Twisted Pieces
 

The Book, 320 pages, Available now from silverleafbooks.com and Amazon.


     Twisted Pieces,  is the continuing saga of John Livingston Harvard, an ex-cop turned private eye.  Raising his seven year old daughter and juggling the harsh realities of his job sometimes proves... complex, compounded by a moral conundrum left with him from his previous case.  As if that wasn’t enough, a woman has entered his life as a... caretaker?  A lover?  A future wife?  He just doesn’t know.
     His life gets even more complicated. when two bodies are found only days apart.  One is a woman and she is found in a corn field.  The second is a male, found miles away from the woman in a densely wooded area.  It is quickly discovered that the woman is the missing young and beautiful wife of a prominent judge.  Crime scene detectives find the phone number of a dirty cop, currently deceased as well, amongst the grizzly remains of her clothing.   When they later turn their attention to the dead man in the woods, they learn that he was killed at approximately the same time as the Judge’s wife and perhaps more importantly, he is an ex-con.  Is there a connection between a judge’s wife, a hard core criminal and dead, dirty cop?
     The local police chief asks John's help in finding the killers because the he feels that something is terribly wrong.  He doesn’t know who he can trust even in his own department.  He has a right to worry because the very next day, the chief is arrested for the murder of the Judge's wife.  Now John has to get some answers to clear the chief’s name and fast.  But he has no idea as to the real urgency of his endeavors.  A hit man has been hired to eliminate John Harvard and slaughter those he loves if he interferes with the investigations.  Through it all, John struggles to discover where the moral line is that separates him from the murderers he has hunted… and killed, in the past.  Which side of the thin blue line is he really on?


Chapter 1

The power from the massive 766 cubic inch engine reverberated throughout the cabin.  The operator of the colossal machine, that weighed in at around 32,000 pounds, sat in a comfortable chair, surrounded by video and computer monitors.  Gauges tracked everything from speed, ground clearance and flow rate, to everything else that could possibly be needed.  He didn’t even have to steer if he didn’t want to.  A cutting edge GPS, or Global Positioning System, could do that, with far greater accuracy than a mere mortal.  He could concentrate on more important matters, such as which song he should play next through his equally powerful and sophisticated sound system.
Danny Forrester sat in the glass encased control center of his combine tractor, snapping up rows of corn faster than a contestant at the local hot dog eating contest that was held each year at the county fair.  He sat, listening to music and enjoying the scenery while the machine worked its way tirelessly through the unending rows.  Danny was a farmer, as was his Daddy, as was his Daddy before that, as was his Daddy before that and so forth.  
The Forrester's had been farming this land since Thomas Forrester had received a land grant for his service with the Continental Army in the Revolutionary War.  And Danny’s son, Todd, would almost certainly do the same.  Danny was young, only twenty-three, but his father had died of a heart attack last year and he inherited the ancestral land much earlier than he normally would have.  Fortunately, the Forrester’s were very successful in their business and they had no problem dealing with the exorbitant estate taxes that caused many farmers to lose the land that had been in their families for generations.
He liked the work.  It was peaceful, rewarding and he dearly loved the land.  He could not dream of doing anything else.  He took all of the hard work and the pitfalls of the job in stride.  The only thing that really bothered him was the wanton destruction of his crops, and he was seeing signs of that right now.  Off in the distance, but getting closer with every pass, was an obvious path through the corn to the approximate center of this particular field.  Obviously, someone had driven a car from the road, right through Danny Forrester’s corn field and in to the middle.  There was a large blank space in the corn at the end of the path as well.
Danny had seen it before, too many times for his liking.  A group of kids looking for someplace to party, safe from the prying eyes of cops and other adults.  Or perhaps some lovers who also wanted to be safe from the searching eyes of cops, other adults and in some cases, spouses.  Whatever the reason, the results were the same.
As the combine got nearer on each successive pass, he looked closer at the damaged area.  The downed corn had been young when the damage occurred, so what ever had happened here had happened some time ago, obviously months earlier.  Danny had gotten his crops planted early this year, dangerously early and a cold spell nearly ruined his efforts.  This damage had to have been done shortly after planting.  One area in the center of the field looked particularly barren.  That was strange.  He wondered what had been done there to cause that?  Bonfire perhaps?  One more pass and he would be over it.  He looked straight down from his lofty perch on the last pass and noticed something that glinted in the sunlight, a sudden, bright flash, then it was gone.  ‘Probably a beer can.’ He thought.  Still, there was something about the way the sun reflected off the object that didn’t set right with him.  The flash appeared too tiny, too bright to be cast from something as course as aluminum.
The big machine turned around at the end of the field and started chomping it’s way back, heading directly for the barren patch.  Just before it got there, Danny stopped the machine and clambered down the ladder to the ground.  He walked over to the area in question and stood, looking around for the object that had caught his eye.  He didn’t see anything, so he ventured further in.  The ground was crusty from a massive amount of rain a few days back and it crunched as he walked.
There!  Something caught his eye again.  He walked closer to it.  It looked like a wedding ring, a huge one at that, attached to a stick.  He bent closer and picked it up.
Like most farmers, Danny was a hunter.  He had hunted for as long as he could remember, as long as he could walk, he supposed.  He’d seen lots of bones, old and new, in the woods and the fields that surrounded his home.  As soon as he picked up the ring and the, “stick,” he quickly saw it was not what he thought.  It was the bone from a human finger.
In shock and disgust, he half dropped and half threw them away as if they were red hot.  Eyes wide and heart pounding, he looked around and saw what appeared to be the top of a human skull protruding slightly from the ground.
Danny Forrester didn’t see anything else.  He was too busy running back to his combine with all the speed he could muster.  He went up the ladder in a single bound that would have made any Olympic broad jumper proud.  He tore open the cabin door, reached for his cell phone and dialed 911.  He guessed that his corn was about to get more messed up than ever.


