
FREMEERS grossed out
“GA-LEE!” term of excitement
GRAND big
GRAND BEEDE big, clumsy man
GUMBO a thick highly seasoned soup
JE VAS TE PASSE UNE CALOTTE to threaten to slap someone
“MAIS, JAMAIS D’ LA VIE!” “Well, never in my life!”
MAKE THE MISERE’ to cause trouble or misery
MAL AU COUER need to throw up
MAL PRIS stuck in a bad way
“MAUDIT” “Goddamn!”
“MERCI BEAUCOUP” “Thank you very much”
MERDE’ slang for human excrement
MOTIER FOUX half crazy
“OO YE YI!” “That hurts!” or “I am sad!”
PAPA NOEL Santa Clause
PAPERE grandpa
PARRAN godfather
PARESSE lazy
PAUVRE poor
PEESHWANK little girl
“PIC KEE MOI!” “Fuck me!”
“PIC KEE TOI!” “Fuck you!”
PIROGUE small, flat bottomed boat
PODNA partner
POSSEDE’ possessed; term for a bad, mischievous child
P’TIT BOUG little boy
“QUE C’EST Q’ CA?” “What is that?”
RACONTEUR a storyteller
SKINNY MULLET a skinny person
“TUAT T’EN GROSSE BUECHE!” “You have a big mouth!”
VIEUX elderly man
“VOILA MERDE’” “Go to shit.”
ZEERAHB disgusting
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
I wish to thank everyone who encouraged and assisted me in making this book come to life: My mother and editor, Dr. Louaine L. Spriggs, my father and publisher, Jesse Spriggs, my children, Matthew, Arielle, and Destiny. I also wish to thank my brother, Charles, and sister, Lisa Jo, for their input and suggestions, and all of my friends in the Bayou Writer’s Club. Most of all, I wish to thank my wife for her endless patience in putting up with my nonsense and for her appreciation of my disturbingly twisted mind. I would also like to thank anyone who has read my novels. I thank you for investing your time in reading this book and hope that it scares the living shit out of you.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
CLAYTON E. SPRIGGS works as a health care professional in Southeast Louisiana. Married with a son and two stepdaughters, he is an active participant in the Bayou Writer’s Club and a dedicated member of the Who Dat Nation. His first novel, Johnson Road, is available in ebook and paperback editions at Amazon. This is his second novel.
Thank you for reading my book. If you enjoyed it, please take a moment to post a review at your favorite retailer.
Clayton E. Spriggs can be contacted at:
cespriggs@pennmillpub.com
www.pennmillpub.com
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EXCERPTS
On the following pages we have included excerpts from two of Penn Mill Publishing novels; Johnson Road by Clayton E. Spriggs and The Dissector by L.L. Spriggs.
Another Great Mystery Novel from
Penn Mill Publishing. Available in
eBook and Paperback at Amazon.
Hiding in plain sight, a
predator stalks its prey.
When Purvis Johnson fell on hard times, he agreed to sell most of his land to a real estate developer. Before long, the dirt road that once served as his makeshift driveway became a paved street. Newly constructed houses sprung up on both sides. Families moved in. The quiet neighborhood became the perfect place to raise a family. Meet Jake and Mary Bickman and their two sons, the first to move into their new home. Soon, Thomas and Gladys Jenkins buy the house across the street and introduce a beautiful baby girl to the world. The wealthy Peterson couple and their two children build the big house near the end of the block, right next door to the tiny shack where the Johnsons still reside. One by one, tragedy will strike them all. Welcome to Peterson County, Alabama, mid-twentieth century Americana; a quaint, rural community on its journey to becoming the suburban utopia promised by the American Dream. By the time the dreamers realize they are trapped inside a nightmare, it’s too late. Something has gone terribly wrong inside the dream – something evil – something on Johnson Road.
Johnson Road Prologue
April 24, 1963: 4:17 pm
Something was wrong. He couldn't explain it. He couldn't point it out, but he could feel it in his gut. The local authorities were gathered near their haphazardly-parked squad cars, looking official and concerned, but Robert knew this was all for show. The detective realized that none of the local deputies or state troopers suspected foul play. He was doubtful that any of them would know what to do about it if they were wrong. Sure, they all wanted to do their job, but they just weren't equipped or trained to do it effectively. All the same, the men needed their positions and their paychecks. Robert understood how they felt. He'd been there once himself.
