The Crawford Chronicles
By Clayton Conrad
Copyright 2015: Clayton Conrad. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author / publisher.
Dedication
I wish to dedicate this work to Karen Lynne, without whose encouragement and help this book would not have been possible. And a big thanks to my family.
Table of Contents
Contents
Preface
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Preface
Melvin Howard, alone in the car, gripped the steering wheel so tight that his knuckles turned white. Straining his eyes and trying to see the tail lights of the lead car through the dirty windshield, he continued complaining to himself. His head lights barely pierced the inky darkness of the night.
“I hate this shit!” he grumbled. “I hate driving at night.” He was hunched over the steering wheel, squinting his eyes, trying to see. His muscles were tightly drawn, nervous sweat ran down his forehead. He continued bitching as he drove. “I can’t see well enough and Stanley knows that, but does he care? Hell NO! He’s always thinking of himself. And this fucking road with its twisting curves, narrow shoulders…and no guard rails don’t make it any better. It’s 2:30 in the morning on a night as black as pitch. If I’m not careful, I’ll end up at the bottom of one of these ravines. I’ll pull up closer to his tail lights. Sure, he’ll complain about it, but that’s all he does is bitch anyway! I don’t give a rat’s ass.”
His volume increased with the continued tirade. “And another thing, why is it that he gets to drive that super nice sports car while I get stuck with this piece of shit?! It never fails; I always get the short end of the stick. One of these days I’m really going to tell him a thing or two.”
Just about then, the lead car tapped his break lights and put on the right turn signal, carefully turning off onto the narrow shoulder. Melvin Howard followed the sports car. Both men got out and walked towards each other.
“Why’d you follow me so close, Howie?!” Stanley demanded, his voice hard and irritated, “thought you were going to run into me back there.”
“You know I don’t like to drive at night, you know that, Stanley. I closed up on you so I wouldn’t lose sight of you on of those stupid curves. It’s dark out here ya know,” Melvin added for emphasis.
“Yeah, well you were too close. Come on now and help me with her,” Stanley said, still miffed as he walked to the back of the little sports car and popped the trunk open.
They stood at the back of the car and looked down on the young woman that lay crumpled in the bottom of the small trunk. She whimpered a little, but otherwise didn’t move. The strapless evening gown was completely disheveled. Her left breast was bare and visible in the dim light of the trunk. Her dress was askew and revealed her shapely thigh and the light pink lace panties she wore. Her long blond hair fell loosely over the left side of her attractive face.
“She’s a real looker, ain’t she, Stanley,” Howie said as he looked down on the unconscious woman, a wolfish grin spreading across his face. “Let’s put her in the back seat and have some fun with her first, ok Stanley? I’m getting hard just lookin’ at her.”
“What? You been taking dumb-ass pills again? Suppose someone comes along and sees us with her? Just suppose that, will you? You think of that. Now stop the nonsense and grab her head and shoulders, I’ll get her feet.”
“Oh sure, I get the heavy end,” Howie grumbled. “Stanley, why is it I always get the heavy end?”
“Yeah, Yeah, that’s because I’m a lot smarter than you are, Howie, and I’m on a little higher plane than you.” At Howie’s sharp glare, Stanley offered, “It isn’t your fault, it’s just the way things work out. Now help me put her in behind the steering wheel and never mind the rest of it…it’s beyond your grasp.”
“Ok” Howie said and bent over and lifted the body of the woman out of the trunk.
Once they got her behind the steering wheel Stanley buckled her in and put the idling car in gear. Taking a long stick he brought along, he stood by the open car door, reached over the woman’s lap and jammed the stick down hard on the gas pedal. The car lurched forward as Stanley jumped back just in time to see the car leap off the road down an embankment, taking loose brush and small saplings on its way to the edge of a deep ravine. Over the edge it jolted until it was lost from sight. When it finally hit the bottom it exploded into a tremendous fire ball.
The two men stood in silence for a few minutes as the huge flames lit up the night. The flames illuminated their faces.
“Pity.” Stanley said as he watched, almost mesmerized by the scene. “That car was worth $100,000. Maybe more.”
“I never thought of it like that,” Howie said, rubbing his chin in deep thought. “She was worth some big bucks too, wasn’t she Stanley?”
“Yeah, and look what good it did her.”
“Yeah. We really cooked her goose, didn’t we, Stanley?” Howie snickered.
“You’re a sick man Howie. Sick.”