The Book, 320 pages, Available now from silverleafbooks.com and Amazon.



    Twisted Pieces,  is the continuing saga of John Livingston Harvard, an ex-cop turned private eye.  Raising his seven year old daughter and juggling the harsh realities of his job sometimes proves... complex, compounded by a moral conundrum left with him from his previous case.  As if that wasn’t enough, a woman has entered his life as a... caretaker?  A lover?  A future wife?  He just doesn’t know.

     His life gets even more complicated. when two bodies are found only days
apart.  One is a woman and she is found in a corn field.  The second is a male, found miles away from the woman in a densely wooded area.  It is quickly discovered that the woman is the missing young and beautiful wife of a prominent judge.  Crime scene detectives find the phone number of a dirty cop, currently deceased as well, amongst the grizzly remains of her clothing.   When they later turn their attention to the dead man in the woods, they learn that he was killed at approximately the same time as the Judge’s wife and perhaps more importantly, he is an ex-con.  Is there a connection between a judge’s wife, a hard core criminal and dead, dirty cop?

     The local police chief asks John's help in finding the killers because the he feels that something is terribly wrong.  He doesn’t know who he can trust even in his own department.  He has a right to worry because the very next day, the chief is arrested for the murder of the Judge's wife.  Now John has to get some answers to clear the chief’s name and fast.  But he has no idea as to the real urgency of his endeavors.  A hit man has been hired to eliminate John Harvard and slaughter those he loves if he interferes with the investigations.  Through it all, John struggles to discover where the moral line is that separates him from the murderers he has hunted… and killed, in the past.  Which side of the thin blue line is he really on?



Chapter 1


The power from the massive 766 cubic inch engine reverberated throughout the cabin.  The operator of the colossal machine, that weighed in at around 32,000 pounds, sat in a comfortable chair, surrounded by video and computer monitors.  Gauges tracked everything from speed, ground clearance and flow rate, to everything else that could possibly be needed.  He didn’t even have to steer if he didn’t want to.  A cutting edge GPS, or Global Positioning System, could do that, with far greater accuracy than a mere mortal.  He could concentrate on more important matters, such as which song he should play next through his equally powerful and sophisticated sound system.