There wasn't much difference between the deputies and the state troopers. On the outside, you could tell them apart. The troopers had that air of experience and 'gravitas' that they'd worked hard to acquire and even harder to exhibit, and, of course, those hats. Their presence that day ensured the sheriff's deputies maintained a degree of professional decorum. Monkey see, monkey do, Robert mused.
Detective Robert Stallworth had worked hard to get where he was, but it wasn't just hard work that had made him successful - it was instinct. He didn't know why he had those gut feelings that served him so well, but he knew not to ignore them. His gut was screaming at him now, and he wasn't about to let it go.
Poking around in the dirt on the ground with his boot, Robert detected what he thought was a slight difference in texture in the shaded spot under the big oak halfway down the ravine. When his men saw him crouching down, they knew what was coming next.
"Get the shovels. We'll dig here," Robert shouted.
The troopers were already on their way, knowing the detective's MO and reputation for finding dead things. The local deputies' initial reaction was familiar to Robert - something between incomprehension and disbelief; like a herd of cows seeing a running tractor for the first time. Taking their cue from the state troopers, the deputies quickly followed suit, trying to assume a show of competency, despite the obvious reluctance of the local sheriff.
"Now, now, Detective, just what do you expect to find?" bellowed Sheriff Clifford Gaskin, a good ole boy who wasn't about to let these outsiders disrespect his position.
Robert ignored the sheriff's question as he stared at the ground beneath his feet, trying to mentally size up the exact parameters of the imminent dig. The troopers returned with the shovels, and started to dig.
Sheriff Gaskin started to repeat his question, but thought twice about it. He didn't want to be shown up in front of his boys in the event something important was unearthed, so he decided it wasn't in his best interest to voice any more opposition at this point. After a couple of seconds, the sheriff climbed down to where the men were gathering to get a closer look.
"Don't just stand there, boys, dig in," he instructed his two closest deputies, with a grandiose show of authority.
Clifford hadn't become sheriff by accident, nor by hard work, but by the hard work of others and enough sense to tag along. He was hedging his bets. If there was success - he would share in the praise. If there wasn't - he'd already stated his doubts. No one could claim he wasn't a team player.
As the shovels tore deeper and deeper into the mud, with nothing coming up but dirt and roots, it appeared as though Sheriff Gaskin had been right all along. As each scoop was torn from the ground with no results, the men began to hesitate, but Detective Stallworth's gaze never wavered. Given his Zen-like focus, there was no misunderstanding. The digging wasn't over.
When it seemed that even the detective might abandon the quest, a slight discoloration appeared in the deeper soil. It looked as if some sort of white powder had been mixed in with the dark, moist earth. Observing the sudden find, everyone present thought the same thing - quicklime.
Minutes later, a white rounded object became visible against the black muck. The men set their shovels aside and brushed gently through the soil until the object was unearthed. A hush enveloped the group as they gazed down into the dank hole and its grisly contents.
The deputies looked at the state troopers, who looked toward the detective. Robert's eyes met the sheriff's for a moment, and the two men let out a faint sigh in unison before returning their attention to the sight at their feet.
The men silently stared at the macabre item. Each man present would feel the sting of guilt as the terrible vision disturbed his slumber in the years that followed - the haunting image of a human skull, gazing unseeing into the empty sky, seeking justice long denied
To Order Johnson Road
Click Here To Order Paperback Edition
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.
Another Great Mystery Novel from
Penn Mill Publishing. Available in
eBook and Paperback at Amazon.
Greed, Lust, Revenge, and
Murder in a Medical School.
When Dr. Sarah Whitley entered the doors of the medical school, she thought the dream she had worked so hard for had finally come true. She had attained her first position as an Assistant Professor of Anatomy in a prestigious medical school in a uniquely historic city. Instead, what she found was the beginning of a nightmare that would change her life in ways she never imagined.