Chapter 1
Was it Shakespeare who wrote the immortal words, “What fools us mortals be...” I sometimes wonder if that was a question or a statement. If, say, it was pertaining to me, it would be the latter case, I’m sure. My name is Clayton Charles Crawford, and this is my story.
***
He received the call just after 7 am. He had just finished his morning exercise and showered when the phone rang. The caller I.D. announced his father-in-law, Frank Wellington.
“Yeah Frank, how are things going in your neck of the woods?” Clayton Answered. There was a long pause.
“Frank, are you there?”
Finally, “Michelle is dead.” Frank’s voice was quiet and subdued and cracked at the end.
“What?!”
“Michelle’s dead,” Frank repeated, monotone. “Some time last night. Car accident. Drove off the side of a mountain. I guess the crash sparked a fire that was spotted by a forest ranger. The fire department had it out in an hour or so. That’s when they found the car. That little sports car I got her last year.”
Clayton took a moment to take it all in. He heard Frank’s deep sigh. “What was she doing out there?”
“She was at a party at Senator Harding’s hunting lodge in the Blue Ridge Mountains last night. It must have happened about the time my plane landed, right around 3:00 am. I’ve been in Europe for the past two weeks, on business. A detective Richa
rds, Carl Richards called me just now to inform me of the accident.”
“Geez Frank, I’ll get out of here as soon as I can.” Clayton thought for a moment. “Gotta make a few phone calls and take care of some business myself. But, I’ll catch a plane as fast as I can. Don’t do anything until I get there, just sit tight. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
“Wait a minute, Clayton,” Frank said, “I’ll send my plane for you. If they leave right away they should be there in three or four hours. Let’s see, its seven your time now. They could pick you up at 10 or 10:30. If you could be ready by then, that is.”
“Four hours, yes, I think I can be ready by then. I’ll damn well try anyway. I think I can handle everything by phone. Have your pilots call me when they get in and I’ll meet them at the airport.”
“Right, see you tonight,” Frank disconnected.
Clayton was the CEO and sole owner of Clayton Alarm and Security Systems, a growing company with offices in several cities in California and Arizona. He wasn’t a rich man by some standards, but lived quite comfortably.
Michelle, the woman who had just lost her life in a car accident was Clayton’s estranged wife. They had been separated for almost three years, but for one reason or another hadn’t gotten a divorce. He lived and worked in California and she lived and worked in Baltimore Maryland. This arrangement seemed to suit them both very well and there were no children involved. Each had simply gone their separate ways.
After arriving at his office he informed his secretary he would be out of state for a month or so, on family business, seeing to the funeral. Then several phone calls later he buzzed his Vice President Timothy Hold on the company line.
“You got it Tim, the whole Sutten match. For a while anyway. Michelle was killed in a car accident last night in Baltimore. I’d better see to things there, so I need you to take over for me until I return. Don’t make any great changes and keep things much the same way.”
“Right,” Tim replied. “You don’t have to worry about anything at this end, I can handle it. There is a contract due to be signed in a few weeks with Wilson Electronics, though, and several meetings are scheduled for next month, mostly routine stuff.”
“Yeah, I know Tim. Ratify and fax the contract over to me in Baltimore, but be sure to have our lawyer go over it first. As far as the meetings go, I trust your judgment on those. If you think we should go any further with them call me and let me know.”
“I’m truly sorry for your loss, Clay, and I don’t want you to worry about a thing, as I can handle anything that may come up. Just have a safe trip and call me when you get there.”
Tim Holt was a man in his early fifty’s. At 6’3” he was quite a big man and solidly built, a flashy dresser who liked nice clothes, fast cars and the horses. He and Clayton belonged to the same health club and often worked out together. Tim was a graduate of Harvard Law School, came from old money and was well respected. He was a bit of a snob and fit right in with what he referred to as his “inner circle”, from which Clayton shied away.
Tim gently replaced the receiver in its cradle with a slight smile on his face.
“So the bitch finally got what she so richly deserved,” he thought to himself. “And now, of course Clayton has to rush off and play the part of the grief-stricken husband, what a laugh.”
He drummed his fingers on his desk as he sat deep in thought. Her death opened the door to some interesting possibilities though. He’d have to make some phone calls and who knows, this could be an opportunity knocking at his door.
After talking to Tim, Clayton called Wanda Newton, a lady he’d been seeing, and made an early lunch date at their favorite restaurant. He made a few more calls to some friends and quickly packed his bags.