Danny Forrester sat in the glass encased control center of his combine tractor, snapping up rows of corn faster than a contestant at the local hot dog eating contest that was held each year at the county fair.  He sat, listening to music and enjoying the scenery while the machine worked its way tirelessly through the unending rows.  Danny was a farmer, as was his Daddy, as was his Daddy before that, as was his Daddy before that and so forth. 

The Forrester's had been farming this land since Thomas Forrester had received a land grant for his service with the Continental Army in the Revolutionary War.  And Danny’s son, Todd, would almost certainly do the same.  Danny was young, only twenty-three, but his father had died of a heart attack last year and he inherited the ancestral land much earlier than he normally would have.  Fortunately, the Forrester’s were very successful in their business and they had no problem dealing with the exorbitant estate taxes that caused many farmers to lose the land that had been in their families for generations.

He liked the work.  It was peaceful, rewarding and he dearly loved the land.  He could not dream of doing anything else.  He took all of the hard work and the pitfalls of the job in stride.  The only thing that really bothered him was the wanton destruction of his crops, and he was seeing signs of that right now.  Off in the distance, but getting closer with every pass, was an obvious path through the corn to the approximate center of this particular field.  Obviously, someone had driven a car from the road, right through Danny Forrester’s corn field and in to the middle.  There was a large blank space in the corn at the end of the path as well.

Danny had seen it before, too many times for his liking.  A group of kids looking for someplace to party, safe from the prying eyes of cops and other adults.  Or perhaps some lovers who also wanted to be safe from the searching eyes of cops, other adults and in some cases, spouses.  Whatever the reason, the results were the same.

As the combine got nearer on each successive pass, he looked closer at the damaged area.  The downed corn had been young when the damage occurred, so what ever had happened here had happened some time ago, obviously months earlier.  Danny had gotten his crops planted early this year, dangerously early and a cold spell nearly ruined his efforts.  This damage had to have been done shortly after planting.  One area in the center of the field looked particularly barren.  That was strange.  He wondered what had been done there to cause that?  Bonfire perhaps?  One more pass and he would be over it.  He looked straight down from his lofty perch on the last pass and noticed something that glinted in the sunlight, a sudden, bright flash, then it was gone.  ‘Probably a beer can.’ He thought.  Still, there was something about the way the sun reflected off the object that didn’t set right with him.  The flash appeared too tiny, too bright to be cast from something as course as aluminum.

The big machine turned around at the end of the field and started chomping it’s way back, heading directly for the barren patch.  Just before it got there, Danny stopped the machine and clambered down the ladder to the ground.  He walked over to the area in question and stood, looking around for the object that had caught his eye.  He didn’t see anything, so he ventured further in.  The ground was crusty from a massive amount of rain a few days back and it crunched as he walked.

There!  Something caught his eye again.  He walked closer to it.  It looked like a wedding ring, a huge one at that, attached to a stick.  He bent closer and picked it up.

Like most farmers, Danny was a hunter.  He had hunted for as long as he could remember, as long as he could walk, he supposed.  He’d seen lots of bones, old and new, in the woods and the fields that surrounded his home.  As soon as he picked up the ring and the, “stick,” he quickly saw it was not what he thought.  It was the bone from a human finger.

In shock and disgust, he half dropped and half threw them away as if they were red hot.  Eyes wide and heart pounding, he looked around and saw what appeared to be the top of a human skull protruding slightly from the ground.

Danny Forrester didn’t see anything else.  He was too busy running back to his combine with all the speed he could muster.  He went up the ladder in a single bound that would have made any Olympic broad jumper proud.  He tore open the cabin door, reached for his cell phone and dialed 911.  He guessed that his corn was about to get more messed up than ever.