Book Review by Denise Cassino
In this tale of grisly murders in a small town, Paul Wagner delivers a plot that keeps the reader guessing until the very end. When Rob Smith, a detective from the San Jose, arrives home for a visit to the small town of Stove Creek, he discovers the town and his family have been caught in the clutches of a religious cult, the founder of which seems to have his hands into everything. When a dismembered female, last seen at the cult compound, turns up, Rob is recruited by the local sheriff to assist in the investigation. Before long, he is a suspect himself, but subsequent murders indicate another killer and Rob is exonerated and ultimately crucial in finding the murderer. A well-written novel with a carefully-crafted plot, this a real page turner. Paul's writing just gets better and better.
BOOK SUMMARY
In a thinly populated spot in northern Oregon, a self-proclaimed messiah and his flock dominate life in the hamlet of Stove Creek. It is also paradise on earth for a serial killer, whose transient victims go undiscovered, murder unsuspected. Then a Denver lawyer comes looking for one of the youthful cult members. A hometown hero (now a San Jose cop) simultaneously returns to Stove Creek, and a dismembered corpse is discovered. There are no clues. No apparent motive. As the story unfolds, more deaths occur and Rob Swift, once Stove Creek’s brightest athletic star, is drawn into the investigation, then becomes a suspect himself.
SAMPLE CHAPTER
BAGGER SLOWED approaching a bridge with low wooden rails. Ahead of them, they could see a middle-aged man in overalls and a red baseball cap standing next to a mud-spattered black Chevy pickup. “Is that...?” Rob started to say.
“Fremont Bell,” Bagger said as he parked behind the pickup. “Owner, publisher, editor, and reporter of our weekly Times Herald.”
They got out of the Porsche and Gunter got out of the patrol car parked behind them.
“Howdy, Chief,” newsman Bell greeted. “And Robbie,” he nodded at the youth.
“Is that you Rob Swift? My God...”
“What are you doing up here, Monty?” Bagger cut in.
“Arlo called me. Said there was a story breakin’.”
“Grrr,” Bagger rumbled a displeased growl. “Well don’t start composing your Pulitzer acceptance yet. It might be nothing but a cowboy’s wet dream.” He started across the road. “Let’s hike up there and see what’s what.”
Gunter scooted ahead of them and began to walk up the creek bank, nimble as a goat. Two more vehicles pulled up and parked. “Sheriff’s boys are here,” Bagger said, giving them a wave. He followed after Gunter and the others trailed along.
The water in Stove Creek had receded to its normal volume, but the banks remained muddy and slippery. “If a murder took place out here, there’s not much chance there’ll be any clues left in this creek bed after that rain,” Rob commented, stepping carefully in his running shoes.
“No chance,” Bagger agreed. “No footprints, nothing. It’ll be like looking for a pubic hair on a turkey.”
After hiking seven or eight minutes, they saw Dusty Ryan next to a big bay horse ahead of them. Dusty was watching Gunter who was digging in the bank with a stick.
“Dwayne!” Bagger roared. “What the hell are you doing? Get away from there.”
Gunter snapped up and jumped back, slipping on the muddy surface and falling to his butt. “I was only---” He looked at Bagger. “Chief, it’s just her head. There’s no body.”
“Wait here,” Bagger said to Rob and Robbie. He walked to Gunter, bent down, took a look at the spot where the mud had been scraped away, then came back.
“I don’t want you to see this, Robbie. I’m sorry I dragged you up here.”
One of the sheriff’s deputies downstream from them called, “I’ve got some toes---a foot---down here. It’s probably the rest of her.”
Robbie walked back toward the deputy. “Which foot is it?” he asked timidly.
“Right or left?”
The deputy busily moved mud with a gardener’s trowel as he spoke. “It’s, uh, the left.”
“Is there---” Robbie stopped before getting closer. “Is there a tattoo on the ankle? Nicole had a tattoo. A little...angel.” He glanced back at Rob and Bagger. “She called it Eros, the God of love.”
The deputy quit digging. “Well, let’s see.” He stepped to the creek and scooped water into a pail, then returned to the foot and rinsed it. “Yep. Got a tattoo. An angel, sure enough.”
Bagger pulled Robbie back and looked at Rob. “That’s good enough for me. It’s her.”
“The girl missing from the Family farm?” newsman Bell asked eagerly. Bagger nodded. The deputy, who had continued digging, said: “This leg’s not attached to anything. It’s just a leg.”
