Raleigh, NC (PressExposure) June 23, 2009 -- Douglas Chandler Graham grew up in rural Virginia close to Lakeside Amusement Park. He worked summers at this park from the age of twelve until he was eighteen when he joined the U.S. Army Air Force. Honorably discharged from the military, he became a street cop in Roanoke, Virginia. Over the years, he has been a bill collector, salesman, and postman. After retiring from the Postal Service, he became a certified private investigator and bodyguard. He has lived in Florida since 2000.
His first book âSmoke and Murdersâ is a fictionalized story of the murder of the Hodges family as discovered in the small town of Vinton, Virginia, on August 29, 1994. Most of the characters are composites of people known to the author and, except for the murders; most of the situations are made up. Fascinated by the sequence of events as they unfolded, the author could not get the crime off his mind, and over the years, Smoke and Murders evolved. Urged by family and friends to finish the story, the author hopes that it will spark some interest in the real story of a man he believes was falsely convicted.
Smoke and Murders by Douglas Chandler Graham
Book Details: Paperback: 224 pages Publisher: Llumina Press Publish Date March 11, 2009 Language: English ISBN-10: 1605942499 ISBN-13: 978-1605942490 Paper Back Price: $12.95 Hard Cover Price: $27.95 Purchase Link: http://llumina.com/store/smokeandmurders.htm
Smoke and Murders Book Excerpt: Kenny had been working patrol that Saturday night when he got a call from the dispatcher to check on a disturbance at the Stoplight. The Stoplight was a large redneck bar where a lot of the local punks drank beer, shot pool, and fought, usually in that order. It was unusual to get calls there because the owner had what he called, âMy own security.â
Security was a couple of tough guys; one a Vietnam vet with mental problems that moonlighted from his regular post office job and the other just released from prison after spending fifteen years for manslaughter. He had beaten a man to death with his fist. Both enjoyed beating up people, a fact not lost on the Stoplight clientele, unless they got too drunk to remember.
In addition to the beer joint, there were several rundown motel rooms in back. The owner, who was also the bartender, rented rooms by the need. Someone finding a compatible friend may need one for an hour or two, or someone might drink too much and realize he shouldnât be driving, a situation much less frequent than the hourly rental, but it did happen occasionally.
This is where the problem was that Saturday night. Kenny parked the police cruiser well away from where any other car might back into it if leaving and approached the battered steel front door of the Stoplight. Before Kenny had reached the bar, the owner motioned that the problem was behind the building. He disliked cops in his bar. If there is one thing that will kill a party, itâs a cop roaming around where people are well on their way to getting drunk.
Kenny heard pig noises and âdamned copâ and jokes about coming after someone, but he paid as little attention to them as he possibly could so there would be no confrontation. He could take on several of them as drunk as they were, but he wasnât called there for that. As much fun as he thought that might be, whatever the problem was, it was in back of the building. He pushed the nasty steel front door open with his foot leaving.
Bill Kenny walked around the left side of the dirty white building. Soot spots stained the walls low where cars had backed in to park next to the building. The owner had finally put in concrete parking blocks, making a walkway. This wasnât for the customersâ convenience; before the parking blocks had been installed, several customers had backed their cars into the building and crushed the outer layer of cinder blocks. The one dusk-to-dawn light at the entrance to the gravel lot didnât make a lot of light. Kennyâs flashlight shined on wine bottles, beer cans, beer bottles, snack bags, and even some clothing items and a shoe before he could see the motel rooms clearly. Only one room had a light in it, so he headed for that.â
After the third time of getting Amanda off, Adam knew he had better not push his luck for time and he turned Amanda over onto her stomach. He raised her hips until she was on her knees and elbows, her forearms and hands flat on the bed beside her head. Adam looked at the beauty of her raised curved hips. At first, he thought of going into the small brown rosebud that was higher but he needed more time to prepare her for that. She was wet with his saliva and her own slickness. He entered her without any guidance from either of them, and with a few quick thrusts, squeezed her thighs with his hands as he held his breath until he could hold it no more, and then the release, that indescribable feeling of time and space, and nothing, life or death, or heaven that is over all too quickly. Adam fell onto her body and collapsed onto the bed atop her. They both lay until their breathing became normal, saying nothing, enjoying the spent feeling of perfect sex and the closeness of another human. The window air conditioner was no match for all the activity and both glistened with sweat. Adam put his clothes on as he had taken them off. Sticking his legs in the underwear, pants and into his shoes and then got into his shirt that lay on the end of the bed. He didnât want to meet Brad coming home and have the glow of sex, and the smell, still on him. Adam hoped Amanda would shower, but that was her problem. Both now downstairs, he kissed Amanda quickly on the lips. She was still naked with a handful of Kleenex held to her crotch, as he went out into the sweltering heat of mid-afternoon. Several blocks from the house Adam stopped at the first convenience store and bought a twelve pack of Milwaukeeâs Best. He decided he had done everything he could for this day.
For more information, to interact with Author Douglas Chandler Graham by email, and to view his book trailer please visit his Authorâs Page on Books In Sync.
Submitted by Theodocia McLean Owner of Books In Sync Website: http://www.booksinsync.com