By 10:00 he was out the door and on his way to meet Wanda. The morning sky was partly cloudy with a breeze blowing in from the ocean. He drove the short distance to the restaurant and parked across the street in a public parking lot. It was unseasonably warm for the month of June, so close to the ocean, but the sun felt good on his face and for some reason he felt almost like the day was bringing with it a new beginning, and it was.
Wanda was an attractive woman in her late twenty’s with dark brown hair, brown eyes, a pleasant smile and a flawless complexion. She owned a real estate agency in town and did very well with it.
“Oh, you’re looking good this morning,” she joked as he approached her table. “I’ll have some of that on the side for later, please.”
“Not so fast lady, ‘cause my momma always told me to be careful of strange women.”
They both laughed as Clayton pecked her on the cheek.
Then turning serious, she looked directly into Clayton’s eyes, “How are you doing Clay, are you all right?”
“Who me? Sure, I’m fine. Oh, you mean about Michelle. Yeah, I’m OK, I guess. We were separated for well over two years you know. And during that period our paths never crossed but once or twice. I kept up with her dad, though. He’s really great guy. I told you about him, remember?”
“Yes, I remember,” she replied. “When are you leaving the city? You’re going to fly, of course?”
At that time the waiter came to take their order. Clayton ordered a light salad and iced tea; he didn’t want anything heavy on his stomach because he tended to get sick when he flew. She had a club sandwich and a cup of soup.
“Frank is sending his plane to get me. It should be here in an hour or so.”
“Must be nice,” she said with a smile, “to have a private plane at your beck and call.”
“Yes, Frank has it all for sure, but I wouldn’t trade places with him for all the tea in Asia.”
“That’s China,” she corrected, “all the tea in China.”
“Wherever it is, it’s perfectly safe. He lost his wife to Cancer; his only son was killed in some far off war in the Middle East somewhere and now his daughter… dead in a car accident. With all his millions, perhaps billions, he must be feeling pretty bad right about now.”
“I guess there’s a flip side to everything,” she said, “Two sides to every coin and two sides to every story.”
“I never thought of it quite like that, but I guess you’re right.”
“What’s the other side of your story?” she asked.
“You mean with Michelle and me? Well, we were married about three months and I had just landed this big contract, a multi-million dollar deal. I couldn’t see anything but money coming in and all that work to do to make it so, to make it happen. I really pushed too hard, working night and day, long trips away for weeks at a time. I developed a kind of tunnel vision where I couldn’t see anything but the end goal, and that was to finish the job.
“Anyway, one day she told me she was flying to Europe the next day and would be gone for a year or more. Told me to take a hike. So she flew off to Europe like she said, and I, being a good little husband, took a hike, like she said. End of story.”
“So, you’re saying that it was all your fault,” she said.
“Oh no, that’s just one side of the story, right? Some day you will have to tell me your story.” He said, “When we have more time.”
“Not on your life, lover! Don’t you know about women yet? We keep our men in the dark and feed them shit.”
They both burst out in laughter at that, so loud, the other patrons turned and looked their way.
“I guess I don’t have time to give you a proper send-off,” she said, composing herself a little, and wiping her eyes from the laughter, careful not to smudge her mascara. “How long will you be gone?” she asked.
“I really don’t know…a month or so, maybe. It’s hard to tell.”
His cell phone rang and it was the pilots who had just landed at the small community airport near the city.
“I don’t like long goodbyes,” he said as they both stood at the same time, “but I’ve got to go now.” He pulled her close and locked her in a passionate embrace, kissing her full on the mouth. Th
e other diners all cheered and clapped as he tossed a $50.00 bill on the table and ran from the restaurant.
She stood there for a moment, dumb-founded, looking at him as he trotted across the street.
“God I love that man,” she said, half waving good-bye.
Chapter 2
Twenty minutes later he pulled through the gates of the airport and drove to the private hangers where his plane was being fueled and checked over for the return flight. Clayton got out of his car and approached the two men who were standing by the plane.
“Mr. Crawford, I’m Ralph Copeland, the senior pilot,” he said, extending his hand to shake as Clayton approached the two men, “and this is James my 2nd officer.”
The plane was a neat job, all black and silver, sleek-looking; and it was comforting to Clayton to see that it had two turbine engines instead of one. He had seen the plane before and even flew in it a few times. What still bothered him was how a thing that heavy could get off the ground by its own power, and more importantly, how it could stay up there with no help.
The Crawford Chronicles - Book 1 Page 1