Another voice spoke up farther downstream, “I’ve got an arm here.”
Chief and Rob looked at each other. “He cut her up,” they said simultaneously.
“Great God almighty!” Bell exclaimed. “Every news service in the country will go for this story.” He pulled a digital camera out of his bag and began snapping photos.
“Now, hold on, Monty.” Bagger approached Bell and clutched his arm. “A crime like this is sure to bring pushy media types from all over into Stove Creek. That is not in the best interests of the community, and especially not in the best interests of Family Unity---of which you are a council member. A media circus could seriously damage the church and everything we’re trying to do.”
Bell was visibly torn. His eyebrows twisted into a tormented frown and he opened and closed his mouth several times without saying anything. Bagger added, “You talk to Father Joshua, and I’m sure he’ll tell you to hold off until we’ve got the killer arrested.”
A short pause, then Bell nodded. “I remember what happened with the Branch Davidian story. You’re right, Chief. I guess we better go slow, here.”
BAGGER LED Rob and Robbie back down to the bridge where the cars were parked and they got into the white Porsche. The chief remained outside the car several moments talking on his cell phone. Rob could hear enough of the conversation to know that Bagger was talking to Sheriff Bledsoe, explaining what they had found. Bagger argued that news of the discovery would be a political hot potato, and a tight lid should be kept on the story until the killer was arrested. When the chief finally got into the car, Rob said, “You’re kidding yourself if you think the media aren’t going to find out about this. Even if Monty Bell sits on it, one of those deputy sheriffs will tell his wife and she’ll tell a friend and---”
“The sheriff’s people won’t say a word. You know nothing about farm country politics, Roberto. Sheriff Bledsoe is running for re-election. Joshua and Family Unity can deliver every vote in Stove Creek. Bledsoe will protect us with a threat of castration to anyone who leaks a whisper.”
Rob cracked his knuckles. “You’re walking a dangerous line, Bagger. No matter what the sheriff says, it could leak out, and the press goes for this kind of thing like ants for chocolate. They’ll swarm all over this town and that Family Unity farm. They’ll find out about your connection and investment there¾a conflict of interest if there ever was one.”
Bagger said, “You going to tell ‘em?”
“I don’t talk to media people. But somebody will. This could ruin Stove Creek and you along with it.”
“Not if we get the killer before they find out. We’ll give the media the story as soon as we arrest the butcher who did this.”
Rob muttered, “Yeah...butcher.”
He continued to stare at Bagger as he chose his words, but before he could mention the meat-cutting minister, Bagger spoke. “It won’t take long. There have only been two out-of-towners around here in the past month, that lawyer from Denver---” He turned to face Rob. “And you.”
#
Fiction writing as a career first occurred to Paul Wagner in school when he won first prize in a contest held by a Denver newspaper to promote a Ronald Reagan movie. Born and raised in Colorado, he graduated from South Denver High School, then Colorado State. After college, he became a transplanted Californian when the U.S. Navy assigned him to the 12th Naval District Public Information Office in San Francisco. While there, he sold his first short story to Leatherneck Magazine.
Writing fiction took a detour following the Navy hitch. He went into radio broadcasting, gathering and reporting news on four different stations in central and northern California. Writing radio and TV commercials came next with advertising agencies in Sacramento. One of his clients recruited him away from ad agency work, and for the next 25 years he climbed the corporate ladder at American Recreation Centers, Inc. His writing there focused on company training manuals, advertising, sales letters, and annual reports. He was Vice President when he retired in l988.
Thirty-five years after his first story appeared in print, his short stories began to be published again. Magazines like Army, Boy's Life, Listen, and Young Salvationist featured his work. Also, publishers in Germany, Singapore, and Portugal included Wagner's stories in books and texts.
An early computer and internet enthusiast, he constructed several websites in the 90s, including an online magazine directed at encouraging teenaged writers. AboutTeens Magazine is still going strong, publishing new material every month. Stories and essays are submitted from all over the world (many by adult writers.) The zine also features humor in the form of jokes and funny photos.
Wagner's first Young Adult novel, The A-Club Mystery was published in 1997. A courtroom drama followed, titled, All Rise: The Criminal Trial of 4 Teens, then Just One Mo' and a short story collection Jock Jokes and Other Stories. His detective/mystery The Houseboat Murders was released in January, 2006.
Paul and his wife Nita live in Sacramento, California. They have four children, 8 grandchildren, one dog, and an RV.