She had always looked up to the professors who had taught her throughout her education. They were 'all knowing'; they were never wrong; and they were well respected professionals - everything she aspired to be. It didn't take her long to discover that her new faculty colleagues were flawed human beings, driven by greed, ambition, and lust. And they all had one thing in common - fear. Fear of the powerful and ruthless, Dr. Roberts, the Head of the Department of Anatomy.
While all Sarah wanted was to concentrate all her efforts on becoming an effective lecturer and anatomy lab instructor, she inadvertently discovered the secrets hidden behind the closed doors of the offices and research labs of her fellow faculty - from the illicit affair between two scientists, to the sexual predator masquerading under the guise of a well-funded researcher, to the manipulative and double-crossing Department Head.
When compelled by Dr. Roberts to spend more time in the morgue, assisting with the embalming and preparation of the cadavers to be used in the medical school Gross Anatomy course, Sarah sees things that she shouldn't see. But asking questions could be dangerous...
The Dissector Prologue
MEDICAL SCHOOL PROFESSOR MISSING
WHERE'S THE DOC?
You couldn't miss the headline on the front page of the Times-Picayune newspaper, and the story was featured on all three of the New Orleans television news programs - at least for a couple of days until something juicier came along. Several of the administrators of the Medical College of Louisiana were interviewed, but none of them had anything meaningful to contribute. They did, however, take the opportunity to praise Dr. Roberts for his leadership of the Department of Anatomy and for his years of service to the Medical College.
Gossip ran rampant among both the faculty and students of the medical school, and the rumors about what had happened to Dr. Roberts encompassed all possible scenarios - he was hit in the head and had amnesia; he was working for the CIA and had to go underground; he had run off to Tahiti with a Bourbon Street stripper; he was abducted by aliens.
Dr. Lily Roberts, the good doctor's wife, was even more mystified by her husband's disappearance than anyone. She thought they had been close. After all, they had been married for forty-two years. Sure, they had had some rough spots in their marriage, but that was years ago, and they had gotten over that. In fact, they had been talking about his retiring soon so they could spend more time with their children and grandchildren in Ohio.
She had been a little irritated when he hadn't called to tell her he'd arrived safely in Lucerne, Switzerland for the conference he was going to attend. But she had just chalked that up to the time difference and the possibility that he had gotten caught up in greeting colleagues he hadn't seen for years. After two days of no word, however, she called the police.
First, the police contacted the hotel in which Dr. Roberts had been planning to stay, but the hotel had no record of his ever having checked in. They then contacted the airlines and found that his scheduled flight from New Orleans to New York had left on-time, but he hadn't been on it, nor had he been on his connecting flight to Lucerne. Just to make sure that he hadn't changed his plans at the last minute, the police checked all flights leaving New Orleans on the last night he had been seen. They found nothing.
A full scale investigation ensued and the detectives from the New Orleans Police Department made it a point to talk to anyone and everyone associated with the Anatomy Department, from maintenance people to full professors. They found out that the last person to see Dr. Roberts was Mrs. Sanders, his Administrative Assistant. She had left at her usual time, she said, and Dr. Roberts had still been in his office doing some last minute work before catching the airport shuttle for his trip.
After checking with the shuttle service, they found out that the shuttle had indeed picked up several people from that location on the night in question, but the company couldn't find a list of passengers. The shuttle driver didn't remember picking up anyone fitting Roberts' description, but that didn't mean much, he said, because there were quite a few passengers that night and he really couldn't be sure.
The detectives ran Dr. Roberts' credit cards through the system, but none had been used since the day of his disappearance. His bank accounts hadn't been touched. Same for his cell phone records. No calls going out; just a long list of unanswered incoming calls, most from his wife's number.
Despite the early publicity and the efforts of the Police Department, no new clues emerged and the case quickly went cold. The detectives had to move on to more pressing issues, but they assured Dr. Lily that the case would remain open and they'd continue to follow any new leads.
For her part, Dr. Lily Roberts spent most of her days ping-ponging between deep despair, soul-wrenching anger, and unrealistic hopefulness. Where was Yancey?
Dr. Yancey Roberts, it seemed, had vanished into thin air.
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Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter
Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
EXCERPTS
Johnson Road Prologue
The Dissector Prologue
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
EXCERPTS
Johnson Road Prologue
The Dissector Prologue